The Enemy of my Enemy Is Not Always Something Like A Friend (Lorenz & Sylvain)
Starter for @nobletoatea
The flipping of the switch comes with the closing click of the infirmary door.
Seeing Felix alive and recovering did a lot to ease the tension, let relief wrap around him like his favourite fur cloak. It had been soothing and comfortable after the frantic racing back to the monastery, thinking of nothing else but please be alright. Please be alright. Please.
But now, with time to actually think, he remembers all of what his father said. Gloucester’s heir. The soft expression that he’d worn on the way out quickly hardens, shoulders set as he marches down the hall with furious purpose. This time, students and monks step aside for him at once glance at his face, he doesn’t stop to listen to the group of girls whispering amongst themselves, image be damned.
He finds Lorenz in the courtyard, and his anger swells even at the sight of his shoulders and the back of that terrible undercut. He doesn’t care about any onlookers either as he approaches, reaching out to grab at Lorenz’s shoulder to spin him around before grabbing a fistful of his shirt.
“The hell were you thinking?” Sylvain roars. To their left, he distantly hears a mutter of ‘should we stop them…?’ but pays it no mind, twisting his wrist to shake the other student “Diplomacy? With Sreng? Are you mad? You could have gotten Fe- Everyone killed!”
At his side, Sylvain’s fist flexes, clenching and unclenching, face thunderous, “Give me one good reason not to drag you back up there and offer you to the Srengi myself.”
