Chapter Text
Hilda’s conversations with Claude ranged through several different topics: gossip about the professors, stories from their own lives, or any and every strange fact about Garreg Mach Monastery. Claude would animatedly talk about this and that, but Hilda would just nod along. Often it would go over her head: why worry about these small, less useful details? Sure, she could see why he’d be fascinated, but why let herself get hung up when she could relax instead? In the end, Hilda decided she liked hearing him talk.
Or rather watching him talk.
There was always a devil-may-care air about him, one where convention was thrown to the wayside. Casual, confident, curious. Chatting with him was a performance, his body language fun and engaging. The sweep of his hands pantomiming the tales he wove. The sudden passion when he stumbled on some new idea mid-sentence. The quirk of his lips with a secret epiphany. Oh, his ever-smiling lips.
Part of it wasn’t real, though. His eyes never lost their edge, even when he laughed and joked. Quick to follow any sound or sight out of place. His words welcomed you in, almost too strange to be true, but his eyes kept as many secrets as they sought out.
Eyes green like a garden peeking through a polished gate, or a jade pendant locked away in a finely carved chestnut box. No matter how hard Hilda looked, she could only see the locks. His closely guarded truths slipping out of her grasp like rich emerald silk.
“…Lost in thought? Should I call for help?”
Hilda blinked. “Hm? Sorry, Claude, you were repeating yourself.”
Claude raised a brow. “Was I? Or were you just not listening to me?”
“Have some faith in me!” Hilda stopped leaning her chin on her hands, sitting up straight again. “I was trying to pay attention, but like I said, you were repeating yourself.”
“Strange. I haven’t mentioned this particular theory about the Four Saints to you before.”
“Well, maybe not,” She said, smoothing a few flyaway hairs from her pigtails. “But you’ve gone on and on about it before, so you may as well have repeated yourself.”
“Ah, Hilda.” He shook his head, clicking his tongue. “Hilda, Hilda, Hilda… You would do well to listen to me. Though I am young in years, I can give great wisdom, you know.”
She pursed her lips. “Wisdom? You mean like switching Professor Hanneman’s research notes with pages from a used coloring book?”
Claude sat back and placed a hand went to his chest, mock offended. “That ended with you getting out of extra lessons for two months. I distinctly remember you thanking me.”
Hilda giggled quietly, biting her lip. “Hmm, no? I think I would remember something like that.”
With a shake of his head, Claude redirected the conversation back to his ideas. Hilda settled her head back on her hands, eyeing him. There was a lot she didn’t really understand about him. Why she’d grown so fond of just watching him? When did it start before she realized it?
In the end, she wasn’t in a rush. He would seek out the mysteries of the world all he wanted, but Hilda would be satisfied uncovering the mysteries of Claude von Riegan.