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Lysithea is a patient young woman. Patience, after all, is a key facet of maturity, so of course she exercises the utmost effort in both displaying and feeling it. She may not have achieved the levelheadedness of someone like Mercedes but she’s proud to think that she has a significant superiority over most other students. Practice makes perfect and the Officer’s Academy is full of people more than willing to test her patience.
But that doesn’t mean she’s happy about it.
The scholar-in-training glares at her desk. Everything is present or otherwise accounted for. Except for one thing: a book. Just one little book that is vital in her schoolwork. She has inquired about its status many times over the past month only to be met with disappointment each time. On the day she sought it out, Tomas had informed her that it had been taken out not one hour before her arrival. One week later it was still out. Same for the next. After that the book was officially, undeniably overdue. Lysithea assumed that that would prompt the lender into returning the book, assumed embarrassment over keeping a book out too long be damned, but alas, not everyone shared her common sense.
“No,” She mumbles to herself, “This can’t go on! If I wait any longer then I will end up being late. This assignment isn’t going to get written unless I take action,”
She leaves her room, pivoting to lock it behind her. So focused on planning out her method of attack against the heinous book thief that she didn’t notice a shadow fall over her.
“Hey, Lysithea!” Raphael booms from behind her. Lysithea starts, fumbling to not drop her keys, “Oh, sorry! I thought you’d seen me coming,”
Oh Raphael. So simple yet meddlesome, “Not now, Raphael. I have important business,” She informed him as she sidestepped around him and walked down the stone steps.
“I can give you a hand! What is it?”
“I appreciate it but there’s no need. Someone has stolen a book form the library so I’m going to ask Tomas who last took it out- and then I’m taking it back myself!” She stomps past the greenhouse shrubs.
By now Raphael has easily caught up to Lysithea, making the smaller Golden Deer pick up her pace to match his strides, “Sounds like a pain. Which book?”
“A Formal Compendium of the Goddess’ Remedies. It’s a book of plants that can be used for healing, including how some healers incorporate them into their Faith healing. Naturally, I need it for my Faith assignment,” Her skill for Reason-based magic had flipped a switch in their professor’s head and now her focus in class was switched to Faith. Initially Lysithea had some difficulty dissecting the religious jargon within some study materials- an expected hill to ascend, given that the Church of Seiros is the dominant faith in Fodlan- but she excelled once that was overcome. Marianne seemed particularly happy to have a fellow healer in the class, prompting a camaraderie between the two. Lysithea thought it was good to have someone to heal the healer.
“A Formal Comwatchamacallit…” Raphael screws his face up in thought, “Oh, with a fancy purple cover and silver letters?”
“I would say it’s more indigo than pur-” Lysithea halts. Her head whips around, “Raphael, do you have it?”
“Nah, I just remembered it ‘cause I saw someone in our class with it,”
“In our class!?” She hops up the steps to look down at him. It’s been so close this entire time! “Who has it? Is it Hilda? She’s always been terrible with books. But Marianne is also writing the same assignment as myself- Agh, who is it?”
Her golden-eyed classmate blinks at her, “It was Claude! Oh man, won’t he be embarrassed when he finds out his books are l-”
“Claude,,” Lysithea scowls through gritted teeth. Whyever in the Goddess’ name Claude would have it is beyond her, not to mention irrelevant. The well of once indirect frustration was now overflowing down the hill of anger towards her dear house leader. Not that he even deserves such a title! What house leader is so irresponsible? Unbelievable!
“Where is he?” Lysithea grabs Raphael by the shoulders and made her best effort to shake him. He barely moves.
“His room! I think, if not- Lysithea, hey!” But she’s off, speed walking back towards the dorms. She has half a mind to sick Lorenz or Ingrid on Claude as punishment. After she’s done with him, of course! None of his slow smiles or quick winks can save him from her now. And if he so much as thinks of leaning in to her personal space, just enough to be close but not invasive, looking at her with that look in his eyes, she’ll… she’ll-!
Lysithea slows her pursuit upon reaching the staircase to the upper dorms. It’s summer and the heat has hampered her in both body and mind. It would do her well to take a breather and calm herself. Claude’s making her not think straight- the weather! The weather isn’t making her think straight. … A better way for her to think that sentence would be ‘the weather is causing her to not think straight’. Yes, that’s it. Oh Goddess, look at her; correcting the grammar of her own thoughts.
“Phew,” She fans her face with her hand. She looks up the stairs. Get the book, tell him off, and go back to her room to finish her assignment. Simple.
She begins her ascent, quietly hyping herself up. “It’s just Claude, I see him every day, more or less. This is no time to get caught up in a childish crush- if it even is that! More like a… fleeting infatuation. Yes, that’s it. As fleeting as the summer breeze, as Lorenz would likely put it,”
“Who’re ya talkin to, Lysithea?”
“Eep!” Lysithea turns around, her wide eyes landing on a familiar face, “Cyril! Really, would it impede others to not sneak up on me today? What is it?”
Though taken aback, Cyril’s reaction was his usual neutral expression, “Right, yeah. It’s nothing, I was just wonderin what ya were doing on the first floor. Aren’t ya on the floor below?”
“If you must know, Claude has been hoarding books of particular importance. I’m here to reclaim them,”
“Claude? Ya walked right past his room, silly!” He points behind himself with a glance, fixing his thumb to point two doors down, “Summer heat gettin’ to ya, huh? Your face is all red like a tomato. Anyway, I’m done up here so see ya round! Gotta help the cooks get ready for dinner service,” With that, Cyril disappears down the stairs.
Red as a tomato..? Lysithea hasn’t a mirror on her person, she thinks as she makes her way to Claude’s door. Which leads to Claude’s room. Where Claude is. Alone.
Clap! Lysithea’s hands land on her cheeks to snap herself out of it and oh Goddess on the Blue Sea Star she IS burning up! She knows Claude will notice and knowing him he’ll determine the true cause in no time. Surely something like a crush will only lead to his viewing her as even more childish than ever and that is not something she needs in general, never mind from the boy she l-
“Oh, snap out of it!” She groans.
“Lysithea?” Crash! “No!” Claude wails from the other side of the door.
“Claude!” Her body rushing with panic, Lysithea yanks open the door only to be greeted by glittering pink smoke. She gasps, inhaling the surprisingly sugary sweetness. It would be delicious if the situation at hand didn’t take precedence.
She ventures into the saccharine cloud and hears coughing, “Claude! Are you alright? Where-”
“Don’t come- ah, hell, you already are, aren’t you? Just close the door; we can’t have his spreading through the dorm!”
“Would it not be better for us to get out of the room as well?” Lysithea adds. Still, she recognizes that Claude had a better understanding of… whatever this was and pushes the dorm door closed.
Claude makes a strangled noise, “Not if this potion has any of its intended… properties still active,” The sound of window shutters being unlocked tells her that Claude’s opened the windows on the other side of the room. He’s no longer coughing, which she notes with a relieved sigh. The thing he’d been working on wasn’t deadly, at least. Though his statement was still worrying.
“I’m coming over to the windows,” She announces and receive a hum in reply. Braving the pink cloud, Lysithea sees it clearing a little. Not that she has much luck seeing further than a foot in front of her. Just what has Claude been doing in here? Rumors of his midnight brewing have circulated enough to reach her but she had passed them off as simply that, believing that if such a thing were true then Claude would have been appropriately reprimanded a long time ago. And she had never pegged him for the potions type. He’d never expressed much interest in it in class, nor out of it to her knowledge. Still waters run deep, perhaps? Maybe she can ask him ab-
“Aah!” Her foot finds itself on an unknown surface, throwing Lysithea off balance and heading towards the ground. Or she was, until she felt an arm around her shoulders and a hand grabbing her forearm, roughly but securely supporting her from making close acquaintance with the floor. She opens her eyes, once closed in brace for impact, and finds herself staring at Claude’s worried face.
Claude’s close, worried face. The former adjective very much reflective of the rest of his body, “You okay?”
His face and hair glittering gold, she notices. For a moment she tries to pass it off as an illusion of the sun reflecting off of him but no, he is most definitely glittering. Where did that come from? “Y-” She squeaks and quickly clears her throat, “Yes. Thank you,”
Claude’s sigh of relief comes out mixed with a chuckle, “Yeah? Phew. Good thing I turned around when I did or I wouldn’t have seen you from up there,” He released her arm, using the free hand to help her regain her balance. For a silly moment Lysithea thinks she spies a dusting blush across his face. “S’pose we’re both in it now… How do you feel?”
Lysithea tentatively prods her arm, “I think I’m going to get a bruise but a vulnery can remedy that easily,”
Claude’s hand takes her own, lifting it up gently for him to inspect the area on her left arm, “Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry,” He frowns and she can do nothing but blink. Both the intimacy of the position and his sudden transparency have taken her off guard, “But I meant… you know. Do you feel weird?”
Yes, She thinks, But I doubt that’s what you mean, “Why?” Out of her control, Lysithea’s right hand finds itself back onto her check. Oh no, she’s blushing again!
He raises an eyebrow at her, “You feel hot?” Stepping back, Claude lifts the back of his left hand to his face and hums thoughtfully. What is that supposed to mean! Has he already figured her out, and this is all some elaborate form of making fun of her? He’s certainly had no qualms about doing so in the past. She retracts her hand from his. Claude looks down in surprise at his suddenly empty hand, his gaze flickering between their hands before letting his own fall behind him. The floor seems to be very interesting to him all of a sudden.
“What’s the meaning of this, Claude? Why is-” The cloud has almost dispelled, leaving sparkling golden flecks around the room, “-was there a pink puff of smoke in your room?”
“Well, technically since you distracted me by talking to your imaginary friend outside my room-” Lysithea flashes an affronted look, prompting him to raise his hands between them, “-but I’m guessing you mean the origin, so... it’s a love potion. Or the remains of what was meant to be a love potion. Supposedly it makes people confess their feelings for each other, sooo I thought it might be fun to mess with people a little. Y'know, stir up some excitement. Goddess knows some of the pining lovebirds around here need to get it out of their system.”
A love potion. (He looks at Lysithea.) A love. Potion. (She looks at him.) A potion that makes people fall in love. (Two doves fly past the windows.) People can fall in love because of this potion. (Claude shifts on his feet.) She and Claude. (Lysithea continues to look at him.) A love potion.
“You… idiot!”
He winces, “I know, I know,”
“You are the most foolish, most irresponsible-“
“You’re right, Lyssie, one hundred percent!”
At least has the decency to look like he understands the severity of the mistake he’s made. Lysithea stutters, feeling herself flush even more, “Wha- don’t you ‘Lyssie’ me! Nobody has ever ‘Lyssied’ me and you certainly should not be the first to say it!” She jabs her finger on his chest, “You have not earned the- the right to call me that, love potion or no. What a silly thing to waste your talents on; even I thought you wouldn’t be so childish, Claude von Riegan!”
He looks up from following her finger’s jabbing motions, “There’s nothing childish about love,” He says, sounding… hurt, sad? For a moment Lysithea considers backing off, retracting her hand back to her side. Is this a sensitive topic for him? It’s not come up with him before. But she can’t say that with full confidence. It’s not as if she spends a lot of time with him outside of class or battle exercises. Even then, it’s not long enough for them to really talk. She wants to spend more time with him.
But what good would that do either of them? For them to grow attached, for her to step beyond her fleeting infatuation (which no matter her re-wording always have the same meaning)? What point would there be to nurture the seeds of affection only for them to be cut down before blossoming? Even if Claude were to grow beside her, she would never reach the day where they could bloom together. Who even knows if she would live long enough for him to realize her feelings, or for her to confess them? Such a painful unknown is not one she wants to entertain and yet the Goddess taunts her with it in spite of that. She feels the tears starting to spill from her eyes.
“Oh!” Claude says, “Hey, hey, it’s alright. I’m sorry and I mean that. I’ll always mean it,” A look of accidental admittance flashes across his face for a moment before he blinks it back, “You’re right, it was a dumb thing to do. I don’t even know why I was trying to make it. I’ve made some weird stuff before but a love potion would just be weird, wouldn’t it? I guess I wanted to see if it would even work, because- that’s not helping, is it? Come on, Lyssi- Lysithea, don’t cry. If you cry, I’ll cry,”
“Is that a threat?” She half-jokes until she notices his tearing up eyes, “Oh, Claude. Come here,” Her hands tug on his shirt, prompting him to lower his head so she can wipe away the tears. Claude’s head leans into her hand. He opens one of his eyes.
“What?”
“You’re covered in gold,”
Of course, “So are you,” Her hand comes down but his head remains in its position.
“Just showing some house pride,” He smirks, green eyes dancing over her face, “Your hair’s like diamond dust,” Lysithea raises her eyebrow, so he explains, “It’s… when you’re on a mountain and it snows, but the sun is still shining. The sunlight bounces off of the snowflakes, making them shimmer all sorts of colors. At sunrise and sunset, it turns the snow gold,”
Lysithea’s hand rises to lift a lock of hair. The dust glimmers in the sunlight, throwing golden light all around. She allows Claude’s hand to join, however his hand instead runs through her hair, catching gold in his palm, until coming to a stop against her hand. Gently (daresay nervously, like he’s afraid she’ll startle away), his hand clasps her own, hardly daring to close his fingers between her own.
She watches his posture relax once she holds his hand. His jaw unlocks, his eyelids drop, his body breathes out and she’s sure she catches his lips hinting towards the existence of dimples. He’s unguarded, in a way she doesn’t think anyone else at the academy has seen. An emotion once reserved for himself, now shared with her.
In that moment she longs to confess but she’s so afraid that any words would be wrong and his walls will be built back up in an instant. So she allows herself to indulge in the moment, losing herself in the warmth of his hand. Neither of them hear the mouse-quiet words that slip out of her mouth.