[ One might argue that frequenting the training grounds is a more expected and acceptable practice for a student to cultivate, despite the extremes to which Felix takes it. They are open to students for that reason, after all, while the roof is technically (that is, explicitly) prohibited.
Claude's disregard for that rule, and Felix's pushing the availability of the training grounds to the very limit, might provide another glimpse into their respective outward personalities.
From this position, he can't see the water, only violet above and the few narrowing treetops that reach this height. Felix in his periphery, gradually more distinct as the sky begins to pale. Only just begins, and Claude's eyes track the streaking, the pink beneath it. At first, he assumes that shrug will be Felix's final word on the subject. It isn't so much that the gesture suggests finality, or dismisses the duration, but that he doesn't expect Felix would have anything further to say.
Or, whatever he does expect, or would expect if asked to so predict, it isn't that. Claude blinks, glancing to him, the cut of his profile. With his attention fixed forward, Claude takes a liberty he shouldn't, that he knows better than to take, that he doesn't fully realize he takes, that he wouldn't, but for the birdsong trilling on the breeze, but for the breeze stirring the loose hairs at the nape of Felix's neck, but for the yellowing strip of horizon. But for what had begun this, the a cocksure message that adjusted, mellowed, but for Felix meeting him here and conceding this.
But for all of that and maybe more, Claude would have snickered, expressed his shock and honor at such high praise. Coming from you, that's as rare as a lion taking up the faith and joining a choir.
Instead, he smiles like, edges smudged soft, with his eyes near crinkling, he speaks quieter, plainer. ]
Yeah? I think so, too. You can come up here any time, you know.
[ Only, then he hears it. Hears himself. Claude quickly glances back to the sky, laughs with his next breath. ]
...I mean, you could anyway. It's not my place or anything.
So, how close of call was it? How narrowly have I avoided your blame?
o damn... shoulda coulda woulda... instead it was he, felix!
[ One might argue that frequenting the training grounds is a more expected and acceptable practice for a student to cultivate, despite the extremes to which Felix takes it. They are open to students for that reason, after all, while the roof is technically (that is, explicitly) prohibited.
Claude's disregard for that rule, and Felix's pushing the availability of the training grounds to the very limit, might provide another glimpse into their respective outward personalities.
From this position, he can't see the water, only violet above and the few narrowing treetops that reach this height. Felix in his periphery, gradually more distinct as the sky begins to pale. Only just begins, and Claude's eyes track the streaking, the pink beneath it. At first, he assumes that shrug will be Felix's final word on the subject. It isn't so much that the gesture suggests finality, or dismisses the duration, but that he doesn't expect Felix would have anything further to say.
Or, whatever he does expect, or would expect if asked to so predict, it isn't that. Claude blinks, glancing to him, the cut of his profile. With his attention fixed forward, Claude takes a liberty he shouldn't, that he knows better than to take, that he doesn't fully realize he takes, that he wouldn't, but for the birdsong trilling on the breeze, but for the breeze stirring the loose hairs at the nape of Felix's neck, but for the yellowing strip of horizon. But for what had begun this, the a cocksure message that adjusted, mellowed, but for Felix meeting him here and conceding this.
But for all of that and maybe more, Claude would have snickered, expressed his shock and honor at such high praise. Coming from you, that's as rare as a lion taking up the faith and joining a choir.
Instead, he smiles like, edges smudged soft, with his eyes near crinkling, he speaks quieter, plainer. ]
Yeah? I think so, too. You can come up here any time, you know.
[ Only, then he hears it. Hears himself. Claude quickly glances back to the sky, laughs with his next breath. ]
...I mean, you could anyway. It's not my place or anything.
So, how close of call was it? How narrowly have I avoided your blame?