Dimitri is silent as they soar through the open skies. There is so much for him to see and keep track of that the voices that haunt him day and night are reduced to a bit of noise in the background. If he listens and focuses hard enough, he can make out what they're saying. For now, he allows them to be in the background and relishes the stolen moment of peace in the air.
It isn't as though wyverns are rare in Fodlan, quite the contrary. But Faerghus is a little too cold, even for the hardy beasts, and the land too poor to sustain their voracious appetites. Instead, they have cavalry, infantry, and the small assortment of Pegasus Riders. He's never had an opportunity to ride either of the winged creatures- the Pegasi are notoriously finicky and prefer female riders and never had the nerve to ask one of the knights in the monastery during his days at the Academy- and find himself rather enjoying the flight.
"Do you fly often?" He has to lean in close and practically shout to be heard over the sound of wingbeats and the whistling of the wind. Is it his imagination or did Claude's ear feel a little on the warm side?
"Yeah!" Claude shouts back.
Dimitri glances behind them.
Halide banks sharply to the right with a roar. His arms tighten around Claude's waist instinctively as the Alliance leader leans into the movement, legs clamped tight against the sides of the wyvern as she flies down to something Dimitri can't quite make out. They hit the ground with a thump and a wall of snow blasted up by the force of Halide's backwing. She throws her head back and belts out a victorious bugle.
"What is she doing?"
"Announcing her arrival. You'd think she's wyvern royalty by the way she acts." Claude replies with a short laugh. He lifts a hand in greeting to the small group rushing up to meet them. A woman with soft blue hair and brown eyes is the closest and Halide all but knocks her off her feet in her attempts to rub up against her as she'd done with Claude earlier. A rumbling growl vibrates beneath her riders.
Dimitri looks at Claude. "They purr?"
Claude looks amused as Marianne tries to gently discourage the wyvern from nibbling on her shawl. "Something like that. Good to see you again, Marianne. Need me to get her off you?"
Marianne shakes her head. "No." Her voice is as sweet as it is soft. "She is fine, thank you for asking." Her hand rubs the softer hide of Halide's snout and up towards the base of her eye ridge.
She looks up at them both. "How was your flight? Any trouble?"
"Nah, a breeze like always. We just took the scenic route." Claude replies easily before Dimitri has a chance to apologize and accept responsibility for any of the delays. He's about to swing down in the same fancy dismount as Byleth had earlier when he realizes he's still got two arms wrapped tightly around his waist. He leans back until he hits Dimitri's chest.
Dimitri looks down at him in confusion.
Claude has any number of things he could say. Some suggestive- he's tempted by those if only because the man's lips had grazed his ear and damn it they were one of his few weak spots- and others just point blank silly. He could be kind for once and just tell him to let go. It'd be the mature thing, the right thing to do too.
But it's not the fun thing to do and he's all about making sure Dimitri has a little fun once in a while. Even if it's at his expense.
"I dunno about you, Your Highness, but where I'm from, we generally don't hold on after the ride's over- unless you're looking for a different kind of r-" He's pretty sure Dimitri didn't mean to pitch him off Halide's back in his haste to let go and hears Hilda's notorious laugh.
She approaches in her usual lazy manner and offers a smile to the flustered man. "Don't feel bad, Dimitri, he totally deserved that." She tells him even as she offers Claude her hand to haul him up and out of the snow.
"I-" Dimitri hesitates as Raphael and Ignaz come running up. The latter is out of breath but offers him a sincere smile and a wave in greeting. The former grins and plucks the other off the ground when he thinks he's moving too slow to make sure they both rejoin the rest of their group.
"Hey, look at that! It's Dimitri, long time no see!" The muscular blond is just as cheerful as always and DImitri can't help but wonder just how the man actually does it, given what he's heard happened to his parents, the war, and just… everything. "We got a little something back at the temp camp we set up, c'mon before it gets cold!"
Ignatz is set down, rather rumpled and hastens to straighten his clothing out, and offers a quick, courteous bow to Dimitri. "It is good to see you again."
His voice has gotten deeper during the last five years, more self-assured too. He has a quiet confidence that Claude can practically see Dimitri's envy. "We heard Halide and came to meet you, the others are back at the camp. For the most part, anyway."
Ignatz smiles in a way Claude and Dimitri recognize at Marianne. The young woman was seemingly deep in thought as she and Halide stare into one another's eyes. "Marianne told us she was coming, so we figured we'd come to meet you instead of you trekking to us alone."
His expression grows a little more anxious. "Hilda mentioned you have news for us, Claude?"
"You could say that. Speaking of my message," Claude directs a pointed look at the woman in question. "Any word?"
Hilda winds a tendril of her long pink hair around one finger. One, two, three, four twirls. Stops. Unwinds them again and offers a one-shouldered shrug. "Something like that? I got in touch with whoever I could, like you asked. It was kind of short notice, you know."
"Yeah, I know, but if anyone could pull it off, I know it'd be you and all those little connections of yours you've made to get out of any real work." He replies.
"Oh, you." She waves him and his fake flattery off. "I'll have you know I delivered some of those personally, isn't that right, Marianne?"
"Huh?" Marianne looks up, startled by the sound of her name and the eyes on her. Her cheeks flush and she ducks her head a little as she continues scritching Halide's eye ridge with one hand. "Um, y-yes. That's true, we did deliver quite a few of those messages…"
"See?" Hilda sticks her tongue out at Claude.
"I'm shocked, honestly shocked." Claude puts a hand against his heart as though wounded. "And here I thought you were still your usual lackadaisical self."
"My what?"
"Nevermind. Let's head back to this little camp of yours. We have some time before we're due back." He looks to Dimitri and offers his hand to the man looking so out of place among the rowdy group. "Let's go, Your Highness."
One blue eye lands on Claude's hand, brow furrowing, and then looks to his face. He studies him for a stretch of time that borders on uncomfortable before he nods his head and hesitantly accepts the proffered hand with one of his own. They look down at their joined hands in silence, Claude's eyebrow lifts up toward his hairline.
Dimitri shoots him a look that cautions his ally to keep his thoughts firmly to himself, unspoken, if he knows what's good for him.
"Omigod, Dimitri, your hands are huge!" Hilda exclaims, one hand to her mouth in surprise as her pink eyes widen. Raphael offers his up in comparison and Dimitri sends Claude a silent plea for help. He's never been… around such rambunctious people before. Sylvain doesn't count because even he has some measure of formality and distance between the two of them. The Golden Deer don't seem to have much, if anything, in the way of understanding personal boundaries and space.
Ignatz is impressed. "Would you mind if I looked at them at a later date? Your hands, that is, I would love to sketch them if that's alright." His face flushes with color at the look Dimitri gives him. "I-it's always good to have references. I've sketched most everyone here at some point or another, if that's any consolation. Of course, you're free to say no as well, I won't be offended."
"She says Halide calls your hands 'gentle and strong'." Hilda chimes in after Marianne murmurs something too quietly for them to catch. The poor woman's face flushes bright red and she ducks behind Hilda in embarrassment. "You are just the cutest, Marianne."
Claude is trying his hardest not to look utterly amused by the barrage of compliments, bizarre and backhanded as some of them may be, and the way Dimitri has the dazed expression of a man who's been whacked upside the head a little too hard. He tugs the tall man forward and past the gaggle of gossips, troublemakers, and shy artists to lead the way. "Alright you guys, give the man some breathing room. You'll scare him."
"They are…" Dimitri searches for an adequate word to describe the members of the Golden Deer who are arguing among themselves over… he's not exactly sure, to be quite honest. He thought it was over a certain type of cuisine, but Hilda's rebuttal of a 'poor color' and 'uncute style' makes him think they're talking about clothing. The argument has been ongoing for the last ten minutes, at least, and shows no sign of letting up.
"Knights don't have to be cute, they gotta be strong and tough!" Raphael protests.
Claude watches Dimitri perk up a little at the topic of knights and smiles, listening to the old familiar argument.
"Uh, no." Hilda disagrees. "You can totally be strong and cute at the same time. What kind of a knight are you if you can't be both? Right, Marianne?"
"Um…" Marianne looked as though she'd rather be anywhere but there at the moment. Dimitri looks rather like he shares that sentiment. "I… don't know. What do you think, um, Dimitri…?"
It's been a while since someone's called him by name rather than Your Highness, Prince, or some foul insult or curse. Well, other than Edelgard and the Professor. Claude too, now that he thinks about it, though the latter most seems to have lapsed back into calling him by the damned title.
"A knight is noble and powerful in their loyalty and dedication to their cause," Dimitri explains slowly. "I don't know that… cute is necessarily something most knights consider a high priority."
Raphael shoots a smug grin Hilda's way.
"But they do fastidiously maintain their armor, weapons, and mannerisms on and off the battlefield, so I suppose understanding fashion would play some part in their training as well." He finishes before Hilda can start another argument.
Hilda looks pleased with the answer and gives Raphael an 'I told you so' look in return.
Dimitri is in the middle of answering a question for Ignatz regarding some of the armor styles they have in Faerghus when he feels Claude squeeze his hand in warning and cuts himself off short. Immediately on alert, he releases Claude's hand and reaches back for his spear. If there's an attack on the way, it's clear he's going to be ready to put the assailants down before they have a chance to touch a hair on Claude or anyone else's heads.
They round the bend, Dimitri tensing and the once lively bunch suddenly too quiet for his liking, and the camp is in front of them. A woman with deeply tanned skin and shoulder-length reddish-orange hair looks up from the cooking pot and offers a lift of her hand in greeting. Her sharp eyes find the spear in Dimitri's hand and narrow immediately, one hand going for what he presumes is a weapon at her back.
It's not her that Dimitri's eye lingers on, as movement just to her right catches his attention. A woman in the traditional black and gold of a bishop in training for the Church of Seiros looks up, one hand flying to her mouth in surprise. "Oh my."
He knows that voice all too well. Paired with- her hair's gotten shorter, when did that happen?- light blonde hair, pale skin, and light grey-blue eyes and a sweet smile, the eldest of the Blue Lions House looks off to one side and beams at someone he's not able to see. "Ingrid, Sylvain, you should really come see this. Claude is back and he's brought a guest."
Did she say Ingrid and Sylvain? They were here too?
They were alive?
More movement. Dimitri turns his head to follow it as Sylvain, looking much unchanged minus a… no, he doesn't want to go there, not now. Not when he's seeing the two of them again for the first time in five years, walks closer to the fire to see what Mercedes is talking about. His eyes widen. Ingrid's busy trying to scold him until he reaches over, gives her a brief shove, and points (rudely) to where Dimitri is standing, frozen, in place.
Ingrid hits him for shoving her and then turns to see what he's pointing at and freezes in turn. Her big green eyes go impossibly wide and fill with tears as she sees him. "Your Highness…"
Something that feels like panic bubbles up in the pit of Dimitri's stomach. They shouldn't be glad to see him. They shouldn't be reacting as though it's a good thing he's here and alive and not dead or having paid penance for the numerous sins he's committed- until he's gotten revenge for Glenn, his father, stepmother, and everyone they'd lost that day because of him. It climbs up his throat and threatens to strangle him until the spots start to form in his vision. He needs to move. He needs to leave and put space between them before they're killed too. He needs to-
Sylvain says something that sounds distinctly like "Oh shit." before there's a surge of killing intent the likes of which he's not felt in quite some time from off to his left.
He's too slow to meet the assailant and catches a flash of pale skin and furious eyes before pain blooms against his jaw and sends the world spinning rapidly around him until it suddenly goes black.