[Feasts are fun, feasts are nice, but there inevitably comes a point when things start to stagnate? Or: Hilda can only charm her way out of so many conversations centering around their latest victory, or field so many requests to send well-wishes to her older brother, before she finds herself completely and utterly... bored. She's proud of the Alliance's accomplishments, yes; she's proud of the role she (down)plays; she's proud of each and every person she fights alongside, but is a night of idle chatter... really too much to ask for...
Apparently so, which is why she decides to take matters into her own hands the moment she spots Cyril carrying a plate of cake over to a waiting Lysithea. How precious! How cute! How perfect, she thinks, watching them for a moment longer before she turns to scan the crowd. There's one person she can always count on for interesting conversation—and luckily for her, he has a way of, ah, standing out in the crowd. It's the gold clothing, surely. That, and the gaggle of people standing near him, watching his every move while they work up the nerve to approach their famous leader.
...Typical, but it isn't like she's the least bit bothered. Water is wet, the sky is blue, and Claude attracts attention... which is all well and good, but? Well. The top is a lonely place, full of responsibilities and expectations and blah, blah, blah; she doubts that he's having any more fun than she is at this point in time, and so she thinks nothing of sidling right up to him. Hi. Hello. It's time... for gossip.]
So, Mr. Leader Man, [she teases, arm bumping against his as she leans closer, like she's keen to share a secret.] How long has that been going on?
["That" being... the quietly conversing couple standing halfway across the room, of course? In whose direction she helpfully nods.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Apparently so, which is why she decides to take matters into her own hands the moment she spots Cyril carrying a plate of cake over to a waiting Lysithea. How precious! How cute! How perfect, she thinks, watching them for a moment longer before she turns to scan the crowd. There's one person she can always count on for interesting conversation—and luckily for her, he has a way of, ah, standing out in the crowd. It's the gold clothing, surely. That, and the gaggle of people standing near him, watching his every move while they work up the nerve to approach their famous leader.
...Typical, but it isn't like she's the least bit bothered. Water is wet, the sky is blue, and Claude attracts attention... which is all well and good, but? Well. The top is a lonely place, full of responsibilities and expectations and blah, blah, blah; she doubts that he's having any more fun than she is at this point in time, and so she thinks nothing of sidling right up to him. Hi. Hello. It's time... for gossip.]
So, Mr. Leader Man, [she teases, arm bumping against his as she leans closer, like she's keen to share a secret.] How long has that been going on?
["That" being... the quietly conversing couple standing halfway across the room, of course? In whose direction she helpfully nods.]
(no subject)
I'M SO SORRY... this weekend was buck wild
IT'S FINE i'm slow as molasses anyway cries
being an adult is, how you say... garbage
how has another week gone by already