[ it should have been reassuring. and were manuela not already so mired in her guilt, she might have even indulged in it. but instead she can only feel the pit of her stomach cave in, and the yawning emptiness within her only grows. ]
Someone special... Yes. Your "princess."
[ it's been years since that conversation, and yet manuela can still remember it clear as day. truthfully, she should have corrected him then, but she had been so caught up in his attention, his abject adoration... she couldn't bring herself to tell him the truth. and now her misguidance has done him an even greater disservice.
with a soft sigh, manuela lowers her head. the urge to seek out the comfort his gentle hand offers her is strong โ but she resists. she has already taken far too much from him. ]
I'm sorry, Ferdinand, but you are mistaken. The woman you think so highly of... she is no longer here. Perhaps she was never really around to begin with.
[ she tries to step back, so she might no longer be tempted by the warmth he so readily offers her, but her back only meets the door. she sags against it a little, looking every bit defeated. ]
Surely... you would have heard it. All that was said about me, back in Garreg Mach. While there were certainly... exaggerations, [ to put it lightly, ] it was my reputation for a reason, Ferdinand.
[ She shrinks from his hand, but not in a way that suggests she's upset with him. Inexperienced though he may be, no matter how confident he may seem, he recognizes self-doubt when he sees it.
As she puts it, she as a reputation. Not an overly negative one, as her skill as a healer has always been valued, whether by the Church of Seiros or the Empire's forces. Edelgard herself has even recognized Manuela as someone who is wise and insightful beyond her station. But even Ferdinand has heard the tales of drunken stumbling after a bad date, disheveled rooms, and loneliness.
He allows her to step back, and not wanting to pressure her, he sits on the edge of his bed, patient despite how his heart aches. ]
I have done you a disservice, Manuela. When I spoke to you of my feelings all those years ago, it was not my intention to make you think that I saw you as some idealized version of yourself that only existed on the stage.
[ He casts his gaze downward to the rather drab carpeting on the floor, leaning forward and folding his hands together on his lap. ]
It is not love to overlook someone's shortcomings, but infatuation. And while you could reasonably say that as a boy, I was infatuated with you, I have not been a boy for quite some time. Love is accepting them, and when they want to address those flaws, supporting them through better or worse. There is nothing about you that makes you unworthy of being seen as special, Manuela. And if there is, then there certainly is no hope for someone like me, who was born with every advantage but still cannot overcome my own feelings of inadequacy.
[ for a brief, wild moment, manuela feels a flutter of something that tastes a little like hope and fear swell up in her chest โ but of course a young man so full of ideals like ferdinand wouldn't even bat an eye to how casually he mentions that, love. manuela, on the other hand, feels plucked raw by just the sound of it. this very thing she has longer for for so long.
the goddess blesses her that he should keep speaking, allowing manuela to focus on something else other than what she wants to hear. ]
Oh, Ferdinand...
[ her voice softens. ]
The world will always look upon a man with more forgiveness than a woman.
[ there is a trace of bitterness in her tone, but more than that she is simply somber. ]
Besides that, you are still so young. Any shortcomings you think of yourself right now will whittle away with time. You've so many years ahead of you to reach the heights you've set out for yourself. And how could you not? You, who has never not known how to slow down or give up.
[ they are in the middle of a war, but if there is one thing manuela is going to do or die trying, it's ensure those that she has seen grow into remarkable young men and women get to continue to grow for many, many years to come. it is already far too late for someone like her... but ferdinand, and edelgard, and dorothea and all the rest โ they must still get to live on and have their dreams.
without his hands to steady her, she leans fully against the door now. she closes her eyes and tips her head back, and the sigh that escapes her lips is a wistful one. ]
Undoubtedly you will find the love you speak of, and the honor you crave. You will be respected, and renowned, and if the world should ever hear of your enthusiasms they would only ever call you "passionate" and leave it at that.
[ Manuela has a point, and that point doesn't escape Ferdinand. Even in the world that Edelgard wishes to create, there will be those with outdated opinions and mindsets, and it takes time to change those. If a nobleman were to take multiple romantic or sexual partners, while it would be seen as an indiscretion, it would be just that, not some scandal that forever taints him. Were a woman who were the head of her noble family to do the very same, well, there certainly be more noise around it.
And that ability and willingness to cut down to the ugly truths is part of what makes Manuela Manuela. Whether she's criticizing meager attempts at poetry or commenting on the state of the world, she says what's on her mind. If only he had the words to convince her of the worth of such outspokenness.
As she slumps against the door, his gaze is drawn back to her, to the resignation on her face. The distance between them is still pitifully small, but there are still moments when it feels like a vast gulf. He doesn't know how to convince her of his sincerity, but he does know that he can't be anything but honest with her. ]
I would be remiss if I denied that, coming especially from you, those words bring me some comfort... even as I recognize the sad truths of the world scrawled in the margins.
[ There is a wistfulness in his smile, but one that fades into something more determined. For as long as he's known, he's worried about how he'd be remembered, but there is something more important that he's come to realize. Yes, he wants to make a mark on the world and leave it for the better, but on a personal level, there are other things he wants, too. And looking at Manuela, he can easily see himself finding those. And with that resolve, he rises from the bed, speaking earnestly. ]
But I do not want for what happened between us to simply thought of as an indiscretion. I chose it for myself, of my own volition. And given the chance, I would do so again and again. I would discover every way I could to pleaโ
[ He catches himself mid-sentence, and for an instant, his expression grows a little bashful, and he finds himself fascinated with the patterns in the carpet. Or at least, they're the only thing he can really bring himself to look at. A faint blush spreads across his cheeks, and he continues before too long of a pause. ]
โto provide for you, and to make you feel as special and worthy as you have made me feel.
[ he looks upon her again like he had that day on the set โ a fierce intensity behind those amber eyes, blazing proud as he always had, and likely as he always will be. no, she has no doubt he would soar to whatever heights he aims for. and it would be far, far above anything that she could ever even hope to reach.
and that is how it should be, anyway. her time in the spotlight is long past. and like the ways of the world she will always speak so critically about, unlike the younger members of their party who still have so much passion to burn, she has already long since made her peace with the fact that nothing will change for her. ]
...Thank you, Ferdinand. But you don't owe me that. You don't owe me anything at all.
[ she smiles at him now, managing something warm, if a little bittersweet. now that he is standing again, it isn't difficult at all for her to reach out, rest a hand upon his blushing cheek and coax him to look back up at her once more. it is not unlike the touch he had given her, not too long ago, though somehow hers feels much more like a parting gift than the welcoming gesture he had made for her. ]
You have already given me... a most wonderful gift. You reminded a faded old star like me what it felt like to be truly wanted. However much of that was you or the role or the moment, for at least that time, I felt like I could shine again. And now you give me your kindness, so that I can look back on that moment with fondness instead of shame. So โ thank you. That is already far more than I could ask for from you.
[ It's a comfort to see her smile, but not nearly as much of one as he'd hoped. It does give him reason for gladness to hear that she can at least look back on their encounter without feeling as though she'd taken advantage of him, and yet, it still doesn't feel like enough. No, it's not nearly enough, and that is still unbearable to him.
His mind races with a million thoughts. Would she still be so full of self-doubt if he'd properly courted her first, or if they'd at least had time to talk things over before getting into it? Would it have helped if he'd taken his time more, no matter how pent up and impatient the both of them had become? For a moment, it feels as though he might be swallowed up by these what-ifs, these doubts plaguing the recesses of his mind.
But there's that sweet smile, not as happy as he'd like, but a smile nonetheless. And there's that lovely voice, thanking him for something that warrants no thanks whatsoever; calling herself faded, when nothing could be further from the truth in his eyes.
He can't bear it any longer. He can't make the years of loneliness and doubt go away, but he can do his damned best to try and make sure there aren't any more of them. He steps from the bed and closes the distance between them until their chests meet, and one hand moves to take hers. ]
Faded? Manuela, I have been unable to take my eyes off of you since I was scarcely even a man. You are more beautiful now than ever, and I will not rest until you have no choice but to concede the point.
[ And with that, he brings her hand up to his mouth. Without breaking eye contact, he kisses her fingers just beneath her knuckles, then presses a second kiss to the back of her hand. He might not be able to convince her, but at the very least, he can convince her that he won't be dissuaded. ]
[ for one cruel, awful moment โ manuela almost believes him. his look is so sincere, his touch so gentle. for a time his words create around them a bubble damn near impenetrable, blocking out years and years of hard truths, and manuela feels blossom inside her chest something that feels a lot like hope.
but just like that, the color drains from her face. the light flickers out in her eyes.
it's a funny thing, isn't it? how manuela has longed to hear such sentiments for over a decade now, bent herself repeatedly to new lows in vain attempts to appeal for them, yet in the here and now of finally getting what she wants, she cannot even fathom allowing herself to believe them. ]
More beautiful...?
[ oh, but she doesn't mean to be cruel or dismissive, especially not when he looks upon her so earnestly. but she cannot help but scoff. such pretty words, wrapped in such a handsome package. but for her? preposterous. what has she done to earn them? what has changed that she should receive them now? ]
What madness are you spouting? Do you even hear yourself?
[ and then, all at once, it clicks. pieces of a skewed puzzle slotting themselves into a crude picture, one she honestly should have expected from the start, given where they are. what they're made to endure. ]
It's this place, isn't it? You ingested something, or come across a pheromone. Tell me โ did you notice any peculiar scents right before I arrived?
[ yes, surely that's the cause. how much easier it is a pill to swallow, to think that none of this is at all sincere. hastily, she tugs at the hand he holds so tenderly, glancing aside. ]
Have a seat, Ferdinand, you are surely under some sort of spell.
[ Ferdinand has struggled, historically, to get through to people who struggle with their self-esteem. His first, clumsy efforts to make Bernadetta comfortable in Garreg Mach, for instance, earned him a sprained wrist. His attempts to cheer up Marianne had been similarly disastrous, albeit not physically so. Perhaps seeing Manuela as he has for so long has made him similarly poorly equipped to navigate her feelings, and hearing her reject his sentiments so casually stings his pride more than he'd care to admit.
His expression, then, must be truly puzzled as she tries to rationalize what he's saying. He tires to get a word in edgewise, but he's not able to until she pulls him aside. ]
A spell? I assure you, Manuela, I am perfectly of my own mind right now.
[ Still, the easiest thing for him to do is to allow her to tug his hand away and follow the momentum to the edge of his bed, where he takes a seat as directed. He furrows his brow, frustrated with his inability to convince her that everything he felt and everything he said was genuine. ]
I know there are substances here that can make someone more... amorous. But even if I were under their effect now, which I do not think I am, it would not matter.
[ He looks up at her from the bed, not trying to look like a scolded puppy, but probably resembling one all the same. ]
Everything that happened between us... for me, that was entirely natural. The only aphrodisiac I needed was you.
[ oh, how she hates to see that look on his face. how she hates to know she's the one who put it there. but it is a necessary cruelty, if it means he will learn this lesson sooner rather than later.
though he can be so utterly distracting, can't he, when he goes and says such wonderful things like that. manuela hastens to fight back her own color rising to her cheeks; the memory of their time together remains a vivid one, one she can still sometimes feel like a phantom touch on her body. how fortunate that, beneath the knit of her dress, he cannot possibly see how her thighs clench together in a vain attempt for reprieve. ]
...Y-Yes, well. It's quite easy to get caught up in the moment. And โ given it was your first, and how brazenly I threw myself at you... [ yes, see, all these awful, wonderful things he's saying could very easily be explained away. ] Is it any wonder you reacted the way you did?
[ with him seated, she positions herself before him. there is enough of a difference in their heights that he would need to tip his head back just so he can meet her eyes (and avoid a direct-look at her chest). she lifts a hand to his brow, feeling for a fever. elevated heart rate and temperature are sure signs of an aphrodisiac working its way through his system. ]
You're flushed.
[ warm, too. of course, that could be due to his embarrassment, from feeling rebuked or even chastised. manuela hardly means either of those things, but it's important he knows how easily one's body could be manipulated in this place. ferdinand is too kind, too generous โ he is easy prey for the whims of this hotel, who preys on soft souls like his who are always overflowing with affection and sincerity.
she moves her hand down, placing it over his heart, where his loose shirt parts on an undone button. the skin beneath her fingers is warm to the touch. ]
You've done little more than sit and stand but your heart is racing, and your breathing is short. Clear signs of an aphrodisiac. Likely, you're erect, too.
[ she lowers her gaze to his lap โ his pants are of a light enough material (and ferdinand himself is far too large to be discreet) that there would certainly be some telltale tentingโ
[ No matter how much she might insist otherwise, Manuela still has a very powerful presence. Powerful enough that as she moves about, checking him over, he can do little more than sit and allow it. It's actually a bit charming how she slips into her role as a healer, attending to him like he was her patient. But he also knows that in this particular instance, her instincts are wrong. He feels very much himself. His racing heart? His flushed skin? That's all because of her.
Of course, there's a bit more to the flush on his cheeks when he realizes exactly where her gaze has fallen. Instinctively, he presses his legs together, averting his eyes. He doesn't even know what he's embarrassed about, given that in the current situation, there isn't anything to hide. But maybe he wishes that there were, that he could entice her to sit upon his lap and ride him until they're both too sore to move.
Of course, if such thoughts remain in his mind, then he's likely to grow hard anyway, but that's something he's not trying to think about right now. ]
Manuela... it is not just about sex. It has never been just about sex for me.
[ He swallows the nervous lump forming in his throat and reaches for her hand by the wrist, and though his touch is gentle, he firmly keeps her hand over his chest so that she might feel his heartbeat. He locks his eyes with hers, despite how frightening it feels to be so vulnerable and forthright. In the past, he'd hid his interest behind poetry and flattery. This is the most direct he's been with her, and it takes a good bit of willpower for him to even get the words out. ]
My heart raced just like this when we were alone at Garreg Mach and I read poetry to you. And it raced just like this when you gave me the honor of a dance with you.
[ His fingers spread so that they can lace between hers, then close fully. He can feel the subtle signs of age on her well-kept hands, but those aren't unattractive qualities to him. There's a quiet strength to them, and ultimately, it just accentuates her femininity even more to him. ]
And... if you will forgive me for being so crass... our scene together was far from the first time you have made me... [ He clears his throat a little, clearly embarrassed with himself. ] ...erect.
[ there had been a moment there, certainly, wherein manuela felt her own face flush with the heat of embarrassment. gone, suddenly, was the clinical air of her professionalism as a healer, and left behind in its place was the rather humbling effect of being so very clearly proven wrong.
and here she had been so sure... or rather, she had been so convinced the reason for all of this could be so easily justified by the hotel's particular brand of cruelty.
and yet here ferdinand sits, flaccid as can be. and while that might seem telling of a lack of attraction, the implication is very much the opposite, isn't it? how it all just leads more credence to his words. how it forces her to stop and consider them than spare herself the struggle. ]
Back in Garreg Mach...?
[ ...no. certainly that can't be true. does he truly mean to say that he had felt attraction โ no, perhaps even affection? โ for her since even before she had spread her legs for him?
yes, of course she had known of his little infatuation. and yes, of course she is well aware of what such feelings would stir in a hot-blooded young man. but the way he speaks, the way he looks at her. does he even realize how all this earnestness makes it sound?
oh, damn ferdinand von aegir. damn the entirety of his name and his lineage. what is she meant to do with this knowledge? how could she possibly feel anything less than overwhelmed by such girlish hope? ]
Ferdinand... What are you even saying?
[ she ought to tug her hand away. she ought to shut this down, faster, but hadn't she always been just a little too quick to succumb to the worst parts of herself? so instead her hand curls, clutching at the fabric of his shirt. to pull him in or push him away, even she isn't entirely sure yet. ]
You were barely older than a boy when we first met in the academy. And that war ripped what else of your young adulthood you could have had โ but you're far away from it now. And far away from Fรณdlan.
[ far away from responsibilities, and expectations, and the horse-blinders he'd put on himself to be steadfast in his goals. ]
Spend more than a week here and you will see... You'll see how small your world had been before now. However much of it you say I encompass โ it will only diminish the more you experience. The more you will see how little I compare.
[ Despite the content of her words and all of his stumbling when it comes to finding the right words for her, Ferdinand hears in Manuela's voice something akin to pleading, that she wants to be proven wrong. Of course, there is plenty that she says that is a perfectly salient point. Even in his short time at the resort, he's already experienced things he hadn't planned on experiencing until he was, at the very least, properly courting someone, if not married. And the very idea of monogamy in a place like this seems, even to him, utterly unrealistic.
But as he looks into Manuela's eyes, he doesn't see the thorny, overgrown rose who's well past her prime that she might think he would see. Nor does he see the idealized version of himself that he all but worshipped as a young man. He sees her for her vulnerability, her vices, her strengths, her triumphs and regrets โ and, whether she cares to admit it or not, the wisdom that only a woman of her experiences could truly possess.
He strokes the back of her hand with his thumb as he holds it, and the other hand pulls her in gently but firmly by the waist. He'll not accept putting any more space between them now, not when he needs her to understand just how much he means every word. ]
Love is a unique thing, Manuela. The more of it you give, the more you find you have. It changes and grows, as do the people who feel it.
[ His gaze locks with hers, and though his heart races at how daunting a prospect it is, he says words that he never dreamed he would actually say to her, at least not in so direct a method. ]
I love you, Manuela. That love has also changed and grown over time just as I have. Even when I was just a boy, I accepted when I was a young man that some other lucky suitor would likely sweep you off of your feet, but so long as you were happy, that was enough for me. Yet now, I see myself in a fortunate position I could only have imagined.
[ There's a maturity in his voice that's, perhaps, a lot more introspective than what she might have expected from him. She's seldom seen him at anything but his most boisterous and confident, but there's a vulnerability he's sharing with her, just as she's shared hers with him. ]
I know the nature of this place makes commitment... troublesome. I am not asking you to only share yourself with me. Your world is every bit as open now as mine. But I am asking you to believe me โ that no matter how much my world grows, your place in it and the affection I have for you will only grow as well.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Someone special... Yes. Your "princess."
[ it's been years since that conversation, and yet manuela can still remember it clear as day. truthfully, she should have corrected him then, but she had been so caught up in his attention, his abject adoration... she couldn't bring herself to tell him the truth. and now her misguidance has done him an even greater disservice.
with a soft sigh, manuela lowers her head. the urge to seek out the comfort his gentle hand offers her is strong โ but she resists. she has already taken far too much from him. ]
I'm sorry, Ferdinand, but you are mistaken. The woman you think so highly of... she is no longer here. Perhaps she was never really around to begin with.
[ she tries to step back, so she might no longer be tempted by the warmth he so readily offers her, but her back only meets the door. she sags against it a little, looking every bit defeated. ]
Surely... you would have heard it. All that was said about me, back in Garreg Mach. While there were certainly... exaggerations, [ to put it lightly, ] it was my reputation for a reason, Ferdinand.
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As she puts it, she as a reputation. Not an overly negative one, as her skill as a healer has always been valued, whether by the Church of Seiros or the Empire's forces. Edelgard herself has even recognized Manuela as someone who is wise and insightful beyond her station. But even Ferdinand has heard the tales of drunken stumbling after a bad date, disheveled rooms, and loneliness.
He allows her to step back, and not wanting to pressure her, he sits on the edge of his bed, patient despite how his heart aches. ]
I have done you a disservice, Manuela. When I spoke to you of my feelings all those years ago, it was not my intention to make you think that I saw you as some idealized version of yourself that only existed on the stage.
[ He casts his gaze downward to the rather drab carpeting on the floor, leaning forward and folding his hands together on his lap. ]
It is not love to overlook someone's shortcomings, but infatuation. And while you could reasonably say that as a boy, I was infatuated with you, I have not been a boy for quite some time. Love is accepting them, and when they want to address those flaws, supporting them through better or worse. There is nothing about you that makes you unworthy of being seen as special, Manuela. And if there is, then there certainly is no hope for someone like me, who was born with every advantage but still cannot overcome my own feelings of inadequacy.
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the goddess blesses her that he should keep speaking, allowing manuela to focus on something else other than what she wants to hear. ]
Oh, Ferdinand...
[ her voice softens. ]
The world will always look upon a man with more forgiveness than a woman.
[ there is a trace of bitterness in her tone, but more than that she is simply somber. ]
Besides that, you are still so young. Any shortcomings you think of yourself right now will whittle away with time. You've so many years ahead of you to reach the heights you've set out for yourself. And how could you not? You, who has never not known how to slow down or give up.
[ they are in the middle of a war, but if there is one thing manuela is going to do or die trying, it's ensure those that she has seen grow into remarkable young men and women get to continue to grow for many, many years to come. it is already far too late for someone like her... but ferdinand, and edelgard, and dorothea and all the rest โ they must still get to live on and have their dreams.
without his hands to steady her, she leans fully against the door now. she closes her eyes and tips her head back, and the sigh that escapes her lips is a wistful one. ]
Undoubtedly you will find the love you speak of, and the honor you crave. You will be respected, and renowned, and if the world should ever hear of your enthusiasms they would only ever call you "passionate" and leave it at that.
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And that ability and willingness to cut down to the ugly truths is part of what makes Manuela Manuela. Whether she's criticizing meager attempts at poetry or commenting on the state of the world, she says what's on her mind. If only he had the words to convince her of the worth of such outspokenness.
As she slumps against the door, his gaze is drawn back to her, to the resignation on her face. The distance between them is still pitifully small, but there are still moments when it feels like a vast gulf. He doesn't know how to convince her of his sincerity, but he does know that he can't be anything but honest with her. ]
I would be remiss if I denied that, coming especially from you, those words bring me some comfort... even as I recognize the sad truths of the world scrawled in the margins.
[ There is a wistfulness in his smile, but one that fades into something more determined. For as long as he's known, he's worried about how he'd be remembered, but there is something more important that he's come to realize. Yes, he wants to make a mark on the world and leave it for the better, but on a personal level, there are other things he wants, too. And looking at Manuela, he can easily see himself finding those. And with that resolve, he rises from the bed, speaking earnestly. ]
But I do not want for what happened between us to simply thought of as an indiscretion. I chose it for myself, of my own volition. And given the chance, I would do so again and again. I would discover every way I could to pleaโ
[ He catches himself mid-sentence, and for an instant, his expression grows a little bashful, and he finds himself fascinated with the patterns in the carpet. Or at least, they're the only thing he can really bring himself to look at. A faint blush spreads across his cheeks, and he continues before too long of a pause. ]
โto provide for you, and to make you feel as special and worthy as you have made me feel.
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and that is how it should be, anyway. her time in the spotlight is long past. and like the ways of the world she will always speak so critically about, unlike the younger members of their party who still have so much passion to burn, she has already long since made her peace with the fact that nothing will change for her. ]
...Thank you, Ferdinand. But you don't owe me that. You don't owe me anything at all.
[ she smiles at him now, managing something warm, if a little bittersweet. now that he is standing again, it isn't difficult at all for her to reach out, rest a hand upon his blushing cheek and coax him to look back up at her once more. it is not unlike the touch he had given her, not too long ago, though somehow hers feels much more like a parting gift than the welcoming gesture he had made for her. ]
You have already given me... a most wonderful gift. You reminded a faded old star like me what it felt like to be truly wanted. However much of that was you or the role or the moment, for at least that time, I felt like I could shine again. And now you give me your kindness, so that I can look back on that moment with fondness instead of shame. So โ thank you. That is already far more than I could ask for from you.
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His mind races with a million thoughts. Would she still be so full of self-doubt if he'd properly courted her first, or if they'd at least had time to talk things over before getting into it? Would it have helped if he'd taken his time more, no matter how pent up and impatient the both of them had become? For a moment, it feels as though he might be swallowed up by these what-ifs, these doubts plaguing the recesses of his mind.
But there's that sweet smile, not as happy as he'd like, but a smile nonetheless. And there's that lovely voice, thanking him for something that warrants no thanks whatsoever; calling herself faded, when nothing could be further from the truth in his eyes.
He can't bear it any longer. He can't make the years of loneliness and doubt go away, but he can do his damned best to try and make sure there aren't any more of them. He steps from the bed and closes the distance between them until their chests meet, and one hand moves to take hers. ]
Faded? Manuela, I have been unable to take my eyes off of you since I was scarcely even a man. You are more beautiful now than ever, and I will not rest until you have no choice but to concede the point.
[ And with that, he brings her hand up to his mouth. Without breaking eye contact, he kisses her fingers just beneath her knuckles, then presses a second kiss to the back of her hand. He might not be able to convince her, but at the very least, he can convince her that he won't be dissuaded. ]
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but just like that, the color drains from her face. the light flickers out in her eyes.
it's a funny thing, isn't it? how manuela has longed to hear such sentiments for over a decade now, bent herself repeatedly to new lows in vain attempts to appeal for them, yet in the here and now of finally getting what she wants, she cannot even fathom allowing herself to believe them. ]
More beautiful...?
[ oh, but she doesn't mean to be cruel or dismissive, especially not when he looks upon her so earnestly. but she cannot help but scoff. such pretty words, wrapped in such a handsome package. but for her? preposterous. what has she done to earn them? what has changed that she should receive them now? ]
What madness are you spouting? Do you even hear yourself?
[ and then, all at once, it clicks. pieces of a skewed puzzle slotting themselves into a crude picture, one she honestly should have expected from the start, given where they are. what they're made to endure. ]
It's this place, isn't it? You ingested something, or come across a pheromone. Tell me โ did you notice any peculiar scents right before I arrived?
[ yes, surely that's the cause. how much easier it is a pill to swallow, to think that none of this is at all sincere. hastily, she tugs at the hand he holds so tenderly, glancing aside. ]
Have a seat, Ferdinand, you are surely under some sort of spell.
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His expression, then, must be truly puzzled as she tries to rationalize what he's saying. He tires to get a word in edgewise, but he's not able to until she pulls him aside. ]
A spell? I assure you, Manuela, I am perfectly of my own mind right now.
[ Still, the easiest thing for him to do is to allow her to tug his hand away and follow the momentum to the edge of his bed, where he takes a seat as directed. He furrows his brow, frustrated with his inability to convince her that everything he felt and everything he said was genuine. ]
I know there are substances here that can make someone more... amorous. But even if I were under their effect now, which I do not think I am, it would not matter.
[ He looks up at her from the bed, not trying to look like a scolded puppy, but probably resembling one all the same. ]
Everything that happened between us... for me, that was entirely natural. The only aphrodisiac I needed was you.
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though he can be so utterly distracting, can't he, when he goes and says such wonderful things like that. manuela hastens to fight back her own color rising to her cheeks; the memory of their time together remains a vivid one, one she can still sometimes feel like a phantom touch on her body. how fortunate that, beneath the knit of her dress, he cannot possibly see how her thighs clench together in a vain attempt for reprieve. ]
...Y-Yes, well. It's quite easy to get caught up in the moment. And โ given it was your first, and how brazenly I threw myself at you... [ yes, see, all these awful, wonderful things he's saying could very easily be explained away. ] Is it any wonder you reacted the way you did?
[ with him seated, she positions herself before him. there is enough of a difference in their heights that he would need to tip his head back just so he can meet her eyes (and avoid a direct-look at her chest). she lifts a hand to his brow, feeling for a fever. elevated heart rate and temperature are sure signs of an aphrodisiac working its way through his system. ]
You're flushed.
[ warm, too. of course, that could be due to his embarrassment, from feeling rebuked or even chastised. manuela hardly means either of those things, but it's important he knows how easily one's body could be manipulated in this place. ferdinand is too kind, too generous โ he is easy prey for the whims of this hotel, who preys on soft souls like his who are always overflowing with affection and sincerity.
she moves her hand down, placing it over his heart, where his loose shirt parts on an undone button. the skin beneath her fingers is warm to the touch. ]
You've done little more than sit and stand but your heart is racing, and your breathing is short. Clear signs of an aphrodisiac. Likely, you're erect, too.
[ she lowers her gaze to his lap โ his pants are of a light enough material (and ferdinand himself is far too large to be discreet) that there would certainly be some telltale tentingโ
oh. ]
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Of course, there's a bit more to the flush on his cheeks when he realizes exactly where her gaze has fallen. Instinctively, he presses his legs together, averting his eyes. He doesn't even know what he's embarrassed about, given that in the current situation, there isn't anything to hide. But maybe he wishes that there were, that he could entice her to sit upon his lap and ride him until they're both too sore to move.
Of course, if such thoughts remain in his mind, then he's likely to grow hard anyway, but that's something he's not trying to think about right now. ]
Manuela... it is not just about sex. It has never been just about sex for me.
[ He swallows the nervous lump forming in his throat and reaches for her hand by the wrist, and though his touch is gentle, he firmly keeps her hand over his chest so that she might feel his heartbeat. He locks his eyes with hers, despite how frightening it feels to be so vulnerable and forthright. In the past, he'd hid his interest behind poetry and flattery. This is the most direct he's been with her, and it takes a good bit of willpower for him to even get the words out. ]
My heart raced just like this when we were alone at Garreg Mach and I read poetry to you. And it raced just like this when you gave me the honor of a dance with you.
[ His fingers spread so that they can lace between hers, then close fully. He can feel the subtle signs of age on her well-kept hands, but those aren't unattractive qualities to him. There's a quiet strength to them, and ultimately, it just accentuates her femininity even more to him. ]
And... if you will forgive me for being so crass... our scene together was far from the first time you have made me... [ He clears his throat a little, clearly embarrassed with himself. ] ...erect.
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and here she had been so sure... or rather, she had been so convinced the reason for all of this could be so easily justified by the hotel's particular brand of cruelty.
and yet here ferdinand sits, flaccid as can be. and while that might seem telling of a lack of attraction, the implication is very much the opposite, isn't it? how it all just leads more credence to his words. how it forces her to stop and consider them than spare herself the struggle. ]
Back in Garreg Mach...?
[ ...no. certainly that can't be true. does he truly mean to say that he had felt attraction โ no, perhaps even affection? โ for her since even before she had spread her legs for him?
yes, of course she had known of his little infatuation. and yes, of course she is well aware of what such feelings would stir in a hot-blooded young man. but the way he speaks, the way he looks at her. does he even realize how all this earnestness makes it sound?
oh, damn ferdinand von aegir. damn the entirety of his name and his lineage. what is she meant to do with this knowledge? how could she possibly feel anything less than overwhelmed by such girlish hope? ]
Ferdinand... What are you even saying?
[ she ought to tug her hand away. she ought to shut this down, faster, but hadn't she always been just a little too quick to succumb to the worst parts of herself? so instead her hand curls, clutching at the fabric of his shirt. to pull him in or push him away, even she isn't entirely sure yet. ]
You were barely older than a boy when we first met in the academy. And that war ripped what else of your young adulthood you could have had โ but you're far away from it now. And far away from Fรณdlan.
[ far away from responsibilities, and expectations, and the horse-blinders he'd put on himself to be steadfast in his goals. ]
Spend more than a week here and you will see... You'll see how small your world had been before now. However much of it you say I encompass โ it will only diminish the more you experience. The more you will see how little I compare.
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But as he looks into Manuela's eyes, he doesn't see the thorny, overgrown rose who's well past her prime that she might think he would see. Nor does he see the idealized version of himself that he all but worshipped as a young man. He sees her for her vulnerability, her vices, her strengths, her triumphs and regrets โ and, whether she cares to admit it or not, the wisdom that only a woman of her experiences could truly possess.
He strokes the back of her hand with his thumb as he holds it, and the other hand pulls her in gently but firmly by the waist. He'll not accept putting any more space between them now, not when he needs her to understand just how much he means every word. ]
Love is a unique thing, Manuela. The more of it you give, the more you find you have. It changes and grows, as do the people who feel it.
[ His gaze locks with hers, and though his heart races at how daunting a prospect it is, he says words that he never dreamed he would actually say to her, at least not in so direct a method. ]
I love you, Manuela. That love has also changed and grown over time just as I have. Even when I was just a boy, I accepted when I was a young man that some other lucky suitor would likely sweep you off of your feet, but so long as you were happy, that was enough for me. Yet now, I see myself in a fortunate position I could only have imagined.
[ There's a maturity in his voice that's, perhaps, a lot more introspective than what she might have expected from him. She's seldom seen him at anything but his most boisterous and confident, but there's a vulnerability he's sharing with her, just as she's shared hers with him. ]
I know the nature of this place makes commitment... troublesome. I am not asking you to only share yourself with me. Your world is every bit as open now as mine. But I am asking you to believe me โ that no matter how much my world grows, your place in it and the affection I have for you will only grow as well.