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Entry tags:
Day 1 - Popsicle, Rest&Relaxation, Summer Sports
"Dimitri," Claude says, with as much love and understanding that he can muster in his heart, "that's snow. You are telling me to eat snow."
The absolute love of his life, the radiant king of Fodlan, the man pushing for reform and endlessly antagonizing just about every noble family underneath him, just blinks over at Claude. "Oh, no, Claude," he says gently, sheepishly, as though he'd forgotten something terribly unimportant that nonetheless had to be said. "It is not snow. It is shaved ice."
This is just what he gets, isn't it? This is what he gets for coming up to what used to be Faerghus, to come visit Dimitri. This is what he gets for thinking that Faerghus would be a little more hospitable during the summer months.
And, well, it is, granted. Claude has had to spend some unfortunate winters in Fodlan, when he was younger and going by a name that he'd grown to love, and so he's learned just how cold it can get over here. It'd been a bother when he was in Leicester, and it'd been something that'd grown to be all the more nightmarishly worse when he went further in to attend Garreg Mach. That it could be even colder? That people would have to bundle up even more? That'd been a horror story to hear, as he'd talk to students of the Blue Lions house. Summer in the mountains of northern Fodlan is, at worst, late autumn in Leicester, and usually it's better than that.
And yet, somehow, against all odds, Dimitri had taken him riding... into the mountains... and somehow found an area where it was freshly snowing. It's even a town.
Claude has so many questions, and he's not entirely sure he wants any answers.
"Shaved ice," he repeats, as though echoing what Dimitri has said will make this scenario any better. As though that will help it make sense. Funnily enough, it doesn't. "Dimitri, it snows at least 80% of the year. Why would anyone try to shovel more ice into themselves? Don't you all get enough of it during the rest of the year?" It'd be like having to ask for more sand in Almyra. They have plenty of that, thank you very much. Need to spice it up with some mountains and oasises and beaches, all of which they have plenty of.
Dimitri only laughs a bit, as though this isn't something inherently horrifying to literally anyone else. "Well, even so, that doesn't mean we cannot enjoy it for what it is. Besides, during times like this, a little bit of fresh snowfall is exactly what everyone needs when it gets so warm!"
Is this vengeance? Is this revenge for when he invited Dimitri over to Almyra, and his poor lover practically melted in the heat? Claude is pretty sure he's witnessing a revenge scheme here. "It's not that hot," he says, laughing a little bit, in pure incredulousness.
"It is warm for us," Dimitri stresses, and tries very hard not to pout with consideration towards his kingly image. It doesn't particularly work, unfortunately for him. "When it snows a bit in the heat of summer, we all rather welcome it, although it is quite uncommon!" Claude notes that he doesn't say it's rare. Faerghus really is just completely hostile to the idea of anyone living in it, isn't it? "So of course some people take advantage of that, especially since the snow will eventually melt in but a few days time."
Will it really melt in just a few days time, or are they going by Faerghus metrics of time, where that means a few weeks? Claude decides not to push it for now, just squints at the small bowl that Dimitri has in front of him. Really, while it has the texture of snow - shaved ice, whatever - the colorful color staining it does make it look a bit more enticing...
"Well, I will agree that I suppose it is pretty warm if you've grown up in eternal winter," he agrees, picking up his spoon for himself. They're already in the lodgings that Dimitri had managed to provide for the two of them, far away from the prying eyes of the court waiting for international political drama. It's a nice, toasty little place, and its warmth more than the sun is likely the reason why their food will melt before anything else. And yet, still, there's a small wooden spoon in his hands instead of anything metal... He can only think of the nobles who would be aghast at something so simple and plain being in their hands. "And yet, Dimitri, usually it doesn't snow when it's warm..."
"It snows in Faerghus! Occasionally!"
That much is evident right in front of them, in their plates, and all Claude can do is laugh at him before he raises the shaved ice up to his mouth. At least, in a warm room, eating something that's literally ice isn't as terrifying an idea as he might otherwise think...
What first hits him is, UNSURPRISINGLY, the sensation of freezing cold rolling down along his tongue and biting at his own teeth. Even in the cozy atmosphere of the inn room, a full-body shudder crackles through him, and he has to immediately lower the spoon. Yet, behind the terrible feeling of ice sinking into his body.... There's the sweeter taste of berries sinking into his mouth, something that only becomes all the more pronounced as the ice is warmed up by the inside of his mouth. Sweet and gentle, almost, with just a bit of tartness to wake him up past the chill.
He hums, savoring the flavor, before he finally swallows. "What kind of flavor was that? I figured there would be some sort of flavoring, but I would have thought it something imported from one of the other areas in Fodlan."
That, unfortunately, made up a lot of the old Faerghus's economy, after all. In such a harsh land, where the winters are long and harsh, the ground difficult to farm, and former rulers having more of an interest in battle than developing farming... Well, that has meant having to pull in a lot of resources from other countries in the past. Dimitri's been doing his best, now that he has access to the lands which were once Adrestia and Leicester, but there's still only so much that can be done...
Still, it shows just how much Claude was never able to go up to Faerghus, how little he knows, for Dimitri to smile a bit. "Most of the time, yes, that is the case. However, this is still a land that exists with animals of all sorts having managed to thrive here... and that means plants are here for them to eat.
"Of course, it is not often the kind of crops which would flourish and sustain a country like Leicester or Adrestia, but still, there is a kind of berry bush here in the mountains which manages to thrive quite well enough in all sorts of areas that would otherwise be quite difficult for any other plant. Getting them can be something of a bother, but it is hardly impossible... especially for those who manage the luck of taming wild pegasi up here." A grin passes over Dimitri's face. "Did you know that this is actually one of the only places that I know if in Fodlan where pegasi accept male riders?"
"I think you might be bullshitting me, good sir."
Now it's Dimitri's turn to laugh. "It's true! I didn't even know of this tiny little town before I came across it, during the war." Just the briefest of pauses, something that always happens when the war is brought up. As time passes, the pauses become shorter and shorter. "But with the plague ages ago having lead to too many deaths, it wasn't as though they could rely on women all the time to ride up to pick the berries... And so, one way or another, it seems that the people here have mastered some trick or another."
"That trick sounds like it could be useful for plenty of other people to learn," Claude muses, finally mustering up the courage to dip his spoon into the shaved ice again. The taste really wasn't that bad, honestly... "Especially since pegasi do so much better up north than wyverns generally are capable of. But I'm going to assume it's not that easy?"
"It's a bit of a town secret, yes. I've been seeing what I could do to talk with them, so hopefully we'll have established at least a school out here..."
Claude chuckles. "Oh, you want to establish a flying school all the way out here? It is a bit out of the way..."
Talking helps make eating the shaved ice a little bit easier, funnily enough -warms up his mouth, his tongue, all of that. And it's always nice, to see how Fodlan is slowly changing and rebuilding after he left it a good couple of years ago. His time in Fodlan was relatively short, yes, and fraught with all sorts of conspiracies and danger...
But it was still one of the first places he could be welcomed somewhere with a smile, even if he had to lie a great deal of the time for it. Still one of the first places he could hear his name said warmly - said with love, when Dimitri looked over to him.
Despite his best efforts to face the cold, Claude still doesn't eat his shaved ice quick enough to keep it all from melting, but that's just how life goes, sometimes. At least melted ice is still flavored melted ice, so he can't complain too much. Although he has to admit that Dimitri's own looks a bit appetizing, and still somehow mostly ice.... Dimitri catches him staring over, and grins. "Are you interested in this flavor as well, then?"
"Well, mine was a kind of orange flavor," Claude points out, grinning right back. "But yours is sure notably blue, Your Kingliness... I guess you never will let go of your favorite color. A different set of berries?"
"That's right, from another town. Exchanging goods is often better than dealing with money, with these distant places..." Trailing off, Dimitri considers him for a moment. "If you are really curious about the taste, since I still have some left, I could indulge you in some of it, if you would like."
That really is just like him, huh. "Well, far be it for me to avoid taking advantage of you," he says cheekily. "A taste, if you please."
Dimitri rolls his eyes at what is, really, the most mundane of teasing. Perhaps it's for that reason that he takes a bite for himself first before offering Claude his own -
Or maybe it's because, right after, he leans forward to steal Claude's lips in a kiss, tasting faintly of something tart and sweet.
A short kiss. One that could go on longer, even as Dimitri pulls back just enough for them to breathe, to speak. Their noses bump, and Claude laughs right there against Dimitri's mouth.
"How sweet."
The absolute love of his life, the radiant king of Fodlan, the man pushing for reform and endlessly antagonizing just about every noble family underneath him, just blinks over at Claude. "Oh, no, Claude," he says gently, sheepishly, as though he'd forgotten something terribly unimportant that nonetheless had to be said. "It is not snow. It is shaved ice."
This is just what he gets, isn't it? This is what he gets for coming up to what used to be Faerghus, to come visit Dimitri. This is what he gets for thinking that Faerghus would be a little more hospitable during the summer months.
And, well, it is, granted. Claude has had to spend some unfortunate winters in Fodlan, when he was younger and going by a name that he'd grown to love, and so he's learned just how cold it can get over here. It'd been a bother when he was in Leicester, and it'd been something that'd grown to be all the more nightmarishly worse when he went further in to attend Garreg Mach. That it could be even colder? That people would have to bundle up even more? That'd been a horror story to hear, as he'd talk to students of the Blue Lions house. Summer in the mountains of northern Fodlan is, at worst, late autumn in Leicester, and usually it's better than that.
And yet, somehow, against all odds, Dimitri had taken him riding... into the mountains... and somehow found an area where it was freshly snowing. It's even a town.
Claude has so many questions, and he's not entirely sure he wants any answers.
"Shaved ice," he repeats, as though echoing what Dimitri has said will make this scenario any better. As though that will help it make sense. Funnily enough, it doesn't. "Dimitri, it snows at least 80% of the year. Why would anyone try to shovel more ice into themselves? Don't you all get enough of it during the rest of the year?" It'd be like having to ask for more sand in Almyra. They have plenty of that, thank you very much. Need to spice it up with some mountains and oasises and beaches, all of which they have plenty of.
Dimitri only laughs a bit, as though this isn't something inherently horrifying to literally anyone else. "Well, even so, that doesn't mean we cannot enjoy it for what it is. Besides, during times like this, a little bit of fresh snowfall is exactly what everyone needs when it gets so warm!"
Is this vengeance? Is this revenge for when he invited Dimitri over to Almyra, and his poor lover practically melted in the heat? Claude is pretty sure he's witnessing a revenge scheme here. "It's not that hot," he says, laughing a little bit, in pure incredulousness.
"It is warm for us," Dimitri stresses, and tries very hard not to pout with consideration towards his kingly image. It doesn't particularly work, unfortunately for him. "When it snows a bit in the heat of summer, we all rather welcome it, although it is quite uncommon!" Claude notes that he doesn't say it's rare. Faerghus really is just completely hostile to the idea of anyone living in it, isn't it? "So of course some people take advantage of that, especially since the snow will eventually melt in but a few days time."
Will it really melt in just a few days time, or are they going by Faerghus metrics of time, where that means a few weeks? Claude decides not to push it for now, just squints at the small bowl that Dimitri has in front of him. Really, while it has the texture of snow - shaved ice, whatever - the colorful color staining it does make it look a bit more enticing...
"Well, I will agree that I suppose it is pretty warm if you've grown up in eternal winter," he agrees, picking up his spoon for himself. They're already in the lodgings that Dimitri had managed to provide for the two of them, far away from the prying eyes of the court waiting for international political drama. It's a nice, toasty little place, and its warmth more than the sun is likely the reason why their food will melt before anything else. And yet, still, there's a small wooden spoon in his hands instead of anything metal... He can only think of the nobles who would be aghast at something so simple and plain being in their hands. "And yet, Dimitri, usually it doesn't snow when it's warm..."
"It snows in Faerghus! Occasionally!"
That much is evident right in front of them, in their plates, and all Claude can do is laugh at him before he raises the shaved ice up to his mouth. At least, in a warm room, eating something that's literally ice isn't as terrifying an idea as he might otherwise think...
What first hits him is, UNSURPRISINGLY, the sensation of freezing cold rolling down along his tongue and biting at his own teeth. Even in the cozy atmosphere of the inn room, a full-body shudder crackles through him, and he has to immediately lower the spoon. Yet, behind the terrible feeling of ice sinking into his body.... There's the sweeter taste of berries sinking into his mouth, something that only becomes all the more pronounced as the ice is warmed up by the inside of his mouth. Sweet and gentle, almost, with just a bit of tartness to wake him up past the chill.
He hums, savoring the flavor, before he finally swallows. "What kind of flavor was that? I figured there would be some sort of flavoring, but I would have thought it something imported from one of the other areas in Fodlan."
That, unfortunately, made up a lot of the old Faerghus's economy, after all. In such a harsh land, where the winters are long and harsh, the ground difficult to farm, and former rulers having more of an interest in battle than developing farming... Well, that has meant having to pull in a lot of resources from other countries in the past. Dimitri's been doing his best, now that he has access to the lands which were once Adrestia and Leicester, but there's still only so much that can be done...
Still, it shows just how much Claude was never able to go up to Faerghus, how little he knows, for Dimitri to smile a bit. "Most of the time, yes, that is the case. However, this is still a land that exists with animals of all sorts having managed to thrive here... and that means plants are here for them to eat.
"Of course, it is not often the kind of crops which would flourish and sustain a country like Leicester or Adrestia, but still, there is a kind of berry bush here in the mountains which manages to thrive quite well enough in all sorts of areas that would otherwise be quite difficult for any other plant. Getting them can be something of a bother, but it is hardly impossible... especially for those who manage the luck of taming wild pegasi up here." A grin passes over Dimitri's face. "Did you know that this is actually one of the only places that I know if in Fodlan where pegasi accept male riders?"
"I think you might be bullshitting me, good sir."
Now it's Dimitri's turn to laugh. "It's true! I didn't even know of this tiny little town before I came across it, during the war." Just the briefest of pauses, something that always happens when the war is brought up. As time passes, the pauses become shorter and shorter. "But with the plague ages ago having lead to too many deaths, it wasn't as though they could rely on women all the time to ride up to pick the berries... And so, one way or another, it seems that the people here have mastered some trick or another."
"That trick sounds like it could be useful for plenty of other people to learn," Claude muses, finally mustering up the courage to dip his spoon into the shaved ice again. The taste really wasn't that bad, honestly... "Especially since pegasi do so much better up north than wyverns generally are capable of. But I'm going to assume it's not that easy?"
"It's a bit of a town secret, yes. I've been seeing what I could do to talk with them, so hopefully we'll have established at least a school out here..."
Claude chuckles. "Oh, you want to establish a flying school all the way out here? It is a bit out of the way..."
Talking helps make eating the shaved ice a little bit easier, funnily enough -warms up his mouth, his tongue, all of that. And it's always nice, to see how Fodlan is slowly changing and rebuilding after he left it a good couple of years ago. His time in Fodlan was relatively short, yes, and fraught with all sorts of conspiracies and danger...
But it was still one of the first places he could be welcomed somewhere with a smile, even if he had to lie a great deal of the time for it. Still one of the first places he could hear his name said warmly - said with love, when Dimitri looked over to him.
Despite his best efforts to face the cold, Claude still doesn't eat his shaved ice quick enough to keep it all from melting, but that's just how life goes, sometimes. At least melted ice is still flavored melted ice, so he can't complain too much. Although he has to admit that Dimitri's own looks a bit appetizing, and still somehow mostly ice.... Dimitri catches him staring over, and grins. "Are you interested in this flavor as well, then?"
"Well, mine was a kind of orange flavor," Claude points out, grinning right back. "But yours is sure notably blue, Your Kingliness... I guess you never will let go of your favorite color. A different set of berries?"
"That's right, from another town. Exchanging goods is often better than dealing with money, with these distant places..." Trailing off, Dimitri considers him for a moment. "If you are really curious about the taste, since I still have some left, I could indulge you in some of it, if you would like."
That really is just like him, huh. "Well, far be it for me to avoid taking advantage of you," he says cheekily. "A taste, if you please."
Dimitri rolls his eyes at what is, really, the most mundane of teasing. Perhaps it's for that reason that he takes a bite for himself first before offering Claude his own -
Or maybe it's because, right after, he leans forward to steal Claude's lips in a kiss, tasting faintly of something tart and sweet.
A short kiss. One that could go on longer, even as Dimitri pulls back just enough for them to breathe, to speak. Their noses bump, and Claude laughs right there against Dimitri's mouth.
"How sweet."