[ "Let out" makes him laugh, as does "handsome". Is he? When most people comment on his looks, it's usually with a slight tinge of derision－ as if a man with a sword should look a certain other way, or if they think Clive has an ego about his appearances. Even Cid had used the word pretty to describe him, and it'd felt more like a dig than anything else.
Clive touches his fingertips to his own face, along the scar where the brand used to be. ]
Father wore my features better, I think. [ Regal, stately. ] He was far tidier than I am, at any rate.
[ Maybe if he put product in his hair once in a while, it might behave. ]
[Jill's fingers lightly brush his aside so she can trace that scar herself. She still remembers when he asked Tarja to remove it. The way Jill paced, the screams. The wound that seemed so large on his face, and yet she still thought he was the most handsome man in Valisthea. That's the spot she presses a kiss to next, dropping her hand to his neck, warm and soft.]
...As long as you're not ashamed to walk by my side.
[ Tipping his face to give Jill easier access to the scar, and leaning into her kiss. He has a feeling that she doesn't quite like talking about Elwin, and that's fine: the truth remains that his father did wrench Jill from her homeland to broker peace, and she's allowed her opinions of him. ]
Now, you still haven't decided－ do you want to keep me for yourself, or are you feeling generous?
Never. There hasn't been a day I've been ashamed to be beside you, Clive.
[Even when Branded, when they would pretend to be a lady and her servant to go unnoticed on the road and when in towns and staying at inns on stormy nights. She's always been proud to be with him. She knows all too well what it feels like to be without him.
Elwin is a more complicated topic. She was treated well by him, and he was kind to her, but she was still a ward. A bargaining chip, taken from her home and family and thrust into a new world and culture. But Clive's fond regard for his father keeps her quiet--but these days she often wonders how the man could have let his wife treat his firstborn son so poorly. It's incomprehensible.
She's glad when Clive asks her opinion on easier matters.]
I share you often enough, I think. I'd like to keep you to myself for a little while longer, if that's all right.
[ There'd been a glimmer of fear, maybe when they'd first reunited, that she would think poorly of him. Not because of the brand on his cheek― she has never been, and never will, be the type to judge anyone by what they wear on their face― but for the sins he'd committed, and the blood on his hands. He would have understood if Jill hadn't wanted anything to do with him after he'd nearly felled her at the Nysa Defile, but it would have broken him more than a little.
She's too good to him. It softens him to think of it, even if a part of him remains apologetic despite the years separating them from that moment. ]
Of course it is.
[ So, obviously there's only one answer to the question of her keeping him to herself. He hugs Jill closer to his chest, cradling her with all the protectiveness he can muster. ]
[He can never hug her tight enough. She sighs, turning into him, and wrapping her arms around his shoulders to simply hug him in return. It's a simple thing. Just this contact, this closeness, with nothing between them. But it means everything to her.]
And you are everything I could ever need. I hope you know it, Clive. You fill my heart to the brim.
[Be it with his smile, his touch, or silly poetry. She adores him.]
[ Nested with her in warm water, as close as they can be without the frenetic need to make friction. Just this gentle, floating feeling. It feels impossibly precious to have this, and to have it feel hard-won and well-deserved. ]
Ever since we were children. Even when I didn't understand half of the grief you carried. I only ever wanted to see you smile.
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Clive touches his fingertips to his own face, along the scar where the brand used to be. ]
Father wore my features better, I think. [ Regal, stately. ] He was far tidier than I am, at any rate.
[ Maybe if he put product in his hair once in a while, it might behave. ]
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No. You're perfect.
[Mop of hair and all.]
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[ Tipping his face to give Jill easier access to the scar, and leaning into her kiss. He has a feeling that she doesn't quite like talking about Elwin, and that's fine: the truth remains that his father did wrench Jill from her homeland to broker peace, and she's allowed her opinions of him. ]
Now, you still haven't decided－ do you want to keep me for yourself, or are you feeling generous?
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[Even when Branded, when they would pretend to be a lady and her servant to go unnoticed on the road and when in towns and staying at inns on stormy nights. She's always been proud to be with him. She knows all too well what it feels like to be without him.
Elwin is a more complicated topic. She was treated well by him, and he was kind to her, but she was still a ward. A bargaining chip, taken from her home and family and thrust into a new world and culture. But Clive's fond regard for his father keeps her quiet--but these days she often wonders how the man could have let his wife treat his firstborn son so poorly. It's incomprehensible.
She's glad when Clive asks her opinion on easier matters.]
I share you often enough, I think. I'd like to keep you to myself for a little while longer, if that's all right.
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She's too good to him. It softens him to think of it, even if a part of him remains apologetic despite the years separating them from that moment. ]
Of course it is.
[ So, obviously there's only one answer to the question of her keeping him to herself. He hugs Jill closer to his chest, cradling her with all the protectiveness he can muster. ]
I'm yours to have, in every way that you need.
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And you are everything I could ever need. I hope you know it, Clive. You fill my heart to the brim.
[Be it with his smile, his touch, or silly poetry. She adores him.]
no subject
[ Nested with her in warm water, as close as they can be without the frenetic need to make friction. Just this gentle, floating feeling. It feels impossibly precious to have this, and to have it feel hard-won and well-deserved. ]
Ever since we were children. Even when I didn't understand half of the grief you carried. I only ever wanted to see you smile.