[Yeah, nothing. Or as good as nothing, at any rate, with what could have been done then - moreso with what can be done now.
Instinctively, Sylvain flinches when Dimitri clamps his hands on his shoulder - no pain comes, without the Blaiddyd crest's influence, though, so he relaxes a moment later with a sigh, resigned.]
I didn't want you and the others to be hurt, Dimitri.
[Not in any sense of the word. Not emotionally, for them to know it was going on, but being unable to stop it. Not physically, because they'd surely try to do something, the next time they saw Miklan, hot-headed kids that they'd been.
And just as he'd said - footsteps echo down the hall a few moments later, quickly. Too quickly for Miklan to duck into a room, out of sight. But as the figure turns the corner, it's revealed he'd been wrong on one key point - it isn't one of the maids.
"Miklan Anschutz Gautier!"
No, their mother is the one to turn the corner, and Sylvain - the older - actually cringes. That... certainly narrows down the possible memories this could be, and he can only hope it will end sooner, rather than later, so Dimitri doesn't see too much.
Almost immediately, she's on the ground, too, wiping blood off of Sylvain's face, petting his hair, holding him close and protectively.
"He started it..."
"I don't care if he started it. You are not to lay a hand on my precious baby, Miklan."
He builds up as though he's going to argue further, maybe point out that Sylvain cut him as proof, but... they're both old enough by now to know it would be useless. So Miklan turns on his heel to leave, their mother continues to fret, to coo sweet nothings that had already lost all meaning to Sylvain, and... his older self hopes, prays that that's it, that the memory will end there. The hall is certainly fading out around them like it might, but... Then again, it might return to something else.]
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Instinctively, Sylvain flinches when Dimitri clamps his hands on his shoulder - no pain comes, without the Blaiddyd crest's influence, though, so he relaxes a moment later with a sigh, resigned.]
I didn't want you and the others to be hurt, Dimitri.
[Not in any sense of the word. Not emotionally, for them to know it was going on, but being unable to stop it. Not physically, because they'd surely try to do something, the next time they saw Miklan, hot-headed kids that they'd been.
And just as he'd said - footsteps echo down the hall a few moments later, quickly. Too quickly for Miklan to duck into a room, out of sight. But as the figure turns the corner, it's revealed he'd been wrong on one key point - it isn't one of the maids.
"Miklan Anschutz Gautier!"
No, their mother is the one to turn the corner, and Sylvain - the older - actually cringes. That... certainly narrows down the possible memories this could be, and he can only hope it will end sooner, rather than later, so Dimitri doesn't see too much.
Almost immediately, she's on the ground, too, wiping blood off of Sylvain's face, petting his hair, holding him close and protectively.
"He started it..."
"I don't care if he started it. You are not to lay a hand on my precious baby, Miklan."
He builds up as though he's going to argue further, maybe point out that Sylvain cut him as proof, but... they're both old enough by now to know it would be useless. So Miklan turns on his heel to leave, their mother continues to fret, to coo sweet nothings that had already lost all meaning to Sylvain, and... his older self hopes, prays that that's it, that the memory will end there. The hall is certainly fading out around them like it might, but... Then again, it might return to something else.]