Depending in the cultural climate, teaching students such survival skills is necessary.
[...]
It is very clear that he cared about you.
[which, chiron notes, is why he has no criticisms of what he's seen. Tough love is still a form of it, after all, and he approves of the fondness on display]
(That gets Claude to smile. Yes, it's clear that he cared about him. He agrees with that.)
Even if he was always pushing me and trying to get me to prove myself... yeah. I was always giving him a hard time and I wasn't the easiest student but he put up with me when most wouldn't.
(As for the cultural climate? He has to think for a moment. There's an answer he can give but it doesn't feel completely whole,)
I'm from Fodlan but I grew up in another place. That place is known for being a nation of warriors. Strength is important and there's no place for weakness. (So yeah, it's a tough culture! A place where everyone has to prove themselves early or, well... they might just end up dead. It really does feel like there should be more there, though and he wonders what it must be. What did he forget? Hm.) That's why he was hard on me.
(Because he was just a weak little boy as far as anyone else was concerned. No amount of screaming, fighting, or explaining himself could ever change that.)
[not just in the sense that Claude is alive -- unless fate was very unkind to him, it seems the youth has stuck around on his homeworld. But there are harsh realities waiting for him, and Chiron wonders if this teacher was there to help him meet the challenges.]
... I'm pretty popular here but the truth is, back home, I'm probably one of the most hated guys in the world. But not because I did anything. I was hated from the moment I was born.
(He says this plainly, as if he's talking about something as normal as the weather.)
If I wanted to live, I had to be strong and I couldn't rely on anyone else. (That's what he was taught and that's what he learned.) He wasn't wrong and I learned my lessons. I'm still alive so I'd say they worked.
[Head tilting a little as if those words mean something to him... but no, if there is a memory there, it's long forgotten. So he nods instead]
It is a heavy burden to bear that type of hate from a young age, but you either rise above it or fall prey...
[Though as he talks, a stray bubble finally sneaks up on the the unsuspecting centaur from behind, and there is a slight moment of surprise before he settles in resignation -- apparently it's his turn. Their surroundings twist until they're both in a vibrant meadow, almost as if the colors are overly saturated.
The perspective shifts
And with the first breath of life, you are born.
Unlike the other gods, you do not enter the world fully formed. You are a babe crying on a soft bed of grass, little hands clenched as you kick all four of your legs in an appeal for comfort. The wind is cold on your skin, and you are hungry for food.
You are an infant, but you are still born of immortal blood. And so you remember everything you see, hear, smell – how the light shimmers through the leaves of a nearby tree, and how the wind feels on your skin as you continue to cry.
And you remember the face of your mother, horrified and disgusted, when she takes her first look at you.
Even in her horror, she is beautiful, you think -- her features delicate and eternal in a way you will inherit. But you still feel the weight of that hatred, and it makes you cry more in a desperate plead for love. Instead your mother recoils the louder you are, tears streaming down her cheeks as she turns away with her hands turned up at the sky. There is a shrill cry for mercy, for peace – to be taken as far away as possible from the monster she’s created.
And then her limbs harden, her legs take root in the earth, and very soon all that is left of your mother is a linden tree that has already begun to bloom soft, yellow flowers.
You continue to cry – you are an infant, after all. But this time it is because you know that there is no love for you in this world yet, not from her. ]
(He has a reason to live. There's a̷̒ ̸̓͜t̵̠̄h̴̤̒ŗ̴̆oṇ̶̅e̶̱͠ ̸̱́t̶̼̑o̵̝̽ ̴̜̔i̴̟͐n̶̈́h̷͋é̴̝r̷̠͋í̶̱t and he would love to see the looks on everyone's faces when he rises above them all.
(... As what, exactly? He's inherited a title in a foreign land but he can't imagine anyone back home caring about that. Maybe he could return as a great general or something instead. Someone who would surely impress the king regardless of his birth.)
Ah, but before he can really dwell on it, he's sent back into a memory and
The memory of birth is a strange one. It's not a memory that most people can really recall but the sensation of being born and alive and aware of everything from that first moment is almost overwhelming at first. It would be one thing of this first moment had been warm and gentle but... it's anything but that.
He recognizes that look. The look of disgust and disdain. She doesn't want anything to do with him. She's looking down on him. She wants to be rid of him. He's seen this look so many times in his life but not once had he ever seen it from his own mother. In that sense, he was quite blessed to have parents who loved him when the world wanted nothing to do with him.
Unlike Chiron, whose first memories are being rejected by even his own mother, Claude's earliest memories had been his mother's embrace. He loving smile. Her gentle voice. Her beautiful face. He didn't learn how hated he was until he was older. His first few years had been innocent and unaware... He was hated by others from the moment he was born but he hadn't realized it until much later.
And his heart aches for Chiron who had to realize from his first breath. His jaw clenches tight, he bites down on his tongue, and he closes his hands into fists at his side. The memory fades and the words that tumble out of his mouth are--)
I'm glad you're here. (Honest words that spill carelessly,) And I'm grateful to have met you.
(He has always belonged in the world. He has always deserved to exist. These are just revised versions of certain words. Words he'd heard only briefly from time to time in his life. Words he'd wished he'd heard more.)
[His eyes tick over, almost surprised by the comment that Claude offers him, but his eyes will soften a beat later as he shakes his head]
Now? I do not remember that memory, or that woman's face.
[...]
So it is... strange, seeing the face of my mother, when I thought I did not have one.
[Her hate, her disgust, and yet picking out the features that are reflected in his own. How... bittersweet, he thinks, to know these were his first few moments]
I had students who cared for me once I was older. I was not completely alone. [A faint smile] I was loved, even if only briefly.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[...]
It is very clear that he cared about you.
[which, chiron notes, is why he has no criticisms of what he's seen. Tough love is still a form of it, after all, and he approves of the fondness on display]
no subject
Even if he was always pushing me and trying to get me to prove myself... yeah. I was always giving him a hard time and I wasn't the easiest student but he put up with me when most wouldn't.
(As for the cultural climate? He has to think for a moment. There's an answer he can give but it doesn't feel completely whole,)
I'm from Fodlan but I grew up in another place. That place is known for being a nation of warriors. Strength is important and there's no place for weakness. (So yeah, it's a tough culture! A place where everyone has to prove themselves early or, well... they might just end up dead. It really does feel like there should be more there, though and he wonders what it must be. What did he forget? Hm.) That's why he was hard on me.
(Because he was just a weak little boy as far as anyone else was concerned. No amount of screaming, fighting, or explaining himself could ever change that.)
no subject
[not just in the sense that Claude is alive -- unless fate was very unkind to him, it seems the youth has stuck around on his homeworld. But there are harsh realities waiting for him, and Chiron wonders if this teacher was there to help him meet the challenges.]
no subject
(He says this plainly, as if he's talking about something as normal as the weather.)
If I wanted to live, I had to be strong and I couldn't rely on anyone else. (That's what he was taught and that's what he learned.) He wasn't wrong and I learned my lessons. I'm still alive so I'd say they worked.
no subject
[Head tilting a little as if those words mean something to him... but no, if there is a memory there, it's long forgotten. So he nods instead]
It is a heavy burden to bear that type of hate from a young age, but you either rise above it or fall prey...
[Though as he talks, a stray bubble finally sneaks up on the the unsuspecting centaur from behind, and there is a slight moment of surprise before he settles in resignation -- apparently it's his turn. Their surroundings twist until they're both in a vibrant meadow, almost as if the colors are overly saturated.
The perspective shifts
And with the first breath of life, you are born.
Unlike the other gods, you do not enter the world fully formed. You are a babe crying on a soft bed of grass, little hands clenched as you kick all four of your legs in an appeal for comfort. The wind is cold on your skin, and you are hungry for food.
You are an infant, but you are still born of immortal blood. And so you remember everything you see, hear, smell – how the light shimmers through the leaves of a nearby tree, and how the wind feels on your skin as you continue to cry.
And you remember the face of your mother, horrified and disgusted, when she takes her first look at you.
Even in her horror, she is beautiful, you think -- her features delicate and eternal in a way you will inherit. But you still feel the weight of that hatred, and it makes you cry more in a desperate plead for love. Instead your mother recoils the louder you are, tears streaming down her cheeks as she turns away with her hands turned up at the sky. There is a shrill cry for mercy, for peace – to be taken as far away as possible from the monster she’s created.
And then her limbs harden, her legs take root in the earth, and very soon all that is left of your mother is a linden tree that has already begun to bloom soft, yellow flowers.
You continue to cry – you are an infant, after all. But this time it is because you know that there is no love for you in this world yet, not from her. ]
... Mm.
no subject
(He has a reason to live. There's a̷̒ ̸̓͜t̵̠̄h̴̤̒ŗ̴̆oṇ̶̅e̶̱͠ ̸̱́t̶̼̑o̵̝̽ ̴̜̔i̴̟͐n̶̈́h̷͋é̴̝r̷̠͋í̶̱t and he would love to see the looks on everyone's faces when he rises above them all.
(... As what, exactly? He's inherited a title in a foreign land but he can't imagine anyone back home caring about that. Maybe he could return as a great general or something instead. Someone who would surely impress the king regardless of his birth.)
Ah, but before he can really dwell on it, he's sent back into a memory and
The memory of birth is a strange one. It's not a memory that most people can really recall but the sensation of being born and alive and aware of everything from that first moment is almost overwhelming at first. It would be one thing of this first moment had been warm and gentle but... it's anything but that.
He recognizes that look. The look of disgust and disdain. She doesn't want anything to do with him. She's looking down on him. She wants to be rid of him. He's seen this look so many times in his life but not once had he ever seen it from his own mother. In that sense, he was quite blessed to have parents who loved him when the world wanted nothing to do with him.
Unlike Chiron, whose first memories are being rejected by even his own mother, Claude's earliest memories had been his mother's embrace. He loving smile. Her gentle voice. Her beautiful face. He didn't learn how hated he was until he was older. His first few years had been innocent and unaware... He was hated by others from the moment he was born but he hadn't realized it until much later.
And his heart aches for Chiron who had to realize from his first breath. His jaw clenches tight, he bites down on his tongue, and he closes his hands into fists at his side. The memory fades and the words that tumble out of his mouth are--)
I'm glad you're here. (Honest words that spill carelessly,) And I'm grateful to have met you.
(He has always belonged in the world. He has always deserved to exist. These are just revised versions of certain words. Words he'd heard only briefly from time to time in his life. Words he'd wished he'd heard more.)
... Do you really remember that much?
(The very first moment of his life?)
no subject
Now? I do not remember that memory, or that woman's face.
[...]
So it is... strange, seeing the face of my mother, when I thought I did not have one.
[Her hate, her disgust, and yet picking out the features that are reflected in his own. How... bittersweet, he thinks, to know these were his first few moments]
I had students who cared for me once I was older. I was not completely alone. [A faint smile] I was loved, even if only briefly.
[So it does not hurt in the way that it could.]