#kunotthias von tag tbt

[hermidetta]

He did his best not to be cruel, days like this were meant to be spent enjoying the company of friends. Matthias was quick in his mission. A small box with a tiny bear, small enough to be looped onto a belt, had been left alongside a few tiny cubes of cheese. There was a knock at her door but he was long gone by the time anyone would have answered.

⠀ ⚘ birthdaydetta 2k24 ♡ ⠀

to coax out a mouse one must, of course, start with cheese. for all of her unpleasant run-ins with garreg mach's rodents, bernadetta quite resembled one herself—though do not ever tell her this or risk losing her favor.

"dear mr. matthias,"  a tiny voice recites, in the measured timbre of reading off parchment.  "bernie is very sorry for biting your hand that one time. you were just kind of scary, and you're still kind of scary, but that wasn't okay to do. so, i'm sorry. i will not do it again, probably."

the pacing of the recitation crumbles.  "well, it's not like i meant to! i just panicked! and then you started cackling and prancing after me, footsteps thudding and shaking the ground! fee-fi-fo-fum, much?! and then you and professor lambert, oh sweet summer professor lambert, you kissed right in front of bernie's face! kissed! in front! of my face! my eyes! my eyes, i say!"

the other week when matthias (despite everything) had spared this rodent five whole cheese cubes was when she had decided to pen an apology that was long overdue. but bernadetta crumples up this leaflet, too, flinging the balled-up letter over her shoulder and onto the floor after its other ten or twelve failed predecessors.

under normal circumstances she could have outwritten a dozen flimsy apologies like that one in her sleep. under normal circumstances bernadetta could write and write for days. alas, she had been hit by every creative enemy in the book: writer's block. burnout. general lethargy and an unavoidable seasonal low. the overall frustration of other projects letting her down, and bernadetta could think of no one willing to return to a pit where their passion felt thankless. she ought to put everything she has ever written over an open flame—it seemed from the ash-laden tray on her desk she was already halfway there. yet the knock comes just when she is about to call it quits on this, that, and maybe everything else.

bernadetta blinks. she drops her pen, scurries to the front and peeks under the bottom sliver as usual. for good measure she waits another moment—no, three—before the handle of her door finally clicks with caution. two eyes and a nose peep outside first.

just the cubes of cheese are already enough to make bernadetta reevaluate herself all over again. the bear, though, delivers the finishing blow. it sits in her palms while she marvels at it, gray eyes gleaming like a child on the morning of—well, their birthday. and bernadetta has always felt at her bravest with her namesake in the picture. this was a fragment of bravery she could take with her.

it sobers her, reminds her of what she ultimately knows: that even if she struggles to pick up her pen today, tomorrow will bring with it another new chance. so bernadetta, trudging through the crumpled papers and returning to her desk with her spoils, pops another cube of cheese in her mouth and tries her very best to give herself grace. if matthias could try so hard not to be cruel to her, bernadetta could at least do the same.