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Usually, a daemon settling is cause for celebration. This is not untrue for Khalid and Tishtrya, strictly speaking. His father organizes a lavish feast and the guests toast and praise them as they've never experienced before.
Tish’s form has bought them a bit of respect among their kinsmen, particularly those who thrive in battle. Though they have yet to prove themselves, Khalid and Tish have made a promise, in the eyes of these warriors. They have declared a boldness that could lead to true bravery. To lasting respect and acceptance.
He does not show it (tries even to hide it from Tish at first, though she refuses to allow it), but for Khalid, Tish’s settled form is damning.
His ambitions will be even more challenging with a wyvern daemon.
Wyvern daemons are common in Almyra, which is the first bit of damnation. Khalid can't be sure exactly how difficult hiding his heritage will be once they're in Fódlan, but this certainly won't help matters.
The other main damning point is that Tish is big now. He cannot be subtle with a full grown wyvern, even if she wasn't also albino. But she is, which is again impressive to Almyrans, as only the boldest warriors ride albino wyverns. For his very soul to be one, he surely must have great potential.
Finally the people have something positive to say about him, and he can't even bask in it. All he can do is think about how this does not fit into his plans.
(That's not entirely true. There is a part of him that remains stunned and overcome by Tish’s form. He can't believe something so marvelous can be him. He runs his hand along Tish’s brilliant leathery skin and feels a degree of awe that no talk of gods has ever inspired.)
She can't even fly among a pack of other wyverns without attracting attention. And how common are wyvern daemons in Fódlan? Are Fódlish buildings even made with considerations for large daemons in mind?
It's lucky they've been working on their range for years already. They'll need it if they're to have the flexibility their schemes may require.
It's not easy to practice separation when all Khalid wants to do is fly with her, soar alongside his own soul and feel what generations of Almyrans have experienced.
At least it's not suspicious for them to train for a larger range. A long range is considered useful, particularly for warriors who ride their souls into battle. Khalid will do that someday. The thought is as exhilarating and it is terrifying.
It's what he's meant for. What they're meant for. He was always destined to be different. Tish’s brilliance is merely further evidence.
“You know, I've never seen a demon as flashy as yours.” Hilda muses, watching as Tish stretches her wings in the sky above them. “I guess that shouldn't be too much of a surprise, though. You're hard to ignore.”
Claude grins and gives a half-bow, choosing to treat the observation as a compliment because that's easier than puzzling out a meaning he suspects Hilda might not know herself.
It's the first time she's said anything about Tish, despite the fact that they've known each other for months. It's one of the many strange things about Fódlish society. It's considered rude to discuss other people's daemons, even minor observations. As if they aren't all seeing each other's souls day in and day out.
Khalid learned this after he called someone's soft-looking mouse daemon cute, and realized that half the room looked scandalized and the other half seemed even paler than usual. Claude still has to be careful not to slip up. Tish is at least allowed to speak to other daemons, but not from too close. Daemons barely touch each other here. It feels unnatural to both him and Tish, but they're getting better at pretending.
Their range is also notably strange in Fódlan, even though Claude and Tish only use about half of their full range in public. People here can hardly manage having their daemons on the other side of a small room. And the battle training doesn't address this at all! Apparently, there's no concern whatsoever about how easy it would be for someone to experience horrific damage, even purely by accident, on a battlefield. It's not simple to keep track of your daemon in the middle of a fight—and it's all too simple for an enemy’s daemon to take advantage of that and pull you apart.
That, at least, isn't something Claude and Tish have to worry about. Tish is too large to be easily pulled away from him, and they've been training to battle alongside each other since before they even learned to read.
He has that in common with many of the Faerghans, at least. Many of the Imperials favor distance in their combat abilities, which he supposes they assume will protect them. Members of the Alliance are more of a mix, naturally, but they still have a very short range on average.
Claude can't fathom it. He and Tish act as if it doesn't unsettle them down to their core, but some days it's harder than others.
The only other people who appear to have anything close to the range he and Tish have developed are Edelgard, Dimitri, and Teach. Perhaps predictable, given their roles, but none of them seem comfortable in their ranges. Claude's seen Dimitri only realize that his daemon isn't at his side when someone (Felix) points it out, or people with more tact look at him oddly. Edelgard is at least more aware of the distance, but Claude can tell the separation between her and her daemon wasn't born of careful practice. He might not have seen the result of artificial separation before, but he knows what trained distancing looks like. Whatever happened to Edelgard and Dimitri wasn't natural, and it makes him sick to think about.
As for Teach…well, they have a wider than usual range from the start, and it at least doesn't seem to stem from something almost too horrifying to contemplate, but it also doesn't feel familiar. After the incident that leaves them with pale hair and strange eyes and an increased aura of power that makes Tish feel itchy, they have a range Claude's only ever seen in witches.
“I miss Almyra,” Tish sighs one evening, as they stare up at the stars together. “Where daemons have a sensible range and people actually look at us.”
Claude leans into her, comforted by the way her wing wraps around him. “Me too. But we can't leave yet.”
“I know,” Tish bumps his head with one of her horns. “I know.”
After the war, they have to adjust to what was once their normal. Tish startles when people comment on her, and Khalid has to relearn to actually acknowledge daemons, lest people think he's being rude or that all his time in Fódlan left him damaged. He also has to relearn his own name, which isn't really any easier.
Despite how much time he and Tish have spent observing the differences in Fódlish and Almyran daemon culture, somehow he doesn't expect Linhardt to do the same.
Or maybe it's that he didn't expect to have those observations shared aloud. He and Tish could only really speak of it to each other. Linhardt has no such qualms.
“I never realized how rarely anyone in Fódlan casually talks about daemons,” Linhardt says, still sitting in Khalid's lap, apparently unconcerned about leaping from making out into having a coherent conversation. It makes Khalid's chest swell with fondness. He tries to be normal about it, playing with Linhardt’s hair instead of saying something like I think I love you or please never leave.
“Yeah, that was really strange for Tish and me at first.” Khalid admits, though he doesn’t say that ‘at first’ is a lie and they only realized it'd started to seem normal when they came back to a place where it wasn't. “I'd never had people ignore my soul before.”
Linhardt raises his eyebrows, though he also leans into Khalid's touch, giving the sense of a scholar who is equally compelled by information and head scritches. “When you put it like that, it sounds downright freakish.”
“Hey, you said it, not me.”
Linhardt hums, leaning in to rest his head against Khalid's shoulder. “I think I prefer this. It certainly feels strange to have people talk about Verdin, or for other daemons to touch her, but it makes me feel…a bit more normal, I suppose. As though I exist as a whole instead of as separate parts.”
There's a lump in Khalid's throat that nearly prevents him from speaking. Maybe it would be better if it did, but instead it seems to shove the words out of his mouth before he has the chance to really consider them. “Do you want to ride with me and Tish sometime?”
Linhardt's breath hitches, and for a moment, he goes completely still. When he speaks again, his voice is quieter than Khalid's ever heard from him before. “Yes. I think I'd like that very much.”
“Alright,” Khalid says, continuing to stroke Linhardt's hair, allowing both of them to hide. “Then we'll do it.”
Tishtrya is fairly certain Linhardt understands that this sort of thing isn't at all considered typical in Almyra, even if Almyrans are more casual with daemons than he's used to. There is, after all, a lot of difference between noting that Verdin's coloration is quite fetching and actually touching her.
What they're doing is even more extreme. Tishtrya has touched and been touched by many daemons. It's hard to avoid during battle, and here in Almyra, it's considered perfectly normal for daemons to brush against each other or play while their humans speak.
She has only been touched by four humans: Khalid, their parents (and even then, mostly when they were young, and very rarely now that they're grown), and now Linhardt. She's only been ridden by two. She doesn't think she'd allow even their mother to ride her outside of an emergency.
But when Khalid offered, it was both of them speaking through him. This connection they feel to Linhardt and Verdin is strange, almost unsettling at times, except for how it is like soaring, like starlit nights and cloudless days, like the rush of unfolding her wings and letting the wind catch her.
Linhardt's weight on her is as strange as it is pleasant. Though much of his body is technically on her, most of it is covered by clothing, leaving any true sense of connection dulled. It's easier that way. If more than just his hands were bare against her, she suspects she'd tumble out of the sky.
Verdin’s weight should be negligible. She's so small compared to Tish, and she's perched on Tish’s scales plenty of times.
Still, she notices every point of contact. When Linhardt holds his hands cupped around Khalid's own and guides them to stroke Verdin together, Tishtrya feels it.
She is seen. She is studied. Someday, she will be known by more than just her other half. It's impossible, except for how it so clearly isn't.
She can hardly bear to know it. Her heart is huge; her wings are carving something divine into the air around them. She can hardly contain the vastness of her shared self.
Tishtrya dives, letting the wind rush at her, mimicking the impossible, wonderful future.