[ he wishes he can test his crest, if it's still there, latent, or otherwise it's just his strength that's been ... dampened, but he has no way of testing that, and anyway -

- by the goddess, his uncle and his permanent bid for the crown, to fully eliminate him from the history books, he and cornelia would have a field day with this knowledge, and anyway -

- there's a bit of a pause, as if his body had missed a step somewhere up the stairs to connect from that to sylvain's distraction, and dimitri just ... laughs, belatedly. it sounds so forced and awkward, the reaction so uncanny, like a doll that had just acted off-script. the boar rearing its head, wearing a smile. ]

Doors!

Yes, I can now open doors and wash dishes. Imagine. [ dimitri clenches his fist, unclenches it, and murmurs, ] But yes, when it comes down to it, I can still fight.

[ there's a high and terrible voice in him that roars, can you? and he doesn't want to answer that. all of a sudden, this entire, empty place, is so volatile with its shadows, so stuffy with its walls. if he looked in the screens he will see his father reflected back at him. ]

Let's go outside.

[ not waiting on sylvain's word, he leaves. ]