snowblindrpg | [log] This ain't no wine bar [closed]

[It's not long after this that Estinien finds the time to ask Aymeric about it. They have gotten their things together to begin their endless journey into the snowy abyss that makes up Norfinbury, so may as well now than in the middle of walking through the frigidness outside.

Estinien is in the middle of putting his helmet back on, fussing with what loose strands of hair that yet escaped the hair tie that usually makes this endeavor that much easier, when he speaks:]

Aymeric. Little do I care to give much stock to what that troublesome Lordling has to say—however, he and I shared a brief conversation a handful of moments ago, in which he mentioned something most... queer.

[Nothing gets more queer than the possible possession by an old ass danger noodle, that's for certain.]

Queer? Are we speaking of his unusual emotional outbursts or of his likely proclivity for the less fair sex?

[He's briefly reminded of his own conversation where he said Francel had a sweet face. This probably wasn't that. ]

Forget my careless words; the wind makes me irate. Ere I drove your thought elsewhere- what is it you would tell me?

Edited 2016-08-06 03:05 (UTC)

[That earns Aymeric a flat stare.]

He spoke of Nidhogg claiming me.

[That should do well enough to drive what he meant home.]

[Aymeric sucks air between his teeth.

Fuck.

God damnit, Francel. ]

That's a very long and difficult story, Estinien. There is truth to it, but that's not how it ends.

[There's a long and hollow silence that follows after Aymeric's words. It had been the better part of a week since he first heard the wild claims of what had befell his homeland, his archbishop, his position, and still he finds himself hard pressed to believe.

With all that has happened, however, it would seem he has little choice but to believe some of it. He did not go on an eye opening journey with a boy, a legend, and a heretic so that he could continue to marinate in his own ignorance. Little does he wish to do so still.]

Long and difficult though it may be, 'twould serve me better to know, than to be left in the dark. Tell me what I do not know, and I will do more than feign to believe it.

[ He sighs. ] If you will allow me to tell the tale uninterrupted, then I shall.

[He reaches up and places a hand on his shoulder ] You had successfully taken both of Nidhogg's eyes and ran your lance through his skull. The Great Wyrm died on your lance. But his immortal vengeance was not yet finished with you. You were covered in his blood, held his eyes in your hands, and incurred his undying wrath. His very rage took over your body and warped your form. He waged war anew against Ishgard and our new Dravanian allies. With help from Hraesvalgar and the Warrior of Light, they tamed Nidhogg's ghost and the eyes were wrenched from your body. You recovered well.

[That was a bit more abridged than he was assuming Aymeric would give him, but he supposes the nitty gritty details weren't all that important.

Besides, he always liked it to be concise and to the point, and Aymeric likely knew he'd grow impatient if he prattled on too long with needless details. After a long pause, clearly mulling over the info just dropped on him, he lets out a soft sigh.]

You lied to me.

[He says plainly, not a shred of ire in his voice, but there isn't much emotion at all honestly.]

I disagree. I had omitted several facts to fit the situation... But none were outright lies.

[He frowned. ]

I didn't feel good about it, but I needed your trust. I only hope that you to see this from my vantage point.

Forgive me.

[Estinien stares at him for a long few moments.]

There is naught to forgive. But you did lie.

[Still, he doesn't sound angry.]

You had told me that I did not slay Nidhogg. And if your claims hold to the proof, then I did indeed. I merely aided in his resurrection of sorts thereafter, though unwittingly.

[This is the detail he's focusing on. Of course, the rest he is honestly trying to digest and accept, it all sounds so strange and not at all what he had imagined would transpire. But, if he can hold on to this one single detail, then maybe he can come to terms and accept the rest.]

...Full glad am I that I did not bring upon Ishgard its ruin. However, if this is indeed true, I know not how to feel.

I knew not how to explain his ongoing terror to you, for he may as well have been alive. I scarcely consider something dead when it still flies and spits flames.

[his mouth twists with the difficulty of this. ]

I said that you had heavily assisted, but were not a participant in his final vanquishing.

[He pulls at his chin hairs and takes a breath ] I will concede to lying, I've been brined in diplomacy as of late. It makes me insufferable.

I'm surprised that you've no questions about what I've told you.

Aymeric, do not stress overmuch on this detail. I hold no ire for your misinformation. At the time, I was most disagreeable.

[He was too angry at the time he tried to tell him about everything, unwilling to listen, and even now its hard to swallow.]

Regardless, 'tis not that I lack questions, but lack the mind to fully absorb what you have shared as of this moment. Perhaps once I have, I will question you for more details, for now I much rather allow myself to digest the possibility of this being my future.

[He gestures towards the door.]

Furthermore, we should get a move on. Daylight is unreliable, but hours burn and we have much to cover.

[There is a slight pause, before with slight annoyance:]

Lord Joacin must needs be dealt with. He acts as an unruly child spared the supervision of his parent. 'Twould seem he wishes to cause rifts between brothers with how he dismissively drops sensitive information in lieu of acting like a man with dignity.

Edited 2016-08-06 06:03 (UTC)

[Aymeric nods in silent agreement. Disagreeable was perhaps an understatement.]

Aye, let it sit in your skull a while. I have no doubts that you will be overflowing with questions as we lay our heads to rest.

[Aymeric took a breath, bracing for the imminent chill. He opens the door as he listens to Estinien's bid.]

Francel has been an unruly child. I had since thought that it was merely grief or a sheltered life, but I fear the strings he is allowed to pull. I know not what to do with him. There is little punishment I can offer aside from corporal. Mayhap we should consult Lord Haurchefant.

When I find myself able, my questions will come.

[With the door open, Estinien bears against the cold with the same stoicism he offers his peers.]

Lord Haurchefant may be the only one capable of getting through that child's tantrums and thick skull. If not, then all hope may be lost.

However, [his voice gets a bit of an edge to it] should he continue this game of his, I will not stand idly by and allow it. He will be punished.

[It's been quite the trek, but not without it's own rewards! Fortune continues to smile upon him and Aymeric in their bounty, as well as their shelter. The house they have settled in was one of the nicer ones, that was without a doubt, though it seemed to lack the luxury of hot water, alas.

A two-story A-frame house. The first floor has a living room, dining room, kitchen, bathroom, and two bedrooms. The second floor has a master bedroom, master bathroom, and balcony. The kitchen in this house is larger and nicer than average, with expensive cupboards, counter tops, and flooring. It was probably very well-stocked back in the day, even if now it's missing all its appliances.

Estinien had since removed his helmet, beginning to get settled in for the night. The warning to find shelter went off none too long ago, and surely the door should be locking up any time now. With little care or attentiveness to it, he has started to go through their belongings, taking note of their spoils, and what might be of value to others in a means to trade, and what might be more valuable to them.

Of course, he's allowed Aymeric to make off with the razor so that he might tame the stubble that threatens to turn into a beard, knowing well his own annoyance at the stubble afflicting his own chin. He'll be putting the wine bottles in one of the backpacks just as a certain someone comes to make her GRAND ENTRANCE.]

[ ~~You trashbaby don't think I missed that intentional typo up there~~

Fortune may have seen fit to smile on Estinien and Aymeric... less so for the Admiral. It had been what is probably fair to say as a trying couple of days at the very least, what with her losing her sense of direction once or twice and having to double back once the lockdown warning began broadcasting over the network.
So imagine her relief after SPRINTING LIKE AN AWARD-WINNING OLYMPIC TRIATHLETE through the snow to the first building in sight, promptly booting open the door, and just barely squeezing inside before the damn thing slams shut behind her with a damning BANG.

It occurs to her that, in fact, it may have been smarter to figure out if the place is occupied first, but the lockdown pretty much makes that decision for her.

Oh well. It's not like there's some Ishgardian jerks squatting in the nicest house on the block or anything, right? ]

[With the bang, Aymeric came running down the stairs, his face half shaved, half soapy. His chest was bared. His coat was off somewhere and his tunic was held on by his belt. There was a red streak already streaming from Aymeric's cheek. He had a razor in one hand and a kitchen knife in the other, held out in front of him like a sword.]

[As soon as he saw Merlwyb he cursed and slammed the knife down on the table.]

How nice of you to join us, Admiral. And how fortuitous that you did not break the door off its hinges. Is that how you always enter buildings?

[Estinien was to his feat the moment he heard the kick to the door, the makeshift spear in his hands and ready to be brandished if what he turned to proved to be some sort of an anomaly, or mayhap some bloodthirsty vampire—

as it were, it was neither. His hard stare did not falter as he stared her down, but his attention fell to Aymeric as he slammed the knife on the table, the red stream of blood on his cheek catching his eye.

His gaze returning to the Admiral.]

Aye, while I have not objections to you joining us this evening, scant were you in need of such an entrance.

Save your bloody outrage for those that care, Ishgardian.

[ Merlwyb snaps back, all pretense of political neutrality peeled away while she tries to catch her breath, taking quick inventory of what few possessions she has. Aside from some dull pain in her shoulder from the door nearly shutting on her, the rest of her is fine.
Finding everything in order, she leans heavily against the doorframe with her back, pinches the bridge of her nose with a forefinger and thumb, and struggles to get her temper under control.

Dignity, Merlwyb. ]

Forgive me. The lockdown warning came, and I was scarcely able to make it over the threshold ere the door shut for the night. [ Pushing away from the door, briskly dusting herself off as if nothing at all is amiss. ] Had I known you were already here, I would've announced myself.

[ She'd planned to speak to them in person, naturally, but the circumstances are rather unfortunate. ]

Aye, I'll save my outrage if you find some manners.

[Aymeric starts walking back to the bathroom when a nicer mirror catches his eye. He continues standing and shaving there, wiping the razor on a hand towel. ]

You would do to be more careful in the future, Admiral. [He continues to shave as if it were nothing, finishing quickly enough. He wipes his face and looks Merlwyb in the eye. ] I believe that was enough of an announcement, Merlwyb. [He rinsed the razor, holding it out to Estinien ]

[Estinien remains silent as the two continue to... banter? Argue like children? He's not sure what to call it, when ordinarily he's the one arguing. Honestly, a good summary of Estinien during all of this is this.

Either way, he's placed his spear down, and was rummaging through their belongings again, putting things back in the right bag, or moving one thing to the other, till Aymeric finishes shaving, and holds the razor out to him. He'll take it, before glancing at Aymeric more fully.]

I don't suppose you left the soap back in the washroom?

[Yeah, he's not even touching their little tiff. Not because he's scared to, but because he honestly doesn't care that much. He hardly waits for an answer before he's taking the hand towel as well and making his way to the washroom.

Maybe the children will behave while he's shaving. Fury be good...]

Unlikely.

[ Snotty Elezen bastard. Still, she makes a point to pluck every speck of dust she finds from her uniform, straightening her sleeves where they may have rode up on her arms from her headlong escape indoors.

It's the casual use of her name of all things that instantly gets the Admiral spearing (haha) Aymeric with a stare so intense it's a miracle he doesn't spontaneously burst into flames. Being bombarded by questions from House has left it as a bit of a raw nerve - having her information out in the open so easily is just asking to have a target painted on her chest. ]

Impudence does not become you, Lord Commander. T'will do you no good to presume on a first name basis when 'tis yet to be earned. [ Those unnervingly pale eyes of hers remain locked with Aymeric's for a moment longer, silently threatening, before she turns away to pull another razor - a finely edged straight razor, none of that disposable crap - from her pocket to set gently on a low cupboard sitting innocuously in the hall by the entrance.

Seven hells. Things really have gone to shit if Estinien is the one being level headed out of the group. ]

Consider it a peace offering. May I come in?

[ Impolite Roegadyn savage, he thought as he brightened his expression with a smile.]

You are already in, but you are welcome to stay. Our circumstance has savaged my manners. Pray forgive me, Admiral. Make yourself comfortable.

[He picked the straight razor off the table, inspecting it. ] Aye, this is much better. What use did you put it to? [He didn't particularly care, but he preferred to know if he would be shaving with a murder weapon. ]

'Tis nothing. The cold and poor housing makes short tempers for us all. [ As for the blade, she gives it a dismissive jerk of her chin while carefully unbuckling her boots one at a time to place to one side of where a doormat would be. ] Naught at all aside from carrying it a short distance. I had thought to use it as a throwing knife, but it has abysmal balance, and a weak leading edge makes it poorly suited to such a task.

[ With her boots now shucked, she straightens, rolling her shoulders (with resulting hollow 'pop's as her spine realigns itself) and heaving a heavy sigh. ]

I must needs discuss with you the behaviour of one of your countrymen. A loose tongue may have fair gifted a most infuriating man with enough information to be a thorn in my side; and perhaps others with weapons to bring to bear against me in the future.

[ Translation: Merlwyb's safety has been compromised, but she's willing to let Aymeric handle it first. His men, after all. Were it her choice, Francel likely would be missing a few teeth and perhaps his tongue entirely.
Buuuuuuuuuuuuut that's neither here nor there, and the Admiral keeps any sanguine thoughts to herself whilst moving past Aymeric to deeper inside the house proper. She's totally going to find a comfy chair and refuse to move all night. ]

Edited 2016-08-06 06:33 (UTC)

[He watches her shuck her boots, pacing a bit as she speaks. He would ordinarily give a fellow alliance leader his ear much more attentively, but his nerves were already worn thin. He rubs his temples for what feels like the hundredth time that day. ]

I will deal with him, Admiral. [Francel... Why couldn't he just play nice? He was admittedly not used to dealing with such temperaments as this. Sure, many highborns routinely found their way into his commanded ranks, but they seldom were so fussy. ] For now, I ask that you pay no heed to his words. I don't believe him to be truly dangerous.

Though, tell me, what did he say to you?

See that you do. 'Tis not in my nature to allow loose tongues to flap as they please.

[ Really, it says a fair amount as to how much she respects the Alliance that she didn't simply hunt down Francel herself to snap in half like a twig by now. Alas. Responsibility. Not that she still wouldn't do it... especially if she feels the punishment meted out by Aymeric is lacking.
Upon discovering what appears to be the living room, she settles on what she's judged to be the softest armchair with a weary sigh. ]

Naught of interest. He gave some childish advice in tailoring my speech, questioned the quality of Lominsan leadership, and later went on without my knowledge nor consent to release information pertaining my name, rank, and race. Perhaps more. I know not.

However, I'm sure I need not explain the possible dangers that he may bring to bear by making it known Eorzean political powers are here, and largely helpless. [ However relaxed Merlwyb may seem, her gaze is unflinchingly serious as she glances over at her fellow Alliance leader. ] A single bloody idiot may still sink the ship within a bell's time if permitted to run amok at length, Lord Commander. I would not be surprised if the lordling has already spoken at length about you or the Azure Dragoon.

Is that boy lord giving you grief, Admiral?

[He asks, but he heard a good majority of the conversation on his way back. Look at that, though! No more annoying scruff, he has been liberated. He's in the middle of wiping his face with the hand cloth as he enters the room looking between the two.]

'Twould seem you both have settled, I confess I had thought for a moment I may have to come back to referee. Full glad am I that I do not. Regardless, Aymeric and I had a similar conversation about the lordling and his need to be reined in. He seems to forget himself, whether this is Eorzea or not, he must needs learn where he can tread, and 'tis not on the heads of others.

He certainly seems to be, Estinien. Come, let us rest our legs.

[He watches her take the softest armchair that he was sitting in earlier. Fine. He'll just go over to the couch and lounge. There's plenty of room for Estinien if he would like to sit next to him. Or stand facing away and sulking, whatever suits him today. Nevertheless, he pats the seat next to him, looking at his friend.]

I doubt that the Lordling has disclosed any details about me. Nay, I find that trespass unthinkable. But Estinien, he has earned well Francel's ire. No matter, all anyone would have learned is that Estinien is a capable and dangerous man. That is hardly a secret. I will impress upon him his boundaries tonight.

[Aymeric glances at the empty wine glasses in the cabinet nearby. Perhaps a peace offering of his own was in order.]

We are only as helpless as our peers, and I think they are the least of our concern. Our abductors, on the other hand... They already would know who we are.

Edited 2016-08-08 18:55 (UTC)

[ OHHHH BOYYYYY is Francel not in her good books right now. Estinien gets a wry smile just loaded with meaning. ]

'Tis a good way to lose a limb.

[ Anyway. Just going to very slowly flex the fingers of one hand into a fist and open again, frowning a little at the tingling sensation still numbing each finger to the third knuckle as she does. Being cautious of frostbite is still something the Admiral learning to deal with. ]

Known or not, a fool stands rooted in place whilst the foe's marksmen string their bows.

[ Translation: like hell she's gonna present a target if it's easier to just fly under the radar. Not necessarily for long - because it's Merlwyb, she just doesn't do inconspicuous - but the grace time could've been useful. ]

[log] This ain't no wine bar [closed]

Day 143

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Day 144

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