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[ That such a debauched attempt at gaining a moment of her time prove fruitful in the end is more of a reflection on her kindness than his said attempt, Aymeric believes. He ought not to have trusted such a personal correspondence, yet the acquisition of new reds and an excuse to reach out to her and gotten him a little ahead of himself. It should not matter given that she agreed to his company in the end, but little embarrassments like this are the sorts he will dwell on for some time.

Those thoughts are tossing to-and-fro in his mind as he finishes up his work for the day--as much as one with an endless stream of requests can. That he leaves his post at his desk at a reasonable hour has enough to draw a curious, but approving glance from Lucia who is only too happy to see him retire for the evening for once. Apparently all it takes is a little incentive.

He makes good time. Having called ahead to let his manservant know he would be home and with an expected guest, Borel Manor springs to life. Though he had intended it to be somewhat informal, dinner is prepared without his request and Aymeric finds the staff eager to put on a good face. It only encourages them further when he admits they are expecting the Warrior of Light herself once again.

At the door, Alfred is the one to answer--the same manservent as had received her on her last visit. ]

"Welcome, Mistress Leblouissant. We are glad to have you once again."

[ He bows courteously and leads her inside, offering to take her cowl should she wish to hang it up. ]

"If you would follow me..."

[ He leads her further into the manor, past the dining hall that she may be familiar with and into the sitting room where Aymeric is, in fact, sitting--as is one very white and very fluffy cat. At sigh of her, Aymeric moves to stand, gently dislodging the cat from his lap, though Ser Croqmebouche takes it as an affront instantly and jumps to the ground with a growl. ]

Sarangerel! 'Tis wonderful to see you hale and whole.

[ Alfred bows once again to take his leave. ]

[ Although Saran has only been to Aymeric’s home once before, she still remembers the older Elezen well and greets him with a warm smile of recognition upon being met by him as she dusts the snow from her mantle. She finds herself, not for the first time, grateful she has a good memory— a gift that has certainly helped her often on her journeys. She rarely forgets a face. ]

‘Tis I who should be most glad to have the privilege of visiting again. Thank you for receiving me— ah, Alfred, wasn’t it? —on such short notice. I apologize for the suddenness…

[ She’s well aware of the customs befitting herself and one of Alfred’s social standing, having been raised by an Ishgardian nobleman herself in a household similar to this, but given that she is showing up rather impulsively on their doorstep like this, even if they were given advance warning she still feels a little… sheepish. She can’t help it; she returns his polite bow with one of her own, though hers is given with contrition. So as not to completely embarrass the man, she is careful to make it quick and not as deep. Then she allows herself to be ushered inside.

She relinquishes her cloak and cowl over to the manservant, giving him a small word of thanks again before she follows him further into the manor. She does steal a quick glance into the familiar dining room as they pass and she notes that the table is in fact set for two again. She furrows her brow a little, but bites her tongue. It wouldn’t do to diminish the household’s efforts on her behalf by insisting they hadn’t had to go to all this trouble. It may be how she feels, but a good gracious guest merely accepts the hospitality of her hosts with gratitude.

Once they reach the sitting room, in any case, and Sarangerel sees Aymeric recliming there comfortably with Ser Croquembouche, the Auri girl suddenly forgets all her troubled thoughts anyway. She laughs lightly as the old cat voices his great displeasure at being relocated and she takes a step forward towards Aymeric, but hesitated to get much closer. As always, his excited grin at seeing her sends a light thrill up through her belly and her heart becomes much lighter in her chest. She feels her smile cross her lips all the more easily. Yet this is normally the part where a new habit of Sarangerel’s would be taking over, after spending months of thinking again she’d lost her closest friends, only to be reunited with them.

She has this suspicion though that launching all eighty-something ponzes, four fulms and nine ilms of herself at Aymeric and squeezing him until his bones popped would be wildly inappropriate. She’ll have to just express herself someway else. ]

You’ve no idea how good it is to see that you are well, Aymeric.

[ Normally overly attentive to his cat's woes, Aymeric can only tut at Ser Croquembouche as one does with a petulant child. "Bouche", as he is affectionately called, is rather prone to voicing any disagreement regardless of the cause or source. That he has been coddled so has only led to this bad behavior, but it is only exasperated by the fact that a few can rarely take Aymeric's attention more than his beloved cat himself.

The Warrior of Light being of one of them. Bouche moves to sit behind a side table, ears back and tail switching as he makes an almost comical grumbling noise. Aymeric notedly pays him no heed.

Aymeric chuckles, feeling airy and light in her presence. No matter how much time passes, it is ever a comfort and a thrill to see her. ]

With the war that you so laboriously ended for us, the greatest threat to my day is that of a cold up of tea and a dry inkwell.

[ His fingers itch at his sides. Were this anyone else the proper greeting would be to take her hand and, well...such things feel almost too personal no matter how dear she is to him. There is a fine line to walk and he does not feel wholly adept at walking it. ]

Doubtless that your recent exploits have kept you busy, but I must thank you again for making the time. On a personal note, it is too infrequent that we see one another off of the battlefield these days.

[ As neither Aymeric nor Sarangerel really seem to know where the line between acceptable friendliness and inappropriate gestures of familiarity lies, they both just sort of stand there across from one another for the moment, the tension palpable in the room. Sarangerel’s lips are parted, as though she wants to say more, and she even raises a hand as if to reach out to Aymeric, but ultimately she thinks better of it and quickly closes that hand into a fist, instead making a gesture all too reminiscent of a certain Ishgardian knight. She feels absolutely ridiculous, of course, after it’s performed and her smile turns a bit forced, but she keeps it pasted right where she is. ]

Ah… indeed. But, thankfully, all of the Scions are home again and well, already back to tending to their responsibilities with vigor.

[ She sighs a bit ruefully, her facade cracking momentarily so that the sheer tiredness of it all can be seen in her expression, a weariness and a sadness that she’s carried for a long time now but has been artfully careful in never once allowing anyone to see. She’s not even aware that she does it, but all she’s learned on the First has easily made her burdens heavier to bear, so perhaps she cannot quite be blamed. ]

I would like to see you more, at home, like this. Or anywhere else but a battlefield. Would that we could have left our duties behind and gone on those adventures we spoke of once. It feels so long ago now…

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it took me two weeks to build up this angst, i apologize if it’s bleh