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He had meant it in jest, of course, but Estinien's lack of reaction and quiet reflection is something of a curiosity in and of itself. There is a moment where Aymeric wonders if the remark was off-color, an apology forming on the tip of his tongue--he is proud, of course, of Estinien's accomplishments and did not mean to take shots at how he is reveling in them himself nor in his duties.

But the apology dies quickly at his friend's question. Aymeric raises his brows gently, a little surprised in his own right. There is a quality to Estinien's voice that he is not often gifted with, something that makes Aymeric want to hear it more often.

He shakes his head, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"Nay, only rumors and wives' tales. But I am fortunate to be in the company of an expert."

"Even having earned my own set, it is hard to claim expertise," he says, but not in the same tone he often understates his accomplishments. Instead, it seems like he's going somewhere with it. He considers something, and then gestures for Aymeric to follow him, continuing to explain as he moves deeper into the armory.

"The material is precious and the process of its creation arcane - known to only a scarce few blacksmiths in all of Ishgard. I can only imagine the level of mastery required, and yet... ahah!" He finally spots what he's looking for. Towards the back end of the room, a set of aged Drachen Armor is on display. It has been cleaned up as best as it can be, but there is a gap torn out of the side of the chest plate.

"I had thought that House Fortemps must have its own history among the Order." His gaze lingers on the old armor as he speaks. "The craft is so arduous, and yet the armor is never passed down, never bequeathed to new generations. This is because Drachen Armor has been forged in dragon blood itself, and bonds to its wearer's very soul."

Edited 2020-10-22 20:42 (UTC)

Aymeric would follow without beckoning, even so he drops his arms to his sides and falls into step beside his friend. It is not often that Estinien offers information unprompted, though he realizes that this area is one of particular interest and import to the man. And, therefore, it is of particular interest and import to Aymeric as well.

He listens carefully, eyes straying from Estinien every now and then to take a glance at the different displays they pass by until Estinien finds what he was looking for. It is immediately recognizable, the sharp edges and distinctive mail of a Dragoon seems to carry over no matter who is sponsoring it--the Temple or the High Houses.

Aymeric takes his spot next to Estinien as he gives the piece a very slow and securitizing review as if he is about to be tested on the finer details at a moment's notice. Yet as Estinien speaks again, his eyes drift towards his friend and finds the way he regards the process itself decidedly more interesting.

Though becoming a Dragoon had been such an important feat, a milestone in his life, Estinien rarely shared the specifics. Aymeric would only pry so far, of course, knowing that the process in and of itself is barbaric in its best of times, keeping such distaste for the methods behind closed lips. There were not many alternatives, after all, and he did not want to begrudge his friend's ambitions and goals. How could he when Estinien gazes at the armor like that?

Aymeric's eyes widen. "Then it is true?" His eyes flick back and forth between the armor and the dragoon. "I had been duly convinced that mentions of dragon's blood were a myth."

He settles again on the armor, regarding it as something more than a suit for the first time.

"It seems much more than earning one's Soul Crystal."

"Aye," Estinien says with a rare bit of reverence. "The armor and Gae Bolg both aspire to turn the strength of dragons back against them. A Crystal may strengthen the mind, but this armor bolsters one's physical prowess in a way I've never felt before."

"I had mastered the techniques before earning my armor, but to have them both... the symbiosis of its power is seamless." And as Aymeric well knows by now, strength is the thing that Estinien craves more than anything. No victory, no accomplishment, has ever been enough, been until he has the power to slay Nidhogg it is meaningless.

Yet, this is a rare taste of what he's aspiring towards. He can feel the difference, in the way he fights and the way he moves - could it be any surprise that he'd be reluctant to put it aside?

His expression hardens, darker thoughts finally making their way to him. The depth of his need can be glimpsed in his eyes.

"...And this is only a fraction of what the Azure Dragoon could achieve."

Edited 2020-10-22 21:48 (UTC)

His eyes fall once again to Estinien, watching the way he speaks as well as listening intently to it. It is rare to hear him speak of something so, with much in the world falling short of gaining his respect. It is a nice shift, Aymeric thinks, from the somber notes and gruff appraisals of nearly everything else they encounter. There should be more in life that gives him this reason.

Knowing his friend as he does, Aymeric is unsurprised to see Estinien's expression fall, whatever accomplishments he has to his name coming yet short of his ultimate goal. At times he seems so far away when he thinks on the wyrm, travelling somewhere in his mind where Aymeric cannot follow.

So Aymeric attempts to bring him back to the present, placing a warm but firm hand on Estinien's shoulder.

"Yet it is an achievement on its own, is it not? So few master these techniques nor earn their mail." He cants his head, trying to encourage a smile. "I had known the armor was significant to you, yet I plainly underestimated the weight of its import. It is truly a second skin, another piece of you."

Edited 2020-10-22 22:13 (UTC)

Estinien never explained much of this at the time because it felt overly sentimental to speak of it this way. It was useful armor, of course, and an important victory, but part of him had wondered if it was simply not something those on other paths could understand.

So, there is a sense of relief in his heart when Aymeric lays his hand on his shoulder, putting words to the feeling that Estinien has been trying to get across. It draws him back from the hungering void that lingers in the center of his being. It's at least one thing he can be satisfied with.

"Aye," he says in that same voice, softer and more vulnerable than he often allows. "And I may make my way yet." He glances back at the armor. "My mail is yet new, but I intend to have it earn its marks. Would that one day there could be cause to display it so lovingly."

The Drachen Armor remains as a memorial to the dragoon that wore it, bearing the touch of their body and soul. He doesn't have a family armory, but he will make himself known regardless.

Estinien comes back to him--back to himself, making Aymeric's smile only widen, the warmth reaching his eyes. He nods again, this time following Estinien's gaze back to the armor. It's a firm reminder that behind each suit is a warrior--a story to be told. Someone who fought for their nation, someone who might have died for it. Someone who had their own ambitions and dreams, whether it led them to battle or not.

"There is no doubt in my mind that it will, my friend. Yours is a tale that will be told, your deeds speaking for themselves."

He does not give the wyrm a name almost as if it might invoke Nidhogg onto the private moment. This feels like the first time Estinien has ever sounded...almost peaceful in his quest, in his resolution. Aymeric would like to savor it a bit longer.

"I suppose then I will have the privilege of claiming the bragging rights of knowing the future Azure Dragoon before he rose to infamy."

Sometimes, rarely, Estinien can bring himself to imagine a world after his victory against Nidhogg. A world where his quest is complete. He doesn't quite think of himself in that time, or what he might do, only that it would be over. That peace would be brought to him and to the memory of his dead family, and that Nidhogg would torment Ishgard no longer. That a shattered life such as his could still bring some change.

Mostly, he refuses to entertain anything but the eventuality of his and Nidhogg's reunion. Yet, something about Aymeric, something about his patience and support, widens Estinien's view. For a moment he can see his purpose as something beyond just the quelling of his suffering spirit.

Estinien puts his hand on Aymeric's other shoulder in turn - an infrequent gesture.

"Thank you, my friend," he says in turn. The small, longing smile stays on his face as they meet gazes, his touch lingering. It's a thank you for listening now, and for so many other things as well.

If seeing Estinien's reverence is enough of a rare gift, he is even less inclined to offering amicable physical contact. The hand on his shoulder, the look in his stormy eyes, the use of the word 'friend' so easily like he means it--Aymeric's chest blooms with warmth. It shows on his face as well, as if his whole body responds to it with a sudden burst of fondness.

To think nary a year ago this man was begrudgingly making his way to the manor in an attempt to fulfill a social obligation. Aymeric does not want to think what his life would be like now without Estinien at his side.

Words, for the second time that evening, seem to escape him as he just soaks up the moment, smiling with every fiber of his being. So he simply nods, letting the contented silence speak for itself.

Before it lingers too long, Aymeric quirks his lip and cocks his head to one side.

"Shall we continue our self-guided tour? Though I fear we may leave with more questions along the way."

Aymeric looks so happy, for something so small. Estinien isn't privy to exactly what he finds so compelling about this interaction, but he's glad that this comfort is bringing Aymeric some satisfaction as well. He frequently feels like he has little to offer in comparison, but to see him so glad, there must be something there for him.

He slowly removes his hand after Aymerics suggests they move on, nodding his head in quiet agreement. He shifts positions, ready to continue the tour, but his words lagging behind.

"I think my expectations have already been exceeded," he says. He pauses, and then adds as he moves ahead: "though it seems the other guests are largely superfluous to my enjoyment."

He finds it very difficult to focus on the displays themselves at this point.

And yet another gift, much to Aymeric's surprise. He had few doubts that Estinien enjoyed his company at the very least because he is not the sort of person to entertain it if he were truly vexed, but hearing it outright is still affirming. Satisfying, even, as just that little reminder that his friendship is returned in kind.

It seems that Aymeric's smile won't be dwindling anytime soon. His eyes narrow a little more at the strength of it, flattered but pleased.

"Why did you think that I asked you to join me?"

Yes, to offer some exposure and give a face to the name when the High Houses began to hear of Estinien's deeds, but in the end, Aymeric just wants to spend time with him, however he may.

The hallways lead from one to another, creating a grid of sorts. It is easy to joke about some of the more curious pieces while offering up possible backstories to others. Weapons, maps, and some paintings depicting knights or famous battles that House Fortemps took part--it is really a museum in its own right, something to be proud of.

For all the culture they are exposed to, he finds (to no surprise) that the company is his favorite part. Any time something appears to catch Estinien's attention, Aymeric gives it his own, wanting to encourage the exploration and banter they have going.

Yet, it is after a while that he begins to realize...

"...Have we not made it down this corridor once before?"

When did they get turned around?

"That may be all there was to see," Estinien observes, also recognizing this hall as familiar. He's also lost track of himself as they moved around, focusing less on the sights and more on what they were talking about. As such, he seems just as ready to be done with it - but not without a new source of interest.

He spots another exit to the room, which isn't the one they came in through. He dully wonders where the tour group has gotten off to - he doesn't really want to catch up, all considered. Yet, feasibly, anywhere they could explain that they were in search of them...

"Yet, I am minded to keep exploring," Estinien says, moving towards the exit and peering out into the hallway. No tour group. Good. Without much prompting, Estinien starts wandering down this random, unfamiliar hall, leaving the armory behind. He's feeling more comfortable, now, and increasingly bold as a result.

There are paintings along this hall, too, but nothing that specifically catches his interest. Instead, he keeps moving forward, gravitating towards a staircase at the end.

Aymeric starts after the other man without being beckoned, though his own attention does linger on the paintings as they pass. It is clear to him that this is no longer the area sanctioned by the tour and then, by proxy, Count Edmont himself. Would it be rude to wander thusly?

"I believe we have left the armory, Estinien." He feels the need to share it even though he is equally confident that Estinien is aware and just does not care.

They pass a few doors as well, though all closed and left with no indication where they may lead. The stairway catches his eye and he raises his brow, shifting his attention back to Estinien.

"If we should find ourselves in the Count's private rooms..." Being asked to leave the party would be the kindest outcome.

"Then we got lost," Estinien supplies, helpfully. He already has this figured out, ostensibly, and makes his way to the stairs. "It cannot be that unprecedented, with a ballroom full of drunken guests.

It's the sort of stairway that leads to a landing with a bay window, which Estinien wanders towards. He'll pause at the glass, apparently not taking heed of Aymeric's caution. Instead, he gazes through it, watching the city lights beyond.

He's only had one glass of wine at this point, so he can hardly explain his actions away by those means. It doesn't mean he couldn't fake it, though.

Edited 2020-10-24 04:46 (UTC)

Aymeric's mouth hangs open for a moment at the easy way Estinien absolves them of their potential crimes. The huff that follows is one of surprise and amusement and Aymeric finds himself shaking his head with a smile.

"I suppose not," he says, quickening his steps to keep pace with his friend. "Though this path is suspiciously out of the way of the main festivities."

He ascends the steps, assuming the intent is to go further, but Estinien's pause brings Aymeric one of his own. The sight of Ishgard standing proud beneath the night sky is one that brings yet another smile to his face. He places his hands at his hips, turning to face the window proper.

"Many have said that Ishgard looks her best under the night sky." The stone itself seems to shine the light back towards the heavens as if in beckoning. When looking at the city, it feels nigh impossible but to feel proud--a reminder of what they are fighting to protect and preserve.

"And far above the city's jars
The ancient army of the stars,
That in a quiet, reproachful mood
Keep watch from Fury's own solitude."

At first, Estinien had resented this city, only able to see it as a manifestation of the things his family was not allowed to have. No walls to shelter them, no spells to repel the beasts that became their ends... and with an entire culture built upon copious wealth that had been unthinkable to him.

Over time, though... he can't claim to have found love for the place, but he's found investment. Ishgard, like it or not, represents the last stand against Coerthas's foes. That, and with time he's begun to see himself within some of its residents. The children of the Brume. Even, in rare cases, some of the nobility - like the one with him right now.

He's already rolling these dangerously sentimental ideas over in his mind when Aymeric escalates matters by outright quoting verses. Estinien pulls back, looking at his friend with a raised eyebrow.

"Is that meant to be a prayer?" he asks skeptically. He certainly hasn't heard it before, if he's supposed to recognize it.

Edited 2020-10-24 05:57 (UTC)

Aymeric, for his part, looks calm and reflective as one may be expected to be when quoting a verse. It is for his own benefit, mostly, stricken so with a sense of admiration for the city that he allows the few lines he has committed to memory to fall forth.

And yet, Estinien's response is just so painfully Estinien that Aymeric cannot help but loose a sudden bark of laughter before quieting it to chuckling to compose himself. He shakes his head and waves one of his hands.

"Nay, my friend--though, perhaps in some ways it is, if a prayer may be words of praise to the city herself." He cocks his head to the side. "It is the final verse from the poem Ishgard by Night by the late Rirroux Phacent who was said to have wrote it while casing down at Ishgard from her highest post."

Something a Dragoon would be able to find effortlessly, he imagines.

"Forgive me for this moment of sentimentality, the view of the city brought it close to mind."

Estinien responds with a quiet scoff, but there truly isn't that much derision behind it. Estinien may not love Ishgard, but Aymeric clearly does - he loves it in a sickeningly tender way, not blindly patriotic, but instead with such hope. Like he sees all the bad within it, all the violence and disparity, and feels such compassion regardless.

He can't help but linger on that thought, his incredulity fading quickly. He looks back out the window, trying to imagine seeing the city the way Aymeric does - he's not sure he actually can.

Yet, he can still feel some tether to it through Aymeric's will alone. Though that admittedly isn't the only thing in its favour.

"It is still here," he says. "After all these centuries of war, it stands."

He leaves that to hang for a moment before his attention goes back to the staircase they are on. He thinks he has an idea of where this might be going - he's seen the building from the outside, of course, and sometimes from above.

"Come," he says, moving to begin climbing the stairs further upwards. "We may find a yet more cloying view in the pathways above." In other words, there may be something Aymeric would like to see.

He would not surmise that Estinien holds any fondness for poetry--a hobby that would take away from his single-minded approach to his goals--yet Estinien is still finding ways to surprise him. Aymeric does worry if his own decidedly more pampered upbringing comes off too strong at times, loftily reciting poems from centuries past. But what it conveys is that admiration and love he has for his city and his country--so broken and yet still good, deep in the hearts of its people.

His friend's appraisal of it earns a nod from Aymeric. "Aye. And by our hand she shall stands for centuries more."

There is pride in that statement as well, and responsibility. Though Estinien's own goals are not for the direct benefit of Ishgard, they do all the same. And he knows that his friend is not without compassion for those that deserve it.

Turning away from the cityscape is not easy until Estinien offers that they might find a more enjoyable view. That has Aymeric turning eagerly after the other man, following him up the steps.

So turned around are they that Aymeric does not make the connection of where they may have ended up. The Fortemps Manor consists of several floors, but he garners that they must be on the highest. Does he mean to take to the actual roof?

"Have your exploits as a newly knighted Dragoon taken you to the very canopy of this house?" he jests, finding that he rather likes the idea of Estinien perched on the eves in full drachen armor, glaring down at the passers by. (Glaring he would be.)

Yet it is not the roof that they find--not only. The very horn of the manor itself stands before them and Aymeric is positively delighted.

"...But of course! The very symbol House Fortemps."

Estinien is clearly pleased by Aymeric's reaction to their new location, leaning against one side of the gazebo as they arrive. He's both a bit surprised and also very relieved that they are the only ones here at present. It seems like a prime place to step away during a party - maybe it's still too early on for most.

"Not this canopy in particular, but that one," he says, casually pointing in the direction of the Vault, which is in clear view from this location. "Not that I waited to join the Order ere I began touring that particular landmark." As soon as he began developing the ability to leap as dragoons do, he started spending more and more time finding interesting perches around the city. "You can see much of the city from its rooftops."

He sounds fairly satisfied with himself for having done so, as satisfied as he was for wandering up this staircase unbidden. Yet, most of his pleasure seems to be coming from showing Aymeric something that he thinks he might like. Would that he could show his friend all of the things that he'd witnessed since learning such mobility.

"Yet, glad am I to see the horn so closely."

Aymeric steps further inside, almost gleefully looking from window to window. Estinien provides him some much-needed direction towards the Vault, so Aymeric chooses that facing window as his main viewpoint. At the admission, he chuckles.

"That does not surprise me in the least." Estinien taking to the rooftops as soon as he was able? He would expect nothing less from a man who is not one to be held back in want of permission. "I can only imagine. The view must be breathtaking."

He tries to picture it himself--an airborne view. Mayhaps if he takes a ship to Cloudtop he could recreate the effect? Though given that it is under the jurisdiction of House Haillenarte, there is little to no chance of any sort of sanctioned trip. Cloudtop is mostly seen as busy work as it is.

"But this is lovely still. To see all of the Pillars from this height..." Lights from manors that line the streets, twinkling in and out as families light the lamps or retire for the evening. "It is an expanse of stars all on its own."

It's easy to feel warm and comfortable while watching Aymeric's delight, even now that they are outdoors without their jackets. Estinien stays where he is, watching his friends more than he watches their surroundings. He's seen the views plenty of times with his abilities, after all.

"I would ferry you up there myself, but you may not appreciate the sensation," he offers without much thought. He was fully capable of carrying another man's weight while doing so, especially without his armor getting in the way. Of course, such an act could be considered quite indignant, when his passenger was not wounded on the battlefield or some other concern.

"There is little cause for the priests to be up there at night, though I am careful to remain unseen." He's not sure what the particular laws are regarding it, but it would probably count as trespassing, he assumes.

Estinien may regret making that offer, as a joke or otherwise, as it is enough to tear Aymeric's attention away from the cityscape for a moment. And by the Fury, the look on his face says that he is actually considering it with some level of sincerity.

"And how would you describe the sensation, Ser Dragoon?" he asks, eyes narrowing in mirth.

Estinien pauses, both a little surprised and also unable to gauge whether Aymeric is being serious or teasing him. He looks like he is considering it with serious intent, but also... that could be part of the joke? Estinien's lips press into a confused line.

"Well..." Is he supposed to give a sincere answer? "With my training, falling from great heights is of little concern. For you, however... your gut may be less tolerant."

If Estinien were a more canny individual, and if he were more certain of what he's trying to accomplish here, he could have taken that question as an opportunity to further entice Aymeric to the alluring excitement of the activity. Instead, he finds himself trying to anticipate what ways it might be unpleasant, as to not disappoint.

Would Aymeric have fancied some cleverly woven words, set to a tapestry so that he may feel as if he is almost living it in the moment? Absolutely. He is, in many ways, a man in want of adventure and is keen to take it when the opportunity presents itself, provided it does not hinder his other responsibilities and goals.

Yet...this is Estinien, his dear friend known for his frank nature and for seeing the world how it is now--the now being that Aymeric is decidedly not a dragoon and consequently has no experience with such movements.

It should be a deterrent, but Aymeric simply finds himself laughing.

"Then I suppose if I am to fly I ought to find wings." He shakes his head. "It would be cruel of me to subject you to mine own unease, would it not? I shall spare you the indignity, my friend."

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