revolutionne | ❧ open post

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."

Estinien hesitates, somehow unsatisfied with this result. He hadn't actually meant to completely dissuade him, nor to suggest he'd be unwilling to try. Despite Aymeric's lightheartedness, Estinien seems increasingly unsure, uncomfortably shifting on his feet.

Every so often something like this happens, where his inner desires seem to conflict with his rough and practical nature. He's struggling to think of the right thing to say, mostly because he usually doesn't pause long enough to figure that out before speaking.

"It's not as if I haven't been sick in your presence," he says. "If you were willing to take the risk... I would be as well."

There's something painfully earnest about the way he offers it.

An old memory, amusing and fond to Aymeric. The first night where their friendship truly blossomed, even if it ended in something of a mess. Yet he does not regret any of it and the fact that Estinien still entertained him in the days to come assuaged any lingering doubts that he had. (Being hungover is a bonding experience in and of itself.)

His lips twitch in that same amusement, though when Estinien reaffirms that the offer is genuine--almost sweet in the way he says it--Aymeric's eyes widen and brighten with interest.

"I am not too proud to admit that the notion does call to me...what small adventures we are afforded within the city walls. The risk is well worth the reward, in mine eyes."

Well, he's committed to it now. Estinien looks him over uncertainly, but in the end, he just nods his head. He moves to step through the opening in the gazebo that faces the Vault proper, balancing on the rooftop outside.

"Come, then," he says, his tone attempting to remain calm and unaffected. Of course, that will become increasingly difficult as they both find themselves standing outside, and Estinien realizes he's going to have to carry Aymeric somehow. He extends his hands as if he's going to try to pick him up, and then pauses, awkwardly retracting them. He does this a second and third time with different plans of attack, but cannot decide on which.

Finally, he gives up.

"How would you prefer to be lifted?" he asks, looking Aymeric over like he's not sure which parts of his body he should be daring to touch.

Oh--oh. The realization slowly dawns on him that Estinien's intent is to fulfill that promise immediately. There is only a moment's hesitation, knowing that there is supposedly a party they should be attending, people they should be speaking with, impressions to be made...but there is something decidedly more alluring at the idea of putting that all behind them and jumping on a moment's whims.

No, he loves the idea.

Aymeric follows, albeit a little less gracefully as he is not often standing on rooftops. That in and of itself is a little thrilling--it is not as if this is the highest point he has been in the city, but doing so beyond the protection of balconies and railings is exciting. So he turns to Estinien with nothing short of hope in his eyes to...a slightly awkward series of them standing there as Estinien fumbles.

Though it is a fair question.

"I--" Aymeric opens, then closes his mouth. He had also not planned this far. Far from propriety, he tries to gauge what would be the most efficient an least troublesome. Though the longer he thinks on it, it does arise that there are methods that may paint them in a slightly different light than others.

"--I suppose whatever would be the least cumbersome for you. Would that be at your back?"

Estinien certainly isn't making particularly good use of the invitation, given that so far he's only spoken to the two men he already knows, yet escaping the scene can't feel like anything but an improvement. They'll have to come back eventually, he assumes, but for now? He's not going to miss the opportunity on account of a bunch of strangers at a party.

Thankfully, Aymeric makes the next part a bit less complicated by making a suggestion. Estinien latches onto it, preferring not to make the choice himself. He nods his head again and turns around for Aymeric to jump onto his back, kneeling down a little as he does. Unlike his social handling of the situation, every part of his adjustment is graceful. He could do any number of acrobatic moves on this rooftop without ever risking falling.

"Aye, that I can support your legs." He pauses, waiting, and then adds: "You'll have to support yourself with your arms, so make good use of them."

He has yet to really see his friend flaunt his now fully earned dragoon abilities, though he had shown all those qualities long before earning his soul crystal (and, apparently, his armor). When it comes to things like this, Estinien is in his element and shows far more comfort with being perched high above the streets than Aymeric does by default.

There is pride in that even as Aymeric approaches and somewhat awkwardly mounts his friend. (A sentence that will not form in his mind no matter how it may try to.) He presses himself against Estinien's back, thighs hugging his hips as he wraps his arms around his friend's neck and shoulders.

Totally normal. This is not suddenly more telling than the dancing in the streets leading up to that. Not at all.

"Will this do?"

It's not exactly comfortable, but Estinien is also stronger than he used to be, benefitting from intense physical and aetheric training. He hooks his arms around Aymeric's knees, and determines that it's a load he can bear gracefully.

"Weightier than mine lance, but certainly bearable," he comments with just a slight bit of teasing, rooting his feet more confidently on the roof. He glances upwards to the buildings that surround them, mapping out a path towards the Vault that will require the least extreme jumps.

It's not completely different from how he'd carry an injured comrade off the battlefield, but they hardly have such a concrete excuse. Carrying Aymeric for the sake of a joyride rather than to save his life is very different indeed.

"On your word," he says.

He has been carried before, certainly, even before that sordid night spent out in the Highlands, but this is a different experience all together. He tries not to dwell on that too much, instead focusing on how Estinien shifts both of their weight.

Aymeric allows himself to chuckle against Estinien's back. "I will not take that too deeply to heart." He should hope he weighs more than a lance.

Though they are about to do this, aren't they? Aymeric glances over Estinien's shoulder towards the streets, the reality of it settling in. It should be a deterrent, but instead he feels budding excitement.

"I am ready."

Estinien doesn't wait for any further approval. He leaps.

It's as if the dragoon becomes weightless beneath him, an unseen energy seeming to guide his jump. Not as if the wind, but instead like something within Estinien himself, like his trajectory is somehow within his control even after his feet have left the ground.

With that power, Estinien carries them to the top of the next closest building with a single stride, and ten leaps again with the next. Each step defies gravity, and it's only when he approaches the Tribunal that he pauses at all.

"This will be the big one," he says as he drifts, bending his knees as he lands. Then, he flies. Using the Tribunal as his stepping stone, he makes for the skies, and for a moment it's almost as if he's on wing. It isn't until they reach the top of the Vault that his arch reaches its end, and they meet the tiles of its upper landing with supernatural grace.

At the first jump, Aymeric inhales sharply. He thought he would have been prepared for the sensation, but he was not. That Estinien could not put it initially into words may make sense--he feels, for a moment, like a cloud floating narrowly above the rooftops, weightless and and expansive all at once.

Yet as they move to their first drop, Aymeric's grip tightens instinctively even though he trusts Estinien implicitly, both in intent and skill. And with the next jump the feeling returns, his chest expanding with glee that he releases in a breathless laugh. Aymeric tries to silently name the houses and buildings that they pass, grinning from ear to ear.

The 'big one', as Estinien so aptly named it, makes Aymeric's stomach do a flip. For a moment it feels as if they may not land, only to continue up above the highest spires of Ishgard and into the Heavens to meet Halone Herself. In that moment, Aymeric might have welcomed it.

But they do land with a swiftness and softness that rightfully should not be possible in the combined weights of two grown men. Aymeric is all but clinging to Estinien at this point, buzzing with energy. He breathes out with another warm laugh into the back of his friend's ear.

"That was--that was amazing! You are amazing, Estinien. I have never felt so...so free in my life."

Before doing anything else, Estinien casts a cautious look around the area, making sure that none of the Vault's true denizens are in sight. Then, he focuses on letting Aymeric down off of his back, trying very hard not to dwell on how enthusiastically Aymeric has just sung his praises.

He never knows what to do with that kind of thing, even from Aymeric. So he stays quiet as the other man enthuses, not looking bothered so much as just looking a bit at a loss. Shy, even, in his reluctance to accept it.

"...Not the technique's intended purpose, of course," he says after a few moments, trying to sound more relaxed than he is. "Yet, the skillset has its unexpected benefits."

Such as whisking your friend up to the top of the Vault, and apparently making his night.

Aymeric disengages a little shakily, true to Estinien's implicatinos that he may not be built for such travel, yet he stands on his own two feet in the end. When he looks at his friend he is beaming with pride, fondness, and an electricity that only comes with a rush of adrenaline. It feels a bit like the first mission he took out into the Highlands as a Knight, leaving him fresh and hopeful.

That Estinien not easily soak in his praises is not unexpected, though it rarely stops Aymeric from singing them. While he is prone to politeness to all around him--and there is an amount of expected reveleries when dealith with aristocracy, genuine or not--he does not offer these compliments so earnestly and readily unless it is to those he deems worthy of them. And Estinien is most definitely worthy. And he, dare Aymeric allow himself to think it, almost looks cute like that.

"Nay, likely not." He seems to find most things funny at the moment, trying to hold in a chuckle. "But impressive all the same. The journey in and of itself was well worth it."

Yet when he turns to look at Ishgard from the precipice of the Vault, that is enough to take his breath away a second time.

"...I had thought it impossible to hold her in higher regard, yet I feel my heart swell for Ishgard as if it were the first time we took our oaths."

He's quiet for a moment, drinking in the cityscape, looking from the east end to the west, appreciating all the beacons of light and the shadows cast beneath them.

"She is imperfect, our city. That one can catch glimpse of those that want and those that have in one sweeping vista leaves much yet to improve upon...yet for centuries her walls have stood strong--broken in places, but not penetrated. These selfsame stones that kept our forefathers safe offer us the same refuge, but it is our duty to protect them--to protect the people within them." Estinien knows much of what pitfalls he sees and how he believes the Most Heavenly Knights should be doing to rectify them.

"But now? Now she looks...peaceful. It is hard to believe that war rages endlessly just beyond her borders, and I still find myself falling in love with her once again."

Aymeric turns his gaze back to Estinien, clasping a hand on his shoulder.

"Thank you, my friend."

Though this rooftop is far from Estinien's property, he can't help but feel as if he's sharing something that is his. As if, late in the night, this perch has become his own private place, his own little secret. It makes him happy to see Aymeric appreciate it so thoroughly, even if their love for the place seems to be rooted in different emotions.

He watches Aymeric take it all in with a twinge of longing in his heart and a pang of regret for his own cynicism. Aymeric has this effect on people, it seems. Hearing him speak can light a flame in the chest, warming even the coldest of hearts to his passions. Yet, while Estinien can feel the flicker of that hope, it's not something he can fully understand.

His relationship with Ishgard is complicated, sometimes viewing it as Coerthas's last hope, other times seeing it as the enemy of the common people. After all, its protection and peace is not, and can't be, offered to everyone in their nation. Yet, without it, would the place of his birth have had any chance at all? Without the Ishgard and their Azure Dragoon?

It's not unlike his feeling towards his adoptive father, and it's a peace he feels like he may never truly find, even as he craves it.

"Would that I could see her through your eyes," Estinien says softly, glances away in the same moment that Aymeric looks towards him. "I fear the sight may be wasted on mine."

Aymeric looks a little deflate at that, but not for the reasons that Estinien might assume. Waxing poetic takes himself by surprise sometimes, getting so worked up in what he sees now and both what he can see things become. He knows that he comes from a privileged position to do such. His brows furrow as he tilts his head, before shaking it.

"Rather than see Ishgard through mine own eyes, I would make her a place that you may feel the same."

He smiles then, a little crocked but no less genuine. Estinien has always been more sardonic and sobering and Aymeric has never once held him in less regard for it.

Estinien sees Aymeric deflate at his response and can't help but feel wrong for having inspired that reaction, to deprive Aymeric of his moment through grim observations. He puts out a hand, but then cautiously retracts it, obviously struggling to figure out what to say.

"I do not mean to take away from your enjoyment," he says. Most people he wouldn't mind dragging back down to earth over a subject like this, but with Aymeric... part of him not only believes in his imaginings of their home, but desperately wants to see them fulfilled.

"I... would be glad to visit the place you describe," he adds, still touched by shyness in that unusual way. "Truly."

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