revolutionne | ❧ open post

It is not something he speaks of freely or often, spending too much time inside his own mind grinding through the possibilities until he assuredly dissuades himself from anything. Haurchefant's involvement, while well-meaning, only goes so far as what he has himself witnessed rather than Aymeric coming to him in confidence. That Estinien want to hear Aymeric out despite this being far out of the realm of his own interest does make him glad.

He nods plainly. "You have the right of it. It may be a poor reflection of past experiences that I am casting on Lady Elsinne, and if that be the case she most certainly deserves for her attentions to be returned elsewhere."

Aymeric pauses, gaze dropping down an ilm or so, brows pushing together as he too is struggling with something. Though he is someone who believes honesty should come first, being honest with some of the subjects is a first for him. Matters that he keeps to himself, especially out of earshot of his parents. They had done him a kindness in taking him into their home, he ought not sully the family name in the process. No more than he all ready has.

"...Said experiences are few in number, I must admit. Yet I was not immune to the swell of urges that come with blossoming adulthood. Though the aristocracy likes to claim purity on such affairs, it is very common to explore such inclinations and act as if one had not until marriage."

He shakes his head, not so much in disapproval of such explorations, but in the hypocrisy that comes with it.

"Though events never did fully..." Aymeric struggles for a moment, feeling a little boyish all of a sudden to be so candid about his sex life. "...escalate to the expected conclusion..." Or the lack-thereof. "I became acutely aware that it was less than genuine interest for which my company was sought. After all, would it not be something of an amusing little secret than to have bed the Archbishop's bastard son?"

He forces his gaze back up to Estinien and shakes his head again.

"I may have been disingenuous when I originally stated that I was unfit for courtship. By all accounts I am to inherit the Borel estate and the title adjoined, which under most circumstances would play a fair part in my own eligibility for dating and marriage. To men our age this would be a standard affair, as the lower Houses are always doing their best to align themselves with those at the top. Nourorault, while not one of the High Houses, has close connections to one, and therefore would be a clear step up for House Borel. Yet I do not have the desire to move forward with even the potentiality of such an arrangement. Henceforth I have done my utmost to speak naught of it, lest my mother be given a false impression of my intentions."

Edited 2020-10-31 01:47 (UTC)

Estinien was also not immune to the urges associated with 'blossoming adulthood', though they manifested in a way that was equally if not more inelegant, in his opinion. Though, fortunately, it may have left less permanent scars, largely due to the fact that they had been without attachment by design. He can no longer remember much of the people that were involved, and all that's important to him is that the events have never been brought up to him again.

It seems all too clear that Aymeric's open heart is what makes something like this hurt so much, above and beyond general embarrassment. It causes aimless anger to twist in his gut, with no faces or names to place the blame on. It seems Lady Elsinne is not the root of the trouble after all.

He wishes there was something he could do or say that would make a difference, but he's not sure there is. So, instead, he endeavours to listen.

"You do not wish to marry?" he asks, unsure of whether Aymeric means in general, or just with Lady Elsinne, or only as a result of his fears.

That Estinien be present, that Aymeric lay bare his woes unabashed is more than he could ask for. Words he has not uttered aloud before, only allowing the thoughts and regret to boil in his mind and heart until they taught him even more the importance of caution. Yet Estinien is once again correct--he would be very much inclined to share his heart with someone, should it be welcome. He simply knows not if it can be possible at this juncture.

He allows another moment's pause, a silence if only to allow himself that brief reprieve. It is more than he ever thought he may share on the matter.

"I would not say that." He swallows. "Were my situation different, mayhaps I would be well with the notion that marriage at this station is oft a transaction more than a fulfillment of devotion, no matter how it is painted. The idea of marriage to someone whose heart I truly know...does have a great appeal."

Whose heart he truly knows.

Something about that sticks with Estinien, even beyond their current topic of conversation. Aymeric is the only person in the world that Estinien feels like he knows at all, and for a moment he's left wondering what that means. It's not as if he's sought others out, always trying to remain isolated, but now that this connection is here, stolen into his heart...

Aymeric's thoughts keep turning him back around towards contemplating his own emotions, and it doesn't sit well with him. This is meant to be Aymeric's plight, and nothing going on inside Estinien's head makes enough sense to him to speak of.

Except one thing.

"I know little of these matters. Yet, I think... if that is what you desire, you should be permitted to have it," he says. "And that you should feel no shame for searching for as much."

Estinien may know little, but what he says holds quite a weight. Despite the heaviness of his admissions, that simple and succinct statement is enough to pull Aymeric's lips into a smile. His friend does have a way of stating what he needs to hear plainly, a welcomed contrast to Aymeric's own inability to be brief.

"Thank you, Estinien. That means more to me to hear than I can properly convey."

Because, in his heart, Aymeric does desire romance. He has always been a little in love with the idea of love, even if he has not let said notions dictate his life's choices. Far from it--his own ambitions for himself and for Ishgard, while born out of a kind of love for the latter, were far from the same sort of goal. Yet there is a place in his year that still yearns for it against his better judgment and practicalities.

Someday, perhaps.

"...And thank you for lending an ear. In truth, this is the first I have spoken of these matters. Yet I am glad that it was with you."

Though still feeling twisted up inside in a way he can't fully address, Estinien nods his head, managing his own small smile in return. He's glad to be able to at least say something useful on the situation, even if he feels he is largely ignorant. When the rare need to be careful of his wording arrises, his tongue feels impossibly clumsy.

He keeps feeling the urge to touch Aymeric's shoulder, or his arm, or do anything of comfort - yet every time he contemplates it the motion dies before it reaches his hand. It's a bit easier to reciprocate when the offer is made to him, but every time he is about to instigate such a thing, the distance between them feels so vast.

"Then I am glad to have forced your hand," he says. That's not exactly what it is, but teasing him a little will take some of the pressure off. "You have more secrets about you than one might expect, at first glance. I am honoured to know them."

That earns a warm chuckle. "Had I become too predictable all ready, my friend?"

Yet he could not have predicted that this is where the night would lead--sitting yalms above city, perched on top of the Vault itself, chatting away under the stars with his closest friend. To say that it is better than entertaining the expected pleasantries at the gala would be an understatement. What he would do that more events turned this way...

Aymeric sighs. "As much as it pains me to say, I fear we may need to return to House Fortemps ere the night's end. We owe a show of gratitude to our host, at the very least. But I do hope that we can do this again."

Estinien certainly feels more like himself up here than down in the Fortemps manor. Away from the eyes and expectations of others, in an isolated place that only a small few could reach... it probably gives a more canny view into Estinien's lifestyle than most other things could. Some aspect of sharing that is comforting.

He's also been lurkingly aware of their need to return to the party, not wanting to be the cause of some manner of social disgrace for cutting out too soon. So when Aymeric brings it up, instead of grousing, he simply nods.

"Aye," he agrees with a reluctant sigh. "It would not do to waste the opportunity in its entirety. Not least because I was required to dress for the occasion." He offers a playful smirk. "Whenever the priests are not making use of this place, it is accessible to us. I would gladly bring you here again. Mayhap after one of those training sessions we agreed upon."

Estinien starts to get up and offers Aymeric his hand - both because he doesn't want to risk him falling, and also for less tangible reasons.

Edited 2020-11-01 05:19 (UTC)

Though he did not think that Estinien would turn down his suggestion, he is still glad to hear his agreement. Especially since Estinien will be doing the legwork on most of it...both literally and figuratively. Aymeric will have to find a way to do his part as well, he thinks. (Would making a lunch to bring be inappropriate?)

Aymeric does have to chuckle at the remark on his manner of dress. "We would be remiss to let these efforts go to waste. Surely I cannot be the only one to appreciate it."

He is a little proud of the outfit he put together for Estinien. It is dressed up enough to be acceptable and yet not so overbearing as to erase all of Estinien's sensibilities and, well, sense of style. At least he thinks he did a good job and Estinien does not seem to be too uncomfortable in it.

"I would like that," Aymeric says simply and smiles again as he takes Estinien's hand, standing very carefully at the very edge. He does use the nearby spire to steady himself a little before moving to take his position at Estinien's back. Mounting here, though...is definitely more perilous. Aymeric keeps his gaze on the spread of Estinie's shoulders and stares pointedly forward.

"I am a little curious as to how long we have been gone, though I doubt our absence was much noticed."

Except, maybe, by Haurchefant and Lady Elsinne, if she is at all present.

The true test of the outfit was already done by seeing if it would interfere with his ability to climb this building - in the end, it did not. So, with his movement unimpeded, and nothing offensive about the look of the thing, he's more or less satisfies. The braid in his hair is also sufficient. In some ways, it's even better than his usual ponytail at keeping his hair from his face, though just hard enough to apply that he probably wouldn't do it himself.

As for the way other people might react to it... well, they didn't really stay at the party long enough to tell. He has an aversion to gaining attention for his appearance, but by all likelihood, it's all too middle of the road to gain much anyway.

Also, he wasn't expecting for Aymeric to get ready to go right on the edge of the building, and a flutter of anxiety goes through his gut as the other man climbs onto his back. It only dissipates once Aymeric is safely in place, and is then replaced with a different yet still related feeling.

"The bells have gotten away from me, as well," Estinien agrees, bracing himself. "So you know, the trip downward may be more... alarming than the way up."

Estinien gives Aymeric a moment to prepare, eying the stops he's going to try to make on the way down. A few separate jumps may be less alarming than one big free fall.

Aymeric is not one to be impeded by momentary fears, mostly for his own safety, but Estinien can take it instead as a vote of confidence that he would not let Aymeric fall. A long drop indeed, but he would never have scaled the Vault without Estinien.

Well, probably not. Who else would bear him hither?

Wrapping his arms around Estinien's shoulders and securing his thighs at his hips once again, Aymeric nods.

"I will do my best to keep that first glass of wine to myself."

Estinien finds himself smiling faintly as he makes sure Aymeric is properly balanced on his back, before carefully moving to the edge. Below them, the streets of the city stretch, shockingly far away for anyone unaccustomed to being airborne. This time, instead of propelling himself upwards, Estinien almost seems to skip off into the air, allowing it to catch him as he and Aymeric drift into a strangely weightless fall.

The wind is the most cutting thing, nothing about Estinien's technique being able to save them from it. He's thankful for the braid at that point, glad that Aymeric won't be entirely smothered in his hair - a major benefit to his armor, he's found. It protects him from the elements, and also from his hair being too violently whipped by the wind.

They plunge towards a lower platform on the Vault, at which point Estinien dances off of it and towards the next tallest building. Just as it seems as they are about to make a harsh landing, it feels almost as if Estinien has some control over his trajectory - the blow comes soft, besides Aymeric's additional weight. Same as he can project himself upward, Estinien seems able to guide their path through the air, speeding or slowing as necessary.

He easily makes their way back to the Fortemps Manor, only slowing once they are back on its roof. He makes sure to keep hold of Aymeric as they arrive, not wanting him to pitch straight off the building if he finds himself ill. This means, that as Estinien guides him to dismount, he may have more than the usual amount of hands on Aymeric's body, keeping him steady in something that flirts dangerously with the concept of an embrace as they separate.

"How about that wine?" he prompts.

It is most certainly a different experience than the ascent. Aymeric thinks that he is prepared, but he is not--not for the way that his stomach seems to leap up until his ribcage, displacing his heart and lungs as they fight to move to his head. He gives an undignified, but muffled yelp at the sensation, and yet...

...and yet by the end of it he is laughing. He is breathless. His heart is racing (having found it's rightful place in his chest) and Aymeric feels lightheaded and strangely tired despite the fact that it was most definitely Estinien doing all the hard work here. Estinien who, by the blessing of the Fury, remains untarnished by any inability Aymeric might have had to keep hold on that aforementioned stomach.

"Where...where it should be," he says, trying to catch his breath. "Estinien...that was exhilarating! Even more than when we made our way to the Vault itself. I never thought that falling could be so wonderful."

He sounds ready to wax poetic about the whole experience, finding that his legs are a little less steady than he expects them to be, holding onto Estinien all to ready as he tries to stabilize himself. Yet he is all smiles throughout, cheeks and the tips of his ears pink like he had spent just a little too long in the early frost of winter.

"...I must sound mad to someone who experiences this day to day, mustn't I?"

Estinien had imagined that Aymeric would have a strong reaction, but he hadn't been sure it would end up being such pure bliss. It stirs feelings within him as well, memories of the first time he committed to a true freefall during his training. It was an experience that had awakened something in him, but that he'd never seen fit to share. It seemed foolish, somehow, to rejoice in the thrill of a technique intended for war.

Yet, seeing Aymeric's reaction, his own emotions feel somehow more real. He can relate to what Aymeric is saying, at least, even if it has become more mundane by his daily standards. He keeps hold of his friend while he balances himself, one hand around his waist and the other gripping his shoulder.

"Nay," he says, with a soft smile. "The first time I allowed myself to fully commit to a dive, I recall it being similarly livening." Not least because a fledgling dragoon could easily kill themselves doing it incorrectly. "And then again, the first time my descent began off a wyrm's back."

He can't help but notice the pinkness of Aymeric's cheeks and ears with a particular fondness. Again, he feels the phantom desire to touch that soft skin, but holds back, realizing the sheer audacity of the thought.

He also notices, then, that he is holding Aymeric more closely in his arms than he has before.

The validation is not what he seeks, but it is appreciated nonetheless. More so than that he seems to brighten only further when Estinien seems to have shared the sentiment once upon at time. Yet before Aymeric can wistfully imagine what it must have been like for Estinien to take his first practiced dive in safer conditions, he's given the details that he should have expected.

"By the Fury!" He gives a surprised airy laugh at that. "Of course it was...never let it be said that you do not excel under the most dire circumstances, my friend. I will look back fondly on this night when the future Azure Dragoon deigned me worthy to bare witness to his skills."

Aymeric, however, does not notice the proximity. Not right away, at least, finding it increasingly comfortable in the same way closeness with Estinien had come so easily when they were dancing earlier in the evening. His hands stay at Estinien's shoulder and bicep as he watches his friend with what can only be described as unabashed affection.

Yet register it does, even a moment too late to pretend that he had just been trying to steady himself. Aymeric's ears deepen and he immediately looks away, pulling back at the same time.

"...Further exploration for another time, of course."

Estinien is never sure how to feel when Aymeric comments about his future as the Azure Dragoon - it's born of genuine belief, he's sure, but he can't help but feel like it's giving him credit he's not yet due. Aymeric is kind to him, overly so, and his estimations often ignore just how little Estinien has accomplished in the face of how much there is still left to do.

From Estiniens perspective, at least. Then again, he refuses to accept much comfort or credit for anything he does at all. Nothing will truly matter until the deed is done.

He won't outright refute it, though, because he has other concerns. Mostly that he's noticed how close he and Aymeric are - and then that Aymeric also seems to notice, a moment too late. Estinien's arms retain the position they held around Aymeric's body for a few moments even after the other has pulled away, before awkwardly falling back to his sides.

Another person might cover this with an awkward laugh, but this is Estinien, so instead, he just stares at his friend in an unconcealed way that is born of pure confusion. It takes him a while to figure out how to course correct.

The hand that still lingers on Aymeric's arm will pull him towards the gazebo window. A practical concern.

"...We should get you off these tiles," he says. "You cannot be certain they won't be slick with frost."

Edited 2020-11-03 07:19 (UTC)

Aymeric gladly takes the assistance back in through the window, mayhaps too gladly. He has always appreciated and enjoyed Estinien's company, yet for a moment there he almost felt as if he were reveling in it. The adrenaline must be to blame, coming off that high from the jumps and the drops that Estinien so graciously provided.

"Thank you," he manages with a level voice, letting his gaze stray towards the entrance to the gazebo. Light from the stairway trickles through and Aymeric realizes they had (shamefully) left the door, open. It does not seem like anything came of it, at least.

"Well, then. Shall we? We owe Count Edmont an audience, of which I admit I have been looking forward to. Then I have mind to find something to eat."

Estinien muses that either their absence has gone unnoticed, or it would appear that they spent an oddly long time in the gazebo. No other way to find out but to return, he supposes. Yet, his eyes linger on Aymeric when he isn't looking, only to flicker away when he is.

It would be a mistake to allow Aymeric to completely distract himself from this opportunity - no matter how much Estinien has found himself preferring their solitude.

"That much I would enjoy," Estinien says, finally breaking away enough to head for the door. He peers into the manor, wondering if they will be seen reentering. "I imagine the tour group has returned before us..."

Slipping inside, he'll pause to hold the door for Aymeric before carrying on.

He chuckles a little at that.

"I would hope so, otherwise they most certainly did get lost."

Aymeric would be lying if he said he also didn't prefer Estinien as his sole company, but there are social obligations to attend to. He has had a fantastic time thus far and there is not much he can imagine that would take his night down a peg.

Thanks to Estinien, he feels on a high when they make their way back down to the main floor. Haurchefant offers another wave from across the room, but is otherwise occupied with his current posse, which is fine by Aymeric. Smalltalk is traded with another Temple Knight who recognizes the both of them, mostly unassuming with a simple offer of congratulations to Estinien before moving on.

Despite all the experience he has had with rubbing elbows with aristrocary, Aymeric is still a little inwardly nervous when they do finally manage to catch Count Edmont de Fortemps himself. Yet the practice is paid off and Aymeric manages the conversation with that mixture of polite confidence and humility that he is coming to master. He is admittedly surprised to hear that Edmont had first heard of Aymeric's growing reputation within the Knights not from Haurchefant, but from from another one of the High Houses. A small moment of internal panic, yet Edmont speaks neutrally if positively at times. He seems a fair man.

Aymeric, of course, does not waste the opportunity all on himself. He makes it a point to introduce Ser Estinien Wyrmblood, the newest appointed Dragoon and a friend, two titles that Edmont says hold regard. (Humbling, if flattering, at least to Aymeric to hear that.) He offers the expected congratulations, saying he has heard something of Estinien's infamous tenacity both on and off of the battlefield, and thanks him for using that to help defend Ishgard. All and all, the conversation is filled with expected pleasantries and a few positive appraisals of service of both Aymeric and Estinien, despite the rumors of Aymeric's parentage and Estinien's own occasionally anti-social reputation.

Rather than make their host depart, Aymeric thanks Edmont for his time and excuses themselves so that they may partake in the finger foods offered. Once they are far enough away, Aymeric feels himself relax a little.

"...I would say that went rather well, wouldn't you?"

Estinien doesn't actually do much to disprove any reputation for being anti-social, given that he spends most of these conversations waiting quietly for things to conclude. It's not out of any distaste for the specific company - the Temple Knight they speak to he has no strong opinions toward, and he respects Count Edmont well enough. He just finds himself a bit smothered.

While Aymeric comes in with a high, Estinien feels like he's plunging into water from the free air up above. Here, he knows he has to watch what he says, particularly with Count Edmont, but increasingly he feels like he must with everyone else, also. He can't help but dwell on the idea that he's Aymeric's accompaniment, and his swell of fondness from their time on the rooftops only reminds him why that's so pressing.

So, while he refrains from saying anything crass, and he manages to just quietly accept praise for once, he also clearly is holding back from actually putting himself out there. Well, clearly to Aymeric, at least - to most, this stiff and unyielding exterior would be completely expected. Estinien never developed the ability to put on a social show, and it seems more than projecting any curated humility or charm, he simply shuts off when the risks of speaking freely are too high.

He limbers up a little when it's just the two of them at the food, through his eyes hold downward as he piles a few selections onto a plate.

"Hm?" It seems like Estinien responds at a delay. "Ah... aye. You, at least, come across effortlessly." He knows it isn't actually effortless, but the illusion of such seems important. At least in comparison to himself, who feels that it must be apparent that he is suffering through an endurance test when it comes to these kinds of situations.

Though this is a first time for them both in seeing Estinien in these sorts of social situations, Aymeric can tell he's trying. Uncomfortable, but trying, and that means the world and more to him. It feels that Estinien has done so much for him this evening--agreeing to be fussed over and dance in the street, the self-guided armory tour, taking Aymeric up to the Vault, lending him and ear, further offering his presence and silent support...

Aymeric shakes his head.

"I am in your debt." A remark with seemingly no preamble, yet sound all the same.

"I will not force upon you too many more pleasantries. I may, however, as you to pick a few macaroons for me," he says with a nod to the display. They are on the far side of Estinien and Aymeric is doing a good impression of how Ser Croquembouche looks when he is about to be fed. Almost too innocent.

Who said dessert had to come last?

Whenever Aymeric says something like that, Estinien finds himself baffled all over again, looking at his friend with an expression of genuine confusion. In his debt for... floating around while Aymeric speaks to the nobility? It doesn't help that Estinien is in the middle of cramming a pastry into his mouth while Aymeric says this, leading to a rather inelegant effect overall.

He does come back to himself enough to honour his friend's request for macaroons, though he still looks puzzled as he grabs a couple between his fingers and passes them along.

"...And what of that 'scheduled dancing' we prepared for?" he asks. He's lost track of whether they missed that part while they were on the roof, or whether that's still to come. It's also unclear what exact tone Estinien is asking this in. Is it because he's interested in it, or because he's dreading it?

Inwardly, Estinien also isn't sure what answer he's hoping for.

Though he would not say it aloud, the image of Estinien staring at him a bit like a confused hound with a pastry half-hanging out of his mouth is really painfully endearing. It's just so simple and innocent in his befuddlement, many may not see that as the same gruff dragoon they have come to know. Aymeric does not try to hide the way his smile grows, but he does not comment on it either, silently filing that away to revisit when he needs something to think fondly on.

"Thank you." He does at least offer the proper gratitude before taking a bite of one of the macarons. "Mmmm..." Something floral? Politeness is really all that regulates Aymeric to eating the cookie in three bites--he would be keen to pop the whole thing in his mouth in private.

"Ah...have we missed it?" Aymeric looks around to see if he can find a clock somewhere in this main hall. Not that he knows at what bell it is scheduled, but they do tend to fall around the same time at most of the High House galas he has attended.

In that process, his eyes fall on another group of knights conversing near the center of the room. Against his better judgment he makes eye contact with one and, of course, offers what would be considered a polite smile and nod of acknowledgment before shifting his attentions elsewhere. The knight in question tilts his head before smirking, patting one of his mates on he shoulder and pushes his way towards Aymeric and Estinien.

Aymeric's shoulders immediately tense, yet he straightens them out and turns to face the other man, offering a light bow in greeting once he is within range.

"Ser Triaraut."

Triaraut does not offer the same courtesy, but his eyes to crinkle a little in amusement as he glances between Aymeric and Estinien.

"Ser Aymeric...and...?"

Aymeric keeps his smile easy as he addresses his companion. "Ser Estinien Wyrmblood of the Knights Dragoon. My guest for the evening."

"Ahh...of course. I did hear they finally finagled a few more esteemed recruits into their ranks." He turns his attention on Estinien. "Do tell, Ser Dragoon--how fared the trials?"

Though Estinien is not always the best at interpreting intent or other social subtleties, one thing he is quite good at is spotting tension in other people. It's similar to what he'd look for in battle - to see muscles taught, preparing to strike, or preparing to flee. He sees a bit of both in this encounter and it's only just begun.

He also immediately notices that Ser Triaraut hasn't bowed in return, which leaves him wary from the start. He has no idea who this man is. He also makes the decision not to bow, instead just stands there with his plate, looking the stranger over as levelly as he can manage.

Despite it only having come up a handful of times, he's already getting tired of making his sanitized reports on how the trials went for those interested. He doubts they are hoping for the details of how he saw the aftermath of other men torn asunder.

"I survived them," he says briefly. "That is the main part of note."

The question is enough to bristle Aymeric, though he does a mostly good job at hiding it. The slight narrowing of his eyes is enough of an indication to those that know him. It had been fairly common affair for all they chatted with to speak with Estinien about his trials and accomplishments, but Aymeric has on good insight that Triaraut's intentions are not out of genuine interest or to offer praise.

He is, unfortunately, proven correct by the way the other man's smile pulls more at the edges as he chuckles with his teeth.

"That is all they require, is not? Then I must offer my congratulations. It is all too often that Ishgard is in dire need of such expert combatants."

He does bow then, but it is clearly for show. When he straightens, Triaraut's attention turns back to Aymeric.

"And so you invite your friend to tout his accomplishments to a worthy audience. How very kind! Though I don't believe you have any news to offer in kind of your own merit, have you?"

Aymeric exhales softly through his nose. "I am happily in service of the Temple Knights. That I can do my part for the greater good of Ishgard is a duty I readily fulfill."

Triaraut outright laughs at that.

"Spoken like a true patriot. I do hear that Captain Dreaurrant has been keeping you busy. We do all have our uses! Now, I am sure you are aware that House Dzemael is also recruiting. We could always use a diligent new squire."

Despite the tension, Aymeric manages to keep his voice fairly calm and even. "Should a name come to mind, I will be glad to offer my recommendation."

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