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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."

Estinien isn't particularly eager to discuss the trials with anyone, but Triaraut's reaction certainly sticks out to him as particularly grating. It's amazing, how some of these people are able to give a compliment that comes across as insulting just by presentation alone.

He is, however, not all that concerned with whatever daggers Triaraut may throw in his direction. To try to bring low the Knights Dragoon would do no one any particular favours, especially when he's well aware of how proudly the high houses boast of present and past dragoons among their families. Demeaning those that would willingly sacrifice themselves for Ishgard must be of poor taste, even among noble circles.

What he's warily anticipating, and less equipped to handle, is when his attention goes in Aymeric's direction.

For some reason, Estinien had liked to think that Aymeric was past the point of people outright insulting him in public. Estinien's expression immediately turns sour, both unable and unwilling to conceal his ire for a comment like that.

Yet, when Aymeric responds more calmly than Estinien could have mustered, he is reminded that he owes it to Aymeric not to make a fool of him - but he is equally unwilling to allow such comments to lie. Estinien feels like he is in a very bad spot, standing here with a plate full of hors d'oeuvre and a gut that's increasingly full of fire.

"Given what I've heard of House Dzemael, I had expected you would do a better job of concealing your daggers," he says flatly, staring at the other man.

Edited 2020-11-05 22:29 (UTC)

Aymeric had known that any sort of confrontation was a possibility at such a high-standing event with a good portion of the Pillars residents in attendance, yet it is decidedly more embarrassing that it is happening in front of someone whose opinion he does hold in regard. Not that he thinks Estinien will think less of him from the off-hand comments of a noble in need of amusement at the expense of others, but it still bothers him more than it would had he been alone.

To Estinien's credit, Triaraut de Dzamael does look quite honestly surprised at the remark. His brows raise as he turns towards the dragoon as surprise shifts to amusement. A lesser member of House Dzamael is still a Dzamael at the day's end.

"My, my, I come here wholly unarmed, Ser Dragoon." He raises his hands to show his open palms, then deftly takes a cup of wine as a waiter walks by with a tray. "'Tis but a courteous offer extended to those who might have want for an opportunity to...raise their station in a more objective setting."

Aymeric's good nature, forced as it feels at the moment, falters a little at that. He can take the questioning of his right to any semblance of nobility due to being adopted, but it is the allegations towards his origin of birth that sting the most. That somehow it both be a stain on his record and a boon to his achievements all the same.

Estinien could argue against the logic of this man's insult, defending Aymeric's merits with testimony or even just arguing that it would be difficult for him to receive the benefits of nepotism given his situation. Yet, he knows that it isn't really about that - and Estinien's methods of achieving satisfaction are much more direct.

"I take it you are accustomed to speaking without consequence," he says. "If you had any capacity to weigh the worth of your words, you would speak far fewer. While Ser Aymeric may have the grace to turn his cheek to the ways you are clearly lacking, I will not be so forgiving if you continue unchecked."

Estinien has no idea what social decorum he has broken by saying as such, unsure how much he can get away with or if he's already gone too far. Yet, with Aymeric's candid tellings of his troubles still clear in his thoughts, he refuses to sit idly by and just allow this to happen.

Everyone should be thankful, he thinks, that he has not already resorted to curses.

Shock comes from both men in that instant. Aymeric's eyes widen as he shoots them towards Estinien while Triaraut's own eyes narrow. Aymeric knows that there might be apologies needed--the High Houses are unaccustomed to such frankness from any whose station stands lower than theirs, no matter how they choose to conduct themselves. And yet...

He cannot find himself to be upset at this. Not at all. Not even to afford the expected apologies for his friend's--his chosen guest's actions. If anything, Aymeric feels his heart skip a beat.

Triaraut, on the other hand, sneers as his hold tightens on his wine glass.

"It is not I who is in need of checking, Ser Dragoon. Your promotion does not yet allow you to speak so out of turn--"

Before Triaraut can continue what is about to become a threat, Aymeric--suddenly all smiles that seem much more genuine--places his free hand at Estinien's shoulder, but faces Triaraut properly.

"As generous as your offer is, Ser Triaraut," he begins, making the conscious choice to use a title that they both share rather than acknowledging the other man as a high lord. "I believe that my companion has made it clear that I must respectfully decline. I am certain that someone who can prove themselves worthy of your discerning standards will make themselves apparent ere long."

Triaraut sneers, taking a long drink from his wine glass before absently setting it half-empty aside on the buffet table, left to be attended by someone else. He steps in closer, voice as biting as the teeth behind it.

"Do not make light of me, Borel. Your friend may have earned his rank and title, favored in the eyes of the Fury, but Thordan's favor will run dry. You forget that he did rightfully cast you aside. As a mistake."

At first, Estinien half expects that Aymeric will be upset with him, given Estinien's own worries that his resistance will only make things more difficult in the long run. Yet, that couldn't be further from the truth. After Aymeric's initially surprised reaction, it seems instead that the man nearly glows with approval.

This only proves to bolster Estinien's own confidence in this path, feelings of affection for Aymeric mingling with his disgust towards this man. He enjoys having Aymeric by his side, and to finally be able to turn away one of the aggressors that Estinien had mostly only heard of in retrospect. It is one of the things he'd hoped he would be able to accomplish when he first decided to accept the invitation.

Yet, in the end, this only makes his fire in his belly surge all the more violently at that final insult. Ears buzzing and pulse-pounding, his body moves on reflex. He seizes Triaraut's discarded wineglass and tosses its contents across his face.

"You shame yourself," Estinien snarls. "To show such disrespect to your fellow knight... and to the Archbishop himself."

Estinien normally wouldn't give a rat's ass about respect for the Archbishop, but he is firmly of the opinion that if you are going to cause a fuss over Aymeric's parentage, that the Archbishop himself should be the one held accountable. He doubts they would have the gall to make such accusations towards the man actually responsible.

That final comment was pointed, sharp, aimed right for his heart. It is rare that the insults be so candid, yet it is clear that Triaraut's feathers had been ruffled enough that he thought it warranted. He should have predicted as much when neither he nor Estinien had seen it fit to back down.

He could not have predicted Estinien's reaction, no matter how well Aymeric thinks he knows the man. Despite all that has been put upon him for appearances, Estinien has been on his absolute best behavior. Some of the mirth leaves his face as soon as that glass is lifted and he sees it all happen in slow motion. Wine splatters across Triaraut's face and the man in question is understandably even more shocked than Aymeric is.

If no one had been watching this confrontation before, they certainly were now. Conversations around them stopped immediately and there were several gasps as one of the (little) Lords of House Dzamael stood with wine dripping from his face.

Aymeric, looking a little dumbfounded, turns to Estinien with wide eyes and lips slightly ajar.

"How...how DARE you!"

The commotion has garnered more than a few onlookers. Aymeric can see some of the stationed House Fortemps' Knights moving forward to investigate out of the corners of his eyes. No, this will not look good on them at all, no matter how congenial their conversation had been with Count Edmont. Aymeric lightly squeezes the hand that still rests on Estinien's shoulder and gives a tug backwards.

"Pray excuse us...but do enjoy the wine!"

If Estinien will let him, Aymeric abandons the buffet entirely and starts leading the dragoon out of the banquet hall and out into the hallway proper, hopefully fast enough as to avoid the knights entirely. He speaks low to his friend,

"I think it best if we forego the dance, don't you?"

It's not so much that Estinien doesn't realize what he's doing until it's over - more that he doesn't fully think out the consequences until they have already begun. He supposes it makes sense, that a private argument is one thing, but throwing a drink is bound to draw the attention of everyone surrounding them. Yet, part of Estinien can't help but reason that Triaraut is fortunate that it was a drink and not a fist.

It's at this point, too, that Aymeric looks more shocked than pleased, which admittedly does something to dampen Estinien's spirits. Aymeric will manage to pull him part of the way back from the situation, but before they can fully escape, Estinien will stop him. The reality of the situation is catching up.

"Nay," he says, the stress of the situation beginning to match the anger in his gut. "I... have acted in haste, and my actions are mine own. I must stay to accept responsibility, lest they misconstrue the source of the disruption."

Not to mention, he keeps casting glances in the direction of the table they just left, and he's not sure it would be as simple as slipping out and pretending it never happened.

Estinien is a man who has never turned down in the face of opposition, and yet Aymeric still finds himself surprised and humbled in that instant. So he does not resist, only nodding in agreement. Truthfully Estinien has done more than Aymeric could have even asked for.

So as the crowd parts further and the Knights make their way towards the pair, Aymeric does offer the other man a smile, fond and genuine.

"You have my thanks, Estinien. Rightfully I ought not encourage it, but...'tis the first that someone stood in my defense. Whatever the outcome, I am yet by your side, my friend."

Estinien's gaze lingers on Aymeric, surprised to see that the man's appreciation seems to have already returned for reasons he can't fully comprehend at the moment. To Estinien, he feels like he must have only made it worse, but to heard Aymeric speak would make it seem otherwise.

Either way, after allowing his expression to fall to something worried and unsure, he finally girds himself and turns away. He crosses his arms as if preparing himself to enter a dispute.

"Well, don't let them drag you down with me," he murmurs and then proceeds to move forward to greet the knights without further resistance. He'll cast a glare towards Triaraut through the crowd, only to address that have started to gather with conjured confidence.

"Mine apologies," he says. "But Ser Triaraut's unseemly words have momentarily released me from my senses."

And that's where it starts.

As promised, Aymeric stays at Estinien's side the entire time. Though Aymeric is usually one to dictate conversations, especially if it were for his friend's benefit, he does allow Estinien to make his case uninterrupted, only offering his agreements to back up said claims. He does let it be known that Estinien had acted in his defense, not wanting to allow the full blame to fall on his shoulders. (Truly, it should fall on Triaraut's.)

The knights exchange a series of glances, a tilt of the head, a shrug. Such altercations are not unknown at these sorts of events, as Aymeric has told Estinien of in the past, but it does not mean the spectacle is authorized by the patrons. Some may turn a blind eye depending on the circumstances, but the way that Triaraut is clearly fuming as he cleans himself off, it would not end as a simple disagreement.

Unfortunately, House Dzamael, while not really a friend of Fortemps, does hold some sway in who stays or goes in the light of the other guests.

"...While we appreciate your server, Ser Dragoon, we're afraid that it would be best if you retired for the evening."

After giving his case and receiving the verdict, Estinien will simply nod and accept it without further complaint. It's better than he was expecting, truthfully - without really understanding the customs of these things, he'd half expected he might be arrested and left with a trial by combat looming on the horizon. When neither of those things happen, he's left to ruminate on his own foolishness.

So lost in his thoughts, he nearly fails to consider Aymeric's presence, though he's been there all along. He rises to the surface enough to acknowledge him, though his look is somewhat distant and preoccupied.

"It is time I depart," he says. "Pray, do not let me keep you from the rest of the evening. This was not your doing, and you should not lose out because of it."

Meanwhile, Estinien is heading towards the cloakroom

Aymeric does hold his breath for their request, glad that it is only that. Truly despite the status Estinien has gained as a dragoon, the High Houses are still of higher authority and an affront towards one of them could be taken much more seriously than a little wine to the face. Thank the Fury it does not come to that.

So, to Aymeric, this is a win. Yet he is once again a little baffled when Estinien takes his leave so quickly--leave of Aymeric. He watches his friend go and then shakes his head, bowing to the knights.

"As my guest for the evening, it is only fit that I also take my leave. Please express our apologies to Count Edmont. We do hope the disturbance does not cause undue stress for the rest of his guests."

Aymeric makes a point to trot down the hallway, catching up to Estinien as he is retrieving his coat. Once he does, Aymeric huffs at his friend, then nods to the servant who is manning the closet.

"Mine as well, if you would be so kind. 'Borel' is the name."

Estinien huffs in return, turning to look at Aymeric like he's just said something foolish. He crosses his arms, his brow furrowed with worry. Of course, it's not like he can go anywhere because he's still waiting for his coat, so all he can do is stand there and look bothered.

"Aymeric," he says more sharply. "...It would be unwise to forsake this opportunity. To have you leave on such a note would be..." He trails off because he's not even really sure. Inwardly, he may be catastrophizing the situation. "I would not have it be my doing."

If there is an opportunity for Aymeric to save face... he isn't sure. He doesn't know what anyone should be doing right now, and he feels very much untethered.

Aymeric crosses his arms as well, a silent challenge of his own in mirroring the posture. The stern tone behind Estinien's reply does not deter him at this venture, not after everything they have been through this evening. If anything, his confidence in their bond has only grown tenfold.

So he shakes his head. "Did I not say say that I would be by your side, no matter the outcome? 'Tis the very least I can do as you have been by mine."

It feels an easy thing to say, but the weight holds true. It feels right.

When his coat is offered, Aymeric offers his thanks before sliding it on. They will be returning early enough that Alfred may still be up. Estinien will need to return to the Borel Manor at least to retrieve his armor and his lance, though Aymeric would not mind should he want to stay longer. He waits for Estinien to be ready before taking leave of the Fortemps Manor, each step down from the doorway feeling strangely empowering to him.

"If I may be honest...I would not forsake this opportunity either--and I am not. If my choice is to stay and save face to the few who may want to listen or to stay true to my stalwart ally and friend, then the choice is an easy one to make." He shakes his head. "There will be other galas. Mayhaps it will be a while before we are welcomed back to House Fortemps, but...I cannot find it in myself to feel regret."

He has an air of lightness about him. Aymeric turns his head up to the starry sky.

"Ser Triaraut likens himself to greater import than he has within House Dzamael and I have not been the first to become a target of his less than knightly conduct. He uses his name to his advantage, of course, and is unused to being called out on his behavior..."

Then Aymeric actually chuckles. "The look on his face! Estinien, it was priceless."

Estinien grumbles, but he doesn't have the spirit in him at the moment to keep arguing with him. Instead, he just sullenly waits for their mutual coats, and heads out of the manor at the same time Aymeric does. As they leave the building, Estinien feels like Aymeric is doing him the favour - benevolently forgiving his inadequacies like he always has.

He had only hoped that he might return the favour by supporting him at this event, and now...

Estinien pauses mid-thought, looking at Aymeric with surprise as he begins to speak again. And now... Aymeric seems as pleased as could be? It's hard to make sense of, when he's spent this whole time fearing that he'd somehow ruined Aymeric life. Even in advance of the natural effects of the cold, Estinien's face and ears may appear pinkish.

"Aye..." Estinien admits awkwardly. Like, it was pretty funny, on one hand. "Yet... I had hoped to lend credence to your efforts, and instead... I have only caused more stigma for you to battle against."

Though Aymeric really does seem happy, part of Estinien can help but wonder if he's just trying to cheer him up - to assuage his guilt. For his part, Estinien sounds more genuinely distraught by this than he usually lets on, his hands in his pockets and his posture closed.

"You need not coddle me..."

Estinien's own lack of amusement in the events does sober Aymeric a little, as does his comments. So caught up as he has been in the novelty of having someone stand in for his honor, to not let these sorts of indignities go unspoken of--it's so refreshing that he had no realized how it might affect Estinien.

Or rather, how hard Estinien has been trying for Aymeric this entire time.

"My friend..."

Aymeric reaches out, placing a hand at Estinien's forearm in a quiet request for him to stop and look up at him.

"'Twas not mine intent, though I do apologize it seems that way. Nothing that transpired this eve is irreparable. And save for this one incident with Ser Triaraut, you conducted yourself well. Yet, that you were willing to stand in my defense means more to me than I can say. That I would much rather have than the approval of the High Houses. I speak only the truth when I say I would rather spend the evening with you than with all other guests in attendance."

It does go a ways to convince Estinien of Aymeric's sincerity on the matter - which he, again, looks surprised and puzzled about. His shoulders relax, and he stoops over less, meeting his friend's gaze. Some of that gloom fades in favour of him looking generally unsure.

Some part of him fears that Aymeric is being naive, and that the effect he's had will be grievous in yet unseen ways. He never allows himself to fret like this about anything else, he realizes. This level of anxiety is foreign to him - positively bizarre, when there is so much about life that he's numbed himself to. Becoming aware of that makes him feel somehow exposed.

"Then... I am glad to not have caused undue harm," he says carefully, allowing Aymeric to keep hold of his arm for as long as he pleases. "Though, some part of me regrets having missed the night's conclusion. I had hoped to see other nobles skirmish about tarts, not to wind up in a fight myself."

And keep hold he will, allowing himself that selfish desire for contact. He shakes his head again--that is most certainly to reassure Estinien that he did not ruin Aymeric's reputation wholly. A small misstep, in the grand scheme of things, and Aymeric does not vie for approval of Dzamael as it is, knowing that such things would be impossible.

He does give an amused chuckle at Estinien's apparent wishes for the evening. "Had I set that bar too high?"

Giving into temptation, he gives Estinien's arm a light tug to urge him forward, back towards the Astrologicum and the edge of the Pillars where Aymeric lives. But he does not pull it back.

"Perhaps on another venture...although I would understand if you would prefer not to attend a gala or ball for some time."

"If any were to invite me after tonight, I would have to think carefully, aye," he says with a small amount of amusement, at least loosening up a little they make their way home. Maybe it would be so bad to try again, but only with Aymeric present.

"Though, it seems we will not yet have the chance to put your dancing lessons to the test." He's still not sure if he would have been in the mood to attempt it, were the dance to happen, yet missing the opportunity completely is another thing he's vaguely regretting. Though maybe he is still only pining after the idea of doing it in a place where they could be truly alone.

Yet, he finds himself comforted by their return to Borel Manor. It's begun to feel more familiar and homey to him in ways than even the Congregation, though he would be reluctant to admit it.

Edited 2020-11-06 05:52 (UTC)

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