middaeg | (open) & i may not see the future,

Entry tags:

(open) & i may not see the future,

Who: Aymeric and Francel and Solas in closed prompts; whoever wants an elf goodboy who likes ethics discussions and long walks on the beach in the open prompt!
When: mid to late May.
Where: the Coven, the Haven.
What: magic, ruminating on politics, rich boys probably putting mattresses on the floor, etc.
Warnings: gore, actually, but it's fine, everything's fine,

♞ practical magic. (the coven, open.)

[ Every day, without fail, Aymeric can be found at the Coven, diligently working on his magic. He's progressing slowly, in part because he's chosen no straightforward discipline: often he has an object in front of him on which he'll cast a spell; then he'll wait a little and touch it lightly with his fingertips. Many times he'll only purse his lips or frown, but other times, he'll yank his hand back as if burned (and he might be).

He also practices shielding magic, as best he can — he may turn, sometimes, and ask the nearest obvious newcomer if they wouldn't mind throwing something at him, yes really, harmless or otherwise. He's wearing armor; it's fine. ]

♞ walls continued upright, bricks met neatly, floors were firm, and doors were sensibly shut. (moving in, for francel.)

[ The house, the witches assured them, is perfectly safe. Yes, it did once belong to a family who succumbed to the Cwyld, but that's no reason for alarm, of course, they said; get a tea table and some chairs; get a fire started in the hearth, and it'll feel just like home.

It feels nothing like home, though, even after he and Francel have dusted all the rooms and carried in a few pieces of inexpensive but solidly-built furniture. Aefenglom is much too warm, for one thing.

By the time night falls, and there's nothing else to bring in or to clean, Aymeric has shed his armor in the house somewhere, poured two glasses of water, and coaxed Francel out to the covered front steps with them as a remedy for the house's stale air.

No one, at this hour, will see Francel's emerging scales.

The twin moons are bright overhead. Aymeric settles on the top step, allowing Francel space, and stretches out his dusty legs, looking pensively up at the sky. He takes a long, cool sip before he speaks. ]

I've wondered, I must confess, how much they truly know of that lesser moon. Folly, I suppose.

♞ a strategy discussion. (tea, for francel & solas.)

[ It still hasn't occurred to Aymeric to use his watch more often — or almost ever — so he's delighted when he runs into Solas by pure chance a day after they've moved into the Haven. They can't offer much in the way of hospitality, but they do have tea, and a table, and chairs, just as the witches suggested, and Aymeric extends a prompt invitation.

The house is too large for two people, though not as luxurious as some of those nearer the center of the city. The yard is a tangled mess of weeds, and thick ivy has smothered all but the windows on one side of the house. Part of the quaint carved wood detail above the covered porch has a sizable splintered hole in it, as if it was struck by something heavy, and a massive scrape mars the faded paint on the front door. The towering pale wall that separates the inner city from the outer is starkly visible, here, through the other homes.

Aymeric slows as they approach the door. ]

Francel has been reclusive, of late. I've no doubt he'll be glad of your company, but if he appears reluctant, pray forgive him.

[ He pushes it open, stepping into a clean but empty narrow foyer split by a staircase, and raises his voice: ]

Francel?

(note/the wildcard option: prose is always okay. for any other ideas/whatever, feel free to pm me or hmu on plurk at elegiae ♡

unrelated note that a reference to the parliamentary records building is now undermael college because I didn't see a question on the faq until right now,,,)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Aymeric called out. Too far, too far, the knowledge was in their eyes, felt and shared between them, a truth as cold and solid as iron. For a moment, the Bond felt... not new, but old, impossibly old and familiar, anchored in that moment of crystal-clear distress, the ache and exertion of their bodies, pushed suddenly to all limits.

For the dizzying span of a moment, Cain wasn't sure which man he was. Which home he'd been from. Whether he was running toward danger, or away. Had he been the one to breathe in the ozone scent of rifle-fire, after practice? The one who had felt the edges of the magic of dragon's breath? All that was certain that he needed the other, that each half needed the whole to survive.

Fingers of flame licked up the blood they'd smeared on the blade, and then curled in harmless tongues around Aymeric. The shadow of the firebird was dark as a thunderhead over him now, and he pulled the other man to him while its long tailfeathers fanned, and the first of its claws shattered like dropped glass aggainst the shimmering barrier which protected them.

There was only a split second, where they all shared the same space. The heat of the bird's mantle of flames covered them with a roar, and the shining red feathers of its breast swooped over their heads. There was not even a moment to shout 'NOW!' to Aymeric.

Only, just barely, to think it. And trust in his arm, and skid and slide around his body, suddenly occupying a space it had not only a moment before. ]

[ The split second wasn't enough for Aymeric to comprehend what had happened, or which one of them had been responsible — but he'd seen enough battles and driven his sword through enough massive bodies that his own acted for him.

His sword hit home, sank deep through the firebird's ribs, and he tore it hard to the right. The bird faltered with a shrill, ringing scream, one leg striking the ground, then the other, tumbling, knocking them both to the ground before it skidded past them in a fiery heap, pouring smoke.

Aymeric left it where it lay twitching and convulsing, for the moment, and scrambled to his knees to hover over Cain. ]

Are you—?

[ Cain dizzily pushed up to an elbow from beneath the smouldering tailfeathers, as the bird's heartfires died and left it only brilliantly red and gold, no longer aflame. He reached for Aymeric with a similar panic, as if he could trust only his hands to tell him whether Aymeric was well, still had a head and two arms and two legs.

His hands shook hard, fluttered at Aymeric's shoulders while he sucked in gasps. ]

Y-you're okay? You're alright?

[ Aymeric let out a heavy uneven breath. The tension left him in a rush, and he dropped his head to rest against Cain's shoulder — and started to laugh, a breathless, disbelieving chuckle. ]

I thought you were — I don't know what I thought, and look at you!

[ He lifted his head, brought his unbloodied hand to Cain's cheek. His own had acquired a smudge of soot, somewhere, and he looked like a man accustomed to cold who'd been fighting a firebird in warm weather, but he was smiling. ]

You're a mage! A far better mage than I can claim to be, even now. Not long ago you could hardly make sparks, and you were perfect!

[ Aymeric went slack, and Cain's hands, still shaking but at least a little steadier, threaded together behind his neck. Splayed fingers carded up through the elf's dark hair, smooth, trying to be soothing, while he exhaled a shaky laugh and tucked their faces together, his cheek pressed for a second to the other soldier's temple. Laughing, breathless, before he leaned back a little, grinning, still drawing his hands through Aymeric's hair, trying to pull it back a little from his flushed and heated face. ]

H-hah, are you kidding? I'd be fucking birdfood if you hadn't done that trick, the magic wall, the barrier! And I thought you were gone, just like that, I...

I... thought I'd done the wrong fuckin' thing, meant to go to you and not... not...

[ He forgot what he was even saying, he was grinning so hard, and with a grunt just pulled Aymeric in to embrace him again. ]

[ He didn't resist it, fell with his arms propped around Cain to collapse against him. Even the singed grass was pleasant on his face, and Cain was alive beneath him, the rhythm of his breath different, but steady and real.

The moment stretched on for too long. Aymeric could have let it to go on longer, could have stayed that way for an hour — but he lifted his head again, rolling his suddenly-stiff shoulders. ]

I suppose we ought to return to the city.

[ Cain let Aymeric go, but didn't move to follow him, sunk prone into the singed grass with his eyes closed, just feeling himself breathe.

And thn he began pushing himself up, tight lipped. Slowly, stiffly, began to gain his feet. ]

No.

I've never... I need to look at it.

And it's... I could feel it, in the fire. Its magic. Its... it was... just an animal.

[ He moved past Aymeric, reaching his hands out for a feathered wing. Followed along the shape of it, walking around without stepping on half-ruined feathers. Jogged over to its crested head. His expression of joy had faded fast into something tight, almost miserable. ]

It's... beautiful....

[ Aymeric said nothing, watching him, still and impassive from the other side of the carcass. It was a curious sentimentality for a soldier — had been unknown to him even when he'd first become a knight, shot his first small wyvern out of the sky — but he'd seen it in other men. Men, mainly, who had taken up swords and lances and bows for the cause, but would have been better suited to any other life.

He began to walk around the bird's feathers, slowly moving to meet Cain. ]

So it is.

[ It was, objectively. The thought brought him no sadness, with the frames of smoldering huts behind them. ]

Does it trouble you?

[ He ran the scarred fingers of one hand up the black-and-gold beak of the creature, feeling dazed. His fingers, still with fresh cuts, prickled with pain and heat. It was still warm. And he didn't look up as Aymeric joined him.

He wet his lips, which were chapped from the heat. ]

I'm from a world with no animals. Especially nothing like this.

[ He drew his hand cautiously along the feathers framing the brow ridge of a great eye, closed now. ]

I dunno. The first thing I thought was... 'kill it'. When I felt the bodies burning. Didn't even stop to... think. But maybe there's something else we could have done? Driven it off, or something? Scared it, some how.

So... maybe I am troubled, I guess. That that was the first thing I thought. And now it's dead, and maybe didn't need to be. And... y'know, what does that say?

About me?

Let me heal your hand.

[ He held out his own to take Cain's while he measured his words carefully, discarding what seemed too hard, to dismissive. ]

I am from a place with many such creatures. Few birds as large as this, but dragons, wolves, efts, great bears, all sorts. Many are magnificent, from afar — but men are prey to them. Should you manage to frighten away a bear who plagues a merchant road, what will he do? He must eat. You've saved yourself by condemning something or someone else. That is life in the wilderness.

[ He paused. ]

Nor do I mean to reproach you for your good heart, and I would not like to see it hurt. There are fell creatures in this forest; you may have little choice but to defend yourself against them. You might, perhaps, do best to stay away.

That's not just life in the wilderness, but... life kinda in general.

[ He added a mental 'before the twenty-second century. ]

Everything eats. Things die so you can live, vice versa, everythings a big web of interconnected life and death and balance and shit. But I've never been in the web before, never been a part of a... of an ecosystem.

It's a big responsibility, you know?

[ He gave over his hand a little hesitantly, obviously now sure what to expect. ]

True enough.

[ For how shaken he'd seemed, it was a more measured response than Aymeric expected. He relaxed a little, almost intangibly; allowed his hand over Cain's to settle lightly on it. Even after casting two good barriers in quick succession, the healing spell came stronger and more easily than ever, seamlessly diffusing across the clean edges of the cuts Cain had made, knitting his damaged skin. ]

Yet that web is much like public life, I think — like statecraft: the moment you question your right to be a part of it, and do as you must, you risk some hungrier thing taking your place.

[ He watched with fascination, pressed his thumb along the edge of the skin of his palm to stretch the skin of it, just trying to see what affected the course of the spell, how it changed his body. Weird.

And then looked up, shaking his head. ]

Are you kidding? They're... only alike a little. An animal like this one, right, it's never been... I dunno, taught fucking morals, or good and evil. It doesn't know sin, or appreciate beauty. It just... is. Like a storm. Eats when its hungry, has young, learns and suffers and sleeps and dies.

People, though, people know the difference. People, tons of them, all the fucking time, choose to be... cruel, or evil, or assholes. And that's part of what makes being a person hard, right? Is that we've got a duty to, um.... be more than a beast, but the instincts to be even worse than one. Not just to get justice but to get revenge, shit like that.

And that's why... I don't know. It's one thing to be cruel to another person, right? A man in the world expects other people to be fucks, knows the rules of being in a society. But being cruel to an animal is... something worse, kinda. Like like being cruel to children. They don't get the rules, don't understand the stakes or the way things are. They're... innocent, I guess?

In a way.

[ He dug in his pocket for the weird communicator they'd been given, flipped it open and started to laboriously type a message. ]

I'm gonna see if that magic shop pays a bounty for any parts of this animal. And while I wait to hear back, we're gonna talk about this bond shit.

[ A flutter of guilt and uncertainty disturbed the bond, soft, but there.

Cain had never lived in the highlands, Aymeric reminded himself. He didn't understand, couldn't understand the reality of it. There was no frightening away a thing the size of five men that knew it would eat reliably for the foreseeable future if it stole a few loggers from their shelters in the night and tucked their bodies away in a cool den. If slaying those creatures along the road was cruelty, his people had learned it to protect themselves. It was necessary.

But it wouldn't be the first time he'd been wrong about everything all along, and it wouldn't be the first time it took an outsider to bring it to light.

He was frowning absently at Cain's palm, running his thumb over scars and bones like rosary beads. He realized belatedly that he hadn't answered, looked up. ]

Yes — apologies for relying upon it; I...suppose you would have liked your first to be more than necessity, the temporary sort or no.

[ Cain turned his hand where Aymeric was resolutely studying it, and lightly pinched the side of his hand, to distract him from that guilty shadow in his mind. Playful, almost, or teasing. ]

Don't apologize, I knew what I was doing. And I'm a romantic, not an idiot.

When I learned what... what the risks are, I got on a regimen of... These one-day Bonds. I've got a calendar, been measuring my symptoms, have... an arrangement, I guess. With a few different people, so nothing gets... too intimate, too... easy to make a habit.

[ He spoke while watching the little locket thing, and then, for something to do, stuffed it in his pocket, and fished out his palm-sized notebook, plucked up the pencil nub stuffed on its inside. ]

I'm still serious, about how I feel about a real Bond. And unless it's an emergency or something, don't offer it to me again. It... feels too right. And warm.

[ He was scrawling notes about the magic done, the time of day, a short few words about the circumstances of the need... ]

I'd get my dumb hopes up, you'd pragmatically break my heart, I'd resent the hell out of you for being unwilling to marry me, it'd be a real stupid mess. And I'm less risk-averse than you are, which reminds me of something else.

I'm leaving in like two weeks on a secret mission to Dewaint. There's a huge node of Cwyld there, and I'm gonna go test a... a solution on it.

I started writing a book for you, useful shit I know, for you to take with you when you go home. Just... in case, right. Should I give it to you before I go, or just tell you where to find it if I don't come back?

[ There was a pause, a stirring of leaves and brush around them, and Aymeric's expression shuttered. He turned away serenely. The heat of exertion had left him, but the sunlight filtering through the remains of the smoke still made it too damned hot in the clearing, if Cain was going to stay and wait. Aymeric tugged off his gauntlets, one by one, and dropped them on the ground by his sword.

None of it was could be refuted. Marriage was a world apart from him; he would always be the outsider looking in on it. It was meant for people who put their families above the city, and he, of all people, could not do that. Perhaps, now that there was relative peace, he would never need to make that choice — or perhaps he would. Perfection would be someone who never asked it of him, never expected him to put aside his duties, who would go with him when the knights marched, if they liked, but would have the grace not to try and persuade him to stay behind. ]

Tell me nothing.

[ His voice was calm, almost light, false. He took off the heavy burnished clasp that kept his mud-caked coat in place, shrugged out of both, dropped them with the rest. ]

I trust you to return — and more than likely to find some success. You are — [ he shrugged out of his tabard, leaving himself absurdly half-dressed in a plain fitted shirt, breeches studded with mail where his greaves left a gap over his thighs, and his sollerets, gleaming in the light. ] —brilliant, capable, determined, pragmatic yourself—

[ He sank down, then, in the shadow of the dead bird's wing where it had buckled and lay still, with his legs askew and his arms propped on his knees. The breeze stirred bright feathers over him as he looked back at Cain. ]

And I admire you terribly.

Edited 2019-07-10 19:56 (UTC)

Well... you're definitely the first. And I admire you, too.

[ He breathed it like a sigh, and made one last note in his book. Shoved it once again into a back pocket. Moved his dark hands along the bend of the wing sheltering the other man, feeling out the smooth feathers, finding the joint of its bend. Death hadn't stiffened it yet. ]

You make me want to be... a better man. Try to be, I guess. And I will come back, with information, if not success, and show up at your door. Like an alley-cat you fed once and who won't ever leave you alone after, hah!

[ He moved the muscle at either side of the joint with a tight pull, making it bend and cast a more complete shadow over Aymeric where he sat. ]

Poor guy, you look red as a tomato. Want me to check around and see if there's water?

[ Aymeric laughed, dry and sardonic. ]

Having seen what I have in this forest, my friend, I would not drink the water here for love, coin, or country—

[ —and he tugged loose the laces of his shirt, pulled it over his head, and dropped it carelessly next to him, falling back into the shade. He was less scarred than
his title might have suggested; the most notable one was much more recent than the rest, a smooth dark line a little above his hipbone. ]

I shall be indecent while you await your answer, instead.

[ He eyed Cain as best he could from his vantage point, honeyed persuasion slipping into his voice. ]

Come to my door in Ishgard. I shall be so impressed that I shall marry you then and there.

Edited (sorry 🙏) 2019-07-10 23:39 (UTC)

[ Cain smiled and started walking around the felled creature's other side, rolling his eyes. But he definitely looked on the way, the long, lingering look of someone decidedly interested. ]

Oooh, my personal hero and savior, casually removing his shirt. I'm blushing, seriously. You don't stop soon I'll swoon. And then—

[ He was interrupted by that sweet invitation, and though he was half-hidden by the head of the bird, the sound of him tripping over his own feet and then catching himself on the other wing was unmistakeable. The stopwatch, which he'd been checking, fell to the dirt, and he had to scoop it back up.

Aymeric was definitely teasing; so... time to up the ante. He made his voice smaller, shoved his hands in his pockets and looked firmly away. ]

... What size ring do you wear?

[ Aymeric watched him, not fooled by the display and charmed all the same, and played along. ]

I've no idea. If you mean to bring one to me, I shall find out the moment I return to the city.

[ And he meant that, at least, was already thinking of jewelers along the main road who might help a man who'd brought no coin and was covered in dirt, ash, and blood. ]

[ Damn. Bait still on the hook. He crossed his arms and swiveled enough to catch Aymeric's eye, one brow lofted. He couldn't quite hide all his amusement, but he strove for a straight face, and to replicate as best he could his mother's 'i'll tolerate none of your fucking nonsense' voice. ]

No, you're going to go home, get cleaned up, and eat something. It'll probably be past dark by the time we get back.

Just let me know before two weeks are up.

As you say, dearest.

[ Terms of affection were fair game in a running joke about marriage, and Aymeric was well prepared to let it run, now that he'd started, and Cain was so gamely throwing it back to him. He stretched out his legs, finally, crossing them at the ankles with a clank. ]

I shall have it for you several days ahead of your most brave adventure, at the least. I'll not say I shall pray for your success, as you have no need of my prayers — but which do you prefer: expectations, or praise?

[ He looked at the locket again. Found a reply, started typing back, pacing a slow, wolfish circuit in front of where Aymeric lay. Trying to think of a good, saccharine endearment to fling back, something disgusting and sappy, but... everything he knew was for different kinds of people, 'sugar' and 'sweetheart' and 'princess' didn't seem... right.

Ugh, Aymeric... ]

C'mon, sweetheart,

[ He still hadn't thought of anything better, fucking lame, ]

Don't I deserve the whole trifecta? Prayers, expectations, and praise? Sure I have no technical need of prayers, but I don't need a soft bed or hot food or all of life's comforts, either. They're just nice to have.

But if I had to pick one, if you'll really make me choose... Expectations, totally. We're not gonna be a power couple without pushing each other, and I'll work harder knowing I've really gotta knock it outta the park to impress you.

[ There was a seed of truth in it that made Aymeric pause, tracking Cain's slow path, eyes sharp.

(He would never look like this, in the seat of the lord commander; he'd be the picture of a knight, and Cain would come to him in a scholar's robes, no ash, no blood — but he might circle the desk this way, and look across it that way, and there would be no interruptions.) ]

Then I shall expect you to return in reasonably good health with your findings, and I shall pray for your success — and if you succeed, you shall have your trifecta.

Hah!

[ He happily tossed the watch from one hand to the other, facing Aymeric fully for a second, looking for all the world like he'd won something, somehow, features alight with victory. ]

Just you fuckin' wait, I'll come back with enough good news it'll give you a headache to listen to the list. And I'll get that trifecta, and be sooo smug about it you'll regret it for a week.

And, uhhhh,

[ he looked back at the messaging device, ]

Turns out most of the thing is useful, Jordy helped me get two bids in town. One for 500 cunes a pound, just trading hands when they get out here, and the other is for seven hundred a pound, but they'll deduct the cost of the butchering by the hour and we don't get paid 'till it's done.

You prefer either one of those?

[ He realized, in that instant, trying to plot out which would get more money but what their time was worth, that he was the wife.

He was the fucking wife. Aymeric probably couldn't cook a goddamn thing. How was he with money? Fucking shit, everything he wore looked expensive. And Cain was small and dainty by comparison. Shit. Shit, he was suddenly the smart one and the wife, what the fuck had happened.

Cain's hand flew to his forehead, raking back his bangs. ]

Huh. Shit. Maybe I'll... I dunno, buy nicer clothes or something...

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