#House Vairemont

[furys-mercy]

ℭ𝔥â𝔱𝔢𝔞𝔲 𝔡𝔢 𝔙𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫𝔱

The primary estate for House Vairemont had been a dream of mine for quite some time, and now I have finally brought it to life! And just in time to hold Sebastian's wedding reception in it. :D

This is a two story medium build with no true false ceilings, which is very much out of my comfort zone, but the idea was to maximize space so that it could be used for larger RP events and still have the style I wanted.

I struggled a bit with a few spaces, but I am very proud of how it come out in the end.

[bastardofvairemont]

A Formal Announcement

From the Desk of Lady Marcette, Regent of House Vairemont On this the Thirteenth Sun of the Fourth Umbral Moon I, Lady Marcette, Regent of House Vairemont, do formally recognize Sebastian Greystone as a member of both house and family. I renounce and repeal any contradictory edicts released by my house and reinstate his rightful claims to house, titles, and estates. As acting head of House Vairemont I invest and ennoble him with the name, title, and honor of Lord Sebastian de Vairemont. Lady Marcette de Vairemont On behalf of his Lordship Baron Valerian de Vairemont

The announcement of Sebastian de Vairemont's elevation came as a shock to some, while others were surprised it had taken this long for his sister to make her edicts. Perhaps his approaching wedding had put pressure on her to make such a decision, lest he be wed as a bastard? Or, was she waiting until it seemed less… distasteful to reverse her late brother's edict? Perhaps both?

Either way, the Bastard of Vairemont now finds himself legitimized. A bastard no more. At least not in name. Though, it is not as if his rise will sit well within the nobility. There will be those who will still refuse to acknowledge him as one of their own.

Where will most fall? On the side of condemnation or congratulations?

[crimsonfluidessence]

Prompt 9: Friable

7:45 in the morning.

Each and every day, Esredes' alarm went off. He was not one with long startup lag- within a minute, he was always up and shutting his alarm off, dragging himself to the bathroom.

Brush your teeth, comb your hair back into those peculiar spikes, splash some water on your face- yes, perfect. And next came the closet, where Esredes mostly changed into the same repetition of outfits each day- all this time, and still he had not bothered to add much new.

Too much attention.

All this took ten minutes at most, and then he was downstairs. A quick breakfast came and went with a dose of orange juice, and he was putting on Heilyn's coat made for him like he did every morning, followed by the trusty messenger bag and sword. Long past were moments like the sheer embarrassment of shutting down on his floor or at his desk entirely- there was no time for suck weakness anymore.

The brisk and cold air of Foundation greeted Esredes as always, and he set out on the usual route to the Pillars. It was nice and quiet on his street, then it soon passed into the main streets of Foundation. Here and there on the way to work, there were sometimes eyes, stares in his direction, some which he noticed and some which he did not- but today he passed them by before his mind could begin to wander.

Ferrant's office space was always a safe escape from the outside world when he arrived- all of the man's office staff was friendly, Heilyn was the raggy-haired piece of shit he always was, and he could greet everyone and get to his office to write papers in peace. But today, Ferrant had a House of Lords person for him to go and talk to on his behalf, so Esredes didn't get to settle in to his office just yet, instead going back out the Pillars and right into another Lords' office.

"Good morning," Esredes said in his usual polite political work voice as he pushed his way into the office. Every time he went to another Lords' office, it hit him just how humble Ferrant was- and how not humble his former noble self was.

The older Elezen man looked up from his desk at Esredes with a calm indifference. "Good morning," he repeated back. "You're Durand's messenger, correct?"

"Correct," Esredes said, coming in and taking a seat, smoothing out the papers in his hands on the desk. "Lord Ferrant sends his regards he is too busy to see you in person as of now, but expect a letter within the next couple weeks for a request for a lunch appointment. Now, here is the papers he requested of you to look over," Esredes turned them around on the desk and slid them forward to the man, then set his hands clasped in his lap as he watched the man read it over with a careful, scrunched up look on his face.

It took him a long moment before he finally spoke. "...I see." He started with. "And tell me, is Lord Ferrant aware of the greater implications a proposal like this would have on the city?"

"It depends on what you mean by that," Esredes said. "But I like to believe he does know, yes. No proposal of his is without careful consideration, after all."

"The way I see it, it's exactly proposals like this which threaten the stability of the public." He put the papers down, shut his eyes, and let out a long sigh. "Is Lord Ferrant not aware how dangerous it is already for our knights most holy to deal with the remnants of Nidhogg's horde? The system in place is perfectly fine for dealing with the heretics who defected to that monster."

"It's not exactly about that," Esredes said. "It's about those who were kidnapped and forced into his ranks, you see, when he writes prisoner of-"

"The Temple Knights are already at risk of being mauled and turned by the knights who get to them." The Lord said. "You cannot ask them to change their procedures without putting countless lives at risk." He smiled at Esredes. "Send Lord Ferrant my regards, but I am not interested in more of this proposal of his. Now, what else does he have to speak of?"

Esredes forced a smile back. "Very well," he said as he took the papers back into his hands. "Then I believe we can cut right to the next proposal on the House floor..."

When he exited that building and went back out into the streets, Esredes let out a sigh and looked over the papers in his hands. Heilyn and himself had been working on that one for so many weeks now, and this was the fifth test subject it had failed without any room for further conversation. How many more rewrites did they need to make this worth any consideration?

Lunch hour was already approaching, and so Esredes decided to make his way down towards the Crozier. He was near enough that he could pick something up and bring it back to the office, and then he'd have just enough time to report the results and get his work in order before his hour break for a client coming in. It was already getting crowded, however, so Esredes opted to pick a stall with a decent line just to save time instead of his usual go tos. The merchant was selling little meat pies that overwhelmed Esredes' nostrils even from this distance back, and it was rare Esredes wasn't in the mood for them. "Hi," he said with a smile when it was his turn in line, taking the gil out from his pouch. "Two, please." He set it on the counter and slid it over.

The Hyur man gave him a peculiar stare as he did so, and Esredes had to keep his smile from faltering. "Sorry, I think it's best you look elsewhere. Stock's limited, and my usual customers show up around now."

Esredes blinked a couple times, staring back at the man before glancing down at his gil and slowly taking it back in his hand. How the hell did this random merchant even know? "Very well, my apologies for the inconvenience." Esredes replied, and off he did as he did best and disappeared into the crowd.

He ended up with a smoked Dodo sandwich instead, carrying it in a box in his hand as he made his way out of the Crozier and back towards the office. Yet as he passed by one tall and light individual on the street, he did a double take and stopped, looking back with a faint smile of recognition. "Good afternoon, Squire of the Axe." He called to the young man, recognizing one of the individuals from the Fourth Temple Knight Company he sort of tolerated, sort of didn't. While others had revealed his real name to him, he still felt the man would scorn him if he tried using it yet. "Hope you're having a decent one. Take care."

Gerivien turned around and stared at Esredes with a look Esredes recognized well out of the man by now- that of burning, unfiltered hatred. It couldn't decide consistently if it wanted to be there or soften on any given interaction, and his mouth twitched downwards.

"Mind yer fuckin' business." Gerivien said, and turned on and kept right on walking with that.

"Until another time!" Esredes called his way with a smirk before moving on. Ah, Gerivien was a hot and cold one- some days he got that, other days the man revealed his soft side he denied existing and something more interesting happened- but today he didn't have time for an interesting moment, so take his opportunity to annoy the Squire it was.

Esredes had lunch alone in his office to make up for the extended length of time that Lord had spent talking about his thoughts on the latest House proposal, munching away on the dodo sandwich while finishing up a paper. Then as 12:55 approached, he stood up and moved to the kitchen, pouring a glass of water and then navigating to the Blue Room instead, setting it down on the side table and opening a drawer to take out his binder and fake pair of glasses, slipping the glasses on and settling into his chair. The 1:00 slot was a vague name of 'Red' simply written down on the sheet, and Esredes wasn't sure who this person was at all, but a new client was always kind of exciting nonetheless. He settled in, put a bright smile on his face for the client's entry- and in came a face he did not in fact, not recognize.

Ivarault Vairemont.

He had never spoken to the man personally, but he knew him well, or so he thought- because the man had started a fight most times he saw him, including one with a dear friend of his, and he knew for a fact this man literally wanted to kill him. He was that sort of ex-Dragoon, the kind who wanted his eliminated and nothing more.

Esredes' bright smile dropped in an instant. His free hand went to his pocket, the one that kept the airborne, powder based sleeping agent in a little vial just in case. "What... what are you doing here."

Suddenly, Esredes realized just how much he took Pyralis' mediocre presence for granted.

Though the man had relatively behaved himself for a change, Esredes left that session feeling drained nonetheless. Back to work it was, until the hour of 5:00 hit.

There he was to switch out of his civilian mode and back into what lurked beneath the surface. He left work, went home, changed into his armor he wore into battles as a harrier, and slipped on his helmet as he departed for the Central Highlands. He had a meeting with an interested party about the ways of Iceheart's people, and he meant to represent his people well.

At least, that's what he planned to do. Instead, his tale of Iceheart's struggles, mixed with those of his own and that of the movement all together, was met with an angry response from the masked individual.

"And was it heroic when you allowed the wyverns into the city?" The lady said. "When you slaughtered those people merely delivering goods to their destination?"

Esredes could do nothing but blink. "No." He said. "It wasn't. I never tried to imply it was."

"There is nothing heroic about your people, as you so call them." The lady continued on, taking a step closer to him. "You are no better than the knights you keep bringing up. You spilled blood to summon a primal, and what did it accomplish? Nothing."

"It accomplished the end of the goddamn war!" Esredes retorted back, taking a step forward and curling up his fists. "If she hadn't stopped that Garlean ship, the Archbishop would have plunged the land into chaos. You and all of those pathetic Warriors owe her for your continued peaceful existence, but no, you can't even be bothered to acknowledge that much!"

The lady narrowed her eyes at him with a look of pure disgust. "You will never be anything but a monster," she said, and then she began to walk away.

Well, that was the second time this year one of these people pretending to hear the other side had turned sour when they heard exactly that. Lovely. Esredes let out a sigh and waited for her to be far enough away, then transformed and flew away.

He found himself at a bar later on in the night, 8:30. It had been a day, and he needed to grab a bottle or two before he went home. Content was he to mind his own business, but soon himself approached by a man, a specific type of man he knew the second he put his eyes on. They always had some kind of shit eating grin on their face and were only there to take an unwanted and creepy interest in you.

"What are you so down about?" The man asked about three lines into the conversation.

"I'm Ishgardian."

The man chuckled to that. "That you might, but it's no reason to have such a stick up your arse, yes? Why don't you loosen up a little and maybe you wouldn't seem so down?"

Esredes wanted to sigh all the way down into Witchdrop and then some. "I think I know what I'm doing, thank you. Please feel free to bother someone more interesting."

"Whatever you say, asshole." The man remarked, and as he turned to leave he pushed Esredes right in the abdomen with one hand, causing him to stumble back against the table and spill part of his drink onto his face. A few people in the bar laughed at the sight.

Without a word, Esredes turned and left the bar in a hurry.

When he collapsed into bed that night at 1:34 AM, he felt like he weighed a thousand pounds, yet he stretched his arms out on the bed and shut his eyes, releasing a long breath.

You did it, he told himself. You made it through the day. Another one down, gods know many left.

A lot of emotions swirled up within him, but what went up must come down. Esredes shoved them all back down to the bottom, and stared at the ceiling in complete apathy until he fell asleep.

He was stronger than the world. Other people could break and fracture, but he would remain here, just as he was.

There was no time today for being delicate and picking himself up. Tomorrow, maybe, but for now he was off to dreamland.

-- @heartofthefury / @thecalmnessandthestorms Ferrant/Heilyn

Lori for Gerivien Arius for Ivarault @1emon-vii for Pyralis

[thevoilinauttheory]

9. If they were to make a timeline with their life events, which ones would they list? Which would they leave out?

The randomizer has chosen Maximiloix! 

Maximiloix’s life has been. Something. A long list of pain, is what he would call it. If he were to make his own timeline, this is likely what it would look like. [Anything in brackets is what he would leave out.] --

[Age 4: Abandoned and left in the Brume.] [Age 7: Learned to fish.] [Age 11: Made my first friend.] [Age 13: Lost my first friend.] [Age 15: Learned woodworking and minor botany.] Age 18: Met Adeline Fauvier. Age 19: Married Adeline; and joined the Templars Age 20: Learned to read; had my firstborn, Josephine. Age 21: Had my second child, Adrien; began training to become a Dragoon. Age 23: Lost my brother to a Dravanian attack; suffered an injury to my arm which would force my change in careers. Honorably discharged from the Templars. Age 24: Had my third child, Fleurgeant; began working with chocobo breeders and the stables. Age 25: Had my fourth and fifth children, Etiennette and Elvirelle. [Age 26: Lost Etiennette to illness.] Age 31: Lost Adeline to illness; lost custody of my children to her mother. Age 33: Disowned by my children. [Age 39: Met Cassandra Babineaux.] [Age 40: Felt pressured into proposing to Cassandra; got engaged.] [Age 41: Realized that this was not the life I was meant to lead and left Cassandra at the altar.] Age 54: Became an adventurer; traveled to Sharlayan. Age 55: Met Caromont. Age 56: Left Sharlayan with Caromont, got married, and traveled the world. [Age 57: Met Jeremias Harold, a young Ala Mhigan adventurer that joined us on our travels. ] Ages 58 - 61: Completed travel around every bit of the world we could access and settled back down in Ishgard. Age 62: Built our school in the Brume. Began learning magic. [Age 63: Almost lost my life to a Dravanian attack.] [Age 66: My god-son, Avis was born - later renamed to Danny.] Age 78: Lost Caromont to claims of heresy, lost myself to magic. [Age 78: Sealed Caromont’s aether into his body, keeping him from returning to the Lifestream.] [Age 82: Made a breakthrough in the studies of Black and Void Magic.] [Age 92: Left Ishgard with two of my students; Zacharie and Darian.] Age 95: The Calamity, I lost my grandson, Godefroy; I lost Jeremias. I found Danny and took him in as my apprentice. Age 96: Scrounged up enough money to purchase an apartment in Gridania. [Age 97: Built up funds via the selling of illegally obtained magical books and artifacts. What possible drug-making?] Age 100: Purchased a house in the Mist. Age 103: Met my first friend, Shango Thango. [Age 103: Met Crystal Dream and Corvus.] Age 104: Met Amarice Sovald and Reila Tetas; took Alvisaix Vairemont in as a student. [Age 104: Raised Caromont from the dead.] Age 105: Made contact with my grandchildren, Lothaire and Honorie. Lothaire and Camilla move in. Age 106: Lothaire moves out into an apartment of his own. Age 107: I meet Misha for the first time; I’ve made progress in the existence of other stars. Age 108: I give my full attention to my personal school; and help with the Reconstruction efforts in Ishgard. Age 109: I have my hands full, currently, with Lothaire’s latest project. I *almost* regret agreeing to it.  --

Of all the people the randomizer could have chosen, it was one of my older characters that doesn’t hide *too* much about his past. There’s some obviously concerning stuff in there.

Thank you so much for the ask @nocturnedreaming!! 

[cadrenebula]

HII sweetieee!! I am here for the bingoo!! MHMM can I suggest 'caught in a storm' for GUESS WHO?! Lance!! /333

(Wasn’t really taking suggestions on characters but I can definitely not see this now. XD Sorry Lance. Also asked by @quirkycoterie too. A little more backstory for Lance. Easy to misjudge those storms right after the weather changes started from the calamity. This is before Lance met Alex but after the fall of the Steel Vigil.)

Lance paused from limping along the path. Looking skyward towards the growing clouds. The weather had been downright strange since the calamity. Colder. Snow that didn’t seem like it would end anytime soon.

But he couldn’t stand being in Ishgard a moment longer. Feeling like he was being judged for the failure of the Steel Vigil. For making it out alive when so many died. If anything the city and the stares reminded him of everything that was lost. Of his own injuries suffered in the attack.

Days. He hadn’t sleep more then a few hours in days. The shadows under his eyes showed as much. He was thinner too. Regret and nightmares plagued him. Nightmares of fangs, claws, and dragon’s fire. The aevis that had damaged his thigh and left a vicious scar there.

Why had he survived? Why him? Halone never answered him. He feared she never would.

The weather was turning colder as a few snow flakes began to fall. Slowly turning heavier. He had barely noticed the shift in the weather while he lamented the fall of the Vigil to Nidhogg’s horde.

There was no way he’d make it back to Ishgard with the way the snow was falling now. A part of him was tempted to just lay down right there and freeze to death. To let everything just end here. Why was he trying?

Yet there was that small part. Not entirely sure what it was. Was it him or the touch of the divine that nudged him forward? Slowly he limped his way towards a small cave he could barely make out in the distance. He slumped down against the cold stone wall once he was out of the heavily falling snow. Tugging his coat tighter around him as he huddled there in the cold.

He was so cold. Didn’t even have the strength to venture into the blizzard to look for wood. Not that he had anything to attempt to start a fire. He’d simply gone for a walk. All he had was his sword. A constant staple for him even after his injury. He rested his head against his knees.

Maybe this was how things would end. Freezing to death in a cave. Slowly he closed his eyes and drifted off. Both from the cold and lack of sleep.

Only to jolt awake hours later. Clumsily trying to attack whatever had touched him while he slept.

“Easy there. Ser! He’s alive!” the knight in Ishgardian armor shouted towards the outside.

Lance blinked tiredly. First at the man and then towards the cave mouth. The snow had stopped sometime while he had slept. A frown creasing his features when his father stepped into view. Lance attempted to push to his feet but found his body was still too cold and tired to function as he wanted it to.

“Well don’t just stand there. Help him up. We need to take him back to Ishgard before the boy freezes to death.” Lord Vairemont spoke to the knight.

Lance didn’t have a choice but to let the knight help him. Though he kept a wary look on his father. Later. Lance would hear about this later. He always did. Nothing was ever good enough for his father anymore. Not since Lance had made his choice to serve House Haillenarte.

“Foolish boy. Let’s go home before you worry your mother to death.”

False words. Lance would have preferred to stay stuck out here cause of the storm. But back to Ishgard he went anyways. There was never a choice with his father anymore.

[ffxiv-swarm]

prompt 27: foot in mouth

St. Endalim’s Scholasticate’s mess hall was always crowded; only a carefully reinforced social hierarchy prevented it from being noisy and chaotic as well. Evrard Briardionne, having survived his fifth year with his grades and honor intact, had been unofficially invited to sit at the prefects’ table with his roommate. Regardless of whether they’d only done it to copy his notes or not, he couldn’t help but be pleased. My parents will be so proud when I tell them…

And then, sometime between his second sip of tea and his third bite of toast, the actual conversations being held around him started to filter into his ears.

“Disgraceful—well, of course we had to turn her out, the shame—”

“Halone simply never meant elezen and hyur to marry, that’s just the way of things.”

“How shabby his robes are, but then I suppose his parents could hardly afford better.”

“Still, it brings down the standards of the entire seminary to be seen like that. Perhaps he ought to be down in the Brume with his fellows—”

Evrard lifted his head sharply, cold fury racing through him. There, the two young High House scions snickering to each other—there, the tiny orphan they were discussing just within earshot, face burning with shame. He stood up so quickly that his chair wobbled. “I beg your pardon?”

Vairemont, his roommate, was already pale; like him, he had Gridanian blood, and it showed in the faintest tinge of gray to his skin. Somehow, he contrived to go paler. “Ev, no…”

He ignored him; one of the young men was smirking at them. “What? ‘Twas naught but the truth. If he can’t hold up the standards of the school, he ought not be here.”

Evrard took a deep breath, fists clenching. “Do we study the same book, my lord? The Enchiridion I read says naught about the state of a man’s dress, but quite a bit about the state of a man’s heart—given that, I question whether you ought to be sullying our fair halls!”

Demerits would be stricken from the record with enough good conduct. The satisfaction of being able to punch a Dzemael in what fully three-quarters of the mess hall agreed was self-defense would last forever.

[furys-mercy]

- | Disowned | -

Word Count: 837 Characters: Marcette de Lamoreaux, Sebastian de Vairemont Sebastian Greystone, Dacien de Vairemont (Mentioned)

__________________

As it pleases his lordship, the Baron Dacien de Vairemont, Sebastian, formerly of the House of Vairemont shall be known to all as Sebastian Greystone. Any and all claims to the titles and estates held by the House of Vairemont have hereby been rescinded.

“Why in all of the seven bloody hells are you here?”

Where most would have had the good sense to steer clear of the newly minted Sebastian Greystone, Marcette had been preparing herself for his wrath since she’d received Dacien’s edict. Even going so far as to don her best crimson dress for the occasion, a not-so-subtle nod to recently lost houses and heraldry.  

“Why, my dear brother, might a sister not…” The cold little smirk fell from her lips as she entered the parlor. This was not at all what she had expected. 

“Might what? Come to gloat?” Sebastian lay draped across his settee, shirt open and cravat discarded. “Go ahead. Say your piece.” He took a swig from the half-empty bottle of wine that had been resting in his grip. “But, do choose your words carefully, my Lady Lamoreaux, for they will be the last I shall ever be forced to hear.”

“Is this how you greet your guests, Sebastian?” Marcette gathered her silk skirts and traversed the maze of clothing that lay strewn about the floor. “Mother would be most upset to find that you have forgotten the most important of her many lessons.” 

“You, Marcette, are not a guest. You are a pest. And if I were not absolutely certain that you would howl like a couerl in heat if left on my doorstep overlong, I would not have allowed you entry.” He stared up at her, blue eyes rimmed in dark circles. “Now, was that all?”  

Marcette let out a disgruntled little huff as she perched herself on the edge of the nearby wingback chair that was almost always occupied by her now overly morose brother. The thought had crossed her mind that seating herself upon his proverbial throne might oust him from his stupor. For he had yet to truly rise to her challenge, and she didn’t come all of this way to be disappointed. “Who are you? And what, exactly, have you done with my brother?”

Sebastian nodded towards a piece of parchment on the floor. “You may read for yourself. I am, it would appear, Sebastian Greystone.” His words were punctuated by another swig of wine straight from the bottle, an act that Marcette silently attributed to his recent associations with soot-covered brume rats.

“That is who you have always been.” Her words were matter-of-fact. “Do not act as if today is the first time you are hearing the true nature of your birth. You are a bastard. You have always been a bastard and that truth has never reduced you to…” She wiggled her lace-covered fingers in his direction. “Whatever this is.” 

“That is not the issue at hand and even you are not dense enough to think otherwise.” He pushed himself up onto his elbow, eyes narrowed at her. “Is there no part of you that cares for her wishes?”

Marcette was caught off guard by the question and it showed in her eyes. “She is dead, Sebastian.” A fact that she still struggled with. “Her wishes carry no weight here.”

“And why not? You know as well as I do that Dacien would not have so much as a single cushion to sit his pampered little arse upon if it were not for her. She built our house from near nothing!” He sat up further with each word until he was looming over her, bottle still in hand. “She is owed respect!”

There it was. The rage she had been searching for. Though, she would be loath to admit that it did not truly bring her joy. “Respects were paid and she was sent to the Fury’s halls in fine fashion. You and I can only hope for a mere fraction of the same.” The usual sweetness in her tone was all but gone, destroyed by the weight of the conversation. “She left behind a legacy, I will not argue that point, but you seem to be under the rather misguided impression that said legacy is you when it is most certainly not.” 

Sebastian moved to interrupt her. She raised a single gloved finger. “Ah. Do not worry, dear brother, I do not mean to suggest that I have found myself in the enviable position of filling Ysabel de Vairemont’s rather enormous shoes. I, unlike you, am well aware of my precarious position.” Marcette gracefully rose from her seat, straightening to her full height, which was at least two ilms taller than Sebastian, as she liked to remind herself. “I am also aware of our brother’s position in this family and the power he wields. We rise and fall at his bidding. You must come to be at peace with that.”

The Bastard of Vairemont squared his shoulders and raised his head to meet her gaze. The boy who had been set to drink himself into a stupor was nowhere to be found, having been replaced with the man Marcette had expected to meet. “I have no interest in peace.” 

[bastardofvairemont]

From the Desk of Baron Dacien de Vairemont On This the Twelfth Sun of the Sixth Umbral Moon Baron Dacien de Vairemont is delighted to announce the birth of his son and heir, Lord Valerian Aldéric Louis de Vairemont, born on the ninth sun of the sixth umbral moon. Both Baroness and child are doing well.

Rumors from the servant's hall of the Vairemont estate suggest that the child was born with a head full of black hair, making him look more like his bastard uncle than his father.

[furys-mercy]

| Disowned - Part 2 |

Word Count: 1,058 Characters: Sebastian de Vairemont, Marcette de Lamoreaux, Aurelian Greystone (Mentioned), Dacien de Vairemont (Mentioned)

“Where were you?! Out… out with your… whore, no doubt!” 

Sebastian suddenly found himself envious of the way she slurred her words. That happy light-headed feeling he had carefully cultivated over whiskey and conversation had worn off, with the very last of it evaporating at the sight of his sister sprawled across the floor of his bath amid pools of wrinkled blue silks. 

“Well? An… answer me!” Marcette waggled her wine bottle at him, sending splashes of brilliant red hurtling toward his doublet. 

“My comings and goings are none of your concern, darling sister…” He wiped a spatter of wine from his cheek before reaching down to claim the bottle. “The same could be said for the contents of my wine cellar.”

“The… the same… cou… could be said for…” She stumbled over her words, slurring as she clumsily tried to reclaim the bottle. “This… this is all your... your fault!” 

There was a spark of amusement in Sebastian’s gaze. “Please, do tell me the tale of how the unfortunate nature of my birth has brought us to this very moment. It is always so enlightening to hear how my mere existence has played a part in each and every one of your scandals.” His eyes drifted back to the bottle in his hand, brow furrowed as he took in the label. She had always favored lavish things, so it was no surprise that she had chosen the most expensive vintage. His favorite, of course.

“No! Do… do not… this is not…” Marcette’s quest for the bottle ended with her hands balled into little fists amid her pooled skirts. “You told them!” She threw her head back and met his gaze with a defiant one of her own. “The rumors… they were enough… to… to raise questions! I… I tried to… to ignore them. To shrug them… to shrug them off, but…” 

Marcette stumbled forward as she tried to stand, preferring to scold him from her superior height. Sebastian briefly considered allowing her to plummet back to the floor. The mental image of her skirts over her head was rather comical, but he currently lacked the patience to play such games. He caught her gently with his free arm, pulling her up to rest against his side. “Please, do continue.” 

“I… you…” She tried to push him away but lacked the strength to do much other than bat helplessly at his coat. “Do… do not… look at me like that! This… this is all your fault!” 

“Yes, I do believe you mentioned that.” He shifted his weight to deposit the half-empty bottle on a nearby counter. “Though, you have yet to elaborate on the how of it.” 

“Bastard!” She howled at him, tears welling up in her eyes. 

“Ah. There it is…” He moved to scoop her up into his arms. Her little attempts to resist him were easily thwarted and after a moment she was firmly in his grip, wine-stained skirts spilling over his arms. “I tire of this, Cette. Truly, I do. No one is forcing you to acknowledge me. Your presence here is your own doing. You are seen with me because you choose to be. Choose someone else to harass if you wish, but if you continue to take advantage of my hospitality, I must insist that you, at the very least, come up with new and more inventive insults.” 

“And… where… where else am I… am I to go?!” Marcette tried her best to hold back the tears, not wanting to give him the satisfaction, no doubt. “You have… you have made certain that I have no… no one else! No!” She interrupted his attempt to counter. “Not… not even Dacien! I… I went to… to him first.”

Of course, she had. Sebastian knew he was never her first choice. Rarely the second, either. He huffed out a small sigh as he carried her from the bath and towards the sitting room. “And is that why you chose to avail yourself of my favorite wine? Because Baron Vairemont refused to see you? This is hardly the first time, Cette…” 

“It… it isn’t… you… how is it you… you haven’t heard?” Marcette choked back a little sob. She had never seemed so small or so fragile as she did in this moment. It nearly broke his heart. 

“Heard what, exactly?” He sat her down gently in the crimson wing-back chair that faced the roaring fire. His gifting her his usual seat was a small token of affection that no one outside the pair of them was likely to notice. 

“Aurelian… he has been disowned.” She pulled her legs up to her chest, further wrinkling her skirts, the fire in her eyes returning as she moved. “Named Greystone. Just… like… you. I… I am the wife… of a bastard. The sister… the sister of a bastard… what, Sebastian, tell me… what does that make me?!” 

His heart sank in his chest. She was right. This was, in fact, his fault. He had spread the rumors about her husband’s parentage. The fact that she had pushed him to such lengths by revealing his own secrets seemed to matter less in this moment than when he’d made the decision. It was a game they had always played, but the consequences had become more than either of them could bear. 

The words didn’t come easily. Apologies were not his strong suit, expressions of affection even less so. His mind called back to words that were not entirely his own but rang true nonetheless. “Are you not free?” 

Her brow furrowed. Confusion played across her face. “You… you think that having… having nothing…that being… being nothing… is freedom?” 

He knelt in front of her, his bright blue eyes meeting her own. “There has never been a day in your life in which you were nothing. Those who sought to convince you otherwise only wished to diminish you. You are more than titles. You are more than an advantageous marriage. You are more than a beautiful face to be bartered for the power of others.” His words grazed his own scars, rubbing them raw, threatening to reopen healing wounds. “You are powerful in your own right. We both are.” He reached out cautiously, placing a hand on her arm. “Perhaps it is time we were no longer a house divided.” 

[bastardofvairemont]

𝔏𝔞𝔡𝔶 𝔐𝔞𝔯𝔠𝔢𝔱𝔱𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 ℌ𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔢𝔰 𝔏𝔞𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔲𝔵 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔙𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫𝔱

ꜱɪꜱᴛᴇʀ ᴏꜰ ʙᴀʀᴏɴ ᴅᴀᴄɪᴇɴ ᴅᴇ ᴠᴀɪʀᴇᴍᴏɴᴛ ᴡɪꜰᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴀᴜʀᴇʟɪᴀɴ ᴅᴇ ʟᴀᴍᴏʀᴇᴀᴜx ꜱɪꜱᴛᴇʀ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴇʙᴀꜱᴛɪᴀɴ ᴅᴇ ᴠᴀɪʀᴇᴍᴏɴᴛ ꜰᴀʟʟɪɴɢ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ɢʀᴀᴄᴇ ᴄᴀᴜɢʜᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴜᴍᴏʀ ᴍɪʟʟ ᴡɪʟʟ ɴᴏᴛ ʙᴇ ᴅᴇꜰᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ

[bastardofvairemont]

|| Smash or Pass: Sebastian de Vairemont ||

Rules: pretty self-explanatory. include physical descriptions or pics, and propaganda. the “other” label can be used for “sexuality misalignment” (ie: oc is femme and you’re gay, vice versa or you aren’t into smashing but a specific thing you wanna do with them like perhaps hug or study them under a microscope idc).

Quick Facts

Height: 6'3"

Age: 27

Gender: Cis Man

Pronouns: He/Him

Sexuality: Bisexual with a heavy male lean

Pros

Clever

Calculating

Ambitious

Charming

Graceful

Is an excellent dancer

Will compose music for you

Well dressed

Well spoken

Intense

Passionate

Will court you properly like any good nobleman should

Claims he's not a poet, but can be quite poetic

Will ruin someone for looking at you funny

Has somehow managed to keep himself socially relevant without name or title

Cons

Difficult to truly get to know

Wears many public masks to the point that it can be difficult to tell what is a mask and what is Sebastian

Selfish

Power hungry

Desperate to prove his worth

Slow to trust

Afraid of love and it being manipulated as a weakness

Terrified of being abandoned

Is a blooded heretic

Struggles with anger

Morally questionable at best

Is known to have ruined his own sister's marriage and reputation

Is a walking scandal

Is a bastard with no true name or title

Details

Is known to be the bastard son of Lady Ysabel de Vairemont and the executed heretic Declan Mercer, leaving him with one foot in high society and one foot in the Brume. Though, neither world will truly claim him.

Is thought to be the brains behind the running of House Vairemont. While is sister is the formal regent until his nephew reaches his majority, most believe Sebastian to be pulling the strings. A nobleman in all but name.

Lives for music. He plays the violin, piano, and the cello, on top of singing quite well.

Composes music in secret, sharing it only with those he loves. If you receive a piece he has written for you, it is safe to assume he's fallen for you, even if he has yet to say those words.

Can be quite dramatic. He is prone to throwing himself across divans and bemoaning whatever it is that is bothering him in the moment.

Likes to give and receive gifts. In both cases there's usually a crack in his facade and he appears a bit like a kid on starlight.

Is known to be a rake. Most of Ishgardian high society is aware of the fact that Sebastian has slept around quite a lot. Some regard him as something to try at least once before marriage. Though, it's unknown if this is still true given that he is recently betrothed.

Is a blooded heretic and has all of the ups and downs that come with that. Including the fact that he sometimes struggles to control his draconic gifts and can suddenly sprout scales and horns should his emotions get the better of him.

Is rarely ever seen without a cravat and waistcoat. He wears the trappings of a nobleman like armor. If he arrives on a date with his collar open or his sleeves rolled up, he is putting a good bit of faith and trust in you. He might even have feelings.

He is quite intense. Both in his passion for those his loves and his in his quest to prove himself to the world as something more than an bastard that should have been left to the Brume when he was born. This can be a lot for some people. Too much, even.

His alignment is absolutely neutral evil. While this won't be immediately obvious to most who interact with him, the closer you get and the more layers you peel back the more apparent it becomes.

Sexually: Sebastian prefers to take a dominant position in the bedroom. While one could say that he is a switch/Verse, to get him to that point would take quite a lot of work and only one person has been successful thus far. So for all intents and purposes he is a Dom/Top who leans heavily into praise and rewards. He will be as adventurous and experimental as his partner is willing to be.

Romantically: Polyamorous. Depending on his partner he can be quick to catch feelings but slow to reveal them. Love is terrifying for him. Sex is far easier. He will often lead with a sexual relationship only to fall in love later on and struggle with just how to express those feelings, if he should even trust them at all. He is the sort to say 'I love you' in every possible way he can think of before uttering those three little words. Though, once he has fallen in love with someone, they are his world. His everything. His eternal muse. There is very little he won't do for those he loves. And as someone with questionable morals, that says a lot. But, he also tends to open up and become more vulnerable and more honest. There is a sweet, casual, and sometimes goofy side to Sebastian that only those closest to him are allowed to see.

[furys-mercy]

Do not worry, I am not leaving Tumblr, but I am starting a place over on Bluesky to share my screenshots. So, if you have one, I'd love to know so I can give you a follow.

[furys-mercy]

dating sim ask: sebastian

Sebastian de Vairemont

Pros:

Confident

Flirtatious

Enjoys witty banter

Has a way of making you feel like you're the only person he can see in a crowded room.

Will serenade you. On violin, cello, and piano. He also sings. Quite well.

Is handsome and always extremely well-dressed.

Seems to know everyone. Or, perhaps, just something about everyone.

Will politically and socially ruin anyone who so much as looks at you funny.

Will also challenge people to duels for your honor. As an exceptional swordsman, he usually wins.

Likely a slow burn. (A pro if you like that sort of thing) While he will seem attentive, flirtatious, and interested from the start, it takes time for him to become truly emotionally invested.

Cons:

Arrogant to the point that he is prone to underestimating the people around him.

Was trained to be manipulative from a very young age and is very good at it. There is a chance his interest in you is based solely in an ulterior motive.

Will start out closed off and distant, keeping conversations on you and your hopes and dreams rather than his own true feelings. This will be a really slow burn and take quite a lot of prodding.

Comes with quite a lot of family drama. His two maternal half-siblings are hell on wheels and at least one of them would be dead set on intruding in any relationship that seems to make him happy and the other married a woman he was courting. They are likely to cause problems.

Has been deemed "socially unacceptable" due to being the bastard son of a noble lady and her Hyuran lover, who was executed for Heresy before Sebastian was born.

Is currently torn between two worlds. That of his mother and that of his father. He does not know where he belongs and is, unfortunately, rather bad at rebelling against the traditions he was raised in.

He is typically physically distant in public as public displays of affection are generally frowned upon. He may salaciously flirt with you, upon first meeting, but he will generally keep his hands to himself until privacy can be found.

Path Rating: Moderately Difficult

Sebastian's path begins with him spotting you from across a crowded ball room and making his way gracefully towards you. He turns on the charm and asks you to dance.

It begins like a whirlwind romance. He wants to see you again. He wants to serenade you, to sit next to you at the piano and guide your hands, to sing only of you and your beauty.

It is easy enough to get to this stage. Anyone could end up the subject of these affections. Anyone could end up in his bed from here. It is getting him to open up past that point that is the struggle.

He seems generally unwilling to share anything about himself that is not otherwise publicly known, he frequently redirects conversation topics back to his companions, and when conversations stray to close to his own emotional needs it is possible that the conversation may simply end.

It will take the right amount of prodding to get him to open up. It may also take one of siblings getting involved in any way for him to be willing to admit that he cares. Or if not them, some other whiff of danger that sends him on the defensive, forcing him to face his feelings and process them.

After that he is willing to explore them, albeit slowly.

Sebastian can be taken down two paths through play. The first would push him closer to the ideals of his mother and nobility. This would mean he would marry a noblewoman and take a lover on the side. He would do his best to make himself appear as a legitimate son of a noble house and would also ignore the Hyuran side of his family, cutting off contact with Mercer and his family and refusing to dig any further into the death of their father, Declan Mercer. As that would ruffle too many feathers and cause issues for his new wife and their soon to be growing family. As his romance interest you would need to either be comfortable being a secret lover or hail from a noble house yourself and be able to offer him the noble name he seeks. Either way this ending results in Sebastian married and still quite caught up in the noble intrigues of House Vairemont.

The second path would be to push him in the opposite direction. The love interest would need to get him to challenge the world his mother raised him in. They would need to push him to be closer to Mercer, to question what his mother told him, to seek justice for the death of his father. While this path has the potential to be far more violent (depending on how hard the love interest is willing to push), there is no chance that Sebastian marries for anything other than the love of his partner. That said, will the partner be willing to marry him after he murders his maternal half-brother and socially ruins his maternal half-sister? Will they still want him when he's burnt House Vairemont to the ground and called himself Lord of the ashes?

Thanks so much for the ask, @bnuuywol! (@set2zero also asked to see Sebastian's path.) I hope I did well with the answer! He's a guy at a crossroads. So he comes with a fair amount of drama. If a distant, vengeful man in a cravat doesn't do it for you, do not worry. I have more write-ups coming.

[furys-mercy]

🌟 = Who is your muse’s favorite family member, why? (Would be interested in this one particularly for Sebastian as well as Mercer!)

Mercer's Answer

"Favorite? Well tha' ain't really fair ta be pickin' an' choosin'. They'd think I didn't love 'em if I did tha', right?" Mercer kicks his feet up on the desk. "An' tha's tha last thin' I'd want. So rather'n do tha' I'll jus' tell ya wha' I like 'bout all'a 'em. Or well... some'a 'em. I can't go through all'a Sari's family. There's too many ta keep track of..." He looks as if he's going down a list of people in his head. "Anyroad, startin' with Sari, she's carin' an' generous an' will take care'a anyone who needs it. Sai's 'er cousin an' she's all sass, but I wouldn't be breathin' if it weren't fer her. I ain't sure if Gizmo wants ta count as family, but... I'd wager he does an' pokin' fun at him's one'a m'favorite thin's ta do... an' he's damned fine with a wrench." He leans back, clearly thinking about who is next. "Gadget makes sure I'm on top'a m'shite. I'd starve without 'im, I swear. Lazne does tha', too, o'course. But she's also real good at pushin' me in tha direction I need ta be goin' in..." He trails off. "Last one's Bash, I 'spose. An't tha's... well... tha' boy could charm tha pants off'a basically anyone. I jus' wish he'd learn ta use tha' fer somethin' better'n wha' he's been usin' it fer. Don't get me wrong, I love 'im. I'd do anythin' 'e needed, but damn does he need ta be brought back down ta size."

Sebastian's Answer

The elezen man sweeps his tailcoat out from under him as he sinks down onto the crimson setee. He only manages a small smirk. "It is almost as if you ask me to tell you which great wrym I would prefer to be consumed by. Though, such a comparison gives my siblings far more credit than either of them deserve. Dacien has the wits of a turnip, which speaks volumes about Marcette, as he is most certainly her better in all things not concerning lace or embroidery." Sebastian crosses his legs and rests his black gloved hands atop his knee. "My mother was, most certainly, the best of us. How she produced the two of them is truly beyond me. Their father must have been an absolute fool." There is something in his tone that suggests he doesn't believe that, but it is gone in the blink of an eye. "Her death was not only a loss to me and the House of Vairemont, but to all of the Holy See, and I will hear no different."

His blue eyes sparkle and he sucks in a deep breath. "It would seem I am still not accustomed to knowing the identity of my father, as I have failed to mention the brother he left me. While not as... plentiful as what my mother bequeathed me, August is not to be ignored. Though, sometimes I wonder if he wishes to be as he spends all of his time hiding his skills away in the dark of that shop. Surely he would be better suited to the Crozier? He won't hear of it, of course." That little smirk grows as he speaks. "I do find it interesting that he lectures me on how I have allowed the nature of my birth to inform my views of life, while he has done the exact same thing. Do you not find that interesting?" With a quick flick of his wrist he waves the conversation away. "But, back to the question at hand. I am sure the answer is quite clear. Were I forced to choose from my living kin, I would name August. In fact, it would seem that there was no need of force. I have made the declaration only moments after being asked." The smirk grows. "Do run along and tell my sister, would you? I would wager I can hear her screams from here."

((Thanks for the ask, @wispofwillow. TLDR; Mercer won't choose because that's just not how he works. Sebastian will absolutely choose and then use his choice to aggravate his other siblings. Dacien won't care and he knows that, but Marcette... there is nothing worse than being cast aside for a filthy brume rat.))

[furys-mercy]

Sebastian: Have you inherited any special family heirlooms? What can tell us about them?

Sebastian's blue eyes narrow ever so slightly at the question, but he does his best to banish that hint of frustration. "I inherited all of my mother's personal holdings." He waves a gloved hand at the room around them. "These apartments and their contents were privately purchased and therefore owned by her rather than the House of Vairemont." A smirk plays across his lips. "Which allowed her to bequeath them to me. Something that still makes Marcette turn a lovely shade of green each time it is mentioned." He runs a finger over the velvet arm of his chair. "That look is enough to make even the smallest spec of dust an heirloom. For if I have it, she will covet it. Regardless of monetary or sentimental value. And I do so love watching her squirm."

((Thanks for the ask, @the-sycophant! To add a little OOC detail that Sebastian will not share... he actually did not inherit anything that could be considered an heirloom by his family's standards. Everything he owns his mother bought over the years specifically to leave to him, so that he would be taken care of when she died and Dacien had him removed from the estate. Everything was new to her. Nothing came from her house of birth nor her house of marriage, and this is a somewhat sore spot for him, not that he will readily admit it, but he doesn't like the appearance of being "new money" nor does he like that he owns nothing to tie him to his noble birth except the name of Vairemont, something he is well aware that he is not truly entitled to, but will fight tooth and nail for because it is the only true semblance of nobility that he owns.))

[furys-mercy]

You mentioned Marcette, but what does Mercer think about Damien? And likewise, what does Damien think about Mercer, if he knows about him?

"Dacien?" Mercer looks confused. It takes a moment for him to register who the question is about. "Oh, ya mean Master Fancy Pants'a House Vairemont? I dunno shite 'bout him, really. Ain't met 'im an' I don't wanna change tha'. Ever." He sinks down onto a nearby crate, brushing hair from his eyes. "Bash says he's a dunce tha' ain't worthy'a his position or some shite like tha'..." The Machinist rolls his eyes. "Tha's where I tune out. Ain't any'a 'em worthy'a bein' placed above tha rest'a us. Not Sebastian, either. An' it's frustratin' cause he's right on tha edge'a seein' tha'. He almost gets it. He sees tha' Dacien's birth makes him someone better'n his other siblin's an' he hates it, but he's stuck on tha part where they have tha same mother so he's noble, too... rather'n landin' where the rest of us have. Ya know, tha' nobility itself is a shite an' should'a been abandoned with all'a tha' change fer the better nonsense. 'Cept it wasn't an' here we are still expected ta kiss arse and lick boots."

((Thanks for the ask, @yvesoix-sellemontiere! I am going to add quite a lot of context OOCly because I do not want to write from Dacien's perspective lest I end up obsessed with him like what happened with Marcette. I do not need another alt. So, Mercer's perspective is well represented above. He only knows what Bash tells him, which is unreliable because Sebastian has a very warped view of the situation and a very high opinion of himself vs. his maternal half-siblings. Mercer doesn't really care, though. Because, to him, all nobles are shite and completely unworthy of the money and power that is handed to them at birth. They all deserve to be brought down to size. Sebastian included. Dacien's perspective is, of course, quite different. Where Mercer knows nothing and is not interested in changing that, Dacien has taken the time to make himself an expert on all things publicly known about August Mercer. He has correctly identified Mercer as is younger brother's primary weakness and is preparing to exploit that weakness to the best of his ability should Sebastian force his hand. But not in the same way that Marcette has attempted to do that. Dacien is far more cunning than his younger sister. He was trained far better and knows that even acknowledging Mercer's existence tips his hand, and he has no intention of doing that until it is to his advantage. He also hasn't assumed that Mercer's general lack of station makes him an easy target. Quite the opposite, in fact. While he generally shares Marcette's dislike of the Brume and her people, he's aware of how resourceful and how dangerous a Brume rat can be. He's always very particular and very deliberate and very careful in his maneuvering, no matter if his opponent is the highest of nobility of the lowest of commoners. He always plays the game as if his opponent is a master. And having done quite a lot of digging into Mercer and his reputation (both within Ishgard and outside it) he's quite certain that he has the piece to win the game, but he has to maneuver it very carefully. ))