#archaeoelysian || louisoix

[aetherstories]

@archaeoelysian from here

There was a stern look in Louisoix's features, and while it had been a long time since Fourchenault had been in any way cowed by his father's demeanor, it was something jarring, coming from a ghost. An illusion, perhaps, the current Emmerololth considered, his own words but a lapse of judgment, and yet...

Fourchenault had been an Ascian for more than a decade now, and so he knew how to see beyond what his eyes showed him, beyond the flaws in matter. And as he heard his name -not his title, but his name, spoken by a voice he had mourned- he looked, and he saw, and he recoiled, not at the question, but at the truth that had stabbed him through the heart.

"Bahamut." He growled, sudden fury overtaking the shock until it burned away all else in Fourchenault's heart.

"What has become of me?" He echoed, voice taut with anger. "What has been done to you?" He asked instead, even though he knew the answer.

Just as he knew, and that froze all the rage and the raw desire to break composure and scream -at Louisoix, at Bahamut, at the world and the Paragons-, whose fault it could all be traced to, the guilt just as fresh as the very first day, as he clenched his teeth and looked away.

After a moment, and a breath, he removed the mask, and it vanished into red mist, as he glanced upon his father.

"You serve a Primal now." He commented.

And that meant only one thing, one he didn't dare consider just yet.

[archaeoelysion]

“Art thou upset by thy grandsire’s decision, milady?”

URIANGER 

⁘ @archaeoelysian

He needed not ask to know, not in truth. Alisaie had not made a secret of her relentless attempts to convince Louisoix to change course, to stay with them, to not leave. It was obvious in her unbecoming yet unconcealed tears at his departure, no attempt made to put on a brave face and say she understood, as her twin had.

She did not. Even now, she did not, in truth, regardless of how it made sense that grandfather would not turn his back on coming to another's aid, be it in Sharlayan or beyond -- and Sharlayan did not need him as much as Eorzea, and so he had every reason to leave. Alisaie did not understand, regardless, in part because she did not want to.

Because, indeed, she was upset by her grandfather's decision, as Urianger put it.

Her mood had been sour when Louisoix first spoke of it, and any improvement in the month before he left was not maintained once he did depart. For all it was her nature to be like this, prone to bitterness where her brother was sweet, seldom had it been so bad; but then again, seldom had she felt this hurt.

"Yes," The direct, upfront answer may be kept from others (she did not want anyone's pity, after all), but not from Urianger. He had been part of the family since she was but a little girl, and though their bond was not one of blood, it felt even sillier to try to hide anything from him than it did from Alphinaud.

Alisaie knows Urianger may try to offer her comfort she does not want, but at least he would not be condescending. Her blue eyes do not avoid looking directly at him, arms crossed, delicate features twisted in a frown. "He chose Eorzea over his family. Should I not be upset?"

[to-chart-history]

❛ snap out of it! ❜ // papalymo...?

A former classmate speaks || Always accepting @archaeoelysian

Fourchenault is the perfect image of a young Sharlayan lord, as he turns to level a mild glare towards Papalymo. They are both young men, and where they might have worked together in the past, where they might have shared common goals, that might no longer be the case.

It is no secret that Fourchenault pursues a seat on the Forum. That he means to set down his nouliths to dedicate himself to Sharlayan. It is not a sudden change, and it is not unexpected, but it will take a lot for him to get out of Louisoix's rather unconventional shadow.

"Mind your words, Papalymo." Fourchenault warns him. "Why have you come?"

It has been some time since he's stopped seeing eye to eye with his father and his father's students, in truth. And as much as he can respect them, part of him worries. Part of him thinks them naive.

Part of him believes it is unwise to associate with them too much, until the Forum and the political climate of Sharlayan calm down.

[aetherstories]

archaeoelysian​:

He had holed himself up within the Great Gubal Library – a place most fond and nostalgic to the Elezen; days spent in idleness, seeking knowledge of everything and nothing, and alongside his dearest companion, no less. Fond memories they may be, the state ‘twas in now had the Archon pained. Nevertheless, ‘twas not for his own enjoyment that he had been frequenting it – after his coincidental overhearing the Warrior of Darkness and an Ascian, he was determined to find out more – aught that could help the Scions in their paths and secure their victory. Aught to prevent the loss and sacrifice of another.

Attention may be on the tome, yet he remembered to stay alert in case another beast had found it inside.

Urianger thought himself to be unfazed – after all that had happened, he had prepared himself for all possibilities – yet the familiar voice had the Elezen freeze in the spot. Eyes widened behind goggles, he needed a heartbeat ere turning to face his new companion. Yet there was no mistake as he glanced at the familiar attire; and despite the secrecy, the mask and the cowl, the voice and the demeanor was telling enough.

“Master Fourchenault–?” His voice raised higher in sheer surprise. “What business dost thou have here–” A frown. The answer was there already, yet he refused to listen to the conclusion his mind had drawn. There was too much yet unknown of the Ascians and those in their ranks – of their goals and schemes. Urianger hoped, still, that he had been mistaken. The concern and ache he felt was not for himself, but those he saw as a part of his family – the two young ones he had been so proud of to call his companions now.  

He did not nod, he did not acknowledge the identity that hid beneath a mask and years of deception, of desperate attempts to minimize terrible harm. He did not react at all, as his name was uttered, the surprise so very clear in a youth he remembered so well. He had changed, Emmerololth thought,  since he had left towards Eorzea with Louisoix, years that it had been. 

“I am but a messenger.” He spoke, nevertheless. “Bearing a warning and words of a meeting, as well as demands you shall have to meet, if you seek to remain on your current path.” 

He regarded the many books around them through the mask, then approached the shelves, his steps sound against the floor, clawed gloves carefully moving so that no book they touched would be harmed. 

“Do you truly aim,” he asked, only then turning around to face Urianger, “to aid the Warriors of Darkness, even at the cost of Hydaelyn’s Chosen and your companions?”

It was not a question he made lightly, and he carefully watched for Urianger’s reaction, for his answer. For Emmerololth would not directly oppose the plans of the Unsundered, but he would not allow for a traitor to endanger his children, nor Louisoix’s foolishly idealistic companions. 

Not even if he had known said traitor since he was but a young student.