#npc; of the blue (aymeric de borel) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wicked-aria · 5 years

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Halone’s Vengeance

Author: Eli (Elisa#5222)

Warnings: None(?)

Non-canon for obvious reasons but the prompt ran away with me

Prompt: Synthie™1-28 at 7:33 AM

@Gpose Addict @Role Player An NPC of your choice has killed someone very close to you. You have an option to take the proverbial high route and let karma take it's toll, or you ARE karma. - EXCLUDING THE HAURCHEFANT SITUATION - Who is the NPC [in game NPC] that you can either let go or take down yourself? Who is it that they killed [oc family, other player you're connected to, original character] (not Haurchefant)? Why did your character choose the 'good' route or the 'bad' route? Please use #rpprompt when posting!

When she heard, she was at a break in talks with the Ala Mhigan council.

Elisa hadn’t needed to say much – which was just as well. She had been seated in a place of honor, and that was the only place she would be comfortable taking at the table for decision making and politics. She was many things – hero, warrior, healer, slayer – but politician she was not. Lyse had gracefully cut an argument at the head with a suggestion that everyone take a moment to refresh themselves, perhaps stroll through the Menagerie and take in the sights.

The garden was where the next chapter of her life finds her. An Ishgardian envoy, cheeks flushed and hair windswept, uniform a striking blue in the desert hues of golds, pinks and tans, entered through the main stair well, across the courtyard. He looked straight at her and- the thought occurs to her, ever briefly – run. No good news arrives on rapid wings, and less so with the unrest still running as an undercurrent through the streets of her adoptive home. She took a step back, another –

She could summon Laurel, take flight through the city, the lavender coloured chocobo well known enough to not cause any stir on the streets –

The heel of her foot snagged against an uneven brick and it brought her to a still. What had the past years of war done to her? Mistrusting any missive, fear coiled in her gut like a stalking coeurl like some child. Bloody hell, maybe it was Aymeric surrendering to a similar feeling of melancholy, reaching out while he knew she would be in one place for a while. She straightened up, raised a hand in a half salute. “Welcome to Ala Mhigo, friend,” she said aloud.

Her tentative optimism plummeted when the envoy wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Missive for your eyes only, Warrior-“ He stopped. Seemed to reconsider the circumstances, the mystery of which was burning through Elisa with a biting chill. “Lady Warsong.” He held out a thin envelope – one page of parchment, little more. The seal was red, a unicorn – Fortemps, then, not Borel.

She almost didn’t take it. Almost, the winds of fate were sated for some small hours, a lie of the meeting reconvening on her lips. Even if it was ready to start again, presence was appreciated, not necessary. Instead, she relieved the messenger of his burden, carefully - like it was a scared gaelicat, liable to bite. She pried up the seal with a fingernail, and-

The world swam around her, Edmont’s practiced scrawl that normally – normally she’d tease him, like a girl to her father that it was nigh illegible for how over the top the letters were made. Now, they were short, printed, careful pains to make sure that the meaning would not be missed.

In the early morning of the 24th day of the second Astral moon, a man borne of the Brume, having vocally opposed the formation of the House of Lords since the day it was first voted on, approached Aymeric de Borel with a hunting knife in his possession. Ser Aymeric was unarmed, having left his home for the Crozier to check on mail. By the time help arrived, the man had fled and

There was space where Edmont had tried several times to continue on with the same diction his memoirs held, and failed, each start scrawled through with increasing emotion. Elisa could feel a knife between her ribs, static in its potency, aching with each strike-through on the parchment. Finally-

I’m so sorry, Elisa

She didn’t read further. Couldn’t have, really – her vision swam, noise rang in her ears.

The envoy must have noticed, because he stammered and reached out, catching her elbow. She didn’t notice the letter fluttering from her hand until it landed in the shallow pond beside them. Good, the thought drifted through her, vicious, let the water leech out the wretched ink – as though it might do any good for-

She found her feet and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to think. He wasn’t the first friend to die – nor the first lover. Ishgard would have its pound of flesh in one form or another. Over, and over again. “Leave me,” she murmured, jerking her arm from the Elezen’s grasp. Her eyes were fixed to the note as smoky black ribbons floated from paper to dance on the surface of the water.

The envoy hesitated, before he moved away. “The Fury’s grace with you, Miss.”

Halone. Halone’s grace had nothing- She lifted her head, watching his back. “Was the swiving bastard caught?”

The envoy jumped near half a yalm in the air. “Aye, he was. Found with the knife, having a drink at the Forgotten Knight.”

Her blood simmered in her veins. The weight of the blood red jobstone seemed to sing in her pocket, never too far, always whispering in her ear. Now, it all but screamed. She didn’t need its pressing, not this time. Nor did she think twice to answer her patron Goddess’s call. “And will there be tribunal?”

“O-of course, miss! He denies any wrong doing, only seeking justice for the Brume, but- but he doesn’t speak for any of us,” vehemently, the youth shook his head hard. Near insulted. “Ser Aymeric was always-“

“I know.” She rolled her shoulders. “Return to Ishgard, request on my behalf that the tribunal be stayed until I can make it to the Steps. I should like to see the Fury’s judgement for myself.”

The envoy saluted, steady and firm, before he hesitated again. “……Miss Warsong?” Still, the hesitance lingered. He was chewing his words, searching if they would suffive. “I’m sorry for your loss. Anyone that saw the two of you visiting knew-“

Her last visit had been a moon ago, already. She felt robbed of so much. “Thank you. Please, I’d like to be alone.”

The sun finished its trail across the sky, and set to the east. Lyse came and found her, and returned to the throne room alone. It was well into evening, the talks ended and all participants retired for the evening, before the first tears finally choked their way out.

Was she not allowed one good thing-

Arriving in Ishgard three days later, for once, brought no joy to Elisa’s heart. Even stepping into Edmont’s arms for an embrace, somber and quiet as it was, greeted by the Fortemp household in dull grey clothing – it felt hollow. Empty. People had hung brilliant blue and gold banners from their windows in respect for the knight whom the city had lost. The banners fluttered limply in the snow.

People in the streets lingered, watching her walk at the side of Edmont, burrowed into her cloak to keep off the chill.

They wanted to approach her. To offer condolences she wanted no part of. She wasn’t due them. Artoirel suggested they head towards the Cathedral – away from the pending Tribunal, and towards, instead, the long line of mourners, flowers and offerings to the Fury piled high en memorium. She shook her head.

“I’ll attend the tribunal alone, if you would prefer the Cathedral. I don’t mind.” She fixed Artoirel with a look she knew he didn’t deserve. She would apologize, later. This was the family she chose, who stood at her back, and she would regret every slight to them, but for now- “I am going to see the man who did this,” she said.

She had spoke rarely since receiving the news a week ago. Now, her voice ached for it.

The Tribunal was downright frigid but Elisa did not shiver at the cold. Edmont started to lead the way to the space in the seating, pausing to glance back at her. She shook her head slightly and crossed her arms, remaining standing in the back, half-hid in the shadows. She could hardly stand the candlelight towards the stands. Edmont considered her and nodded, Artoirel squeezed her shoulder, the Fortemps household filtering in through the crowd to be seated.

She skimmed the crowd distantly, before her eyes were drawn to the head of the Tribunal as the head Inquisitor began the process. Her eyes drifted right, to where the accused was brought forth.

The monster of a man – one who had single handedly wrought disaster into Elisa’s heart when three bloody wars had failed – was just a man. He stood straight backed and unapologetic on the stand, the chains around his wrists not seeming to bother him.

For a moment – Elisa wanted to laugh. She had faced Eikons. She had faced ancient technology bent on subjugating the world. She had stared down death a million and one ways. She had stood against every challenge that Hydaelyn had called her for, and come out victorious.

And yet – just like when she held Haurchefaunt’s hand amongst the Vault’s spires and begged him not to leave her alone – the villain who had won, who had drawn blood against her and stolen more than any victory would give – was just a man.

She didn’t listen to the proceedings. The words hummed in her head, weaving an intricate dance that she didn’t care to follow. Halone guided her step and she knew what was coming.

The man, unapologetic and defiant, raised his chin and declared himself proud of his actions. He claimed the Fury would stand beside his actions. He demanded a trial by combat – just as she had felt, in her bones, that he would. She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of her jobstone digging into her wrist where it was pressed into a bracelet.

She would light as many votives in Halone’s name as the Fury wanted, go to war as many times as Hydaelyn wanted, so long as she was given this.

In the silence of the Tribunal, her voice rang out like thunder,as she stepped down through the aisle, each step heavy and pronounced in her armor. “I would like to meet this man’s bid for trial by combat, if the court will allow me to represent their charges as their champion.”

Spectators turned to look up at her - few would have the gall to name themselves champion so brazenly.

A shock of whispers ran through the crowd. She was recognized instantly.

“The Tribunal accepts the petition of champion. Will the champion please state her name for the record.”

“Elisa Warsong, sir.”

And she watched, in some distant, faint satisfaction, as the murderer’s skin went ashen.

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littlelordalphinaud · 1 year

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linking arms with each other

Touching

46. linking arms with each other

No ship specified so I spun the wheel in my head and we're getting...

Suna/Thancred!

Set massively pre-relationship, back in the HW patches!

"Here, take my arm," Ichigo looked up to see Thancred, his arm extended towards her. Taking a deep breath, she was quick to loop her arm through his, feeling his hand rest atop hers. "Just keep breathing. And if anyone looks at you funny, you tell me and I'll sort them out," Thancred winked, and Ichigo hid a laugh behind her hand.

"Thank you," she said, allowing Thancred to lead her deeper into the room full of well dressed people. The air was thick with music and the pungent smell of food, although all of it turned Ichigo's stomach.

"Suna! My friend!" Aymeric swept towards them, and Ichigo fought her natural instinct to flinch away. Thancred helped steady her. She couldn't run away without releasing his arm, and she knew that would make her feel far more unsafe.

"Ser Aymeric, good to see you," Thancred spoke, and Ichigo felt herself relax further. "Thank you for hosting this wonderful soirée. I must admit, seeing the Ishgardian ladies out of their layers and in simple dresses feels akin to seeing them with naught on at all." That made Ichigo laugh. She hid her mouth behind her hand and attempted to keep it to a quiet noise, but the initial sound was a raudy guffaw.

"I can ask them to cover up again, should that aid your embarrassment?" Aymeric offered, furthering the joke. "Although doing so would mean I would also need to insist Suna put on an overcoat too. Which would be a shame. That dress is rather fetching on you, my friend!" Ichigo wanted to feel good at the compliment. She'd chosen the dress because she'd liked it, and because Alphinaud had said it suited her. But hearing the compliment from someone else made her feel sick.

Thancreds touch to her hand brought Ichigo back to the moment, and she dipped her head quickly to Aymeric.

"I'm terribly sorry, Ser, I fear I may have eaten something that has disagreed with me. If you would allow it, I think it might be best if Thancred were to escort me outside for some air," she managed to say.

"Of course, of course. Whatever you need." Aymeric encouraged, waving them away. Again, Ichigo let Thancred lead her, the two of them stopping by a window. Out of fear he might move away, Ichigo tightened her grip on his arm. He didn't complain.

"You know, if you want others to call you Ichigo too, I could make the point for you," Thancred said. Ichigo shook her head.

"I don't. I want to be Suna again, I just..." She sighed, "it's hard to think of myself as her anymore. I spent so long as Ichigo."

"Well," Thancred hummed, "Ichigo or Suna, you'll always have me."

#wol; i don't want to be your strawberry anymore (suna yumishi)#npc; try and try again (thancred waters)#npc; of the blue (aymeric de borel)#Suna spent years in the Blood Sands under Loloritos 'management'#he changed her name to Ichigo to play into the sweet and innocent act he pushed on her #to the point that she forgot her own name #Alphinaud found it out when he bought out her contract during the ARR patches #she's trying to go back to Suna but is struggling with it #to explain the mixed names in this!#(she finally totally casts off Ichigo at the end of EW)#tagged because mentioned:#npc; the little lord (alphinaud leveilleur)

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