theazureblade

[theazureblade]

calling ur dad “my father” is just the socially acceptable way of saying “my dads a bastard and i hate him”

[theazureblade]

Biological father(derogatory)

[theazureblade]

8. justice - truth, integrity, consequence, fairness, balance.

others

[theazureblade]

Aymeric hadn't been aware there would be a crowd watching, but he wasn't opposed to showing off a little. He instructed drills frequently, with knights watching his form to mimic it, so a crowd wasn't that intimidating. Besides, there were plenty of other people they might be watching on the stage.

Yojimbo might have been fast, but Aymeric was faster – or, perhaps more accurately, fast enough to anticipate where the bamboo would fall. He quickly moved out of the way, moving right along with Meiko to a clear area of the stage. Would that he had his own sword and could clear his own path – but alas, that was not the point of the exercise.

A few of the people competing with them were knocked off the stage by the first cut, and the second cut happened just as fast. Aymeric fled to safety, barely even pausing to marvel at the size of the overly giant bamboo as he did so. This one was split straight up and down, reducing the amount of safe areas on the stage.

Aymeric found himself next to Meiko again, and he gave her a brief smile. “Interesting game, for certain,” he told her as a third piece of bamboo appeared on the stage.

A crowd had come to gather around the main stage, with a few folks lined up chanting Yojimbo's name as he arose from a platform from down below.

Without much more of an introduction, Yojimbo drew a mighty blade.

"Behold, the sword art of legend -- Zanmato!"

A near-hilariously large bamboo pillar abruptly rose out of the center of the platform. Meiko let out a snicker of excitement, bouncing where she stood.

"Get ready! He's a fast fucker," Meiko enthused.

In a flash of light, Yojimbo had sliced the bamboo in a sharp diagonal. As the bamboo's top half began to slide, Meiko took off running with a handful of other competitors to one side of the arena!

[theazureblade]

[ EMBRACE ]: receiver wraps their arms around the sender and holds them close in an effort to conserve body heat during a snow storm. // M'Kairen. 🙈 @eorzeasaved

@eorzeasaved

The snow shelter was erected, the aetheric heater turned on, and M'Kairen was still dripping wet and not quite shivering. His lips were blue, and his eyes were wide, and he seemed to be having some trouble moving his fingers. All bad signs.

The snowstorm had blown in quickly, even faster than Aymeric had expected it to when he saw the telltale signs of a blizzard on the horizon. They had stopped in their journey from Mor Dhona as soon as it became apparent that they wouldn't make it to Whitebrim before the storm hit, and together, they had erected a snow shelter.

But it wasn't enough. M'Kairen wasn't used to the cold, being a Sharlayan scholar and not an Ishgardian soldier. He was only coming to Ishgard for one reason, and that reason was Aymeric's dear friend, so he had been the one to come fetch the miqo'te. They had known each other for a mere two days, and things were about to become very intimate between them.

Aymeric sighed as he shrugged off his armor and cape. Below it, he had plenty of layers on, but it seemed like M'Kairen had not known how to dress for the cold. He did not have layers on, so when Aymeric helped him out of his wet clothing, he was down to a pair of long underwear, heavy snow boots, and nothing else.

“Come here,” Aymeric instructed, motioning for M'Kairen to join him in front of the heater. Once the other man was sitting down in the packed down snow, Aymeric slid behind him and wrapped his arms around the much smaller miqo'te. “Pardon the awkwardness of my gesture. We need to conserve body heat.”

[theazureblade]

Aymeric is not sure what to say to that. The words are kind and mean something special coming from a man like Ambrose, but at the same time, he feels a little as though he doesn't deserve them. It isn't as though he was completely without a paternal influence, after all. His adoptive parents, while gone now, were good to him.

“I - thank you. I confess I do not know much about your father, other than what you have told me today,” he says, his tone leaking empathy. He took a step back so that he could finally sit down in a nearby chair brought in for that very purpose. “I cannot fathom a world where the Warrior of Light's own parents do not recognize him for all his accomplishments.

“You should know, as well, that I was not completely without fatherly affection,” he continues. “My mother passed on when I was but a boy, and I was taken in by the Borels. They loved me like I was their own. It was my own fascination with my birth father that led me to crave his affection, not anything they did wrong.”

He rather...does not want to speak of this anymore. But that is hardly Ambrose's fault. He does not wish to speak about any of what is going on, not really.

Aymeric's honesty is appreciated and sympathized with wholeheartedly. Ambrose is reminded of his own father and how things were for him. It's painful even now, decades later. Ambrose struggles to understand it, how a parent can do as their fathers have. Especially given his adoration for the youngest of the scions. He couldn't imagine not being proud of Alphinaud for all he's done. Even with his mistakes, the young Elezen has achieved more than most of his peers in his short life.

Couldn't imagine casting him out, as his own father had.

It made his stomach turn.

" Seems we pulled the short straw with fathers. " He observes, taking another look to ensure he's healed all that he can before letting his hands fall back to his knees. He remains there, knelt by Aymeric for some time, with his eyes on his hands. There's a flash of an image - a bloodied rag - that he shakes off quickly by squeezing his eyes shut. The memory fades quickly, and he opens his eyes to look up at Aymeric.

" It must have been difficult, " he says, frowning. " While my father did what he did, he was good to me before that. " Both his parents had been good, really. " I suppose I was lucky in that sense. For what it's worth, I'd be proud to call you my son, were I in his shoes. " He shrugs, looking aside. " I think he knew you were the better man. Better suited for all of this, which scared him, because it meant that he would lose the power he had amassed as arch-bishop. . fear does not excuse how he treated you. You deserved better, Aymeric. "

[theazureblade]

The game sounded simple enough. Don't get hit by a bamboo stick, don't get got by a dog. Aymeric was well acquainted with combat exercises, and it did not sound so very different from some of the drills he regularly put himself through. And if all you got was the wind knocked out of you when you failed, well, that in and of itself was nicer than drills.

“Seems simple enough,” Aymeric agreed, taking his place on the stage. He wasn't used to being able to move so freely without his armor, so this should be a simple task. He assumed.

"Yeah! I mean, s'not actually hittin' you with anythin' sharp," Meiko motioned for him to follow her. "Worst case you get th'wind knocked outta you, but s'not bad."

She led him down to the appropriate arena, chatted with another bunny-eared lass, and then waved for him to follow her on stage.

"Big lad from th'Far East named Yojimbo'll pop up on stage an cut down some big bamboo sticks," she tried to explain as simply as she could. "Just dinnae get hit by them! An' if we make it tae th'bonus round, just dinnae get caught by his dog!"

[theazureblade]

“The hero of Ishgard, gathering building materials for us? Would that we could deny we needed the help!” Aymeric said, not really at all surprised that she had offered. Maybe he had known she would offer, maybe he had planned on it.

“You are of course not obligated to help – you are ever welcome within these walls, regardless, for what you've already done for us. We would be even further in your debt if you were to help us gather building materials. But we can hardly afford to refuse either. Your help would be much appreciated.”

"That so? It was already a snow hellscape when I arrived in Eorzea so I didn't know that." Well, kind of. She had heard about it from texts and conversations with the Scions but.

She listened as he described recent problems, chin on her hand with a quiet hum. Some of it sounded like it wasn't anything she could help with, but materials...? She could help with that.

"I've got time on my hands, if you want me to go around gathering things for your construction crews."

[theazureblade]

“And that is exactly why,” Aymeric was saying as the waitress came to collect their plates, “I intend to make a shelter for cats.” He was feeling much looser after finishing his drink, and he had regaled Meiko with his ideas for more passionate projects, over the practical ones.

The announcement puzzled him a bit, but Meiko brightened at the sound of it. “Dodging attacks? They made combat games for the Gold Saucer?” he wondered as he followed her toward the Wonder Square. What a bizarre place.

"Aye. An' I hope that day comes," she nodded. "So long as whoever two or three folk replaces you has th'same genuine intentions, Ishgard'll be fine."

They finished up their meal soon after, keeping conversation light. As the waitress cleared away their plates, an announcement came on over the loudspeaker:

"The next GATE shall begin in a quarter bell. Please make your way to the nearest GATE Attendant to participate in the Slice Is Right."

"Ah! We should do that one!" Meiko spun to face Aymeric with a grin. "S'just dodgin' wee attacks! You're good at that!"

[theazureblade]

There is little response, only the twitch of Estinien's nose and...is that a smile?

It's gone almost as soon as it appears, leaving Aymeric to wonder if he had seen anything at all. Estinien so rarely smiles that it seems at first he must have imagined it, but why would his mind play at that in the first place? The only other explanation is that Estinien did smile in his sleep – or maybe...maybe he isn't asleep at all.

Hmm.

“You know, I purposely used the bath salt that you hate to annoy you into waking, but I did not particularly believe it would work,” Aymeric went on, narrowing his gaze at Estinien's sleeping form.

It stinks in here.

That's the first thing he notices as his mind starts to drift back to consciousness. It stinks of one of Aymeric's fancy perfumed baths. His awareness is drawn next to noise. No-- not noise. Someone is speaking. Adding one to the other tells him it's Aymeric who is talking, and while he wishes he'd shut up, Estinien is glad it's him and not some unfortunate chirurgeon on the receiving end of his just-woke-up grumbling.

Slowly, Aymeric's words start to become more than just a rumble. As it all becomes clearer, he begins to comprehend them. Sentiment, it seems, is Aymeric's choice in conversation, and while Estinien would usually brush it all off, huff and tell whoever it was to stop being such a sentimental idiot; for now he lets himself milk it. Aymeric thinks he's unconscious; there's no harm in letting him keep talking when it's . . . nice?

He thinks it's nice. Like a confession meant to make the hearts of maidens flutter. Something in him feels warm with it, and before he can stop it, his lips are curling upward in a ghost of a smile. He rectifies it as quick as he can, straight-faced less than a second later in hopes that Aymeric keeps sweet-talking him.

[theazureblade]

“All right, perhaps my cook has...less than ample experience with imported greens,” Aymeric admitted, still quite amused. It tasted a little bland, he could admit, but that was fine. He was trying to be fancy. “Of course I've seen a lettuce. You do know Coerthas was not always covered in snow, right?”

With that, came an abrupt subject change. “Fortunately, not much here. We are still rebuilding, you know,” Aymeric started, and he prepared to talk at length about the minor problems they were facing – lack of construction materials and the like.

"Ishgardian cuisine is fine. What's not fine is passing a leaf off as a salad green." She was kind of insulted that he was eating what looked an awful lot like an oak leaf. "Have you ever seen a lettuce?"

She was going to feed him real food.

Pointedly she bites into her steak, amused. "Anything new happening in your neck of the woods? Tural was exciting."

[theazureblade]

Aymeric looked down at his plate of extremely expensive, imported vegetables, some coming from as far away as La Noscea. He did not eat like this often, had broken out the best he could possibly afford for the arrival of the Warrior of Light.

He now saw the error of his ways.

“Does Ishgardian cuisine not agree with you, Mistress Lumianne?” Aymeric asked, an amused smile playing on his lips. He sipped at his tea, sweetened with four teaspoons of birch syrup, and wondered what she ate when she dined at Fortemps Manor.

@theazureblade || i am the snacktergeist

"Far be it from me to criticize a salad but are you sure that's not just grass?" It doesn't look like any salad she's ever had before. She's not actually sure that's even a salad.

"Aymeric, please. Please, for the love of Hydaelyn, eat something besides salad."

[theazureblade]

this is @eorzeasaved's fault

muah! it's some modern au estimeric for your viewing pleasure.

[theazureblade]

unprompted starter for @eorzeasaved

The sun is filtering unfettered into the small room where Estinien lies, unmoving, unconscious, but it will soon dip below the horizon and cast the room into darkness.

Aymeric has been here for hours, sitting diligently at Estinien's side, taking his paperwork within and working on it there. Other guests have come and gone – Alphinaud and the Warrior of Light in particular have visited. None have stayed so long as Aymeric; for, despite how busy he is, there is nowhere in the world he would rather be.

He currently had been reading a book when he glanced up and thought he had seen movement underneath those closed eyelids, and so he sets his book aside and waits to see if Estinien wakes up.

But there is nothing.

Sighing, he picks up his book again, but he can't get into it. Not when there are so many things he would like to say. Things that he may not get the chance to say again. The chirurgeon says Estinien will likely be fine, that he only needs rest, but...

“If I lose you now, I will never forgive myself,” Aymeric starts, voice quiet. “You know that, right? You have to come back to me now. I know we haven't always seen eye to eye on things, and I know things have been...difficult lately, with everything going on. But that does not change the fact that mean so much to me. If I were to lose you...I don't know what I would do.”

[theazureblade]

Ah, yes. It was unlike the Garleans to leave them with ample time off the battlefield. And now that Ishgard was formally a part of the Eorzean Alliance, they would most certainly see more fighting in the future.

Meiko went on to talk about her brother and how he was the best person for the job of quelling the threat of primals, and how it likened to Aymeric's situation. He wasn't sure he agreed entirely, but the vote of confidence was much appreciated. Meiko did not always say things in the most politically correct way, but she certainly knew how to make someone feel better.

Aymeric smiled at her, taking another sip of his ale. “I am not sure I am the best man for the job, as much as your brother is at facing primals, but I do appreciate your confidence in my abilities. I simply wish to make Ishgard a better place than my father did,” he said. “I'm sure there will be a point where my proclivities are no longer needed, and I can take a smaller role in the government.”

"Aye, 'tis. But dinnae worry, th'Garleans are still out there. M'sure we'll have need for you on th'battlefield." She sighed. It wasn't a happy reality, but it was one all the same. She shook her head. "An' I understand. If I could choose, I wouldnae..."

Maybe best not to bring up regrets. Or the fact that she had gained a Blessing like her brother's now.

"I wouldnae have my wee brother fightin' primals on th'day tae day," she shook her head. "But there's no one else better for th'job. Same for you. An' Ishgard's not bloody stupid, they know you do well. They'd be terrified tae risk puttin' someone incompetent intae th'role." She offered him an apologetic smile. "But I hope you can step down eventually, when s'more stable, an' focus on what you enjoy. You've done more than a royal family's worth for your homeland."

[theazureblade]

[ PUSH ]: having just rescued the receiver from a blizzard, the sender insists on pushing the receiver closer to a fire to warm them up first.

Coerthas wasn't always the cold, desolate wasteland it was now. Five years ago, before the Calamity, it was as green as Gridania during the springs and summers.

But that was five years ago, and it hasn't stopped snowing in Coerthas since.

One might think an Ishgardian would have ample experience dealing with the ice and the cold, and they would be right to think so. In particular, military personnel had rigorous survival training, having to camp out in the cold from time to time to face any particular threat.

...which is why it was so humiliating that Aymeric had gotten turned around in a snowstorm and had to be rescued by a Scion of the Seventh Dawn.

But here he was, so cold he wasn't even shivering anymore (bad sign), as Sid carried him on chocobo back toward Whitebrim, which was apparently the closest safe haven. (Also a bad sign. He had been headed for Camp Dragonhead.) He had lost Lucia in the heavy snows too, which was particularly worrisome.

And now Sid was pushing him toward the large fireplace in the first building he could find in Whitebrim – looked like a dining hall of sorts – and calling for a chirurgeon while he feebly protested.

“I am no longer in danger,” he insisted. “We need to arrange a search party for my retinue. We got separated in the storm...”

[theazureblade]

“A start, hmm?” Aymeric teases, smiling at the dragoon in his arms. Estinien is almost purring in his hands, a sound he only makes when he's perfectly content, and Aymeric is pleased to be the one who made him do it. “I suppose I'll have to try harder, then. How about...”

He kisses him again, deeper this time, but not too deep – they are still in the public area of the knights' hall, after all. It would not do to get too excited and have nowhere to go with it. Estinien's lips are chapped and bitten, as they always are, but Aymeric doesn't mind. Has never minded.

This kiss lingers for a long moment, but any attempt to deepen it leads to Aymeric nearly pulling away, keeping it lighter than either of them would care for. Estinien is not likely to enjoy this teasing, but Aymeric isn't doing it to please him. Perhaps he is doing it to please himself.

When he finally pulls away, he expects to find his lover more frustrated than pleased, but he doesn't mind.

“Am I forgiven, yet?” he asks coyly.

The corner of his mouth twitches upward. A smile: something the dragoon doesn't commonly do outside of Aymeric de Borel. Mischief glints in pale eyes as the commander plays along, closing the gap between them " I'm expensive. Perhaps a few gil. " Expensive is a concept Estinien needs to wrap his head around. He still doesn't understand why they shout at him when he pays 3000 gil for a piece of fruit. It's not like he's breaking the bank, and the banana was good

" Though bribing a knight might also land you in trouble. " He goes on, and is about to say more when Aymeric kisses him again, proper this time. Estinien's hand trails up, settling at the back of his lover's neck and he leans into the kiss fully; a soft rumble of a noise coming from his chest. This payment is more than enough to keep the dragoon quiet, but he won't let on to that; not when he can exploit it and get more of these kisses. When they part, he keeps close, eyes opening to find Aymeric's.

" Hm. " he wets his lips. Rests his free hand on Aymeric's side. " That's a good start, I think. "