bladeshowers

It warms his heart to know his company has been missed; he speaks naught of it, but there are certainly times where he feels as if he has largely lost himself in favour of the titles he carries and the responsibilities attached. Few see him as just Aymeric any more and it truly wounds his soul - thus moments like this bring him more joy than he can express.

His smile is gentle as he openly gestures to the bench aside him, more than happy to have his friend's company for whatever time she has to spare him. No doubt there are reasons that Amara had returned for and he wouldn't place himself in the way.

Her head's resting on her shoulders as she gazes upward, pondering his question and how she wants to answer. It was always a weird, delicate dance she did when talking to someone who wasn't a scion. Tell them too much and they worried. Tell them too little and they knew you were withholding information and got worried anyway. It'd been years and, regardless of how careful she was, she still messed it up.

"Yes and no." Real descriptive Amara. Her fingers tapped along her thighs rapidly. "I've got more scars than I had last time I was here. It could be worse." She could be dead, but she wasn't. Unfortunately for the universe, she had an overwhelming desire to live. "I'm playing with the idea of getting tattoos to cover up some of them. Alas, I am horribly vain, and it makes me insecure."

✧･ﾟ: * " Heat stroke?" Though Inoux did his best to acknowledge every variable, when in unknown territory with unknown issues radiating around him - - he was clueless. The idea that one could get sick from too much heat wasn't entirely un-grasped by him, but he hadn't thought it would happen quite this quickly. Or potentially so.

His eyes survey surroundings briefly, taking note of the Ishgardian knights - much akin to him - struggling in the heat compared to the frigid temperatures of Coerthas. Most of them we're a force to be reckoned with and yet now looked like they were surrendering to the very weather. He couldn't blame them... not when he, too, felt about ready to collapse.

✧･ﾟ: * " After the airship travel here, I dare say I will find any flying somewhat nerve-wracking but I'm certain I shall be well and fine." The turbulence had made him wonder if agreeing to head to Ala Mhigo was a good idea, but - - if Amara would be the one piloting whatever mode of transportation she chose... then he would trust in her.

✧･ﾟ: * "-- but the gentleman in me cannot let you complete my shift." His smile returned, soft though entirely cheeky. "Having said that- I'm sure they'll not notice if I vanish a few minutes early."

Amara stood in stunned silence as she gave Inoux's words proper time to sink in. Though her visage gave naught away, there was a righteous fury building in her. Who had made the decision to not properly educate them?! Surely someone in charge had to know Ala Mhigo's environment and the hazards heat could bring. Later, she was going to give someone an earful.

"I'll educate you while we travel." It wouldn't be the most riveting conversation they'd ever have, but she'd end up having to worry less in the long run. Particularly since he could pass the information along to the other knights.

"You can hold on to me, I'll keep you safe," she purred. It likely wasn't optional, as she would be the one piloting their transportation. A little flirtation wouldn't hurt. Plus, if it helped him at all, it was worthwhile.

A sly smile appeared on her face and she gestured for him to lead the way. "It'll be fiiiine. Nothing's happening. And if someone notices, just blame me." It wasn't as if anyone was going to say anything to the Warrior of Light of all people. Part of her was already expecting a 'thats not gentlemanly' reply.

@bladeshowers asked: "Heard you were lonely," she teases softly, hand cupping his chin. "I think I can help with that. Maybe?" Her eyes fall closed as her lips capture his. (inoux & amara)

"Oh, did you now-? " Words spoken with the intention of carrying a soft tease in return, instead betrayed the bone deep weariness he felt through the undercurrent of his tone. Had it not been for that, the relaxed poise held while half sat against a desk would have been easily assumed to be just that - when, instead, he was merely sat as the silence of the room, prior to her arrival, had soaked into the marrow of his bones.

His hands, free of gauntlets and gloves, find themselves easily settling 'pon her hips; silently drawing her closer, his mind a perfect static for the duration of the kiss. He keeps his eyes closed, however, afterwards - a soft smile pulling at his features.

Pleasurably, Inoux invades her senses with his proximity. The warmth that his body brought hers, his scent, and the familiar weight of his hands on her hips were all a comfort. A feeling of home. She hoped that the feeling was mutual. That the scent of her perfume - the plum, jasmine, and orchid - were just as comforting as her affection.

✧･ﾟ: * " 'I'll have a look around at some studio spaces." Inoux uttered over the rim of his cup, briefly sinking into a state of deeper thought. It wasn't often that he sank into his hobbies, Halone knew he didn't have too much time to be spending on aught that wasn't work, but he would purposely make time. "-- I certainly wouldn't want you sitting out in the cold. The least I can do is make sure you are comfortable while listening to my babbling."

He sets the cup down, leans back in his chair and offers up a rather boyish grin.

"Don't spend gil on my account," Amara murmured, gazing into the dark hues of her tea. There was nothing off about the scent of it nor any odd lighting coming off the surface. It was only after she lifted her gaze to him and quirked an eyebrow. "Never would outside." She didn't want to bed him that much. Nor anyone, for that matter, to risk her health. "I'm fairly sure I could listen to you babble about whatever, for however long you want, so long as I'm warm." Passionate people were attractive, after all, and it was easy to simply enjoy their excitement.

Noting that he wasn't currently poisoned, Amara finally took a deep sip of the tea, savoring its flavor on her tongue as she listened to him speak. He was really concerned she'd find him boring, huh? "Do people often insinuate you're boring or is this a more localized concern?" Alas, he knew not the pain of listening to Urianger and Y'Shtola wax lyrical about Aetherology.

… and I’ll respond with  3  (or more)  interesting  plots / relationships / connections  I can think of for our muses!   There is  no pressure  for us to write any of them,   but it’s a great starting point for you to get a sense of how I think our muses might interact and what sorts of plots I’m most interested in happening between them  -  so don’t be shy!

Neve, always one to play the flirtatious game, pulled his long ears over his eyes to feign both embarrassment and flattery for but a moment, the darker stripes across starkly white fur quite the contrast beneath the warmth of the afternoon sun. He stands them upright after only a short time, cheeky but attentive smile returning. Rubies, garnets and purple stones-? A curious choice, one that grips Neve's attention immediately.

✧･ﾟ: * "You know your jewellery-?" Neve questions as he unlocks the case, allowing company to view and touch whatever had caught her interest. He browses a few boxes kept beneath the general array, too - pieces either too exquisite to be resting idly in the sun or perhaps holding a rarer stone. Rubies, garnets or - -ah, purple stones.

He draws out a silver bangle adorned in small cuts of beautiful alexandrite, the stones quite the contrast against the cool of the silver. He sets the box atop the table and continues looking; a ruby ring flanked by diamonds, dainty in appearance also joining the table.

✧･ﾟ: * "Ah--- but everything here pales in comparison to you."

"I'm a bit of a hobbyist goldsmith," Amara admitted casually. Part of her wondered if that would come as a surprise. She'd met a variety of goldsmiths so she doubted they had a 'look' about them. With the case open, she began browsing more openly, picking up a gold bracelet to admire. After a moment she set it back down to focus on the pieces the Viera was pulling out for her.

"I like this one," she murmured, tapping the bangle before moving to try it on. Normally she preferred gold to silver, but she liked the look of it on her. She slid off the bangle and tapped it as a 'maybe' purchase. She glanced briefly at the ring and sighed wistfully. "Beautiful, but impractical given my line of work." Last thing she needed was for it to get caught on something.

"Annnd it's more romantic when someone gives you a ring rather than buying it for yourself." Not that she expected that to happen soon, if ever. Amara didn't really view herself as the wifely sort in a traditional sense. Dating? Also a bit of a nightmare. Either she was too intense or too distant.

Styx gave a rather detached hum toward her quip, the acidic tone resting upon the butterfly still resting on the toe of his boot. He wouldn't move to stand until it moved, and for but a moment it appeared as if it held the entirety of his attention; 't was clear that he was largely unused to conversation, but he didn't shut down or walk away.

It would likely come as no surprise that they were unfazed by his lack of response to her antics. Hemera was - unfortunately, as she would claim - used to it from Emet-Selch. He was frightfully boring at times and simply didn't have the imagination to enjoy her antics. Talking with him right now was almost like being home in Amaurot. Almost. He just wasn't wearing an unpleasant scowl or lecturing her. Yet. They assumed there was always room for that to change.

 "The intention is to catch it. If, however, the beast is causing issues, we'll need to kill it. Hence, I sought you out. That's more your jurisdiction than mine. Doesn't matter much to me, but I'd prefer not to get threatened with a censure again all the same." As far as she was concerned, the creature could just be remade. It was, more or less, approved within limits to act as a guard beast for a rather anxious researcher.

Even though there were politics at play, which never failed to drive them up a wall.

Carvallain always did enjoy toeing a very fine line between intent and playfulness, his flirtatious nature did sometimes get him in trouble, but he simply couldn't resist. His smile was cheeky, and only grew more so as his dear company settled into his lap.

"Oh, it certainly is-" He kept his bed comfortable for good reason - mostly so he slept decently while on the sea, keeping his mind sharp. But on the extremely rare occasion that someone else may need to rest comfortably within it-? It was as plush as it could be out at sea.

His arms settle rather comfortably around Amara's waist, keeping himself settled with his back against the chair, legs outstretched toward the warmth of the fire.

"Pearls?" On purpose does he turn his gaze toward her, keeps it fixated upon her eyes. "I do believe the only comparison I have ever heard of them is that they look rather akin to the eyes of the damned." He takes pause to smile softly; "Your comparison is far more flattering, however. Perhaps I shall keep it in mind, instead of the others."

He lifts an arm, rather briefly, and removes his hat - tosses it 'pon the chair where she had been sat previously and then returns it to encircle her waist.

"Mind testing it with me later?" The question was asked innocently, despite it being anything but. Amara couldn't help but smirk at him as she suspected it was extremely comfortable. Couldn't hurt to test that theory out though.

"It's understandable that such a unique color would render some individuals jealous." Honestly, he was someone worthy of being jealous over. Attractive and successful. Her gaze returned his unwaveringly, as the compliment was genuine, and the dismissal of his detractors. Though she wasn't sure who would tell him such a thing about his eyes... "You should, as I've always found them, and you, rather attractive."

A slow smile spread across her lips before nodding. "Mmm, how'd you know? Because I wear a lot of reds and purples? I like to match." Personally, she found it made the gold or silver stand out a bit more.

Cyvel offered the softest of smiles toward his company and began the slow walk toward his home; the gradual pace comfortable and allowing for one to glance around and eye the city, it's people. Keeping a close eye on the goings on allowed him to adjust his plans for helping, supporting, rebuilding.

"...Ul'dah, you say? I've never been much further than the Gridanian border, myself-" It must be quite freeing, he thinks, to be able to travel across their star when the whim took you and truly, he'd like to see more of the lands that surrounded Coerthas - but alas, he had not the gall and his time was consumed by other responsibilities.

Cyvel's home wasn't too far - the manor house standing in a quiet corner 'pon a row of other such noble houses. He reaches forth, white glove splay 'pon the door ere pushing it open and holding it for his companion. 'T was beautifully warm inside, bright with decorations basking in whites and greys as opposed to dark woods and harsh stone. Homely, comforting- the greenery of plants proving to be quite the contrast.

"My father had the greenhouse built into the roof for my mother not long after they got engaged." Cyvel explained, half turning toward company as he headed up the staircase; "She filled it with everything she loved, and much of it is no longer present in the wilds of Coerthas due to the Calamity." He ascends a second flight of stairs, booted feet pacing down a long corridor ere pushing open the door at the end.

The warmth hit immediately - the large expanse of the greenhouse space stretching across two thirds of the roof of the manor - - large sheet glass poised above with decorative iron, huge windows in thick wooden frames spanning from floor to ceiling - - beautiful exposed rafters wrapped with climbing plants. 'T was more akin to a beautifully sculpted botanical garden than mere greenhouse, and the table and chairs resting in the centre inviting for tea.

"...Please, do make yourself at home. I'll pop on some water." A small burner housed a kettle of which he turned on with the intention of making tea in but a few moments.

"If you ever get the chance to go, you should. It's quite different. You might find it inspiring."

Ul'Dah was many things, but one couldn't deny that it was culturally rich. It wasn't her favorite city-state simply because it was her home. (Though she would admit that it played a part in it.) It was also quite different from Ishgard. There were benefits to experiencing other cultures, and if he hadn't yet, what better time?

Soon enough they had reached Cyvel's home, and once inside, Amara's gaze swept over the place admiring its beauty. Quite different from the other houses she'd been in locally. "Ah, to be so loved," she murmured thoughtfully, pondering the often elusive emotion for a moment as they moved through the home. To be loved so deeply was truly something special.

A happy sigh came from the midlander as the warmth hit her. "Ah, this is much better." Such a cozy warmth. The magnitude and the variety of plants found within the place had her eyes widening. "What an absolute marvel." She was fairly sure she could spend hours here, just enjoying and studying the plants.

Flowers, plants, chocolate, jewels, clothing- That was the answer in which Carvallain expected from most people of whom had such a question asked and yet somehow it did seem rather blasé when spoken by Amara herself - as if he expected a far more complicated answer. When the answer was built upon, however, Carvallain hummed in understanding; personal, genuine gifts, then - small things, created things, things with sentimentality attached. They were gifts that could never be replicated or replaced; and the thought had him sink deep into his own internal machinations for the long length of a moment.

"You'll have to wait and see, I do suppose." Carvallain drawled after a moment, turning his gaze back toward his company - thoughtful expression disappearing as quickly as it had appeared ere twisting once more toward one of pure cheekiness. Did he intend on finding a gift? Of course he did. Carvallain was naught if not a thoughtful gentleman at heart - but it would have to be perfect, and thus he would bide his time until he found something that spoke to him in such a manner.

"Tease."

He was almost making her think he was trying to court her. But that was silly, right? There wasn't much point. He sailed. She wandered. Mostly around Ul'Dah or wherever Evan drug her for Warrior of Light nonsense. She gazed at him thoughtfully, ruminating on some things, including whether she was more comfortable in the chair. Pros and cons.

"I wouldn't dare tease you with such a thing, Carv," she teased, trying the nickname out. Perhaps it was dangerous to test that boundary out, but Amara was a foolishly brave individual at times. Or an asshole, depending on one's perspective. "I imagine your bed would also be frightfully comfortable too." The woman cast him a knowing look before she stood, moving to settle horizontally in his lap.

Ieatton had been persuaded into helping mainly by his brother of whom had heard the call for warriors to join but a few days prior - - he stood there not because he particularly wanted to be there, but because he was asked by one of the few beings in his life that he trusted and appreciated.

Thus, he watches his apparent sparring partner with no small amount of curiosity - he'd not seen a female akin to her before - with ears atop her head and bright hair. But it was her lips in which he watched - - how they shaped every word that he couldn't hear, how he found understanding in the motions as opposed to aught else.

✧･ﾟ: * Ieatton. He signed his name, slowly but purposely - not knowing if his current company could read those motions at all or whether he was, in essence, speaking to himself.

Anticipating no reply, he simply gestures to a space a little ways from the others of whom yet stand and talk. He may as well get it over with, he supposes - - - make his brother happy that he had taken part at all.

His hands reach for the awe at his back, draw it forth and allows the end to rest within the grass - comfortable, ready.

Crystal hues quickly locked onto the hand motions and widened a bit. "Shit." Considering she was able to make out his name, she hoped that Eorzean sign language was the same as the Steppes version. Probably not exactly a one-to-one, but they should be able to get the gist if nothing else. 'Sorry no one told me.' A quick glance was sent around the clearing before she focused on her partner again.

Evan's eyes followed his gesture and she gave a nod as she took a few paces. Her gloved hands reached for the axe on her back, lifting it up and over her shoulder with ease, before falling into a comfortable pose. The miqo'te took a deep breath in.

@bladeshowers || LIKED for a STARTER with Styx for Hemera

"...I don't know anythin' about it." Styx uttered, eyes down - focus entirely on the butterfly currently perched on the toe of his right boot. His person sat, quite comfortably at that, within the plush grass near a small settlement within Elpis - the long length of his sharpened scythe resting to one side.

"You're socializing now," she pointed out, bright citrine eyes alight with amusement. It was Hemera's doing, of course, but what else was new? Very rarely were they here due to pleasure, oft it was due to business, and this case was no different. Azem was needed where Azem was needed - big or small - and there was nary a task she turned down. Including missing creatures, it would seem.

Truly, the beauty of the Vault had always been one of Ishgard's most prominent features - the stained glass, the sheer size and scale, the intricacies of murals, paintings and stonework. The decorations that eve, however, truly did steal the limelight - how they matched with the air of the place, how they reflected the grandeur and elegance but held true to the theme of a masquerade. Cyvel enjoyed all he could see through the eyes of his mask.

He turns to company briefly, offers a small smile and a nod of understanding. Mayhap the poise of the mask was lost on present company, given its use to be to obstruct identity, but still - - the poet could very much appreciate it's design and colours.

"I like to think it is not all about obstructing ones self-" His gaze returns to the folk dancing, the smiles of enjoyment not hidden by the constructs of masks. "-There's much joy to be found in the vibrancy of what people chose to wear. I like to think of it as a little insight into their personalities, without knowing them at all." Though, he did silently fear that his own white and grey ensemble made him appear bland and monochromatic compared to the rest of the beauty in the room.

"...do you... like to dance?" He asks rather timidly, watching those that were dancing, their smiles, the laughter that emanated.

"Never thought about a masquerade that way, but I suppose you're right." Evan had always assumed that the masks were about obfuscating the identity. The fact that the elite usually held them, pretending they didn't know one another, was presumably part of the appeal. Mayhap she had been too judgmental of the high houses and their ilk. In her experience, it had been a bit of a mixed bag. Ah well, at least there was a healthy mix of people now seemingly.

Ah, that sounded familiar. Just more optimistic of an angle than she would have heard otherwise. Normally she would have asked her company if he'd gained any insight. Considering that he likely wasn't doing this to collect information to use, Evan figured it would be better to rephrase the question a little. "Anyone in particular stand out? Catch you by surprise from what you were expectin'?" Being an outsider made it harder to notice anything different from the norm. For all she knew, everyone was wearing the same colors they always did.

Suddenly, a thought hit her, and she looked intrigued and pleased with herself at the notion. "Mayhap some might dress in their secret lovers' house colors. Wouldn' that be fun?" The drama slash theatre could be quite riveting if you knew what was going on! She didn't, but she always enjoyed listening to the gossip that Tataru or the other girls picked up on from the taverns or pubs. The Warrior of light never did anything with the information, but it made her happy to see how excited the others got over it.