Speaker for the House of Lords

     Haurchefant allowed the other man his silence, absently tracing a calloused fingertip across the clear glass of his own cup. His gaze was lazy, eating up the shifts in Aymeric’s expression as if trying to decipher them as well. And, for a brief moment, when he believed the other to be dwelling too harshly on his own emotions - he shifted his foot, giving the man an easy jab in the ribs with the toe of his sabaton.

     “When one is cast out into the cold,” Haurchefant mused, his own words coming with earnestness he only trusted a select few with. No longer was his gaze wayward; it pinned blue on blue, level with the Lord Commander as he spoke. “When one has naught but their a torch to keep them alive, finding kindling is - a blessing. But that does not mean they want any less for what they are truly after. It is but a holdover until one can find their home.”

     His smile - it has the same flickering, uncertain honesty, raising what was left of his glass to his lips. When it hit the table this time, it was far more gentle, barely making a sound.

     “Ah, but I shall save the flowery words for you, Commander. What I mean is - … certainly, I enjoy a warm bed. I enjoy the company. But my favorite company of all I keep is yours, and whether or not you would share a bed is irrelevant. If you would have me, I would stay. But it is not my place to ask.”

     He had never been a man of commands. That was in Aymeric’s title; the bastard had lived his life being told where to go, what camp to watch over, which beasts to maim. He would not deny he enjoyed the barbs and less than savory jabs, the prepositions - but at the end of the day, it was the adventurer’s decisions in what bed they lie. And he would extend the same respect to Aymeric.

     “Do not get me wrong - the teasing is delightful,” he deflected, a smug tilt coming to his lips. “And will continue, even if things shift. After all - who am I if not a flirt?”

Perhaps his words have no been clear enough. Not that Aymeric could really blame Haurchefant; he himself hardly had a good understanding of what he meant and what he was asking for. The concept, the very idea, that the other could feel anything other than just... brotherly fondness towards him hadn’t even crossed his mind before just a few moments ago. The realization had opened up a whole new world for him, though, and it left him to ponder what his own feelings toward the other man were.

He certainly cared for him. But Aymeric had... closed himself off from indulging in such... fanciful thoughts about another long ago. He didn’t have the time, nor the emotional space, for that. He had to keep himself focused on what he could do for Ishgard as long as he kept his head down and didn’t make waves. Not until he hit the point where they couldn’t replace him.

Equally, though - Haurchafant was a man known for his love of others, and were Aymeric to give his heart to another, it would not be a heart he would be willing to share. 

More often than not, Maru wore his heart on his sleeve, it was hard not to when his ears and tail could telegraph his mood better even than any expressions he might wear. The instinctual reactions of his ears lowering or his tail lashing were not easily hidden or tamped down upon but knowingly hiding something… he felt bad doing so but it was easier sometimes.

The vessel wasn’t entirely sure whether the Elezen’s reply was an indication of interest or not but the tap of his foot made the Miqo’te shift beneath the sheets with a playful protest. “I’ll have you know that from about mid-thigh and up, I’m in perfect working order,” he teased but left it at that when it seemed as though Aymeric might keep him company anyway.

Truly it was nice to spend time with him even if only to share space in the same room while Maru languished in bed.

The question caught him a little off-guard though and he looked over at the Speaker with much of his good humour fading away before he shrugged and looking instead down at the sheets he was laying beneath.

“Is it not expected of me?” he asked in return, raising his gaze once more. “I don’t go looking for trouble but I can hardly back down when I find it, can I?” That would go over real well with the masses - ‘Warrior of Light stands by and watches disaster strike!’ He didn’t think he deserved it but…

“Besides which, better I go in than some poor soul passing by, right? Just because I ended up getting hurt doesn’t mean I wasn’t the best person for the job. And! Not only that! But why wouldn’t I want to throw myself in harm’s way when I know I have a handsome Elezen to dote on me if I get hurt?”

“But why must it always be you? There are others capable of helping - and as you have rightly pointed out, you are the Warrior of Light. I feel no one would find it amiss if you were not to step in and interfere with every small, day-to-day issue that cropped up and instead saved yourself for the true emergencies.” For the times when it felt like the world was going to come to an end, lest someone step in to intervene. 

For every situation there was a tool. Was it unkind to think that way? Or better? Griever was a friend, a dear one, but just like Aymeric he was a useful tool for the people he served, and a tool of his caliber was not meant to be wasted on small, petty affairs.

Aymeric’s head canted slightly to the side as he kept up the unwavering, questioning gaze. The other had taken such pains to make it clear that he was fine from the thigh up - so perhaps it was unfair to take this time to question him, but surely it was nothing more than he could handle? 

“I know… with you, I can be myself.” She seemed relieved to have that assured, leaning into his hand and giving him a small smile. “It’s why I came to you first… beyond other reasons.” She chuckled a bit, cheeks pinkened. “But what of you, surely you could use some rest Mr. Workaholic.” She jested, doing her best to try and lighten up. “Why don’t we take a vacation day to just… enjoy each other’s company?”

Workaholic was a fair word to call him, though it wasn’t something that Aymeric truly had much choice over. If he didn’t work to the expectations of the other Lords--

But, ah, that was a level of drama and politics that Keira didn’t deserve to have to hear about.

“I suppose I can arrange for that,” he said with a small laugh. After a moment he gently pulled away from her, offering her a small nod before glancing to the side. If it was for the Warrior of Light, he wouldn’t have too many people outright questioning his decision.

He had never been one for spicy food - not until recently, at the very least. It might had sounded rather pompous to say his palette was more refined than that, but the way the heat and spice seemed to just sheer off his ability to even taste had never been particularly appealing to the elezen.

And yet, lately, he had found that was almost solely what he was craving.

It was just an odd... thing, something that flickered briefly through his thoughts for the oddity is posed before being promptly mentally discarded. He had more important things to ponder, like the visit from the Warrior of Light.

Places were not the only things that could end up haunted. People could, by memories and unseen phantoms, by the ghosts of those who had been left behind.

Even if that was for the better, not the worse.

For a man already struggling to keep himself composed after his only purpose in life had been stripped from him, it was perhaps just too much. Too cruel. The figure that haunted his footsteps and loomed in his shadows should have stayed there and should have been content with the knowledge that the other would never know true peace. 

Instead he found himself baring his teeth in a wicked, curved smile as a dark noise - a laugh - bubbled out from him. 

Was This A Meme? | @lxght-brdnd

The sudden question had Aymeric pausing as he found himself looking around. There was no was else here, in this dreary portion of Ishgard; he had been showing M’firhi some of the efforts and results of the restoration and not all parts of Ishgard were flourishing in life. With no one around, that meant there would be no one to see that little indiscretion if he chose to do so. 

“Since when were you one to ask for permission before you acted?” A brow was arched before Aymeric turned, continuing on his task of showing off what had been changed and improved. 

The thing about ghosts - about spirits, about revenants, about phantoms and banshees - was that they were all made of the same thing. The very same thing that permeated the core of every being, the same thing the shifted and fluxed in tandem with its surroundings. 

Aether.

That’s all any of it ever was. And aether was nothing if not impressionable. A stray thought could lead to altered thinking, altered being, and what should have been just that - a thought, an imagining, a possibility - slowly became real.

There was a figure of a man that haunted the Speaker’s footsteps. His gaze was flat, dead and unmoving, and his eyes shifted only to take in the figures that surrounding him. The garlean bitch. The half-blood whore. And... him.

“Dravanian.”

10. You have a clock that counts down until you meet your soulmate.

23. You can see the red string of fate when you close your eyes, which will lead you to your soulmate.

The concepts of soulmates was a highly contested one throughout all of Eorzea. In Ishgard it was frowned on, viewed as all-but spitting in the face of Halone and her guidance, but that didn’t mean that there weren’t stories. Whispers of the tales that came from their southern neighbors, of signs and symbols that they were taught to ignore. 

Like the red string that he spotted out of the corner of his vision. It was wrapped around his right pinky and always vanished when he tried to look at it too closely. He had mentioned it once, and had swiftly learned that he needed to keep those thoughts to himself.

He had never mentioned the numbers he saw to anyone. They flashed up every now and again, seemingly printed on his forearm, and they always seemed to be counting down. It was worrying, or would have been-- but he never really had enough time to worry about anything.

The numbers had gotten low, though. What happened when they hit zero?

Read More Now!

     Velkyn, to his credit, looks no further into the other man’s words than he’s meant to. He trusts Aymeric to be upfront with him– he can’t recall a time where he hadn’t been, after all, even when they had only just met, tucked away in the intercessory in Camp Dragonhead. Aymeric had been honest, and that was a quality Vel found himself quickly attaching to. Being able to rely on someone to tell him the truth, no matter if that truth is what he wants to hear, is more valuable than a thousand empty reassurances.

Gods, but that feels like a lifetime ago. Even the end of the war feels so distant, despite how fresh it still must feel for the people of Ishgard. Thousands of years do not easily dim within a couple. Even so, despite how much time had, or hadn’t, passed Velkyn always returns to the snow-covered city-state without fail– all because, what feels like a lifetime ago, this man had once welcomed him home.

The warrior turns his gaze up to meet Aymeric’s, smirk brightening a touch at the edges. One of these days, he tells himself, he’s going to bring the elezen somewhere with him. They’ll have their own adventure– one he won’t have to simply tell him about afterwards. Nothing as strenuous as his time in the First, hopefully, and less likely to result in permanent physical changes, but an adventure nonetheless. 

If anyone deserved a chance to indulge his wanderlust, it’s Aymeric.

     …But that will have to wait, at least a moment, as the Lord Speaker’s observation isn’t too far from the truth. “It’s…been a busy few days. If you’re going to ask me to dinner again, I wouldn’t say no, but this is gonna be one hell of a story. We might need more than one meal for me to get through it.”

“This is something I’m sure I can certainly do.”

A quick glance at a candle confirmed that he had been here for... hours, now, and it was far past time for him to have a break. Truly, it was days, weeks-- months past time for that, but every time he even thought about doing so, the ever-present and looming threat of the Lords seemed to nip at his heels. The thought of his position being revoked was rather laughable, and he could hardly say he would mind, though he knew that if such a thing did come to pass it would ultimately be those of the Brume that would suffer.

But surely even their judgement and disapprovals could be held at bay when faced with the knowledge that his break in working was for the Warrior of Light. 

“I’m certain that I am actually an interruption, but a welcome one perhaps,” he conceded with a small grin. Seeing Aymeric always put him in a good mood and he quietly hoped that the Elezen felt the same. Besides which, a visit from the WoL was always going to be a convenient excuse to put work down for just a little while.

And Maru had to admit that it was strange to see the Speaker out of his armour. He looked… softer, warmer. It made the Miqo’te want to approach, wrap his arms around the man and sort of sink into that coat along with him. He wasn’t aware of the potential politics behind it.

“Whispers and rumours, hm? Well I’d have you speak of them and I’ll either confirm or deny as I hear them,” he replied with a cheeky grin, slinking back towards the door to hold it open for Aymeric. “I know I have some feats under my belt but I’m curious about what people think I’ve managed to achieve this time. And I’d hear of how Ishgard’s restoration is coming along too. Are you making it warmer? You know it’s too cold out here.”

“I’m afraid there is little that can be done for the climate of Ishgard.” There was an almost dry edge to his tone that was tempered by the slight, wry smile. Once, Coerthas had been-- cooler than her southern neighbors, but still full of warmth and plenty of greenery. But after the tragedy of Dalamud, the landscape had been forever changed, and all they could do was learn to adapt. 

The fact that his work was to be interrupted and he was to take a break had been decided for him and made clear in the way that Griever held the door for him. Aymeric couldn’t help but let out a small noise, one that almost could have been called a snort, of amusement as he stepped out. The miqo’te would follow after him, he was certain of that.

“I wish I could give you an answer that would truly satisfy you, but it really has been no more than vague... that you left Eorzea, and all of Hydaelyn. That you had perhaps abandoned your post, even.” 

The gesture was sweet. It was Aymeric who was going to have to be the one to ruin it. 

He had already been poisoned twice before. Nothing that had been truly life threatening, just enough to send a message when he had started to voice thoughts that were... dissenting amongst the nobles. Aymeric had still been learning, still was learning, just how far he could try to push--  and the best life lessons were the most painful ones that stuck with him. 

There had been other attempts, but he had gotten better at seeing the signs, and now he just avoided any food he had prepared himself. 

Flowers.

He really wasn’t sure why the sudden knowledge, or even desire, to do anything with flowers had suddenly popped into his thoughts. He wasn’t even sure why he had decided to give into it, picking up a few bouquets to decorate inside his manor before heading home. 

Maybe he just wanted a bit of a change and something nice to look at for a bit. 

The flowers were tucked away under one arm as he was walking back to the manor. There was a light snowfall dusting everything in the city, giving Ishgard a softer look for the moment - though it did nothing to disguise Moonflower’s form, violet hair easily standing out.