NOBLE;

           the audacity of him, to play the shocked fool, as she finally emerges from her place of observation. he even goes so far as to toss in a sharp double take, for added emphasis, matching her jovial approach with a faux stretch of his own lips thereafter, as if to WELCOME her to their humble camp.                                to welcome… and to warn, that she treads upon very thin ice, in wandering into their territory, INTRUDING on the peace and tranquility that already evaded them, cursed as they were.

                            “ master scientia? please - call me ignis. such formalities give off the wrong impression, “ he suggests lightheartedly, turning his back to her briefly, to return to his still warm beverage, though making sure to keep his free hand close to the concealed dagger at his hip. tapping… ready, and all too willing. “ your invitation is a peculiar one, admittedly ;; surely, you did not come here to enlist me as your battle partner? “             ——– though, her claim was not in error. they were heavily outnumbered, no matter how many troops they managed to dispose of ;; and, while more would surely be lying in wait not too far from the ones they’d just taken down, every little bit count.           especially if it meant noctis, and the others, would be even the slightest bit safer.                             “ … ah, but it would be harebrained of me to neglect acceptance. first, however— “ he pauses, to gesture with a gloved hand towards an arrangement of ingredients, “ would you care to have a meal, before we toss ourselves further into the throes of battle? if it is an ambush, as you claim, i’m sure they shan’t be venturing too far. “

Oh, his reactions are something like gold to her.

Homme confidant, to act as such when he has clearly spotted her from afar, though she supposes this is all part of this game they still aim to play, still dangle twixt their words and weave ‘tween their actions. Que les dieux pardonnent, she harbours too much joy from this sort of sport, and certainly she’ll not abandon it for the knowledge of what is truly at work here---la tromperie, la lourdeur de la guerre, she knows---even if she must keep a wary gaze ‘pon the uncertainty of their pretence.

Still, she spills no lies from her lips, even if she does so wear them ‘cross flaxen brows.

“If you so insist, Sir Ignis.” Truly, she is one made and born into formalité, and so ‘tis a second later that she bequeaths him with a gracious, quick curtsy in response to the utter tension permeating the air, to the way he turns away despite her status. She approaches slowly; yes, she wishes to confirm, she did indeed come solely for such intention. Well, perhaps the idea of enlisting the prince’s aid came to mind first though she certainly cannot complain at the compliance she’s managed to secure from his retainer. Such luck she’s stumbled onto.

“Comme c'est gentil deta part,” she murmurs, a genuinely benign smile gracing roseate lips now; ‘tis quite possible the man wishes to poison her to whittle down his opposition but, still, it’s a touch kinder than what she expected. “Smart man,” comes the smooth utterance as she takes a few steps further into their camp---tension hugs her shoulders momentarily, certain the other has not taken to her so graciously as he appears to have ( elle comprendrait s'il la trahissait en tant que telle, would in fact do so herself if it benefitted her in turn ) but it bleeds out within but a second---and eyes the array of items he proffers.

↳❨ ☼;; white. everything is white. white noise fills his ear, but interrupted every so often with the sound of large gusts of wind. snow didn’t fall softly here, no,  it was violent. it was as if the mountain wanted to kill him. soldier on, become stronger so he won’t have to face who he really is– that’s what he was doing. maybe deep down, he knew the mountain wanted him dead… maybe that’s why he was out here. not just for answers, for a way out of all of this. too cowardly to face the truth, maybe he could escape his haunting thoughts by freezing. 

his knees gave in, and a short breath escaped his lips and fluttered into the air, a little cloud from his lips appearing. falling into the soft snow, it felt like a blanket. maybe this was how things were so destined to be, lost in a snow storm– never to be found. his dull blue eyes shut, accepting his fate. how long was he out there, not too long right ?? but now here he was, passed out in the snow, freezing to death. 

feeling a nudge, the blond shifted slightly. a groan escaped his lips, body shaking. he couldn’t stand, he could barely move. shaky hands planted in the snow, he tried to stand. no use. he was too weak. everything was still white, glowing almost. ❛ am i dead… ?? ❜was the only thing he could mutter. 

Perhaps delirious, this boy is, a fact to which she curses for she is not entirely well-equipped to be dragging one so incapacity through the blanket of snow. Dieux ci-dessus, perchance this favour asked of her is far more difficult than she imagined. She’ll have to collect her due, as it were.

“Ce n'est pas un endroit où mourir,” she says softly, palm smoothing warmth over his forehead before slipping twixt fabrics to ascertain his pulse. Weak, but still strong. Bien. The same hand dips into the satchel at her side before producing an elixir and administering it in the same motion. No time to waste, after all, for such is the utter greed Niflheim has for this one’s retrieval currently.

She straightens, a wary gaze cast out to their surroundings, and offers a gloved hand.

{ Absolute Kasalanan  || @novilis }

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Lightning blinks, glancing askance at the noble at her side. Of all the people a noble could socialize with at this event, a Crownsguard soldier is more than a bit unheard of, especially those of Lightning’s ranking - whose deeds, if any, are unknown by most and offer no prestige. There are more than several dozens of other nobles milling about the room, and Lightning wonders for a moment if it’s too much to ask why a noble would interact with her in any capacity beyond an official one. That’s just it, though— Is she flirting with me? At once, Lightning casts that thought out and tries not to frown at herself. There’s no way a noble would fraternize with someone of her standing - especially like that - but the noble’s request remains and Lightning tries to remain as professional as possible. “I’ll have to run it by my CO,” she says, even as her eyes linger on the noble’s face. If anything, this was providing a much-needed excuse to stop thinking about Niflheim for a few minutes. She reaches for her radio, then pauses, asking, “What was your name?”

A simple smile curves roseate tiers and she’s of the notion to quietly tug the other onto a scenic walk no matter what her officer commands. Still, she waits patiently for the verdict even if confidence is so elegantly reflected in the way she holds herself.

“Stella Nox Fleuret,” she murmurs; la vérité, she thinks, is far more appropriate for the alternative is not something wholly necessary ( ‘tis an evening born out of political dealings, out of la fin d'une guerre, and she’ll not contribute to the tension already so thick in the atmosphere here ). Save it for the dire conversations, les trucs they are to pull in the near future: for now, she would so love for an evening where she can pretend this is nothing more than an affair born out of pleasure.

     “What else should I assume, my dear? In all my years of living at the Keep, I have yet to come across anyone else that keeps their own supply of toffee.” Besides… Stella is known for being something of a trickster.

Ah. Such a formidablewoman.

Promesses tissées entre les mèches de ses cheveux: hers is abody laden with temptation, magnifique,dangerous femme; hers is a scent thatbeckons her body forth with only the heady vibrancy of viridian eyes, fingerscloyed with honeyed notions, and she is so immediately taken by the permeation of her aura, her beauty ( and this is,perchance—definitively—, the wayKohana is and has been since thefirst day Stella has ever laid eyes all along her curvaceous frame ). Her own need is of the desire to lay her own hands, slender andwarm and greedy, all over the other woman;claiming, taking, putain de, she hasand will want always what the other sograciously offers.

Une allumeuse.Quelle allumeuse. Such a thought would perhaps first go to the arrestinggrip of hands ‘pon her waist but, oh no, Stella never quite gave in so easily despiteknowing where this encounter willlead—intimately, she is familiar; àbout de souffle, the constant state she carries whether or not those temptingfingers are inside her, touching, exploring—andso she’s gracefully twisting her hips with extravagant and exaggerated sway from the embrace of attraction Kohana oozes,and lets cross slender extremities along her chest ( oh, does her dress let peek more cleavage than it’s intended for?Une telle tragédie— ) instead as shedances away with feigned astonishment.

     Has someone been dipping into his stash? How impolite. “If you’d have asked, I would have been willing to share.”

     Disgruntled sounds. Someone is out of toffee candy, so he’s going to feast on Altissian-imported chocolates instead.

“ Many of you are stationed around the premises tonight. ”

Hers are words of pure observation seemingly coming from an INNOCENT place but inwardly she wonders how much of a pretence King Regis will keep up of peaceful negotiations if he’s already aware of Nifleheim’s deception. It seems he may be loath to let down his guard either way but Stella isn’t so put back by this. After all, one soldier bears quite a LOVELY visage and it so soothes the stress and worries coalescing at the forefront of her mind.