#barzh

" Haerviu. " It was that single name uttered, no distinctive tone or sound in the back of it that could be easily made out and understood with just these few letters strung together, but something - very certainly, very obviously - was just telling anybody who had the unfortunate 'favour' of listening to the Grandmaster's announcement, that whatever just had happened [ but there had been no conversation? ] was not to their superior's liking. 

If he could have had an even more strict look on his face as he has right now, chances would be high that no matter what the other would say to excuse these thoughts of - teasing - nature, it could go up in flames in mere breaths taken flat. It was not like he was certainly bothered by the mental images nor the ideas of being told and having thoughts conveyed by his Sternritter; it was more or less the knowledge that this was happening because Seissylt would want him to see it. 

He isn't quite sure how that came to be but it was not the first time---

---it certainly would not be the last time, he knew as much. 

" If. " Gravely nearly would he set in, stopping in his tracks when only discardable steps of distance had been brought between them, enough for Jugram to look over his shoulder, look the other man once up and down, take in the sheer beguiling amusement openly worn on his face. At times he had to question why he even would permit some to come so close to him - and at other times he had to question why this one had taken it out for himself to be so close to him as to not experience outright backlash past--- ah. It didn't matter, did it? A raised eyebrow was all enough to underline that he truly still had something to say. 

   “YANNICK.” The dragon-human approaches his husband. A cup of freshly brewed tea, Yannick’s favorite, set in front of him on the table. There is a smile that Illmirius offers to his beloved, before a worried face, then a sigh. End of the world. What a thing for them to all know now. And even more is the two of them potentially being sent to Gods know where to save their tiny planet. It terrified him, and although Illmirius tried not to show it, he was horrified of the unknown beyond the stars. “I... I made your favorite!” He chirped, sitting in front of the elezen. “I hope you like it.” 

THE GLEEFUL LOOK on Absalon's face is quickly replaced with a more concerned look as Seissylt approaches him. Worry quickly envelopes him as the other mentions that both Thancred and his lover were discussing him. Coupled with the serious look on Seissylt's face there is a wash of anxiety which is carefully hidden behind his concerned expression. What questions could they possibly have concerning him that was so perplexing that they had to go to the source? Was it about his past? His family? Not that he really hid it anymore, but it still brought up fretful thoughts.

But when the question came the concerned look, the anxious thoughts running through his head... quickly dissipated into complete and utter disbelief and confusion. A... DILF? You mean all the things that all his fans were calling him? "Oh..." he relaxes. There is a smile on his face as he quickly nods his head. "Of course! My fans started to call me that, and I think I have to agree. Its a rather fitting title, is it not?"

A devote, involved, loving father!

   GLITTERING SNOWFALL beneath the clouded sun, and a cold that bites pretty skin. Between the white snow, fog, and clouded sky is nestled the even more grey and black stones with metal spires that raise into the heavens. To join the dreadful architecture is the blackened metals and spines of drachen armor draped on bloodthirsty dragonkillers. Though dragoons are apart of the Ishgardian Army, it is rare to glance one for the pitiful ranks they keep, even rarer is one who wears it outside of the army.

   Distra is bold walking around Camp Dragonhead. His head held high and the tiniest smirk on his lips for the blood that dripped from his arms. The joy of the death made him overcome with such giddiness, one that many could hardly comprehend that he had. He wondered if the knights that he passed by revered him for his poweress. Approaching the door to the dorm he shared he opened it, finding a pleasant surprise of his ally sitting at the table engrossed in a book. “Seissylt,” he chirps. The giddiness of the armor he donned couldn’t be more obvious. There was a sway in the way he walked, the way he almost seemed to show his body off as if a mannequin for the armor that seemed to take hold of his body. As if possessing him. “Look...” he motioned to himself. Reaching his arms out and showing the armor off as if it were now his new skin. “I’ve completed my training. I’m a full fledged dragoon, and now I can better kill dragons.” 

THERE IS A RAISED BROW upon lowering the book in Distra's hands. The low light of the Crystarium making it easy on the eyes for such long bouts of studying the new world that they were thrown into. Broken away from the long texts about their never ending light he managed to glance at the way that Seissylt had been staring at him. It was brief when their eyes meet. Although Distra's eyes were less wanting, he could see just from a few seconds of meeting Seissylt's eyes the horrible wanting that the other had. The way the other stared, a harboring feeling deep in the other's body. He could feel that fire, that stare, boring into his skin and being eating up. It made his stomach lurch. But with a look so quick, he wasn't sure if it was the wanting of the flesh, or the wanting of the heart.

A red blush crossing his face as if he was a schoolboy meeting the eye of his crush from across the room. And as soon as their eyes met they broke away to return to the literature that drawled on. His heart calming seconds later.

TIRED was how he felt for years. War after war. Revelation upon revelation. His only escape was another one, across the sea, away from the frostbitten mountains. It was years that he had not been quite there. More so than ever now than ever before. Visions of the past etched into his mind.

All he could focus on was the glimmering sea. The fish. The sharks. The whales. He sat there for hours, lost in it all. Lost in the ocean like he used to be before. Staring into the deep blue and wondered if it stared back into him. It was so different this time. Filled with wonders he could barely fathom. And now that he could truly stare at what was beneath it, an entirely different world than his own. It comforted him in strange ways. A feeling similar to an antelope standing in fear as a hunter was about to kill it.

Seiss's approach is both welcomed and abhorred. The silence in his head he's so accustomed to now filled with thoughts of himself. How he should and shouldn't feel in regards to all of it. There was no one he could blame but himself, and only himself.

His body bristled at the outstretched hand. And yet cried to be held. To forget all his worries. "I'm fine." It comes out harsh. Too harsh. The depth of his own weakness pooled larger than what could be seen. Perhaps the other thought it was the death of their mutual friends: Papalymo, Haurchefant, and Ysayle. Or the traumatic experience of almost losing several of them. It was all that and more for Distra. But it was a burden he couldn't bring himself to share. He turns away. Turns back to the fish. To the ocean.