#jotted

Is apologies

Like chips of ice to one whose guts are torn from them

I have nothing to give

My words at odds will strike a chord in the heart

A bonding of a shared musing and thought

I weep

That that is only a fleeting part of me

What is solidly here in the consistent everyday

Is the heap of regrets and self-loathing

Trying so hard to be good

To not be a burden

But drowning

In each apology that I can only offer

As a shard of me to arm you to slice me with

For failing you

Again

And again

Again

They come bearing smiles. They greet you with a false sense of security.

Again and again.

And yet a painful few ever become comfortable familiars.

As another face fades due to a withering interest in this husk of a man; a passing fancy...

Tagged by: @ofthefirstbrood

NAME: Artoirel de Fortemps AGE: 32 (36 in main story arc, hence grey streaks) SPECIES: Wildwood Elezen GENDER: Male ORIENTATION: Claims heterosexuality for the sake of producing a heir. He’s actually uninterested with no preference. INTERESTS: Writing, bushcrafts, falconry, tea, needlecrafts, quill & pen collecting, sword play, cooking, physical and/or mental challenges, viola, cello PROFESSION: Count, General, Guardian, & Tutor to some BODY TYPE: Muscular thanks to swinging a claymore around all day EYES: Summer sky blue HAIR: Ink Blue almost black (grey streaks due to stress & age in main story arc) SKIN: Fair HEIGHT: 6′9″ WEIGHT: ~ 210lbs LEFT/RIGHT HANDED: Right SEIGHT: Very good, although uses reading glasses sometimes to relieve the strain of constant reading. Sees poorly in the dark however. SCARS: Plenty, luckily they’er usually only visible on his hands due to clothing. COMPANIONS: Errent (Married), Echo (Raptor), Ironbone (Chocobo) ANTAGONISTS: None/varies, WoL in some AUs COLORS: Greyed out purples (currant purple, lavender, ect), dark red, black SMELLS: Ink, pine, frost FRUITS: Do you mean pastries? All of them, in that case. (What in the world is a fresh fruit in Ishgard?) DRINKS: Tea, coffee, sipping chocolate, tea, almost any hot beverage, did I mention tea? ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGES? Yes / No / Occasionally SMOKES? Yes / No / Occasionally DRINKS? Yes / No / Occasionally DRUGS? Yes / No / Occasionally FAUX PAS: Lip biter when under stress or in deep thought, rubs at his ear when shy or embarrassed, arrogant, quick to passive aggressively talk down on another, high pride, enjoys pushing his limits too much, often puts his House before others, extremely reluctant to trust others. Reclusive. RANDOM TRIVIA: Often puts his hair up in a ponytail to keep it out of his way, especially during combat. He is actually something kin to being tempered by Errent. Was originally the one that taught Haurchefant how to make sipping chocolate when he was young. Studies and breeds plants that could potentially live under Coerthas’ current harsh environment. Sadistic and extremely masochistic. Fight him. No really, he likes it.

Mercy upon this soul that was once ignorant to the world.

Mercy upon this heart that was once ignorant to love.

Mercy upon those who’s eyes have not been graced by the presence of He.

Empty, was I, once upon a frowning moon.

Empty, was I, as my love for my family failed to fill that void.

My breaths now difficult and my chest now tight.

This, I thank unto He, I grovel unto He, I live for Thee.

Touched, they say, however I am far from ignorant to this.

Touched, they say, as I smile with mine knee bent before He.

Touched, they say, but I would wish for nothing else.

I will gladly continue to walk this path for my Goddess.

I will gladly continue to die, over and over again, for my Mistress.

I will gladly continue to drown in every ounce of affection He is willing to give.

Make no attempt to save this man.

“A mug full of future smiles.”

Another blistering cold day. Then again both you and I know that any other sort of weather isn’t to be expected from Ishgard these days. The common hardships of winter also makes the right supplies necessary for a cozy night. This was often preferred to be done next to a warm fire. The new Count was no exception to this. 

In his case it was a simple mug of sipping chocolate to enjoy by the fire of his private chambers, all the while being sunken into a deep chair. At least it would be simple to most. When he looked down at his cooling drink, a tinge of sadness fought to overcome the comfort and good memories he was currently experiencing. Thankfully it was always the latter that were the strongest when it came to ‘him’.

“Again?... Honestly, brother--I have already reminded you how often I worry for you. I have repeated myself an unimaginable number of times in warning you about over exerting yourself,” the young lord groaned. Artoirel stood not too far from the entrance of the mansion, hair up in a neat tail, and a plate being delicately dried within a held towel. He even had an apron on, and the mixed expression of worry and annoyance only made his parental demeanor that much worse.

 It was in this past where he was still young and Haurchefant was still alive. Aye, Haurchefant. The little rat that was caught coming come at an exceptionally late time. It has long since been dark out as the elder brother kept pointing out. What was worse was that the half-sibling looked wet, cold, and exhausted. It was no doubt he was overdoing himself with his training yet again.

As Haurchefant removed his gear, Ser Mother Hen put the dried plate down and moved to help. The other’s gear was sopping wet from training in the snow, so he made sure to hang or place everything near the kitchen’s fire. Finally, he brought some dry home clothing for his brother to change into and had him sit at the kitchen table. Artoirel had to be swift to beat the tide of sleepiness that was sure to hit the other at any moment.

“You are incredibly lucky that I am still awake. I suppose it’s time i at least taught you how to concoct a warm treat for yourself since coming home tired and cold is becoming an unhealthily common occurrence.”

“What? But--you know me. My ability to cook is laughable--”

“--An ability that is easily learned with time. Anysky, let us start you off with something simple. Let’s see...”

It didn’t take long for Haurchefant to pipe up, “How about sipping chocolate? You always make me that after playing outside when I was wee. I dearly miss having it as often as I use to! Although I’m still very happy when you make it for me whenever I get upset.”

A grin couldn’t be helped after that remark. Artoirel sighed, began heating a pot, and rummaged around to gather ingredients. “It is simple and, hopefully, your fondness for it will make you more inclined to heat yourself when need be.” A stool was dragged up next to himself. “Come here and wash your hands.” After all, wee Haurchefant needed a good view of the action if he were to learn at all.

Curiosity was something that pushed for change, be it purposefully or not, and Haurchefant’s curiosity began to be extra mischievous then. It wasn’t often that he had the chance to have such a great view of the counter top and all that it held. While the elder Fortemps explained what to measure out, the younger one couldn’t help but let his eyes wander over the other many ingredients and question what they were for.

“Blast it, Haurchefant. Keep quiet for a moment or you won’t retain any of this.”

“But!... Please, come on, tell me? How about this one?”

Straining onto his toes, Haurchefant reached up into the cupboards above them. Unfortunately one of the bottles of spices fell over, and was even more unfortunate for the cork to be on loosely. Moments later, and a generous dusting came tumbling down right into the heated pot of sipping chocolate, followed by an irritated groan.

“...Now you’ve done it. I’m not about to throw out a perfectly good pot of sipping chocolate either. We’ll just have to enjoy it whether our tongues actually enjoy it or not.”

To their pleasant surprize, the sipping chocolate was... actually very much more delicious than usual. Upon inspecting the tipped spice, they found out that it was sage that happened its’ way into their drinks. It was also from this moment that Artoirel declared the happy accident to be that of Haurchefant’s and for no one else to use. Even today, no one’s sipping chocolate was quite like his.

“The sage makes it taste like a mug full of future smiles!”

We all seek to improve ourselves--to become successful. We work tirelessly... endlessly. Success is only a fraction of our goals, however. What we yearn more than success itself is the validation of others, especially those of our loved ones. It strengthens our resolve and gives us the motivation we need to keep pressing ourselves.

From a young age, a lot of expectations were pressured onto Artoirel. He did indeed worked as hard as he could to be the image Edmont wished him to be. And yet... he finds himself shadowed by his siblings. Both of them.

Haurchefant was loved. Emmanellain was growing.

Both worked for their praise, but what of the forgotten third?

It had been over five years since the last calamity.

This was when Coerthas was seemingly made of the stuff of faerie tales. It even had the rare glimpse of unicorns migrating through the grassy terrain, knights training upon the foot of a stone fortress, and trained hawks on the lookout for any signs of dragons. It was very much unlike the icy grave it is now.

Artoirel did miss those days as he often snuck out of the confines that is Ishgard to enjoy the environment himself. He missed the weather, the creatures, and especially the foliage. It was too often that he found his mind wandering back to the days of bushcraft and outdoor survival.