It's a strange thing, feeling so seen. Estinien has never considered himself complicated in the least, but...even Alberic, who is the closest thing to a father he's had these last eight years, never seems to fully grasp his moods and motivations. But Aymeric just...does, and with such appalling, intoxicating glibness.
He grins, "Good."
For the first time since it'd happened, standing here in the midst of all this gray fog, before the beacon of perfect vibrance that is Ser Aymeric de Borel, Estinien wonders if Aymeric isn't exactly the reason he's been given the blue he's so taken with.
He tells himself, as he leaps, weapon raised, that it doesn't matter, either way. Soulmates are for the sorts of people who have futures, and Estinien's will end with the war that plagues their people.
Their weapons clash with a clear ring that echoes off the nearby stone.
This fight is a fierce one, slippery with mud and rain, but no shorter for the precarious terrain. Try as he might, Estinien can't neatly disarm Aymeric this time. On the contrary, Aymeric trips him. Puts him on his back in a move that flares the flame low in his gut as much as stings his spine.
This is where their fight ends: Aymeric over him, blade to his neck, his lance to Aymeric's chest. "A draw," Estinien says, and something like pride shows in his expression, "You're much improved."
Re: better*
It's a strange thing, feeling so seen. Estinien has never considered himself complicated in the least, but...even Alberic, who is the closest thing to a father he's had these last eight years, never seems to fully grasp his moods and motivations. But Aymeric just...does, and with such appalling, intoxicating glibness.
He grins, "Good."
For the first time since it'd happened, standing here in the midst of all this gray fog, before the beacon of perfect vibrance that is Ser Aymeric de Borel, Estinien wonders if Aymeric isn't exactly the reason he's been given the blue he's so taken with.
He tells himself, as he leaps, weapon raised, that it doesn't matter, either way. Soulmates are for the sorts of people who have futures, and Estinien's will end with the war that plagues their people.
Their weapons clash with a clear ring that echoes off the nearby stone.
This fight is a fierce one, slippery with mud and rain, but no shorter for the precarious terrain. Try as he might, Estinien can't neatly disarm Aymeric this time. On the contrary, Aymeric trips him. Puts him on his back in a move that flares the flame low in his gut as much as stings his spine.
This is where their fight ends: Aymeric over him, blade to his neck, his lance to Aymeric's chest. "A draw," Estinien says, and something like pride shows in his expression, "You're much improved."