Aymeric tries to pretend he is pragmatic and duty-bound and ambitious, and truly he is all of those things, but he's also idealistic and friendly and something of an incurable romantic, so he has been waiting for the moment his world filled with colour practically since he was a child.
He tells himself the reason he makes a point of noticing the people around him and at least trying to be kind to them is that he refuses to overlook anyone for the circumstances of their birth, that he knows he needs to acquit himself well and prove himself and getting people on his side is part of that, that you never know when a kind word or a friendly smile might completely change somebody's day... or any number of a dozen other reasons he could come up with if somebody asked, that didn't involve admitting the truth that really, truly, he was just looking for them.
He'd come up with half a dozen idle fantasies over the years, of how it might happen, but none of them had involved a group of temple knights sparring on a muddy training field and one perfect cheekbone smudged with rich, earthy brown. The colour has blossomed from there and it seemed to fill the world - even the chainmail shifted from grey to shining silver - but what had caught Aymeric's eye the most was the way one knight's hair remained snow-white, just as it had been before everything changed.
That knight, he later learned, was Estinien, who seemed to eschew company in all its form whenever he got the chance. Aymeric thought he was breathtaking, and found himself hoping against hope that he was the one who had sparked that explosion of colour, although it could well have been any one of half a dozen knights who had been fighting that day.
He'd been trying to make cautious enquiries ever since, slowly adding potential names to his list and then crossing them off one by one - in between training, of course, there was no way he was letting that slack.
He'd hoped to catch Estinien alone when they were put in the same unit, but the mission to Ever Lakes had come up before he had the chance and then... well, then he had to deal with all of that.
It hadn't seemed like the right time, when the dragon was defeated, so he'd made his invitation for a drink and hoped that soon enough he'd have his answer.
When the evening comes - once Estinien is fully recovered from the experience - he finds himself staring into his tankard and wondering if perhaps he should have paid closer attention to all those lone wolf allegations, until he catches movement out the corner of his eye and looks up to see Estinien - late, but here, and that's all that matters.
He smiles warmly in response to his name and nods.
"Estinien," he greets in return "Yes, thank you, though my injures were naught compared to yours. 'tis good to see you on your feet again, my friend."
Whether or not Aymeric considering him a friend so soon, even after what they went through, is welcome or not, it's happening. He motions for Estinien to sit and waves for the barmaid to bring him a drink.
Estinien knows better than to trust little lordlings, especially ones with striking smiles and easy offers of friendship. Such a waste of time, all this social protocol, alliances and subterfuge when there is a perfectly worthwhile war against a perfectly evil enemy just beyond Ishgard's walls. It puts him ill at ease at the best of times, but now everything's gone all vivid on top. All that warmth in Aymeric's demeanor is only further highlighted by the lush pink of his skin, expertly framed by his raven hair. He is utterly impossible to ignore. How irritating.
"Aye, 'tis good to be on them again. I do not care to sit idle," Estinien replies as he slides into the offered seat, acutely aware that the charismatic knight has him at a disadvantage.
He does not frown, but neither does he make an effort not to look gruff. Rather, he levels his own storm cloud gaze at Aymeric, and instantly finds that silver blue he'd been hunting for, lit to sunset color by the Forgotten Knight's dim firelight.
Though he thinks he should, he cannot break Aymeric's gaze. "You're handy with a bow."
"I have heard as much," Aymeric admits with a tilt of his head. No sooner are the words out of his mouth than he's wondering if he should have said them - he thinks, perhaps, he can pass it off as the result of idle gossip among the other knights and not an admission that he'd gone asking around about Estinien. If asked, anyway, he may not be an entirely polished diplomat but he's at least learned the value of not volunteering information when he doesn't need to. Mostly.
Then Estinien meets his eyes and his breath catches. There's something nigh on religious about being subject to Estinien's full attention - he's an unfairly beautiful man who is notoriously stand-offish, of course it's going to feel good when he looks at you, but Aymeric is not prepared for the way it feels like a blessing from the Fury herself to be subject to that inscrutable gaze.
(It's not even the first time it's happened, now, and yet.)
He tilts his head in a silent thank you for the compliment - he is, he thinks, doing a remarkable job at keeping his expression friendly, but neutral, and entirely hiding the fact that his heart is doing backflips in his chest right now.
"I intend to master the sword as well, of course, but I confess it is a comfort to have a bow in my hand against an enemy that flies." He admits.
"Though you certainly have no need of a bow, your skill with a lance is... truly something special."
i swear i don't write exclusively bad characters, it just really really seems like it
A faint smirk dances its way across Estinien's features. Were he not already studying the way the nearby firelight turns Aymeric's sharp features almost gold, he might not've noticed that little hitch in his breathing. Ah, a fissure in the Borel boy's otherwise perfect composure. Passingly, he wonders what might make it crack, though the thought sits sort of awkwardly in his head once he's had it. A little red. Like all that blood. But... like fire, too.
Estinien arches a brow, wondering, "Asking around about me, are you?"
He is teasing, but the skill is a rusty one, left by the wayside in the ruins of Ferndale, and it leaves him sounding too serious. His gaze, still fixed and focused on Aymeric, does not help to more honestly convey his intent.
"Then, you'll already know that I learned from the best." He doesn't elaborate. If the temple knights are already gossiping about his day-to-day habits, then surely they know he is the ward of the Azure Dragoon. The noble houses love that sort of thing.
"And if you know that, then perhaps I should be paying closer attention to you. To keep us on even footing."
no but I love them. Also sorry about the formatting fail last post
Aymeric dips his head just slightly, he has just enough composure to keep from blushing, but it's a close thing. Instead, he manages a slightly rueful smile.
"Well, you caught my attention." He says easily, more easily than he actually feels. Being this close to Estinien, firelight shining in his silver hair, makes him feel like there's lightning under his skin, like all his calm confidence has decided to vanish for the evening and he's left wondering where his arms are supposed to go.
He tries not to think about it too hard, focuses instead on what Estinien's saying, inclines his head in agreement - he does know where Estinien learned all his tricks, but that doesn't make him any less impressive.
He laughs softly at the comment.
"Ah, I am not so terribly interesting." He says dismissively - in direct contrast to the overwhelming amount of gossip that he knows is constantly flying around him. It seems to dog his steps everywhere he turns - in truth, it was almost a relief to find somebody who knew so little about him they didn't even know his name.
Though, now that Estinien has actually learned it, he could stand to hear it fall from those lips again, in any number of wonderful tones...
no worries! in this house we roll with formatting goof ups
Admittedly, he knows next to nothing about Aymeric de Borel. Hadn't paid much mind to any of the long list of lord's sons and brothers and wards that had once filled their unit's ranks. Another pretty face in the gray sea of them. Before Ever Lakes, to look at any one of them would've been but an unnecessary distraction. There were loftier goals to be pursued, more righteous causes to champion.
But then, Ever Lakes had happened. And now, their unit numbers just two. Two, and of them, it is not Estinien who had left the field of battle unscathed. Two, when there had been so many more, and somewhere between those numbers, many and few, color had seeped into Estinien's world. Soft peach, raven black, crystalline blue.
A distraction, utterly impossible to ignore, but perhaps earned.
Finally, Estinien lets his gaze fall. He studies the mottled browns in the wood, the pale rings where ale and cheap wine had been spilled. Tries, stubbornly, to find something even half as interesting as the color in Aymeric's eyes. "You outlasted the rest of us at Ever Lakes. Tracked me to that ravine. However you did it--" and he is curious "--such dedication to the cause is...commendable."
Aymeric smiles slightly, tilting his head to concede the point - and accept the implied compliment.
He wouldn't mind so much, he thinks, being subject to Estinien's attention. It would feel like a victory he never expected to crave, for one, but more importantly everything he's learned about Estinien implies that he would care more about who Aymeric is and what he can do than he'd listen to petty gossip or familial reputation. He'd like to be measured on his own deeds and not where he came from.
(It's a desire shared by a lot of knights, he knows, and yet despite that so many of them will still judge each other for the very thing they don't wish to be judged for themselves)
Estinien looking away is at once a relief and disappointment. He felt caught by those eyes as surely as if they were a lance pinning him in place, it was an intense feeling... but he didn't hate it.
(He shouldn't let his mind linger on the idea of Estinien pinning him into place, it brings other thoughts that are rather difficult to ignore)
"Stubbornness, I think," he admits with a faint smile "and a certain determination. Traits you clearly share, given your single minded pursuit of our foe..."
lads is it gay to ask a cute boy to sword fight with you
That coaxes a laugh out of Estinien. Just a single, coarse huff of air, like it's a sound he's not accustomed to making. One that needs the dust shaken off before it's of any use.
"We have something in common?" he wonders, amused but unsure. Estinien's stubbornness has never been hailed as a virtue -- at least, not 'til now. Charmless obstinance, a tutor had called it that once, and that had been one of the nicer descriptions.
No teacher, no master, would ever call Ser Aymeric's own stubbornness charmless or obstinate -- that much is obvious from a glance.
Aymeric, Estinien thinks to himself, tipping his gaze up to examine him through his lashes, has the makings of a classic Ishgardian hero. Estinien may not have known him before, but Ever Lakes had shown him to be steadfast. Just foolhardy enough to be courageous instead of stupid. And, looking at him now, fine featured and carefully composed, with that mysterious smile--oh, yes, the bards will be singing of him.
So, it feels strange to have their qualities compared favorably, and by the man himself even. Is it idle flattery? Probably. In the city proper, it so often is, but Estinien doesn't really care. No, as he tips his chin back up, he decides that he would not at all mind being idly flattered by Ser Aymeric for an evening.
The bar maid returns with a flagon at just that moment, stopping Estinien from getting annoyed with himself for having such useless thoughts. He accepts the drink with a nod of thanks, doing his best impression of even composure, then turns his attention back to Aymeric.
"Aye, perhaps we do." They call him a lone wolf for a reason. Why form attachments when it seems the fate of soldiers and common folk is to die in fire? Why worry about anything but stopping this war? He is not given to putting names to faces, let alone forging bonds. So, he isn't sure why he decides to add, "Grounds enough to me. Even if our superiors see fit to put us in separate units, I would not mind training with you from time to time. Lance against sword?"
Aymeric's lips quirk into a slight smile at Estinien's musing - he doesn't sound convinced, but Aymeric is. He's a little - or a lot - more diplomatic than Estinien is, he can already tell that much, but that doesn't make him any less determined to see his goals realised. He just does it in a slightly different way.
Then Estinien is looking up through his lashes and Aymeric is struck by just how impossibly beautiful he is. All cool shades and sharp edges like he's been carved from marble, or ice, but there's nothing cold about him at all - no, Estinien is heat and fire and passion that draws Aymeric in like a moth. It should make him just as untouchable, but against all good sense Aymeric finds himself more than willing to get burned.
Estinien has to be the one, surely, his soulmate. Aymeric has never wanted anyone like this, not ever.
His smile grows a little wider at the offer and he nods with a barely a moment's hesitation.
"I would be delighted to go a few rounds with you... in the training field." He says smoothly. The pause is brief, brief enough that one might be forgiven for thinking they imagined, or for missing it altogether. It's definitely there, though.
He is not given to noticing little pauses, to picking up on implied meanings, or bothering to acknowledge them on the rare occasion when he does. But this one? This one he notices, like grasping hot metal.
It's the color, he decides in that moment. This is what happens to everyone. You see a person, and suddenly you're mad with little distractions -- midnight dark hair, impossibly blue eyes, and slender shoulders that belie what must surely be a strong form.
What an absolute waste of time. Estinien takes a drink, hoping the ale will cool some of the heat building under his skin. It does not. So in the next second, he resolves to solve this insistent feeling by satisfying it.
...After a bit of fun.
Estinien's faint smirk pulls into a grin, "And if you can best me there, perhaps elsewhere, as well."
Aymeric sips at his own drink, letting the silence settle between them and just waiting - he's quietly certain that Estinien has picked up on his implication, there's something about the other man's expression that suggests he's mulling it over, and Aymeric is wildly curious to see what he's going to do about it.
When the grin settles across Estinien's lips, Aymeric's own smile becomes smugly pleased, even before he speaks. The words draw a laugh from him, and a rush of unexpected delight. It's hardly a surprise that Estinien is so much more forthright, less prone to dancing around a subject with careful euphemisms the way Aymeric does, but it is quite refreshing. Flattering, too.
"I see." he says softly, taking another sip of his drink as if considering the offer, despite knowing full well he's going to agree to it "Well, if besting you in the training field is what it's going to take, I shall have to make sure I do not lose."
nearby patrons are getting up to leave because the UST is disrupting the vibe
Estinien hmphs, another sound partway to laughter.
Aymeric may wear a perfectly cool smile, he may seem effortlessly collected, utterly composed, but Estinien can see that he is a gambler. Stubborn, yes, and audaciously ambitious, too. Perhaps they do have something in common -- many things, even.
Estinien can see the fire burning him. Just a hint of it, there in that smug smile and his performatively slow thoughtfulness, like a furtively stolen glimpse of another soldier's form in the barracks, when you aren't quite sure whether they'd meant to be seen.
It is a blaze not unlike his own. Less dark, perhaps, but burning no less hot. And, near as he can tell, directed entirely his way, at the moment.
He likes it. A bit too much, actually. Would love to have the chance to coax it out of him, see it unmasked on his face, in his eyes, in brilliant color. And maybe it'd be most efficient to just get a room upstairs and fumble through finding it now, but no -- it'll be all the better if the flame is first stoked.
Like a dare, Estinien says, "Best not disappoint me, Ser Aymeric. When shall we have our contest?"
Aymeric had fully intended to bring up soulmates during this meeting, had wanted to make subtle enquiries to determine if Estinien was, in fact, the reason he now saw in full colour - if Estinien saw it too. It's rare to be so easily distracted from his purpose, and yet right now he doesn't even care if Estinien is his soulmate, as long as he doesn't stop flirting with him.
(He's sure he is, he must be, for things to get so heated between them so quickly, it only made sense)
His smile doesn't waver, but his eyes burn with determination at the challenge Estinien lays down before him.
"Why not tomorrow? If you are recovered well enough..." He doesn't want to waste any time at all getting this man into his bed.
If asked directly whether he or Estinien would win in a fight, he might have been unsure, they were both very capable. In these circumstances? He isn't going to let himself lose.
There is something elemental about that light in Aymeric's eyes, and again Estinien finds that he can't look away.
Since he'd been pulled from the burning ruins of his home, Estinien had wanted for only one thing. It is a strange feeling, desiring aught else. But, it is there now, amid all this new color. But soulmates don't even enter into this. It's just hunger, and yes, it is a gnawing one, sudden and sizzling. A raw desire to see what animal thing hides beneath that perfect smile.
He will focus better once it's sated. And until then, well, it's fun, trying to get the pretty high born boy to crack.
Estinien makes a point of letting his gaze travel slowly down Aymeric's form, then back up to his eyes once more. "You're sure you can wait that long?"
There's something about the way Estinien's gaze keeps catching on him that sends lightning racing up and down Aymeric's spine, and he finds himself idly wondering if he'll ever get used to being the focus of the other man's attention. He's not sure he wants to.
Having those stormy eyes trace down his body, too, is a thrill that brings a satisfied smirk to his lips and in truth he's not sure he can wait that long, but he maintains his composure. Strangely, it helps him quell the raging fire of his wanting to know that the feeling is clearly entirely mutual - it's going to happen sooner or later, he doesn't have to embarrass himself by being desperate about it.
"Are you?" He returns with a quirk of his eyebrow.
He is not, but this is a game, now. And Estinien does not stand down from a challenge so easily.
In a battle of words, Estinien is sure that Ser Aymeric will eventually emerge victorious, but he is not totally unarmed, himself. He has his taciturn obstinance to rely on. One shoulder pops up in a noncommital shrug, and he takes a long drink of ale before responding.
"You'll find, Ser Aymeric, that I can be very patient when needed." He tilts his chin up in an effort to hide the smile that tips the corners of his mouth. "Hunting dragons, as I'm sure you know, helps to build that sort of endurance."
Some part of Aymeric is wondering if he isn't shooting an arrow into his own foot by meeting this challenge head on and delaying the chance to get his hands on Estinien, but a much larger part of himself knows that Estinien wouldn't be nearly so interested if Aymeric conceded too soon.
Well, that and he's having far too much fun to give in, no matter how his baser urges might desire it.
The tilt of Estinien's head does nothing to hide the smile, and Aymeric's expression is still very much like a contented cat with an entire bowlful of cream.
"Ah, yes, one imagines it does..." He agrees smoothly "I shouldn't worry, though, such endurance is not like to be required, I'll beat you soon enough."
Aymeric's persistence earns him a genuine grin from Estinien. "I look forward to it."
What a strange man he is. Clearly a superlative speaker and soldier, and nigh imperturbable to boot. He'd be better served putting his talents to use making friends among the other noble house sons and brothers who stand to inherit. And yet, here he is, in a dark tavern, making foolish deals with a lowborn orphan.
Estinien is not often intrigued by people, but this young man -- Estinien cannot deny that he is interesting.
"If you can't beat me, though, I'd have payment..." he doesn't need to think it over, he already knows what he wants, but he still pauses a moment to gauge Aymeric's reaction before adding, "Information, maybe. About you."
Aymeric, of course, would argue that somebody as gifted and ambitious as Estinien is surely going to rise through the ranks, if not follow in his mentor's footsteps and become the Azure Dragoon himself, and actually he's an excellent person to form a connection with.
If he was actually thinking about Estinien in such terms, which he isn't. He's actually struggling to think about anything in that moment beyond how beautiful Estinien's smile is and how he wants to see it again and again.
He does snap out of it when the other man speaks, though, the shifting terms of the bet earning a raised eyebrow from him as he considers it.
"Very well." he says after a moment - he's hardly going to say no to something so simple, not when it's something Estinien could find out so easily anyway, and especially not when he's frankly flattered that Estinien would consider information about him something worth wagering.
"If you win, I will answer any three questions you wish."
"Three questions. Does that scale?" Estinien asks, his smile going smug, "Each time I best you -- three more questions?"
He's being more than a bit of an ass, admittedly, but however he may seem to be behaving, he can at least readily admit to himself that he does wish to know more about Aymeric de Borel. His background, what drives him to such persistence, perhaps his aspirations, his interests, what sort of food he likes--
Well, the why of it all, he can lie to himself about that easily enough. But, whatever his motivations, knowing more about Ser Aymeric feels... beneficial. In many, many ways.
"If you chance to best me more than once, or at all, then yes. Three questions each time."
He's still quite determined to win this little bet, but it's rather encouraging that Estinien seems intent on giving him more chances - it confirms that they would both rather be tumbling in the sheets than on a practice field, but they're also both too stubborn to back down from this. Not that Aymeric sees the need to back down if he's going to get what he wants - what they both want - in the end anyway, even if it does take him a few attempts.
"We have a deal." He says with a nod, draining the rest of his tankard.
Estinien likes those odds. Likes that, one way or another, he'll get what he wants. Physical or not, it's a curiosity satisfied.
"I look forward to our match, Ser Aymeric," he says with unhidden arrogance. He sees no reason to hide his cofindence. He will win, easily, he's sure of it. And perhaps the Estinien of a bell ago would've been satisfied with that much -- settling a bet neatly -- but Estinien now, well, he's intrigued by the bet.
He fishes a few gil out of his pocket and sets them on the table, to cover the drinks, as promised, and downs the contents of his flagon. "I will see you tomorrow, then. Noon. On the training field?"
"As do I." Aymeric agrees with that same smug little smile. Either way it turns out, it's going to be interesting, he thinks.
"Tomorrow at noon." he confirms before wishing Estinien a good night. He practically floats back to the De Borel manor afterwards - he could be spending his nights in the dormitories, but like many young knights with noble families he takes advantage of being actually in Ishgard to split his time between there and home. He's up bright and early the following morning, though, already heading to the temple knights' headquarters to get some warm up training in before the fight.
At noon on the dot, he's waiting in the training field. A few other young knights are gathered nearby, having gotten the sense that something was about to happen and sticking around to watch the show.
After days spent convalescing in the gray-brown shadows of the Knight's infirmary, the last thing Estinien wants is to go to some darkened room to contemplate his day -- or, worse yet, return home and endure Alberic pressing him about this new strange change in his behavior again.
So, Estinien whiles away his evening wandering the streets of Ishgard. Though it's made him cross, he can't deny that this new vibrance has made the world much more interesting. It's easy to get lost in all this new detail, green in the Hoplon, gold decorating the Vault, fluttering red in banners and flame, and blue... everywhere.
All that blue, and none of it quite like the clear light in Ser Aymeric's eyes.
Estinien concludes his evening in the Brume, purposefully losing a few rounds of a dice game with teenagers gathered round a blazing sconce, before carrying his tired body back to the dormitories to sleep.
Much like Aymeric, he wakes early the next morning, though his own warm up takes him out to Coerthas. In a rare show of promptness, he arrives to their appointed showdown at precisely noon, and ignores both the hushed murmurs that erupt from the gaggle of onlookers at his arrival and the little leap his heart gives when he spies his sparring partner.
Best to get this squared away -- though, not without a bit of good-natured trash talk, first.
"Really, Ser Aymeric?" Estinien muses with a smile, readying his lance with a sweep that points the business end toward the gathered knights. "Brought your fan club?"
[ was going to handwave us past the fight with this tag, but I figure Aymeric may want to respond to Estinien being a shit. we can scoot past the fight in another tag or two? ]
"No. There is only one person's presence on this field that I care about." Aymeric says smoothly, a hint of a smirk crossing his lips "Though I can't deny it will be enjoyable to have witnesses for my victory."
It's bravado pure and simple, in truth he'd rather not have anybody else around, he has a feeling this fight might be a lot more interesting without witnesses. Still, he was truthful about the first part - his focus is on Estinien and nobody else.
"If you're ready to begin, shall we?" He says, drawing his sword in readiness.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
and responding in kind...
Aymeric tries to pretend he is pragmatic and duty-bound and ambitious, and truly he is all of those things, but he's also idealistic and friendly and something of an incurable romantic, so he has been waiting for the moment his world filled with colour practically since he was a child.
He tells himself the reason he makes a point of noticing the people around him and at least trying to be kind to them is that he refuses to overlook anyone for the circumstances of their birth, that he knows he needs to acquit himself well and prove himself and getting people on his side is part of that, that you never know when a kind word or a friendly smile might completely change somebody's day... or any number of a dozen other reasons he could come up with if somebody asked, that didn't involve admitting the truth that really, truly, he was just looking for them.
He'd come up with half a dozen idle fantasies over the years, of how it might happen, but none of them had involved a group of temple knights sparring on a muddy training field and one perfect cheekbone smudged with rich, earthy brown. The colour has blossomed from there and it seemed to fill the world - even the chainmail shifted from grey to shining silver - but what had caught Aymeric's eye the most was the way one knight's hair remained snow-white, just as it had been before everything changed.
That knight, he later learned, was Estinien, who seemed to eschew company in all its form whenever he got the chance. Aymeric thought he was breathtaking, and found himself hoping against hope that he was the one who had sparked that explosion of colour, although it could well have been any one of half a dozen knights who had been fighting that day.
He'd been trying to make cautious enquiries ever since, slowly adding potential names to his list and then crossing them off one by one - in between training, of course, there was no way he was letting that slack.
He'd hoped to catch Estinien alone when they were put in the same unit, but the mission to Ever Lakes had come up before he had the chance and then... well, then he had to deal with all of that.
It hadn't seemed like the right time, when the dragon was defeated, so he'd made his invitation for a drink and hoped that soon enough he'd have his answer.
When the evening comes - once Estinien is fully recovered from the experience - he finds himself staring into his tankard and wondering if perhaps he should have paid closer attention to all those lone wolf allegations, until he catches movement out the corner of his eye and looks up to see Estinien - late, but here, and that's all that matters.
He smiles warmly in response to his name and nods.
"Estinien," he greets in return "Yes, thank you, though my injures were naught compared to yours. 'tis good to see you on your feet again, my friend."
Whether or not Aymeric considering him a friend so soon, even after what they went through, is welcome or not, it's happening. He motions for Estinien to sit and waves for the barmaid to bring him a drink.
you love to see it
"Aye, 'tis good to be on them again. I do not care to sit idle," Estinien replies as he slides into the offered seat, acutely aware that the charismatic knight has him at a disadvantage.
He does not frown, but neither does he make an effort not to look gruff. Rather, he levels his own storm cloud gaze at Aymeric, and instantly finds that silver blue he'd been hunting for, lit to sunset color by the Forgotten Knight's dim firelight.
Though he thinks he should, he cannot break Aymeric's gaze. "You're handy with a bow."
Re: you love to see it
"I have heard as much," Aymeric admits with a tilt of his head. No sooner are the words out of his mouth than he's wondering if he should have said them - he thinks, perhaps, he can pass it off as the result of idle gossip among the other knights and not an admission that he'd gone asking around about Estinien. If asked, anyway, he may not be an entirely polished diplomat but he's at least learned the value of not volunteering information when he doesn't need to. Mostly.
Then Estinien meets his eyes and his breath catches. There's something nigh on religious about being subject to Estinien's full attention - he's an unfairly beautiful man who is notoriously stand-offish, of course it's going to feel good when he looks at you, but Aymeric is not prepared for the way it feels like a blessing from the Fury herself to be subject to that inscrutable gaze.
(It's not even the first time it's happened, now, and yet.)
He tilts his head in a silent thank you for the compliment - he is, he thinks, doing a remarkable job at keeping his expression friendly, but neutral, and entirely hiding the fact that his heart is doing backflips in his chest right now.
"I intend to master the sword as well, of course, but I confess it is a comfort to have a bow in my hand against an enemy that flies." He admits.
"Though you certainly have no need of a bow, your skill with a lance is... truly something special."
i swear i don't write exclusively bad characters, it just really really seems like it
Estinien arches a brow, wondering, "Asking around about me, are you?"
He is teasing, but the skill is a rusty one, left by the wayside in the ruins of Ferndale, and it leaves him sounding too serious. His gaze, still fixed and focused on Aymeric, does not help to more honestly convey his intent.
"Then, you'll already know that I learned from the best." He doesn't elaborate. If the temple knights are already gossiping about his day-to-day habits, then surely they know he is the ward of the Azure Dragoon. The noble houses love that sort of thing.
"And if you know that, then perhaps I should be paying closer attention to you. To keep us on even footing."
no but I love them. Also sorry about the formatting fail last post
Aymeric dips his head just slightly, he has just enough composure to keep from blushing, but it's a close thing. Instead, he manages a slightly rueful smile.
"Well, you caught my attention." He says easily, more easily than he actually feels. Being this close to Estinien, firelight shining in his silver hair, makes him feel like there's lightning under his skin, like all his calm confidence has decided to vanish for the evening and he's left wondering where his arms are supposed to go.
He tries not to think about it too hard, focuses instead on what Estinien's saying, inclines his head in agreement - he does know where Estinien learned all his tricks, but that doesn't make him any less impressive.
He laughs softly at the comment.
"Ah, I am not so terribly interesting." He says dismissively - in direct contrast to the overwhelming amount of gossip that he knows is constantly flying around him. It seems to dog his steps everywhere he turns - in truth, it was almost a relief to find somebody who knew so little about him they didn't even know his name.
Though, now that Estinien has actually learned it, he could stand to hear it fall from those lips again, in any number of wonderful tones...
no worries! in this house we roll with formatting goof ups
Admittedly, he knows next to nothing about Aymeric de Borel. Hadn't paid much mind to any of the long list of lord's sons and brothers and wards that had once filled their unit's ranks. Another pretty face in the gray sea of them. Before Ever Lakes, to look at any one of them would've been but an unnecessary distraction. There were loftier goals to be pursued, more righteous causes to champion.
But then, Ever Lakes had happened. And now, their unit numbers just two. Two, and of them, it is not Estinien who had left the field of battle unscathed. Two, when there had been so many more, and somewhere between those numbers, many and few, color had seeped into Estinien's world. Soft peach, raven black, crystalline blue.
A distraction, utterly impossible to ignore, but perhaps earned.
Finally, Estinien lets his gaze fall. He studies the mottled browns in the wood, the pale rings where ale and cheap wine had been spilled. Tries, stubbornly, to find something even half as interesting as the color in Aymeric's eyes. "You outlasted the rest of us at Ever Lakes. Tracked me to that ravine. However you did it--" and he is curious "--such dedication to the cause is...commendable."
<3
Aymeric smiles slightly, tilting his head to concede the point - and accept the implied compliment.
He wouldn't mind so much, he thinks, being subject to Estinien's attention. It would feel like a victory he never expected to crave, for one, but more importantly everything he's learned about Estinien implies that he would care more about who Aymeric is and what he can do than he'd listen to petty gossip or familial reputation. He'd like to be measured on his own deeds and not where he came from.
(It's a desire shared by a lot of knights, he knows, and yet despite that so many of them will still judge each other for the very thing they don't wish to be judged for themselves)
Estinien looking away is at once a relief and disappointment. He felt caught by those eyes as surely as if they were a lance pinning him in place, it was an intense feeling... but he didn't hate it.
(He shouldn't let his mind linger on the idea of Estinien pinning him into place, it brings other thoughts that are rather difficult to ignore)
"Stubbornness, I think," he admits with a faint smile "and a certain determination. Traits you clearly share, given your single minded pursuit of our foe..."
lads is it gay to ask a cute boy to sword fight with you
"We have something in common?" he wonders, amused but unsure. Estinien's stubbornness has never been hailed as a virtue -- at least, not 'til now. Charmless obstinance, a tutor had called it that once, and that had been one of the nicer descriptions.
No teacher, no master, would ever call Ser Aymeric's own stubbornness charmless or obstinate -- that much is obvious from a glance.
Aymeric, Estinien thinks to himself, tipping his gaze up to examine him through his lashes, has the makings of a classic Ishgardian hero. Estinien may not have known him before, but Ever Lakes had shown him to be steadfast. Just foolhardy enough to be courageous instead of stupid. And, looking at him now, fine featured and carefully composed, with that mysterious smile--oh, yes, the bards will be singing of him.
So, it feels strange to have their qualities compared favorably, and by the man himself even. Is it idle flattery? Probably. In the city proper, it so often is, but Estinien doesn't really care. No, as he tips his chin back up, he decides that he would not at all mind being idly flattered by Ser Aymeric for an evening.
The bar maid returns with a flagon at just that moment, stopping Estinien from getting annoyed with himself for having such useless thoughts. He accepts the drink with a nod of thanks, doing his best impression of even composure, then turns his attention back to Aymeric.
"Aye, perhaps we do." They call him a lone wolf for a reason. Why form attachments when it seems the fate of soldiers and common folk is to die in fire? Why worry about anything but stopping this war? He is not given to putting names to faces, let alone forging bonds. So, he isn't sure why he decides to add, "Grounds enough to me. Even if our superiors see fit to put us in separate units, I would not mind training with you from time to time. Lance against sword?"
idk but Aymeric's gonna make it gay
Aymeric's lips quirk into a slight smile at Estinien's musing - he doesn't sound convinced, but Aymeric is. He's a little - or a lot - more diplomatic than Estinien is, he can already tell that much, but that doesn't make him any less determined to see his goals realised. He just does it in a slightly different way.
Then Estinien is looking up through his lashes and Aymeric is struck by just how impossibly beautiful he is. All cool shades and sharp edges like he's been carved from marble, or ice, but there's nothing cold about him at all - no, Estinien is heat and fire and passion that draws Aymeric in like a moth. It should make him just as untouchable, but against all good sense Aymeric finds himself more than willing to get burned.
Estinien has to be the one, surely, his soulmate. Aymeric has never wanted anyone like this, not ever.
His smile grows a little wider at the offer and he nods with a barely a moment's hesitation.
"I would be delighted to go a few rounds with you... in the training field." He says smoothly. The pause is brief, brief enough that one might be forgiven for thinking they imagined, or for missing it altogether. It's definitely there, though.
making it worse
He is not given to noticing little pauses, to picking up on implied meanings, or bothering to acknowledge them on the rare occasion when he does. But this one? This one he notices, like grasping hot metal.
It's the color, he decides in that moment. This is what happens to everyone. You see a person, and suddenly you're mad with little distractions -- midnight dark hair, impossibly blue eyes, and slender shoulders that belie what must surely be a strong form.
What an absolute waste of time. Estinien takes a drink, hoping the ale will cool some of the heat building under his skin. It does not. So in the next second, he resolves to solve this insistent feeling by satisfying it.
...After a bit of fun.
Estinien's faint smirk pulls into a grin, "And if you can best me there, perhaps elsewhere, as well."
worse...or better? (Both)
Aymeric sips at his own drink, letting the silence settle between them and just waiting - he's quietly certain that Estinien has picked up on his implication, there's something about the other man's expression that suggests he's mulling it over, and Aymeric is wildly curious to see what he's going to do about it.
When the grin settles across Estinien's lips, Aymeric's own smile becomes smugly pleased, even before he speaks. The words draw a laugh from him, and a rush of unexpected delight. It's hardly a surprise that Estinien is so much more forthright, less prone to dancing around a subject with careful euphemisms the way Aymeric does, but it is quite refreshing. Flattering, too.
"I see." he says softly, taking another sip of his drink as if considering the offer, despite knowing full well he's going to agree to it "Well, if besting you in the training field is what it's going to take, I shall have to make sure I do not lose."
nearby patrons are getting up to leave because the UST is disrupting the vibe
Aymeric may wear a perfectly cool smile, he may seem effortlessly collected, utterly composed, but Estinien can see that he is a gambler. Stubborn, yes, and audaciously ambitious, too. Perhaps they do have something in common -- many things, even.
Estinien can see the fire burning him. Just a hint of it, there in that smug smile and his performatively slow thoughtfulness, like a furtively stolen glimpse of another soldier's form in the barracks, when you aren't quite sure whether they'd meant to be seen.
It is a blaze not unlike his own. Less dark, perhaps, but burning no less hot. And, near as he can tell, directed entirely his way, at the moment.
He likes it. A bit too much, actually. Would love to have the chance to coax it out of him, see it unmasked on his face, in his eyes, in brilliant color. And maybe it'd be most efficient to just get a room upstairs and fumble through finding it now, but no -- it'll be all the better if the flame is first stoked.
Like a dare, Estinien says, "Best not disappoint me, Ser Aymeric. When shall we have our contest?"
they're just jealous
Aymeric had fully intended to bring up soulmates during this meeting, had wanted to make subtle enquiries to determine if Estinien was, in fact, the reason he now saw in full colour - if Estinien saw it too. It's rare to be so easily distracted from his purpose, and yet right now he doesn't even care if Estinien is his soulmate, as long as he doesn't stop flirting with him.
(He's sure he is, he must be, for things to get so heated between them so quickly, it only made sense)
His smile doesn't waver, but his eyes burn with determination at the challenge Estinien lays down before him.
"Why not tomorrow? If you are recovered well enough..." He doesn't want to waste any time at all getting this man into his bed.
If asked directly whether he or Estinien would win in a fight, he might have been unsure, they were both very capable. In these circumstances? He isn't going to let himself lose.
me, too tbh
Since he'd been pulled from the burning ruins of his home, Estinien had wanted for only one thing. It is a strange feeling, desiring aught else. But, it is there now, amid all this new color. But soulmates don't even enter into this. It's just hunger, and yes, it is a gnawing one, sudden and sizzling. A raw desire to see what animal thing hides beneath that perfect smile.
He will focus better once it's sated. And until then, well, it's fun, trying to get the pretty high born boy to crack.
Estinien makes a point of letting his gaze travel slowly down Aymeric's form, then back up to his eyes once more. "You're sure you can wait that long?"
Re: me, too tbh
There's something about the way Estinien's gaze keeps catching on him that sends lightning racing up and down Aymeric's spine, and he finds himself idly wondering if he'll ever get used to being the focus of the other man's attention. He's not sure he wants to.
Having those stormy eyes trace down his body, too, is a thrill that brings a satisfied smirk to his lips and in truth he's not sure he can wait that long, but he maintains his composure. Strangely, it helps him quell the raging fire of his wanting to know that the feeling is clearly entirely mutual - it's going to happen sooner or later, he doesn't have to embarrass himself by being desperate about it.
"Are you?" He returns with a quirk of his eyebrow.
Re: me, too tbh
In a battle of words, Estinien is sure that Ser Aymeric will eventually emerge victorious, but he is not totally unarmed, himself. He has his taciturn obstinance to rely on. One shoulder pops up in a noncommital shrug, and he takes a long drink of ale before responding.
"You'll find, Ser Aymeric, that I can be very patient when needed." He tilts his chin up in an effort to hide the smile that tips the corners of his mouth. "Hunting dragons, as I'm sure you know, helps to build that sort of endurance."
Re: me, too tbh
Some part of Aymeric is wondering if he isn't shooting an arrow into his own foot by meeting this challenge head on and delaying the chance to get his hands on Estinien, but a much larger part of himself knows that Estinien wouldn't be nearly so interested if Aymeric conceded too soon.
Well, that and he's having far too much fun to give in, no matter how his baser urges might desire it.
The tilt of Estinien's head does nothing to hide the smile, and Aymeric's expression is still very much like a contented cat with an entire bowlful of cream.
"Ah, yes, one imagines it does..." He agrees smoothly "I shouldn't worry, though, such endurance is not like to be required, I'll beat you soon enough."
Re: me, too tbh
What a strange man he is. Clearly a superlative speaker and soldier, and nigh imperturbable to boot. He'd be better served putting his talents to use making friends among the other noble house sons and brothers who stand to inherit. And yet, here he is, in a dark tavern, making foolish deals with a lowborn orphan.
Estinien is not often intrigued by people, but this young man -- Estinien cannot deny that he is interesting.
"If you can't beat me, though, I'd have payment..." he doesn't need to think it over, he already knows what he wants, but he still pauses a moment to gauge Aymeric's reaction before adding, "Information, maybe. About you."
Re: me, too tbh
Aymeric, of course, would argue that somebody as gifted and ambitious as Estinien is surely going to rise through the ranks, if not follow in his mentor's footsteps and become the Azure Dragoon himself, and actually he's an excellent person to form a connection with.
If he was actually thinking about Estinien in such terms, which he isn't. He's actually struggling to think about anything in that moment beyond how beautiful Estinien's smile is and how he wants to see it again and again.
He does snap out of it when the other man speaks, though, the shifting terms of the bet earning a raised eyebrow from him as he considers it.
"Very well." he says after a moment - he's hardly going to say no to something so simple, not when it's something Estinien could find out so easily anyway, and especially not when he's frankly flattered that Estinien would consider information about him something worth wagering.
"If you win, I will answer any three questions you wish."
Re: me, too tbh
He's being more than a bit of an ass, admittedly, but however he may seem to be behaving, he can at least readily admit to himself that he does wish to know more about Aymeric de Borel. His background, what drives him to such persistence, perhaps his aspirations, his interests, what sort of food he likes--
Well, the why of it all, he can lie to himself about that easily enough. But, whatever his motivations, knowing more about Ser Aymeric feels... beneficial. In many, many ways.
"Or will it be just the once?"
Re: me, too tbh
"If you chance to best me more than once, or at all, then yes. Three questions each time."
He's still quite determined to win this little bet, but it's rather encouraging that Estinien seems intent on giving him more chances - it confirms that they would both rather be tumbling in the sheets than on a practice field, but they're also both too stubborn to back down from this. Not that Aymeric sees the need to back down if he's going to get what he wants - what they both want - in the end anyway, even if it does take him a few attempts.
"We have a deal." He says with a nod, draining the rest of his tankard.
Re: me, too tbh
"I look forward to our match, Ser Aymeric," he says with unhidden arrogance. He sees no reason to hide his cofindence. He will win, easily, he's sure of it. And perhaps the Estinien of a bell ago would've been satisfied with that much -- settling a bet neatly -- but Estinien now, well, he's intrigued by the bet.
He fishes a few gil out of his pocket and sets them on the table, to cover the drinks, as promised, and downs the contents of his flagon. "I will see you tomorrow, then. Noon. On the training field?"
Re: me, too tbh
"As do I." Aymeric agrees with that same smug little smile. Either way it turns out, it's going to be interesting, he thinks.
"Tomorrow at noon." he confirms before wishing Estinien a good night. He practically floats back to the De Borel manor afterwards - he could be spending his nights in the dormitories, but like many young knights with noble families he takes advantage of being actually in Ishgard to split his time between there and home. He's up bright and early the following morning, though, already heading to the temple knights' headquarters to get some warm up training in before the fight.
At noon on the dot, he's waiting in the training field. A few other young knights are gathered nearby, having gotten the sense that something was about to happen and sticking around to watch the show.
Re: me, too tbh
So, Estinien whiles away his evening wandering the streets of Ishgard. Though it's made him cross, he can't deny that this new vibrance has made the world much more interesting. It's easy to get lost in all this new detail, green in the Hoplon, gold decorating the Vault, fluttering red in banners and flame, and blue... everywhere.
All that blue, and none of it quite like the clear light in Ser Aymeric's eyes.
Estinien concludes his evening in the Brume, purposefully losing a few rounds of a dice game with teenagers gathered round a blazing sconce, before carrying his tired body back to the dormitories to sleep.
Much like Aymeric, he wakes early the next morning, though his own warm up takes him out to Coerthas. In a rare show of promptness, he arrives to their appointed showdown at precisely noon, and ignores both the hushed murmurs that erupt from the gaggle of onlookers at his arrival and the little leap his heart gives when he spies his sparring partner.
Best to get this squared away -- though, not without a bit of good-natured trash talk, first.
"Really, Ser Aymeric?" Estinien muses with a smile, readying his lance with a sweep that points the business end toward the gathered knights. "Brought your fan club?"
[ was going to handwave us past the fight with this tag, but I figure Aymeric may want to respond to Estinien being a shit. we can scoot past the fight in another tag or two? ]
Re: me, too tbh
"No. There is only one person's presence on this field that I care about." Aymeric says smoothly, a hint of a smirk crossing his lips "Though I can't deny it will be enjoyable to have witnesses for my victory."
It's bravado pure and simple, in truth he'd rather not have anybody else around, he has a feeling this fight might be a lot more interesting without witnesses. Still, he was truthful about the first part - his focus is on Estinien and nobody else.
"If you're ready to begin, shall we?" He says, drawing his sword in readiness.
i powerplayed a wee bit for the handwave so plz plz let me know if that wasn't cool and I'll edit!!
No it's perfect <3
Re: No it's perfect <3
Re: No it's perfect <3
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patented "oh no I'm about to feel a feeling" Estinien Exit
classic
"i have struggled in vain and i can bear it no longer..." but make it AGGRESSIVELY Worse
better*
Re: better*
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now i reveal that i wanted to do the tie so i could write a litely trashy tag
a perfectly reasonable reason XD
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need to start writing less bad characters sigh
'bad' is a weird way to spell perfect
i appreciate that you love this lad
Re: i appreciate that you love this lad
Re: i appreciate that you love this lad
lmk if this skips too much
no it is perfect here have some trash also sorry i took so long to reply ;A;
worth the wait!
i already told you i love that tag but i have to say it again djaklf
<3
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Re: <3
just letting them have some fun
Re: just letting them have some fun
probably ftb after this lmaooo sob sorry!!!
<3
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