Haumeric was preparing for bed, a shiver wracking his form as he removed layers of clothing. It seemed like so long ago since he hadn’t had to worry about being warm, about the barest change in temperature undoing the hard work that had gone into warming his clothes throughout the day. He honestly could not understand how anyone could bear to touch him when he practically felt dead temperature-wise.He was so lost in thought that he didn’t hear the gentle click of the latch to his door as it was opened. His mind fixated on neatly folding his shirt and setting it aside before reaching for his night shirt. It was then that he caught sight of movement, freezing when his eyes landed on Hermenost. Was his magic bleeding over? Is that what had brought him here? No matter the reason he swallowed thickly, remembering the ugly scars that stretched from his waist and disappeared beneath the line of his pants.Hastily Haumeric plucked up his night shirt and tugged it over his head before turning to face Hermenost, forcing a smile. “Apologies. I was just getting ready for bed.”
He hadn’t knocked and perhaps that was rude. It mattered little to him in the past and even less to him now. Now, as he had been for so long, he could return to what he was. Could be what he had tried to be when he had run off to hide as a friar: a simple man taking care of his own. Toeing open the door, ignoring the burning from the odd grip he had had to employ to manage the latch while holding the two mugs. He was not an amazing cook but there were a few things he could manage for himself or general morale.
”Evening.” his eyes flicked to the pale mass of scars curious but respectful. If someone asked about his own multitude of scars they would have been in for a long story. Yet he doubted the story about Haumeric’s would be dull. The young man had a way of getting into serious trouble. “The rest of the house is warm, worry not.” a knowing lip twitch. “But you aren’t. Mulled sweet wine.” he said softly as if that explained everything when he handed over the mug.
Here is some information about the weapons used by the Heavens’ Ward, courtesy of a recent community broadcast.
I imagine this will eventually be officially localized into English. I have elected to defer to the localization wherever possible; therefore, I am using the localization titles as opposed to the titles I previously invented. I remain grateful to those who have said they prefer my contrivances over those of the localization.
I like dark series, but not like edgy, gritty stuff that’s bleak for the sake of being bleak. I dont’ like seeing good and honest characters get screwed over while immoral and terrible people prosper because “that’s just how the world works, sweetie.”
I like watching characters go through hell but come out of it all on top because they’re strong and determined and refuse to give up. I like dark plotlines that show what an awful place the world is, and why, because it’s such an awful place, you need good people in your life to help you get through it.
Ser Zephirin: DO NOT FIGHT ZEPHIRIN. He has killed before and he will kill again. He has a fucking greatsword and uses Salted Earth way too much because he's salty as hell. Please do not fight him.
Ser Grinnaux: He's all brawn and no brain. You could probably kick his ass with a card game and call it a day. Fight Grinnaux.
Ser Adelphel: Do not take his baby face lightly. He is angry. He is ready to fight. He wants to prove himself to his superiors and will do ANYTHING to do just that. Do not fight Adelphel.
Ser Charibert: He's a nerd. You HAVE to win. Fight Charibert.
Ser Haumeric: He can probably freeze your ass and break it--he's so good with manipulating ice that he would probably have you beat the instant the fight begins. Do not fight him.
Ser Noudenet: He summons METEORS. KILL HIM. DO IT.
Ser Hermenost: Basically Grinnaux, but smarter. Fight him anyways.
Ser Janlenoux: If you can manage to keep Ser Adelphel out of the fight, you're golden. Otherwise, do not fight Janlenoux.
Ser Vellguine: He's an old man. Why would you fight an old man? You monster.
Ser Ignasse: Pull out his facial hair during combat and watch him cry. You must win.
Ser Paulecrain: He has a thing for Grinnaux probably so you could win by insulting Grinnaux constantly while fighting him.
Ser Guerrique: He has an axe too. Too many axe wielders. Do not fight Ser Guerrique.
"Well, my arm's asleep, but I'm glad you're comfortable." from Hermenost the Thunderous
Haumeric lifted his head slightly, sucking in a quick breath, jarred out of his light doze by Hermenost’s voice. He turned his head, staring at the other man’s face, his pale green eyes dulled by darkness but it was easy to see that there was no true irritation in them. With a contemplative hum he shifted, trailing his fingertips across the dark hair on Hermenost’s face, still drowsy. “Would you like me to move?” he questioned, his voice hushed as if worried he would disturb the calm that had enveloped the room.He felt more than saw Hermenost shake his head, Haumeric’s lips quirking as he brushed his thumb across the warrior’s lips. The mage’s hand then moved to rest against the side of Hermenost’s neck, enjoying the feel of his pulse, steady and strong against his fingertips. He allowed that reassuring rhythm to coax him back to sleep, his eyes slowly slipping shut, feeling warm and safe.
“Are you alright after that person bit you last night?” From Hermenost Levinlight.
It was an unexpected question considering that he he had thought himself to be alone. It was very obvious that his attention was divided and that he was not paying as much attention as he should have been, Swallowing thickly he turned in his seat to stare at Hermenost, the man that had come with him on the mission. It had been a normal mission for them, one which had ended well, however he had not thought that the warrior had seen one of the undead dig its teeth into his arm. He moved to cover the bite with his hand, pushing healing aether into it. It barely responded, the tissue barely responding. Something was certainly happening in the wound, however he was doing what he could to keep it isolated, to keep the taint from spreading as he worked on a possible cure. That was not something that Hermenost needed to know, however. He knew that if he was not successful that his brothers would do what needed to be done. He would take appropriate measures and ensure he would not harm anyone if it came to that.“I am well.” he answered, inclining his head to the warrior, keeping his expression neutral. “Thank you. It seems to be healing well.”
A carefully wrapped package in blue paper adorned by a white and gold bow is left outside his chamber. Inside is a rather large bottle of wine,of a fine vintage, and small tins with an assortment of dried fruits and snacks. Carefully nestled alongside the bottle is a leather bound tome. A note attached to the bottle reads, "Merry Starlight Ser Hermenost"
He nearly tripped over it, not expecting the parcel even though the eldest member still standing never missed a year since he had joined this revered brotherhood. It was a soothing gesture, one that did well to remind him that he wasn’t quite alone despite his orders continuously making him feel as such. Stepping over the care package, he moved on down the hallway to the perpetrator’s door, setting a simple wooden chest down. Wrapping was not quite his forte, nor was the act of giving gifts. But he hopes, regardless, that the dragoon will enjoy the new supply of parchment, ink, and quills considering how rapidly they seem to burn through them.
Hermenost was only half listening to the briefing, just another long winded speech over a simple mission. After so many years in the Ward one learned certain tricks. Tricks such as watching the other brothers. The usual offenders were 'misbehaving' covertly but without taking his gaze off of the far wall he reached over to pat the mage to his left's knee to reassure them that any worries they might have over their assignment, they will be safe.
Haumeric let out a soft sigh as his eyes moved from brother to brother, listening to them quietly, feeling gradually more and more on edge. He much preferred when things were absolute, when there was no question that the mission would be simple and flawless. Tension creeped into his shoulders, his jaw clenching as he nervously adjusted the ruffles of cloth lining his sleeves. He was so distracted that he jolted in surprise when he felt a hand on his thigh, his eyes widening slightly before he quickly schooled his expression into neutrality. Slowly his eyes slid to the side, locking on the side of Hermenost’s face before returning his gaze to the knight speaking, his hand loosening from his sleeve. He then hesitantly moved to curl his fingers around Hermenost’s hand, gently squeezing as a way of saying thanks; of all the knights in the Heavensward, he had never anticipated that this would be his greatest source of strength.
from Hermenost: Cheek, shoulder, biceps, wrist, and knee.
Cheek: “I want to tell you I love you.”/Deep affection/DevotionThe palm against his cheek was jarring in its warmth, causing him to jolt at the initial contact, eyes wide, before leaning into the touch and closing his eyes. It was quiet but intimate, something he would only indulge in here, in his room, removed from everything else. Hesitantly he reached up and covered Hermenost’s with his own as he let out a quiet, content sigh, gradually coaxing himself into relaxing. Shoulder: Worry/Concern for other/Fear Haumeric was about to surge forward, into the fray before him, when a strong hand clasped his shoulder, rooting him in place. His head whipped around, his eyes narrow as he studied the look on Hermenost’s face. Typically the man looked bored or disinterested, but this time… There was something lurking in the man’s pale eyes that made him pause when he was about to lecture him, made his desire to enter the battlefield falter. Finally he relented, giving a small nod before stepping aside, allowing Hermenost to join the fray in his stead.Biceps: Aggravation/Irritation/“You are an idiot.” Haumeric grimaced and twisted his head to the side at the fury that contorted Hermenost’s face, feeling guilt coil in his gut. He wanted to try and pull free, wanted to yell back at the other man, but he couldn’t bring himself to, not after injuring himself in such a manner. What right did he have when he scolded the other man for similar?Wrist: Fear of losing youHermenost’s grip on him was gentle but firm, holding him as if he was delicate, breakable. Haumeric turned to look at him, staring at the look in his eyes before his own went heavy-lidded. So much had happened to them, especially to him, that he couldn’t blame Hermenost for looking at him that way. All of them had been damaged by what Thordan had done, some just hid it better than others. Thus he moved back to the bed, sinking down onto it next to the warrior and moving to lean his shoulder against Hermenost’s; he could stay there a bit longer, there wasn’t anything outside of his room that needed his attention more.
Knee: “Don’t worry, I’m here for you.”It was another sleepless night that left him shivering, his breath frosting in the suddenly chill air. He tried to control the power that was coursing through him, his entire form brimming with power due to being abruptly woken from another nightmare. He heard the door open and his shoulders sagged in relief, listening as footsteps approached. A large hand gently clasped one of his raised knees, gently squeezing; the simple touch left him feeling steady and far safer than he had any right to feel
From Haumeric: Hair, Cheek, Waist, Over the Heart, Biceps, Thigh, Wrist
Words tucked beneath on account of length.
Hair: Yearning
He yawned, eyes shut as the healer tended to the long claw marks that had marred his back. His armor had saved him from the worst of it. Barely any blood had been drawn and, truth be told, he had not even been aware of taking the blow until a low ranking knight had spied the shredded metal. Any concern they had displayed, he had brushed off until his return to the Vault. There he had received a stern look which he had endured with a grimace when he was ordered to sit and remain still while worked.
Part of him wondered if those chilly hands had lulled him to sleep for a time, awareness returning suddenly when fingers found a snag in his messy hair. He tipped his head away from it, freeing the finger and undoing the knot. The hand didn’t return, mage moving away now that their job was done. He followed suit, gathering up his ruined armor and speaking his thanks.
Cheek: "I want to tell you I love you."/Deep affection/Devotion
For a moment, Hermenost thought that the reason the hand had been placed on his cheek was simply to examine the scar along it. It was an old souvenir from his last few days in the priesthood but not a story he actively shared. It was not the most grand of tales but it was because of one of the other Brothers. The skin against his turned warm making him blink in surprise. Their was a playful gleam in their eye, a ghost of a smile as the heat of the hand was rivaled by his face’s.
Waist: Possessiveness/"You are mine."
The night had been an adventure to say the least. It was surprising just how little it took to tip the mage over the bring and into full blown inebriation. Rubbing his eyes, unsure of just when he had fallen asleep on the couch, Haumeric squeezed between him and the backing, he made to move off. And was stopped. Surprisingly strong arms had hooked themselves about his waist like a living, heavy, belt.
He wasn’t going to be stopped, stepping away from the furniture and was rather stunned as the drunken man came with, their lower half crashing to the rugged floor with a rather worrying, thump. Hermenost’s head tipped straight back, a long, growling, groan escaped him as the arms still held true. No doubt he could have dragged them all the way to the bedroom but he decided that they might not be appreciative of that when they sobered up. So instead, he pried the limbs off, picked them up with no small amount of effort, and carried them properly into the bedroom before borderline tossing them onto the sheets and firmly covering them with the blankets so they could sleep it off.
Over the heart: "I love you."
It was not unusual for him to shift while sleeping, glad simply for the company of the other man and it was an easier way to tend to the mage if something went awry. Groggy, he was aware of the temperature beginning to plummet and dragged himself out of bed to grab at the stack of heavy blankets. They were finely crafted and bought cheap on account of there being little use for them in Thanalan. But for warming Haumeric, they proved an immeasurable boon.
Repeating the other knight’s name softly a few times until bright blue eyes snapped open, Hermenost waited for them to wake up enough to realize what was happening while pulling the blanket over their heads to lock in the heat better. He shivered as an icy hand placed itself over his heart and enjoyed feeling it warm slowly as the mage got their aether under control and returned to sleep.
Biceps: Aggravation/Irritation/"You are an idiot."
The battle was about to begin, heretics cornered in their nest and Hermenost was more than ready to finish the mission off and return to his chambers for a long rest. He would spearhead the assault, scatter their forces so that the temple knights could mow down their enemies with ease. Or at least he would have except the other Brother had overruled the plan, placing a hand on his bicep and shaking his head. And so he was trapped waiting, now forced to hang back and overwatch how the tide of battle went. Neither of them should have been required to take the field and so Haumeric would keep them out of danger.
A wise course of action considering the heretics were a desperate bunch. Examinations below the floorboards had revealed multiple missing shipments of firesand. It was easy enough to assume that they thought if they could sacrifice themselves to kill a member of the exalted Heavens’ Ward it might be considered a victory.
Thigh: Sympathy/empathy
Glancing up from the pages of the book, he eyed the mage that had suddenly taken a seat beside him without a word. The Vault gardens were peaceful, easier to hide in then his own room on some days. Some days but not this one. He desired very much to ask just how he had been tracked down but just could not bring himself to bother and returned to his reading. He could guess why they were here and he similarly did not wish to talk about that. They seemed to understand, leaning close to read over his shoulder, a hand moving to linger on Hermenost’s thigh after a swift pat.
Wrist: Fear of losing you
Rolling his shoulder, heavy plate settling, Hermenost made to grab his axe from the rack only to pause as a gloved hand wrapped around his wrist to stop him. It was odd for a number of reasons, a brow raised as he pulled back, arms crossing over his chest as he regarded the ice mage. He remained silent, appraising their expression before nodding. It was, perhaps, touching their concern but unnecessary. Once more he reached for the axe, this time able to shoulder the weapon without interference.
“You should not worry, Brother-” he leaned forward, green eyes brightening. “-After all, you are coming with.”
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