The pile of lace, velvet, silk, and satin brocade scared Ghost. The fabrics were rich and fine. He hugged the plush towel around himself and wondered once again why his Ishgardians thought him suitable for such beautiful things. He was a construct at worst, a thief at best. Considering him spoken was a stretch for many given his nature was fog and not even solid flesh. Hells, the flesh he wore was stolen.
“Have you tried any of it on, yet, Sebastien?” Marius’s voice came through the closed bedroom door.
“Uh, no, not yet.” Ghost glanced toward the door, squinting at it as if daring one of them to open it.
“Do you need help?” Idristan’s voice this time.
Ghost sighed and rasped out, “No, m’able t’figure it out.”
He swore this was bonding time for Idristan and Marius, bullying him into traditional Ishgardian things. The last time they stuck him in a suit was for a small party. This was a gala affair according to the pair of them, the first ball of the season and a really big deal. Ghost flopped down on the bed and stuffed the pillow over his face. Sadly trying to suffocate himself wasn’t going to get him out of this. He didn’t need to breathe.
The pillow thumped to the floor after hitting the wall it was thrown at. Ghost sat up, his long dark hair shimmering silver in the flicker of the light cast by the fire in the hearth. A full length mirror reflected himself back at him.
He squinted his grey eyes. Dull. No colour like Idristan’s beautiful green. He plucked up a few strands of his hair, still damp from the bath. Boring. Black with a weird silver that reflected off the bottom of the strands. And every now and again, he glowed. Like a fucking candlebra abruptly lit up.
Marius was tall, willowy, handsome with his silver streaked hair boasting a lifetime of joys and sorrows. All of which he could count as his own, know they were woven into his being because he lived through them himself. The pride stitched into his graceful posture he’d earned.
Idristan was stunning. Soft, white hair that shone like the full moon flowed down the elegant curve of his back. His eyes full of life and determination, things taught to him over the passage of a life he fought hard to keep. He too hard earned his pride.
Ghost had not. His existence was nothing to be proud of. His lifetimes were stolen and none of the knowledge he’d acquired was his own. That too he could steal in the blink of an eye from the multitude of souls he’d reaped over the centuries.
And they’d call him silly if they knew he thought this way. With his infinite lives and infinite knowledge at his fingertips. There was something to be said for a single lifetime, for memories and knowledge earned, for foolish youthful mistakes and the wisdom that came with age. He envied the men he loved.
His gaze drifted away from the mirror toward the pile of elegant clothing on the bed. The two had picked it out with him in mind. Ghost was not about to disappoint either. He began the arduous task of pulling on the clothing. The slacks fit him like a glove and the leather shoes proved to be quite comfortable. The lace cuffs he thought a bit much. This is about where he realized he couldn’t finish alone.
Ghost pulled open the door, letting the pair plastered against it inside the bedroom. He smiled sheepishly at them. “I need help.” The corset laces ran through his fingers as he drew his arm outward, a single eyebrow crooking. “Whichever one of you is at fault for this can do it.”
Idristan grinned and stepped around Ghost, plucking the laces away from him to start the rigorous task of cinching the corset in around the thief’s figure. A couple of pulls in and Ghost found himself gripping the foot of the bed. Marius watched the pair through his fog-tinted spectacles, the enchantment in them allowing him relatively normal sight.
“Have t’be so tight?”
Both of the men behind him answered in unison, “Yes, definitely. Mhmm.”
“Are y’both wearing one too?” He glanced over his shoulder. Marius shook his head, but he was smart enough to be wearing formal robes. Idristan grinned at Ghost. The knee length topcoat he wore lay snug to his torso. “You are.”
Idristan furrowed his brow and tanked the strings tighter. “Of course. And why not have a waistline to envy?” The strings were tied off and Idristan took Ghost by the shoulders to steer him over to the mirror. “Look.”
The image reflected back at him surprised him. The waistcoat pulled his waist in and accentuated the triangular shape of his body from shoulders down. Like Idristan, Ghost partook of high-energy exercise on the regular, namely a lot of running in dangerous places and climbing into locations he shouldn’t be in. It kept him in excellent shape. The curve of his ass was on full display in the tailored pants and waistcoat.
“It’s practically indecent and you’re fully clothed.” Marius murmured, his gaze avid on his husband’s image in the mirror.
“This why your coats always have that sweet little bounce at the back?” Ghost peered at Idristan, one hand sneaking around Idristan to run down his back and rear.
“Yes, it is. Now hold still. We’re almost done.”
Idristan let him have his feel. He took the opportunity while Ghost was distracted to pull the white lace cravat into place and tie it for him. Marius handed over a jeweled pin which Idristan placed centrally in the cravat. The topcoat was regal in Ghost’s opinion, far too nice to go on him. Neither wanted to hear his protests and the fine brocade was soon fastened around him. It fit perfectly. The silverthread leaf-like patterns on deep black satin fabric set the varying hues in his hair off, which Marius took the time to comb out neatly for him and braid. A pair of cufflinks that matched the pin was the final touch.
The pair stepped back to eye Ghost. He stood a bit rigidly, like he was afraid to move. But his gaze was fixed on the mirror and the image there. He looked good in all this finery. Just like he might very well belong on the arm of a Viscount and in the company of the heir of a Baron. Ghost spin on a high heel and grinned at the pair of Ishgardians. He ran his palms down his sides, taking in the smooth feeling of the coat and the shape the waistcoat made of him.
“Think they might make one of these t’go under m’leathers?” Like he needed something more beneath those.
It didn't take long for Marius to return home from Priarch, once an update had been gained from Edarien, Talan, Idristan and Kuni. Opening the door, he shed his coat, leaned his staff against the wall near the hat rack and called out for his husband. "Sebastian... I'm home!" he called... only for silence to greet him.
Curious, he stepped into the hallway that led downstairs, only to encounter an absolutely noisome stench. He coughed, covering his mouth, and carefully proceeded downstairs, wrapping a sleeve over his nose. Growing concerned as he found no Ghost still, and instead found an oven from which black smoke was still wafting from, he took a trepidatious look inside, only to recoil. Whatever lump of meat was in the oven was nothing more than burnt ash and inedible flesh from whatever animal it had come from.
Opening the windows to let the stink out, Marius prowled into the bedroom, where he finally found his husband, sitting on the bed, pouting with his arms over his chest. With a gentle smile, the mage sat next to him and touched his arm. "Took a nap and forgot you had something in the oven?" he asked fondly. Ghost flicked a sullen look at him.
"I was trying to make dinner for you," the other man rasped out. Marius leaned in and placed a gentle kiss against Sebastian's lips, then leaned his forehead against the other's as well.
"I forget too, sometimes. It's okay. We'll go out and let the house air out a little. Then we can come back and I'll help you forget alllll about it. How does that sound?" Never one to resist on the rare occasion Marius flirted, Ghost leaned in and pressed his mouth to his husband's in a more thorough, demanding kiss.
"Noodles?" he asked hopefully, drawing away after long enough to ensure that Marius was addle-brained enough to grant whatever he wished for. It worked. Marius was breathless and blushing by the time the kiss was finished, even after being wed all these years. It never failed.
The mending of what has been broken ought not be done for what one might receive in return, but for its own sake: to restore things to their proper state of being. You could say, then, that healing is not merely an act of compassion, but a kind of justice.
I believe that we are on a familiar enough basis that we might dispense with polite titles and pleasantries, don't you think? I do hope my blood didn't leave too large a stain on your floor. As well, I hope you have recovered from that nasty business with your lungs. To the point, then.
I would like to invite you to the cafe that we have opened for discussion of a subject within your expertise. Refreshments will be served to all present.
Please respond at your earliest convenience to the address listed below. I do sincerely hope that you feel comfortable attending, as the cafe is intended to be neutral ground. If you would prefer an alternate location, please indicate so with your response.
[13:30](Talia RedwingMateus) Talan adjusted his gloves as he strode up the grave path that led into the yard of what was once the Covenant. His footsteps were quiet, so quiet he didn't even displace the stone he moved across. No reason to announce his presence, after all, until he was truly there. But it had also become habit, a fox treading the ground on careful steps to avoid being seen, being noticed. A habit borne from long long practice in his trade. A sniper who left tracks was a useless one, after all. "Afternoon, Marius," he called, when he was mere footsteps away from the Elezen at his table. No signs of hostility in him, none easily noticed anyway. Not unless one knew what they were looking for in the cool of his voice, the even of his tone.
[13:35](Marius Vieremont) Set out on the table were four plates of differing dishes, along with four different drinks. Settled between the dishware was a tome of considerable weight and an equal amount of dust and cobwebs. As Talan approached, Marius lifted a hand and without touching the book, turned the page. Magic! The archmage looked exhausted, with dark circles under his pale eyes, beneath the Fog glasses that sat perched on his nose. At Talan's voice, he glanced up, startled. "Oh." He squinted at the unfamiliar fox, trying to place him. "... Talan?" he guessed, after a brief study of facial features. "What happened to you?" he asked, brows furrowed in confusion.
[13:42](Talia RedwingMateus) "Oh, hey, you noticed something other than yourself," the words were clipped, the first sign of hostility present in the fox before he lashed out in a quick, curled fist strike aimed right for the mage's face, for the curve of his jaw. "I'm shocked." He wasn't aiming to break him, after all. There was anger more visible now, in the sway of his tail behind him and how rigidly it was being held, in the clench of his jaw and the subtle hum of tension that was coiled in the entirety of him.
[13:48](Marius Vieremont) Marius blinked in further befuddlement at the hostile words, opening his mouth to speak - and then pain burst in his jaw as his head whipped around, glasses flying - and the world went dark. "Talan!" he gasped, holding his jaw. He wasn't a physical combat veteran! There was no way he could have seen the punch coming. "What in the Fury's bloody name was -that- for?" he demanded, bending over his chair to search for his glasses with one hand.
[13:53](Talia RedwingMateus) Talan reached out a hand to grab Marius' robe, fingers fisting in the material to hold him up, away from his glasses. May as well leave the mage in the dark, considering how he seemed to live most of his life that way anyway. "Idristan." He may as well state that much plainly, let Marius know exactly why he'd lashed out at him. "And the way you treat him." He kept the mage propped him in the chair, but other than pinning him and holding him there, keeping him blinded, no other violence seemed to be forthcoming, he made no more motion to strike him again. "It's really fucking rich, you know? I thought you were supposed to care about him, but really? You decided to dump everything that was going on with Ghost on his shoulders without even so much as a how-the-fuck-are-you." His voice was a hiss, as he leaned in, "Or was I right, and you only give a care if you've got someone's dick in your mouth?"
[13:55](Talia RedwingMateus) || Somewhere in the distance, a small mammet had pressed the zoom function on the camera he was holding, an artistic slow-motion take of the moment Talan's fist had first impacted Marius' jaw, and his glasses flew off. Truly, Koschei was at his finest as a cameraman.
[14:01](Marius Vieremont) Marius found himself abruptly hauled up and held back against the chair, but he didn't try to resist, instead holding his hands up to show he wasn't a threat (though he could be, if he wanted to). The point, however, was de-escalation, not making things worse. "Have you spoken with Idristan?" the mage asked coolly, calmly. "Because he was infuriated that I hadn't told him -sooner-, despite having just returned from being away for moons."
[14:08](Talia RedwingMateus) Talan snorted out a breath. "I was the first person he talked to after he'd come to see you." He eyed those hands, but still seemed disinclined to let Marius go. "I had to spend bells trying to get him calmed down. After everything else he's been through, dumping this on him /belatedly/ sure didn't fucking help." His voice an angry hiss as his other hand thumped down onto the table. But at least it was the wood it impacted, and not the mage again. "But then, you wouldn't know what he's been through because you Didn't. Fucking. Ask." Which seemed to be one of the entire things he was so pissed about. "So what's your fuckin' deal, anyway? Passivity to the point of apathy? Or do you just not care about him past treating him like a petulant child now that he's no longer spending time in yours and Ghost's bed?" He was curious, but he was also still angry, his tail sweeping behind him through the air. "Although considering /you/ broke Ghost at one point so badly it reset his entire fuckin' personality, I'm not sure why you're so frantic /this/ time."
[14:14](Marius Vieremont) There was so much, so very much to address in what Talan was saying, all of it just a shade off - a massive misunderstanding of gigantic proportions. Marius inhaled a slow breath through his nose, letting it out in a sigh through his lips, struggling to retain his composure. "First you're angry that I told him at all, now you're angry that I told you what you both assumed was 'belatedly'. I will tell you what I told him: I told him as soon as I figured out what was going on. And I did, in fact, ask how he was when he arrived, but he brushed off the question - as he /always does/. I am not a man to pry into others' business unless they would care to share, Talan. It's rude. And by the end that's exactly what he was behaving like, a petulant child. As for him no longer spending time with Ghost and I -sexually-, that is his decision to make and I respect him. He seems happy with you and Caedh." The mage's eyes narrowed. "And -that- was an accident. I was /trying/ to fix Ghost."
[14:17](Marius Vieremont) "Am I not permitted to be imperfect?"
[14:29](Talia RedwingMateus) "You're permitted to be imperfect," he agreed on that point at least. "What you're not permitted to do is constantly run roughshod over Ghost's other partner. You had time before going to Idristan to talk to Lyrin'a and devise some sort of plan to try and set things right, and while I realize part of that might be because he's housing Angellos, it's fucking callous to call Idristan after the fact instead of during and be like, 'Oh, by the way, Ghost is in peril a-gods-damned-gain, all of his stones might break--which I don't understand how the dragons leaving would put Day and Night in peril, considering we were told they were tethered to fae, and not dragons--but don't worry, we're already working on a fix'." Why didn't the mage understand that this was where the problem seemed to lie? "If you knew Idristan in the slightest you'd know that even when he's upset, even when his world is ripping at the seams, he will /always/ put it off to try and deal with the next problem, especially if it involves someone he cares about. You should have known him well enough to know that he'd dismiss anything asked about himself for the sake of Ghost. And treating him like a petulant child when the man is on the edge of fraying apart is exactly the kind of condescension I've come to expect from you, Marius." He shoved the mage out of his hands finally, released his robe to let him find his glasses. "You didn't have an 'accident', you jackass, you decided it without consulting any of the rest of them, asking their input, if anyone /else/ was willing to risk all of who Ghost was for your selfish fucking desire to have him back and have him back /now/."
[14:37](Marius Vieremont) "I do not 'constantly run roughshod' over Idristan," Marius stated emphatically. "And the reason I spoke to Lyrin'a was to try to understand what was going on, so that I *could* explain it. Once I did, our conversation naturally turned to discussing ways to fix it. My very next call was to Idristan, because I finally understood what was happening. Night - Lyrin'a's stone - is tethered to Angellos. If he departs with the other Silvers, the stone will break. Day, as I explained to Idristan, IS tethered to fae, and will not break, but it is infected with Ink, which is a whole other issue. And forgive me for getting vexed when someone is being unnecessarily cruel to me. You were not there, Talan, you did not hear what he said, namely, that it would be easy for me to beg for a boon from Isolvar, considering what he did to me. If that is not petulant, I do not know what is. As for the past and Ghost, it happened. It was fixed. It is in the past and stirring it up now will do nothing but engender more hard feelings. I am sorry if Idristan has been through hard times, but he is not the only one facing challenges, great or small. I apologize that I upset him and I will do my best to avoid doing so in the future - but you cannot deny that when Idristan is stressed, he lashes out at everyone. He is difficult to speak with, when everything I say is wrong, somehow.” Released, he bends down once again and retrieves his glasses, settling them on his face again.
[14:55](Talia RedwingMateus) "Funny, Night and Day were told to us to be tethered to 'Midnight', which is Caedrien, and the 'Phoenix', which is Jadias. So I'm not sure which of us has it the wrong way around. Or who was lied to first." He stepped away, moved to slide down into the nearby chair. He'd gotten that aggression out of his system, and really, that had been his primary goal. "I'm not bringing it up as a means to engender more hard feelings," he stressed the words in echo of Marius with a quoting of his fingers. "I'm pointing it out as your callousness towards everyone else in the past, when Ghost is concerned. First you wanted us to find a way to deal with the Elementals so you could plug him into the Lifestream. Then you broke him and we had to deal with the Fog where it definitely wasn't supposed to be down in Thanalan." Covenant had had to do a lot of things, and he'd suggested a lot of things where Ghost was concerned, with seemingly little regard for everyone else. "And Idristan would never have suggested you beg to Isolvar unless he thought that it would be all the bastard would accept; no more than he himself would want to," it seemed Marius was the one operating under a misunderstanding with this one, "Considering Isolvar gave Idristan to Helivant. Do you recall that?" His tone had darkened, and he leaned forward. "I recall you telling me not to have another 'outburst' when I tried to kill the messenger to buy us more time. It didn't work, by the way. And Isolvar giving Idris to Helivant? Just meant that Helivant tortured me, skinned me alive and brutalized me while Idristan watched from a cage, right before he murdered me. Ripped my star right out of my chest. Took my body too. Whole reason you didn't recognize me, either at Inwa's, or when I walked up. New sock, because he kept mine to turn into boots. Well, outside of the necklace of parts of me he sent to Priarch."
[15:06]Marius folded his hands in his lap, patiently explaining, "Day contains a fragment of Jadias and Caedrien's soul from when they were one entity. Night is bound to Angellos. I am certain of this." He watched, relaxing a touch as Talan took a seat. At least there'd be no more punches headed his way. "And you are not harsh toward others when the ones you love are in danger?" He gestured to his cheek, where it was reddened from the punch. "You punched me because I put your husband in a bad mood." Marius frowned at what was said of Isolvar. "I swear on my life, that is precisely what Idristan said, and it was said with the intention of being cruel, only." He shrugged. "But you were not there and I cannot expect you to take my word over Idristan's." He quieted as Talan explained what Helivant had done to him, fists forming under the table until they were white-knuckled. He closed his eyes for a moment. "There is nothing I can say that will express how angry and grief-stricken I am on your and Idristan's behalf that such a horror was committed against you. Is there anything I can do?" The mage seemed sincere in his words - and not just to make up for what had been perceived as cruelty to Idristan.
[15:25](Talia RedwingMateus) Talan stilled, when Marius talked about Caedh and Jade being one entity. It was not an often talked about thing. Far better, perhaps far easier to think of them as brothers, rather than rationalize them as originally having been one being. "I punched you because I'd had enough of your condescension and seeing Idris come home gutted was the last straw, on top of everything else that's happened." He gave a slight gesture with a hand. "I know Idris better than almost anyone; I won't doubt that he was being unkind, though I think you misinterpreted what he was saying. He's not generally cruel as a rule. Nor is he a petulant child and I'll thank you to never treat him like one again. You can deal with a grown man being angry, clearly." As seen in how he'd just dealt with the conversation. But then he shook his head, as the apologies flowed. "He came for us at Priarch, after the papers returned acknowledged that Idristan had received them. Made certain it was all legal, and that Idris belonged to him first. Marked us, left us, moved on. Came and took us in a dream instead." There was a tension in his expression, but his gaze had moved away, focused on some distant point. "No," he murmured at last, "there isn't anything you or anyone else can do. I can only try and not let my anger over it all consume me." That was clearly not a fight he was always winning, either. His tail thumped against his chair, and he turned his gaze back to Marius. "Now that that's all out of the way, tell me what you think can be done to reanchor Ghost. You need, what, new sources of power to tether him to?" Mad enough to punch him, but not mad enough to not offer to help, regardless.
[15:33](Marius Vieremont) Marius frowned and shook his head. "You do not know me well. Consider, perhaps, that what you are interpreting as condescension may very well be desperation. Fear. Worry. I am not an unkind man, Talan, as a general rule. I will say it once more - you /were not/ there. All you have is hearsay, from either side, and your natural inclination is to take Idristan's side." He waved a hand wearily, as if waving off the subject, then reached up and rubbed his sore jaw. "Should you think of anything I may do to help you, or Idristan, you have but to ask it. I /am/ truly sorry that you both experienced what you did. The sooner Helivant is banished from this star, the better." Sighing as the subject shifted, he shook his head. "Lyrin'a and I plan to invite Isolvar here to speak with us, so that he will hopefully impart the knowledge of how the anchor stones were created. That was not shared with me when I claimed the Creator's thread and he is the only being on this or any star who knows how to forge them. I wondered if it would be a good idea to invite Idristan to join us, what do you think? It is my hope to find a means not to anchor Ghost again, but to alter the spell so that he no longer needs the stones. As to -how-..." He shakes his head. "I first need to know how they were made."
[15:48](Talia RedwingMateus) Talan let out a laugh as Marius mentioned him being inclined to take Idristan's side. "Oh, absolutely not. If I think Idristan is in the wrong I will hold his feet to the fire and call him out for being a jackass over something. If you say he was being cruel, I'll absolutely ask him about it later, and if that was the case, I'll chastise him for it." He wasn't afraid to bully his husband around if he was in the wrong. "But I digress," a slight gesture with one hand as he fixed back on the more prominent problem. "All I can remember about it was the.. spell? That was recited to us. The different pieces brought in to make them." He hummed, his fingers drumming against the table. "I think asking Idristan to be there is a good step in the right direction," he agreed with that much wholeheartedly. "He's capable of diplomacy, far more than people think, and he should absolutely be involved in this process." His tail had quieted down beside him, flicking every now and then as he considered. "If you're trying to find a way to anchor Ghost, then presumably you need a way to, what, monitor him? Meter him? I know the stones served as anchors, but not the reason for their initial creation. Were all four used in conjunction meant to control and summon him? Crane had one of them initially, didn't he?"
[15:58](Marius Vieremont) Shaking his head, he set one hand on the table. "Don't chastise him. In my opinion, enough has been said, and punched, over the entire affair. I will apologize for treating him as I did, to his face, and then I believe we should be done with it." Taking a deep breath, he nodded slightly. "And I will also strive to consider my words more carefully in the future, knowing now how I have been seen." Reaching out, he picked up his glass and took a sip of the wine therein, then set it down again. "Mmn, no. I can monitor him through the Creator's thread. What we need is a way to stabilize Sebastien's personality. The stones imprint parts of us upon him, give him his humanity, for lack of a better word. Without them, he will become chaos incarnate, an intelligent being, but lacking any sort of integrity or compassion. The stones can be used to control him as well, influence him."
[16:10](Talia RedwingMateus) Talan leaned forward, crossing his arms over the table in front of him, the plate there nudged very gently more in Marius’ direction, so he had room. "As you say then." He had been heard, and that was the most important part of the altercation. The rest he would leave up to the two of them to sort out between themselves. "So you're looking at a deeper form of imprinting." His fingers drummed against the tabletop, a faint tapping as his knuckles impacted the wood. "It would be more ideal to let him shape his personality on his own, rather than him needing the stones, that makes sense." At least, as far as he would have considered it. "I know that when /I/ was created, they used a small fragment from the original soul I was cloned from to influence me, but I also developed considerably on my own. Then again, I wasn't exactly created as a weapon. I wonder if you couldn't use a kind of soul template to sort of layer over what is there of him. Take the parts of each of you that you know he himself might prefer when he's in his.. 'right mind', shall we say, and copy them over top of what's already there. Then, like laminating something, press it into place to act as a protective shell while he develops the rest on his own. Soul templating is tricky though, I don't know many people who could handle that kind of thing. Edarien, maybe? I know he works soul magic."
[16:17](Marius Vieremont) Gesturing toward the plate, Marius offered a faint smile. "Eat, if you hunger. These were supposed to be sample platters so that I might plan the menu, but the chefs were a touch... over-ambitious. There's no way I'll eat all of this myself," he murmured. "And it would be a shame to see it all go to waste." With interest, he listened to Talan's suggestion. "That idea may have merit. Edarien taught me some soul-weaving but this would be beyond what he taught me. It would not be unthinkable that we could work together to see something of the like accomplished, however," he mused thoughtfully. "I know that all of us would prefer for Sebastien to be free, truly free, to live his own life and develop his own characteristics as he chooses, and not be able to be controlled or influenced by anyone. This sounds like a way to accomplish that. I'm, quite frankly, rather impressed - and a touch dismayed that I didn't think of it first," he chuckled softly.
[16:27](Talia RedwingMateus) "Ah. Maybe a nibble, thanks." Talan glanced around at the array of food on the table, and veered his attention towards anything that looked liked it contained no meat at all. Only then would he partake of something, picking up some tidbit for a nibble. His appetite small as usual, nose wrinkled just slightly. "Over-ambitious is one way to think of it, yes." He huffed out a breath and settled back into the chair again. "Impressed?" There was a slight chuckle. "I guess? I suppose I don't come off as much than a 'a gunner' most of the time. Temper don't really lend to dissuade anyone of it, either. But magitek requires a lot of intelligence. I'm one part a student of aetherology, and one part an inventor." He continued to pick at the food that was tugged over in front of him. He ate neatly, tidily and with efficiency. "I'm not surprised you didn't think of it, either. I'm a unique case, and I drew it from myself, so.." His shoulder lifted slightly in a shrug. "Still, if the idea has some merit and y'all can manage to get it working, I'm glad to have provided the suggestion?"
[16:33](Marius Vieremont) The mage seemed pleased that his invitation to eat was accepted - and by coincidence, it was the plate in front of Talan that appeared to have only noodles and sauce, with no meat. "Help yourself to a drink, while you're at it. I don't have time to get drunk on all four of these. Two red wines, a mimosa and something they called, ah..." He cleared his throat, pale cheeks pinking slightly. "Sex on the Beach." Continuing speaking before that could be commented on, he studied the fox for a moment. "I think I owe you an apology as well. I've under-estimated you, a mistake that will not be repeated. I knew you were good with tech, but that... was the approximate limit of my knowledge. Once our /current/ problems are solved, I believe I should like to get to know you better, if you are amenable, of course. And although I am no longer actively running the Covenant, I intend for this place to be somewhere anyone can come and feel welcome to have a meal, a drink, and pleasant discussion."
[16:49](Talia RedwingMateus) Talan managed a solid few bites of the pasta, but his appetite seemed somewhat flagged. Did the man eat more than like a bird most of the time? Might be the fae in him. "It's not bad. This one should go on the menu." He tapped the edge of the plate, and chuckled at the way Marius' face colored. "You're a shy one, aren't you?" The words were curious more than critical, but he did pick up the appropriately named drink, seemed to know which one it was, in fact, and brought it up for a sniff, and then a sip. "I try and intentionally cultivate myself as someone that's easy to overlook. It means people aren't paying attention when I sideline them." As he'd done earlier. "That said, I'm not opposed to talking more once things are sorted and there's time." He was more than willing to spend time bending someone's ear. "I do like what's been done with the place." He gestured slightly with a hand. "It's a lot more inviting than the fancy frippery that was there before. Made you feel like you had to be dressed up to go in. Got a fondness for the upstairs area as well. I like pool, and I happen to like pole dancing." His tail flicked behind him in amusement, and he grinned.
[17:02](Marius Vieremont) "You think so? Very well, on the menu it goes," he declares, picking up his quill and making a note on a parchment that sat on the other side of the plate. Laying the quill down, he reddened further at the observation. "I'm not really /shy/, just..." He dithered for a moment, trying to think of a word. "Proper? Composed?" He sighed. "Perhaps a bit shy. And," he said, moving on from the subject. "You've done an absolutely bang-up job of the impression. I certainly didn't see you coming today, even with my glasses on." Glancing around, he smiled at the venue. "I do as well, thank you. I didn't do the work, but I'll convey your appreciation. I prefer it to what it was before, as well. And the pole was added at Sebastien's insistence," he said, reddening yet again. He -would not- imagine the fox up on the pole, he would -not-.
[17:12](Talia RedwingMateus) "Just Ishgardian?" He supplied, as if that covered both proper, and composed. "You're an Ishgardian good boy, and Ishgardian good boys don't say things like 'sex on the beach', or 'fuck', or have improper thoughts about someone." The fork in his hand pivoted slightly on the plate in his grasp, spinning a little. "I'm glad the impression has landed exactly how it was meant to." His tail continued to drift, a languid smile settling on the fox's face. "I'm not surprised that he suggested the pole. He's got a good point. I know for myself, dancing on one is good exercise. Good for the arms, for the legs, for agility." His arms stretched out in front of him, fingers lacing together as they rolled in a sinuous motion from wrist to shoulder. "The ones I usually prefer are free-floating at the bottom. It adds an extra level of strength training I appreciate." His arms dropped again, once more fetching his drink for another swallow.
[17:18](Marius Vieremont) Marius smiled faintly. There was certainly one person he had improper thoughts about, perhaps surprisingly often. But then, Sebastien was temptation incarnate when he chose to be - but none of those thoughts were proper to share with Talan, who, it turned out, he barely knew. "I haven't been a 'boy' in a very, very long time," -the silver in his hair attested to that- "but I agree with most of your sentiment. I am rather 'Ishgardian', so to speak," he 'lamented'. Canting his head as Talan stretched, he watched the sinuous movements with a purely clinical appreciation for anatomy. Flexible. "And not to mention, of course, that it presents a treat for the eye," he said dryly, taking another sip of his wine. He made another note on the parchment; that wine was going on the menu as well.
[17:30](Talia RedwingMateus) "Well no," he chuckled, "obviously I don't mean /literally/ a boy. It's clear you're on in years, what.. fourties, maybe fifties?" His gaze was for a moment, critical, as if he could judge on sight alone. A slight lift of one hand and a wave. "See? You got the sentiment, that's all that matters. It's fine, nothing wrong with being shy." Though it did make you a target of teasing, as seen. "Though I'm surprised you've managed to keep any shyness at all, with a man like Ghost as your partner." He had eyes. "It does." He agreed, his glass swirled in front of him, "Then again, it depends on what you consider a treat, I guess. For some people it seems to be just the sex appeal of it, for some I think it's the aesthetic of a fit form on display. It depends on preference. I tend to have a preference for some middle ground." His gaze turned back towards Marius. "What about you?"
[17:36](Marius Vieremont) Marius sat up a bit straighter, a dour expression on his face. "Late forties, I'll have you know. I've not yet crossed the meridian line of my life," he huffed. Like an old man. "Though, since my soul is tethered to the Fog, I suppose it doesn't really matter. So long as that tether holds, my soul will return to the Fog when I die, and not go on to the aetherstream. Then it's merely a matter of finding a recently vacated body to plant my soul back into," he reflected. Clearly not meaning that he was to be the one doing the vacating of said body; Marius was a touch naive like that. "And I'm not... with him," he said into his wine glass, embarrassed. Clearing his throat, he set the glass down again. "I'm like you - I prefer... somewhere in the middle. You wouldn't believe it, but I didn't used to be this way. Though, it was out of necessity that I was known as quite the scandalous playboy in Ishgard. It kept attention off of the Covenant."
[17:52](Talia RedwingMateus) He gave a soft click of his tongue. "Younger than Dare, not /that/ much older than Idris. I've got blood siblings older than you. You're not even that far on in years yet." Observed as he lifted his drink for another swallow. This one drained a good half of the remaining liquid in the glass. He hummed slightly, propping his chin up on a palm as he observed Marius. "So I guess in that you're not too dissimilar from us. This body was a Viera before I hopped into it." Fox ears wiggled atop his head. "Recently dead, so I understood. Nice and gentle, natural causes. Though I guess being in the Fog must be simple. It means Ghost can just pick out whatever body he thinks will suit you and vacate it for you himself, no muss and no fuss, yeah, with the whole 'touch someone and take their soul' thing?" At least, so far as he understood it. "I don't think it's a bad thing to be shy around most, and not with your partner. It's all about comfort." His tail curled and flicked behind him in time with his words. "So you're not unfamiliar with playing a role. Still, being a playboy isn't the worst thing to be known as. I used to bar trawl when I still needed to eat people." His lips drew back, flashing elongated canines that were freshly resharpened into fine points. "Easy to bite someone mid-fuck, most just find it kinky. Don't think anything of it until they're light-headed."
[17:58](Marius Vieremont) Marius didn't care to think about his age, really, and he wavered a hand. "I was a Xaela for a little while. That was a.... unique experience," he said reflectively, reaching up to rub the lobe of one ear. "I think I prefer ears to horns, though." He quirked his brows as Talan interpreted his words. "Oh, no. We wouldn't do it that way. It would be cruel to simply end someone's life so that I could have a body. I'd much prefer to find someone like yours; natural causes, no family I can frighten if I'm seen walking about," he assures Talan. He smiles and inclines his head. "Indeed, tis about comfort. And Sebastien, he..." His expression softened slightly, his gaze straying distant. "He feels like home, to me." Wait, eat people? He blinked at that. "You used to eat people?" he asked blankly. "Another vampire, prior to becoming fae? Like Idris was?" he inquired curiously.
[18:09](Talia RedwingMateus) Talan gave a quiet hum as Marius explained. "Ah, that makes more sense. I have limited experience with ending up in someone else's body. This is my first time in a new sock. Not that I dislike it, the ears and tail has taken some getting used to, but I think I prefer being a half-elezen. Though I guess all I can say now is 'fae', and it be accurate." His identity was still nebulous, even to himself. Then again, he'd been switched from woman to man, half-elezen to lalafell, back again, then to fox, the brief week as a viera. It had been A Time, that was for sure. "...I can understand that sentiment." He murmured. For surely he could use no other words to describe what Idris and Caedh were to him. But then he nodded his head. "It's what first brought Idris and I into a friendship with one another. He was the first other vampire I'd ever met, and I was fascinated. We became friends.. frenemies maybe for a while? Mine was by choice, his by force. I was a little sad when the change to fae took it away from me, but, it was worth giving up. Can't really stomach the scent of blood lately anyway."
[18:17](Marius Vieremont) "Sock..." Marius echoed with some amusement. That was certainly one way to describe a body. "I can't imagine what being a vampire must be like," the mage admitted. "To be frank, I don't really know much about them. Perhaps one day I'll learn, if I have time and it becomes relevant." Finishing off his wine, he set the empty cup back on the table and took a thoughtful bite of his dinner, listening to Talan. "Mn, that's understandable, given what you've been through. You know... I have some dreamless sleep potions, if that might be a comfort to you. You'd be welcome to them. I used them for a time after my encounter with Isolvar." And especially with Helivant being able to manipulate dreams, they might well be VERY useful - though he wasn't sure which would be the more powerful. Still, he thought he'd offer.
[18:28](Talia RedwingMateus) Talan chuckled slightly. "It differs. For me, it was a hunger I managed to get under control with help. For Idris, it was a bottomless pit that never ended. Depends on where the vampirism comes from, I think." That there were multiple kinds was different enough. Still, he finished off the last of his drink, cleaned his plate of the last few forkfuls and then eased the pair of them back from himself. "Perhaps." He murmured. "I've been avoiding sleeping in the mortal world whenever possible. Where I sleep and call home, I cannot dream. Faerie is not accessible to the Silvers, and we sleep a dreamless sleep. Outside of the rare times when I've been outside Faerie, such as when we were attacked, the last time I dreamed had been moons. And now when I slumber, I'm simply Twilight." As if that explained what he was. But it was indescribable, he thought. "For now though, I should probably get home. It'll be nearing dusk soon, and I have work to do before nighttime." He pushed to stand, eased his seat back into place where it had been. He gave a thoughtful look down at Marius, his head tipping slightly. "Thank you, for being willing to listen and learn, and for the invitation to a meal. I'll return the favor eventually. For now, I wish you luck in your work, and might I suggest one of those potions for yourself soon? You can't help Ghost if you're drug out from a lack of sleep." He turned and headed for the gate.
[18:32](Marius Vieremont) Marius quirked his brow - he didn't quite grasp what that all meant, but then, he was not fae. He suspected that he would have had to be to truly understand what Talan meant. "You're welcome, though I suppose I should be the one thanking you. I will try harder to be a better version of myself, that is all I can promise. All anyone can promise, really. And... I may. I haven't slept in... three nights now, I think. It's starting to blur together," he said wearily, motioning to the tome on his left. "Take care, Talan. I'll contact Idris over the linkpearl to let him know to stop by, so that I may apologize and invite him to join us when we entertain Isolvar."
[18:36](Talia RedwingMateus) "It's all any of us can do." He would exact no other promises from the man, simply encourage him to do better, whether that came again at knuckles to the jaw? Well, that was up to Marius, and Talan's own temper. He inclined his head after a moment. "You take care as well. Good night, Marius. I'll let him know to expect you to contact him, so he doesn't happen to miss you." He took a few more steps towards the gate, before he simply vanished in a swirl of starlit aether.
Ishgard is a region steeped in its orthodoxy, which draws several similarities to Catholicism. Catholics have a very interesting relationship with profanity, which made me wonder what form Ishgardian cursing might take. Below are some thoughts ranging from the most mild to the kind that might get you Witchdropped, as well as their inspirations.
1) Ejaculations (Irish)
An “ejaculation” is a prayer or part of a prayer uttered for strength in a trying time or as an expression of exasperation. A well known Irish ejaculation is “Jesus who for the love of me,” for example.
Here are a few that I came up with:
“Blessed Fury, full of grace,”
“Merciful Halone, I beseech thee”
“By Her Spear are we saved”
”Of the Fury’s love all men will receive”
Or, if you’re particularly angry at someone but still in polite company:
“May the Fury’s judgement be upon you”
2) Swears (Dark Age Europe)
The Third Commandment says not to take the Lord’s name in vain, but swearing an oath by Him is not taking it in vain if you mean to follow through! As such, “swearing” in the classical sense is likely a very strong yet very tame way to get your anger across in Ishgard, depending on how you do it.
Examples:
“Be it Halone’s will, I shall overcome this trial!”
“By Fury’s spear, I will punch you in the face if you don’t shove off.”
“I will visit Saint Reinette’s vengeance upon you!”
3) Holy Host (Medieval England)
Curses like “God’s Thumbs!” or “Blood of Christ!” were some of the worst things you could say in the medieval period. Since Ishgard is a blur of time periods, these will likely cause scandal if you say them during a noble’s function or at least get you a whipping from your mom.
Examples:
“Fury’s Eyes!”
“Halone’s Hand!”
You can intensify these with descriptors and using more lurid phrases:
“Fury’s Frozen Garters!” - A favorite of Yves’
4) Sacres (Quebec)
And finally, when you absolutely must choose violence, we have the grand daddy of all Ishgardian swears: sacres. These require a bit of explanation for our non Quebecois.
Sacres are a unique style of profanity from Quebec. Essentially, it’s just a string of religious words, like “sacrament” or “tabernacle” or “host” strung together in a big ball of rage. The entire phrase rarely translates directly to anything (there are some idioms that do, but I won’t cover them here)
This is the profanity you break out when you want to nuke someone into the ground with blasphemy. Given Ishgardian society, you probably WILL go to the dungeons if a guard hears you say these and be charged with a crime.
As they come from a dialect of French, I find that these would be most fun used in “Old Elezen,” which the game and community both seem to agree is a style of French.
Common Quebecois sacres that I think would also work in Ishgard are:
tabarnak: tabernacle
calise: chalice
estie: host
maudit: damned
sacremant: sacrament
ciboire: pyx
saint: Saint (or holy if combined with others, such as saint-sacremant)
Some additional Ishgardian flavored ones:
Enchie : short for Enchiridion
lancetoile : (from lance etoile, or “spear star”, relating to the constellation of the Spear)
paradeglace: (from paradis de glace, or Heaven of Ice)
chapelet: rosary
To use the sacres, you simply chain words together with “de” between them. Again, this doesn’t need to make sense: the intensity of the phrase is in how -much- you use. So, if you really want to meet Halone, you might shout at someone:
“Saint-chapelet de calise de saint-ciboire d’Enchie!”
Which is equivalent to rabidly foaming at the mouth in anger.
Anyway, I hope my fellow Ishgardians enjoyed this! Feel free to reblog and add on whatever cool thoughts you may have!
Pearly rays of moonlight shone down upon the mage in the garden as he quietly watered the roses, silvery highlights in his dark hair glinting. There were more now than he’d had several years prior; with all the trouble they’d seen over time and all the worry he’d been put through, it was no wonder. But he supposed he should be grateful that he had just as many laugh lines on his face as he did wrinkles of concern, thankfully none of which were particularly noticeable yet - he wasn’t that old!
This evening, though, it was worry that chased the smiles away from Marius. He and Ghost had only just returned from traveling and while they’d enjoyed themselves thoroughly, in the last few days, his husband had seemed to be… struggling. Little flares of temper, moodiness - just now, he’d outright snapped at Marius over a disastrous dessert. It hurt, yes, but it perturbed him more. It wasn’t like the generally even-tempered man to snap at anyone, let alone him - and especially for something as inconsequential as a dessert.
Something was wrong. He could feel it, as surely as he could feel the coming rainstorm, despite there being nary a cloud in the star-scattered sky. Setting aside the watering can, he pivoted on his heel and lowered himself down to the ground, legs crossed, long skirts tucked primly under him. Closing his pale eyes, he exhaled deeply and reached inward, reached for the Creator’s thread that was bound to his soul. He could feel Sebastien in the house, below him, no doubt cleaning up the shards of the plate he’d smashed, the familiar cool press of the Fog welcoming him in. It danced around his consciousness in wisps, souls calling out to him in sibilant whispers as he walked along the black edge of awareness. There was nothing. No clue for Sebastien’s little tantrums, absolutely not a single thing amiss in the swirling darkness… so he moved on.
Inhaling slowly, his senses centered on that connection, then slid out along the lines that spun out like spidersilk, that connected the anchor stones that rooted Ghost in the man that he was, the man they had, in a way, molded him to be with traits shared from their own personalities - the man they all loved, in their own way.
And here, he frowned. The end of one strand was severed and frayed at the end, like a pulled thread floating in the breeze with nothing tying it off. Dawn. That was Okuni’s stone. Where was it? He couldn’t sense it anywhere, only the torn webbing of the soul-strand, limp and bedraggled. It was just… gone. What had happened? Had Okuni been hurt? It was impossible for the stone to have been taken from her and to his knowledge nothing had occurred to make her want to give it away… the only way to find out would be to try to reach her.
What was just as troubling was the strand that led to Day… Idristan’s stone. Marius jerked in ugly surprise as he realized there was vile, black ichor dripping down the thread - Ink. He’d been told that the Ink wasn’t an issue currently, but there was damning evidence right before his metaphorical eyes that it sure as hell bloody was. He could fix it, halt the infection’s progression with a weave at some cost to his own aether reserves, but it would be better than severing another anchor stone. It’d only be temporary, but he could buy them some time. He’d need Idristan for it, as soon as possible.
Whatever had happened, one fact was utterly unignorable. A new stone would need to be forged to seal Dawn again. Perhaps one for Day, if he couldn’t come up with a permanent fix to cleanse the ink from the stone. And there was only one person on this star, if he could be called that, that knew how to forge an anchor stone for the Fog: Isolvar.
Opening his eyes, the mage rubbed his face. He’d hoped that his dealings with the dragon were over but apparently destiny had more in store for them. It wasn’t information he was likely to give up without getting something of equal value in return, either. At least there was one person that he could consult on what a dragon might want, being that he held one in his soul: Lyrin’a. Perhaps he could shed more light on what had happened to the two stones, as well.
Lifting his gaze to the stars and raising one slender hand to gently touch his own stone, wrapped in the cord about his neck, he sighed. He’d come to the bottom of the matter and he liked none of it - but at least he’d found out sooner rather than later, this time. Rising and dusting off his skirts, he made his way inside again, the door closing faintly behind him as he went in search of his linkpearl.
(Yeah, I know I already wrote one for this prompt, but I had two ideas, so I'm writing two. I only submitted one, though.)
"Marius."
"Hm?" the archmage replied, without looking up from his correspondence. It was only he and Sebastien at the house today, others having various business to attend to. He'd risen earlier than usual, leaving the thief to laze abed. Nude, he had settled himself in front of the hearthfire and meditated, the warmth warding off the chill of autumn already starting to set in. It was difficult to focus with the appreciative gaze of his lover roaming over his body with an almost tangible heat... but he eventually managed it.
Then it was time to shower and they did so with gusto, dirtying one another up, then washing the evidence away with gentler kisses and strokes of the washcloth over sensitive bodies.
"Marius." The rasping word came again and he finally looked up, only to have color instantly flush into his cheeks. Sebastien was leaning casually against the doorframe, nude except for a pair of shiny, high-heeled thigh-boots.
Would he ever not fluster when greeted with the sight of his husband's naked body? He imagined not. The thief would still be lean and lithe, sans wrinkles and other implications of age when Marius was in his elderly years. The thought of it, of comparing the two of them when he was old and Sebastien still the beautiful young man he loved, made him frown.
"You'll still want me when I'm... old, yes?" he asked hesitantly, voicing his worries.
The thief grinned in amusement and sauntered towards him, and hastily, Marius shoved the chair back noisily from the desk, turning to face him. Slowly, purposefully, Sebastien slid over his lap, straddling the mage, which only brought more fire to Marius' cheeks. Twelve above, it was a struggle to keep his gaze up, on those silvery eyes that regarded him in kind with so much love and heat.
"Always want you, Marius," he said, his voice low and suggestive, leaning in to nip at the tip of an ear. Relief crested through him and he closed his eyes, shuddering.
"I love you, Sebastien. Nothing will ever change that, do you u-understand?" His heart and his words skipped a beat, because Sebastien's hands were already ghosting against his skin, under his robe. He was impatient, it seemed.
"'Course," came the one-word, raspy reply, before lips brushed against his throat and Marius finally surrendered his worries to the moment, curling his arms around Sebastien's back and pulling him closer.
Prompt 17: Destruct - FFXIV Write 2021
Character: Ghost; with Okuni @liminal-storage, Lyrin’a @hiraethwyl, Idristan @roses-and-grimoires and Marius @marius-vieremont.
The sky rumbles. I could feel it through the trunk of the tree at my back. Leaves tumble to the ground, shaken loose from the trembling branches. My head jerks up with the next quake, eyelashes peeling from my cheeks long since salted with tears I don’t remember shedding or how long ago. My lips taste like the sea. All I can see is fog.
“Mist?” I murmur. No answer returns from the dragonling that had been my constant companion since I met him. The stone beneath me shudders violently, fingers of water lap up over the island’s edge to tickle at my feet. My boots scrape on the ground when I draw them under me to stand. The tree’s bark is rough against my palm, but warm. Warm like flesh breathing under my touch.
His smile is electric when he lifts his head from the pillow, eyes molten with the unspoken desires he’s yet to utter. He won’t, not in words at least. He speaks them instead in the whisper of his lips against my skin, the dance of his tongue across muscles that quiver and tense in response. Dark hair streaked with grey falls into his eyes. Eyes that know me all too well and watch me with eager expectation.
“Marius.” The name emerges as a gasp, forced from my lips on the edge of the memory. The sound of the name leaves me shaken. The tree scrapes my skin raw, and my hand curls into a fist at my side. I stumble forwards on legs that refuse to remember how to function. Strange for one such as me, who spends so much time running rooftops and edges. My balance is pristine, my agility something to envy, and now I might as well have never walked before. I stop at the rock’s edge and stare down.
