#(gabranth) ic

[5judgements]

"I think we took a wrong turn." (for Noah~)

Considering they are staring into the yawning abyss of a night sky at their feet, where the ground is crumbling away from erosion, he thinks she might be onto something. The young soldier put his arm out to stop her from stepping over the edge as they had turned the corner. He cannot help but utter a brief laugh at the hilarity of the statement and situation. What a way to have gone, toppling down into the darkness and lost to the ocean below.

"Are you sure this is not exactly where we want to be?"

[5judgements]

"A thousand times I've imagined this moment. Never like this." (you know what. For Gabranth. Bracing myself for PAIN)

He's never quite believed in fate, or karma, but there is no doubt that things exist beyond their world which often dip their fingers into mortal affairs. The question has always been why.

Why him, why her?

Staring down the length of an ornate blade, he cannot bear to look at her properly. His attention watches across its reflection from beneath a passive helm. There's no telling exactly what the Magister feels outside of what he allows people to know, to hear, to see. For all intents he is only doing as he is told. Nothing more than a loyal dog to the people which constantly threw him into strife and misery. Perhaps she can see past his facade. Does Melissa see the ever slight tremble in a man who was normally so stalwart against his foes? How the tip of the blade directed at her is unable to remain true?

"That you have imagined it only solidifies your guilt," he replies like the good soldier he's become. There's no choice he can make here that would be the right one. He's damned if he does, damned if he doesn't, and the only outcome they can ever face is the one where someone dies by nightfall.

Is it selfish for him to want to live?

Even if he doesn't deserve it.

That is why he has no faith, because the bad people hardly ever get what they deserve, and those that want to see them brought to justice are often felled instead. People like Melissa.

[5judgements]

01. tucks a blanket gently around the other person's shoulders. (Gabranth! You decide who is performing the action~)

It'd been a long time since he shared a bed, whether from being unwilling or unwanting, it didn't matter. Having someone so close felt entirely too foreign and made sleep to be a restless endeavor. For the longest time, Gabranth merely lies there beside her and stares upwards into the dim moon light ceiling. Maybe one day, he will find some comfort in her presence, where he is the most vulnerable. What a hard thing to accomplish, that softness, when he has been forged into a battle ready edge meant to carve into everything and everyone that tried to get close.

Breathing a sigh out through his nose, the Judge slowly eases himself upward and off to the side of their shared bed. Silent steps carry him to the opposite end, reaching out to pull the blanket upward and over Melissa so that she might not notice his lacking place beside her.

Standing there in the darkness he gazes down upon her without any outward clue to the thoughts that wander across his sleep deprived mind. It isn't her fault, not in the slightest. She wants just as desperately as him, for this to work, for them both to be happy. At least that is what he supposes of her actions. The situation was still a hazy one, but then again, it might only be the nature of his position to be untrusting of even those so very close to him.

Gabranth doesn't make a sound as he departs the room, into an adjacent one to mull over paperwork. He might as well make himself useful for the lack of rest.

[5judgements]

"I know the look of a doomed man." / zahrosa to gabranth!

This itself is a rare moment, shunned of armor and blade, forced to mingle with people as if he were anything similar to them and their woes. Is that what makes it so obvious? The way that Gabranth stares onward without any trace of personality beneath his tired eyes. These are indeed people, he has to remind himself. There is more to them than the idea of threat, serpents in the grass, but that is the game they play is it not?

The wealthy of Archades are the most potent vipers beheld in the open, fangs hidden away but everyone knew exactly how fast repercussions could come should something go awry. Gabranth might as well be one of them. Not a politician, nor a trader of personal things, but a man of power and money that could do nearly anything he wanted without a single regard for consequence.

Not that he does, but he could.

He doesn't reply to the commenter or even acknowledge that anything has been said to him, too busy minding the turmoil that never seems to cease within the creases of his head. Something changes in the music about the room and he blinks. Gabranth shifts his attention onto Zahrosa and there is nothing which changes in his expression, or demeanor.

"We are all victims of fate," he replies, eyes shifting from her to another figure beyond them both. Across the room stands a slender figure of which several other people have taken interest in quickly. Gabranth cannot help but purse his lips in the slightest, his own quiet disdain the only instance of emotion which has slipped an otherwise perfectly crafted guise.

"Doomed, or otherwise."

[5judgements]

“you’re not going to let me get hurt” (for Gabranth :3 and not that she doesn't deserve it sometimes)

Fortunately she cannot see how his features twist beneath the helmet, because if there is any truth to anything she has ever said in the moments that they have begrudgingly shared since their unlikely reunion, it is the very same notion voiced. The people of Archades were unfriendly; many more apt descriptions came to mind but simply said there is nary a soul who would readily welcome an outsider into their arms and especially not a Bhujerban.

His expression is firstly of exasperation, before souring into the grimace of becoming annoyed with Melissa's incessant need to make his life more miserable, apparently. It is maddening how her every move toes the line of making him seem a fool. Not only do her infractions (which would normally land others at least a fine or day in jail) continue to amount to nothing, but so too does he know that other people are beginning to notice the trend.

The last thing he would ever want for her is to be locked up with the actual degenerates of the city.

"If I need to place you under house arrest, I will. Don't test this."

[5judgements]

“Don’t go there! It’s not safe.” (for Gabranth, at any given point in their lives because the idea of her trying to protect him no matter when is too funny)

Noah's not been one to listen to reason, in most cases. He's lived through the military this long while doing nothing but following his gut and superiors, often as the two clashed, and the fact that he had not died nor been ousted from their ranks is a testament to.. something.

Whether that something was luck, or divine intervention, is up to anyone's guess.

What his gut tells him is that she is right, that this place is not safe at all. However there are also those times when no matter what, he would still do the right thing, even if his life was to be forfeit or it went against orders, and his better judgement.

The young soldier shoulders the burden of pain both literally and figuratively, bashing his pauldron into the steadily smouldering door that blocked his path. Fire in such a small community would be a death sentence to many if not properly contained and while he was a far cry from someone that was able to stop such ravaging flames, it did not mean in the same breath that he could not do something to help.

Bringing a hand up to shield his eyes from the intensity of the inferno within, he disappears into the turbulence, unbeholden to her warning. The cries for help were what had alerted them in the first place to the danger that lie ahead. While the other soldiers that had been nearby went off to retrieve proper help, Noah dove head first into the problem. Typical of him, really.

When it seems as if there was no possible way that the man had not also succumbed to the heat of it all, he comes stumbling out through the same way he had forced himself into. Beneath the metal everything aches, but there is more than met the eye when it came to the soldier. Poking around the use of magick in his spare time truly had come in handy.

The white shimmer of Esunaga surrounds Noah in a thin protective coat, though it does more than keep him safe, it has also saved the life of the young Bhujerban that is cradled against his chest. Breathing out a sharp exhale of exhilaration and maybe even disbelief, he takes a few steps further from the stone building and towards the figures arriving at the scene.

Safely handing off the child and allowing himself to finally feel the entirety of fatigue ensnare him, Noah slowly falls upon his knees and simply kneels there for a moment.

"You're right, it certainly was not safe," he mumbles as he knows well enough that Lilian would not be far.

[5judgements]

❝ One minute you’re flirting, the next minute you’re stabbing. It’s very confusing. ❞ (okay for Gabranth they've literally done this before)

It is a constant war, with her, with himself. The way that they speak and move around one another is unlike anything he allows for any other soul to ever have and ever will exist. Confusing. He would rightly scoff at her claiming such a notion but then again, his actions make the same level of sense from an outside view. Everything he cared for, all the people in his life, save for one, were taken by the same crown he currently serves.

Perhaps a cruel irony that he shoulders their banner, draped down his back, but it is his to brandish.

Gabranth shies his gaze away from Lilian to instead gaze down upon the knife blade he'd dug into the once pristine table top. Anger had been his largest flaw for a long time now. It feels like a violent thing nestled within the space between his ribs, ready to break them apart to snap at any who dared poke their fingers into his enclosure. Isn't that all he is, anymore? A dangerous agent of subjugation and devious intentions, using whatever he could to pry into their enemies' lives and tear them apart from the inside out.

He has done it to Dalmasca, to his own blood.

He will do it again, given the chance.

"I keep reminding myself that there is a snake in my midst, that if I am not cautious, I will be bitten and it will be by no fault other than my own."

Noah doesn't give her a second glance, leaving the blade embossed with the sigil of House Solidor across its pommel. He rises from the chair and gloved fingers reach too gingerly for the helm that stared at them from its resting place across the table. Pulling it over his features the Judge Magister offers Melissa no solace as he departs, not because he doesn't want to, only that he cannot.

[5judgements]

@stingslikeabee​ asked:

"I have a very serious query for you, of the kind that has robbed me of sleep before," Melissa enunciated with classical drama - by then, Gabranth knew it was anything but that concerning or important, but she nonetheless took her sweet time to dislodge herself from the previous position, crawling up to rest over his chest and look him in the eye.

"The magister armor," the dancer began, her honey-colored eyes moving briefly from his form to the bits and places of sharp edges and incredible weight that were all scattered over the floor by the bed. They were incredibly cumbersome and time-consuming to get on and off a judge, and the only reason that saved the process from additional complaints was because the Bhujerban hardly dressed with simplicity.

Between the two of them, it was hard to determine who was the worst individual when it came to yielding to desires born in the spur of the moment.

"Have you had any say or voice in how yours was designed?" a pause followed, and then Melissa make a face that was a comic mix of amusement and displeasure, "I am half hoping you had no choice but to wear this because if the judges can decide... Then I would gladly die before I ever ask the likes of Bergan as to why his is so abominable. That man has no ounce of fashion style and a personality to match, no doubt. Your is..." her face changed, and the Bhujerban struggled not to laugh for a moment, "Passable."

   Raising his arms from where they’d been resting nearly carelessly at his sides, Noah wraps them loosely around Melissa’s form when she chooses to negate whatever distance might have once been between them. He didn’t mind in the slightest, this change in proximity.

   “When you become a Magister, you are brought before some of the finest smiths in the nation. It is less a choice and more so a collaboration between the message you wish to send upon those that face you, be them friend or foe, and the craftsman who adjusts or offers suggestions according to the actual protection that can be afforded. I think if anyone can appreciate the weight of appearances, it would be you,” he hums contently.

   “As an extension of oneself, this armor as as much a protection as it is an identity. I could waltz through the roads of Archades and not only would my armor betray my allegiance, but it would hail warning to the manner of person that approaches. It takes a trained ear but every cacophony of metal we shed is unique; mine is a far cry from the burdening noise of Bergan.”

Tracing a casual and slow line along the gentle curve of Melissa’s spine, his actions are idle and an afterthought of their enjoyed warmth, there in her rented bedroom. One of these days they might yet make it to his humble home, the place largely unused and certainly would welcome the touch of a lively person. Unlike the others, he hadn’t lived in Archades long before turning to the military, he had nothing to his name that was worth guarding.

   “I am glad that you find mine to have been a favorable choice in design, for how offensive it must seem.”