Definition (loosely): A summons or to attract someone's attention
-Character(s): E'mal Khama ft. @bloodredhands OH AND ALSO VERY BRIEFLY @shadesofblades
Shocking, I know. Ezie is here. Crazy. Wild even. Who would've guessed.
The buzzing of a linkpearl a floor above his head hardly caught his attention; E'mal had been hidden away from the world for a little over a week now, ignoring almost everything aside from the dark, sinking pit in his own stomach. The distant buzz merely mixed with the droning thoughts already crashing against the inside of his skull.
He stared absently into the crackling fireplace as he faintly registered the buzzing being replaced by the soothing tone of his fiance's rumbling voice. He didn't have the energy to truly listen in, choosing instead to tug the fur blanket wrapped around his shoulders tighter, burrowing further into the makeshift nest he built at the far enough of the couch.
Lost in his own mind, he didn't realize Ezekiel had descended the staircase until about the third repeat of his name.
“E'mal.”
His fiancé looked at him with concern, eyebrows knit together as E'mal jumped, turning and blinking owlishly at him. Ezekiel sighed, offering out the linkpearl. “It's Baatu. He's been calling.” His eyes finished the sentence with just for a little while. Please. And E'mal felt dread crawl over him. How could he even begin to explain himself to Baatu. The disappearance. The silence. He looked at Ezekiel with a pleading expression, wordlessly begging him not to make him do this…
But Ezekiel was solid in his stance. He knew this needed to be done sooner rather than later. So he held his ground, linkpearl extended. Though… his expression was soft; Something in his eyes filled with understanding. This wasn't an easy ask in his partner’s current state.
E'mal was smart enough to know he would not win this, no matter how much he wished to be swallowed by the blankets he was hiding in. So, with a great effort, he peeled himself from the nest, stumbling weakly over to where his lover stood. He felt like a mess. His hair was unkempt, clothes smelling a bit too strongly of wood smoke. His ears drooped to the sides as he got close, reaching to take the linkpearl with a trembling hand. Ezekiel's arms wrapped around him to steady him, pulling him against his chest. Reminding E'mal that didn't have to do this alone.
Shakily inhaling and closing mismatched eyes as he leaned against the man steadying him, he clipped the linkpearl in place before finally answering his dearest friend's call, voice soft and a little unsure.
(I'm a touch behind, but the rules for this write aren't as hard, so I'm not fussed.)
The package was small and unmarked, a simple stamp of "Crane Enterprises" on the outside along with his address. The postmoogle would have no idea what she carried. The neighbors would have no idea what he ordered. Dae scooped the package out of the communal box for the apartment building and sauntered off to his apartment with it.
Once inside, he went over to the connecting door that had recently been built between his apartment and Sorren's and made sure the door...for once...was locked. He didn't want to end up giving away his plans too early. Besides, if he'd screwed up or felt ridiculous, best get that out of the way in private.
He took his package into the bedroom and tossed it on the bed, then began peeling out of his pants, wiggling and twisting out of the tight leather. Many questioned why he wore them, but he knew that he had an ass shaped by the Twelve and by the Fury, he would show it off.
Which was rather the point of the package on his bed.
Once undressed, he picked it up and carefully tore into the wrapping. It was paper over a box over more paper, to help it stay discreet. Finally through all the layers, he pulled from the box a scrap of delicate black lace. He swallowed as he stared at it. Did he feel sexy or ridiculous? He wasn't sure yet. Best try it on.
A shimmy and a tuck later and he was standing in his bedroom in naught but black lacy panties. Dae stared at himself in the mirror on the side of his armoire, intently studying the way the lace cupped his body and played peek-a-boo with his skin. Did he feel sexy or ridiculous? Rather than think about himself, he thought about Sorren and Rath. How would his boyfriends react to seeing him in this?
They would lose their collective minds.
Definitely sexy. He half-turned in the mirror to examine what he could of his own butt in the mirror. The lace covered only half of each cheek, leaving the lower portion to peek out. Yes, this would do nicely. He gave himself a grin and a wink in the mirror, then picked his pants back up and wiggled into them. Once he had his shirt back on, he left the bedroom and went back to the connecting door to unlock it before Sorren could notice or Rath could arrive for the evening.
It was not unusual for any Kojin of Tamamizu to seek out objects that were kami-touched. It was a long-held belief that objects of unusually high quality and power housed all manner of kami, after all, and they had dedicated their entire lives to finding such relics to live in safety in their vaults. The Kojin of the Red had the most treasures, having both collected them for longer and taken them by force from the Kojin of the Blue. But what the Red did not have that the Blue did was a kami-touched individual living among them…
… Or so they said.
Yari peeked around a low stone wall at the Raen woman who had come from Sui-no-Sato to trade with his father. His long tail swished back and forth as he watched, silvery-pink eyes wide. She looked a lot like him, he thought, with similar horns and patches of scales all over her arms and legs, but she also did not look like him. Her tail did not have fins like his, and her scales were duller, with more of a creamy hue than his own, which tended more toward a shiny opalescence. As he watched, she and his father–the strongest and wisest Kojin in the tribe (at least in Yari’s opinion)–haggled over a strand of cloud pearls that would in turn be traded to the land dwellers when next his father went to the surface. He had not been allowed to make the journey with him yet, but soon he would, and he would learn how to trade with the land walkers and communicate with them and maybe even make friends with them. He had seen them from a distance, on boats and gathered on distant shores, but he had never met one in person.
He was in the middle of wondering if he should make his presence known when his father turned, resting one two-fingered hand on the edge of his shell, and looked directly at his hiding spot. Gasping, he flattened himself against other side of the wall, trying to make himself as small and silent as possible. He would be in so much trouble if the woman saw him! He had been told never to show himself to the people of Sui-no-Sato, lest they try to capture him.
But his father had a bit of laughter in his voice as he said, “Come out, Yari. You are too big to be skulking behind walls, and it is time for you to meet one of our neighbors.”
“I promise I will not bite you,” the woman added, and Yari’s father laughed in earnest at that.
“It is far more likely that he will bite you,” his father said.
Yari peeked around the wall again, and found the woman looking right at him. Her eyes widened in surprise before she looked to his father again. “Kote, I thought your son was kojin!”
“He is one of the tribe, yes,” Kote replied, and then gestured to Yari to come out.
Yari stayed where he was for a moment longer, and then slowly emerged from behind the wall, feeling suddenly exposed and vulnerable. He kept trying to remind himself that he was already almost ten summers old, and that boys of ten summers were big and brave and independent, but when the woman spoke again, he wanted nothing more than to shrink back behind the wall.
“He is Raen–” she began, and then cut herself off when he came fully into view. He couldn’t help the nervous thrash of his tail, or how small he felt under her scrutiny, but he forced himself forward anyway, trying to puff out his chest and appear much more confident than he was.
“Not fully Raen, precisely,” his father corrected, and then held his hand out for Yari. He ducked in to stand next to his Kote, drawing stability and strength from the kojin who stood next to him. “Kami-touched.”
The woman’s face lit up, and she stepped closer, making Yari want to shrink back, but Kote’s hand was flat against his back, keeping him in place. “Where did you come from?” she asked, leaning down a bit to get herself more on his level.
He looked to his father, and then to the woman, and shook his head, his hands beginning to form words that his throat could not. The woman looked confused, and shook her head before looking back up at Kote. “I am afraid I do not understand,” she said with no small amount of disappointment.
“I found him tangled in the rope of a harpoon when he was a baby. It was wrapped around his legs and his neck, and try as we might, we were unable to heal the latter. He cannot speak as we do; instead, he uses his hands.”
The woman nodded, and then leaned down to Yari once more. “I am Ikara,” she said gently, her smile relaxing something in Yari’s chest. “Perhaps you can teach me your signs someday?”
Yari nodded enthusiastically, and then pointed to her scales with a curious look, before turning to sign something to his father.
“Ah, my boy, she looks like you because I suspect one of your birth parents was Raen. The other, I can only guess.”
“Your scales are so pretty,” Ikara said, and Yari signed a thank-you to her, to which she looked to Kote.
“That sign means ‘thank you,’” Kote explained.
Ikara nodded and beamed at Yari, and Yari finally felt like he could fully relax. “We have a legend in Sui-no-Sato, of a kami named Kairo who takes the form of a ningyo–a half Raen, half fish. It is said that whoever is fast enough to steal a scale from his tail will be blessed with longevity of life. No one presently alive in Sui-no-Sato has seen him, but he was always depicted with pearly scales much like yours, the bottom portion of a silvery fish, and the top portion of a man.”
“Ikara–”
“Can you swim, Yari?” she interrupted, and then gestured to the ocean beyond Tamamizu’s bubble.
Yari nodded enthusiastically, and then ran off toward one of the lower exits and dove into the ocean. As they always did when he swam, his legs and tail fused together into a much larger scaled tail with flowing pearlescent fins, and he did a few flips and turns in the water before waving to Kote and Ikara, who stood staring at him. Kote had a look of horror on his face, and Ikara’s light green eyes were full of wonder. He did three laps around the whole village, and then came in through the same passage he’d used before. As he dove back through, his tail separated back into legs and and he ran over to the pair.
“You are wise to keep him away from Sui-no-Sato,” she said, her voice abuzz with excitement. “He is ningyo, and many in our village would try to catch him and steal scales from his tail.”
Kote sighed at that. “He is not Kairo,” he protested, “but I agree. It is why he has strict orders not to show himself if there are non-kojin here. We are afraid that, even kami-touched as he is, he would be harmed or killed.”
Ikara nodded. “Then, let me propose this: When next he sheds, give me a handful of his scales. If I can study them, I may be able to come up with a way to convince others that they are not magical, and do not possess any life-altering properties. Perhaps in this way, we can introduce him to my village safely in a few turns, when he is both big enough to defend himself and I have learned enough of his signs to translate for him.”
Kote looked to Yari, his eyes conflicted but his expression otherwise stoic as ever. “He is my treasure,” he said, finally, and then looked to Ikara. “But he cannot stay here forever, and if your introductions and translations could help him safely interact with the outside world when I am unable, I would be truly grateful.”
“Then I will trade you this strand of cloud pearls and ten others for a handful of Yari’s shed scales,” she agreed, and then leaned back down to Yari. “I know you are a brave boy, Yari. Keep protecting your father, yes? Next time I come, I will bring my daughter to meet you, so that perhaps you might have a friend your own age.”
A friend? His own age? Yari gave another emphatic nod, and with an excitement that he had not possessed minutes before, lunged forward and threw his arms around the woman’s waist. She laughed, patting him on head and then pushing him back out to arm’s length. At first, he’d thought maybe he crossed a line and wasn’t supposed to touch her, but then he realized that it was only to free up her hands so that she could make a simple sign to him–one that she’d just learned, and which had a spear of warmth lancing through his chest.
Definition: ready to face and endure danger or pain; showing courage
-Character: Fareed Anwar-
Tink!
A rock ricocheted off of the side of the soldier’s metal helm with a loud sound, sending jarring vibrations through the man’s head as he spun around with a garbled noise. His eyes violently swept the area, seeking the source of the projectile. Merchants turned their gazes away, beggars hid their faces, and shoppers huddled away under tents, seeking to avoid the ire of the Garlean soldier who had just been assaulted.
However, not everyone had tucked away. The soldier’s eyes landed, a moment too late, on a small child with messy orange locks. Far too serious a face on a cub so young, the child held a slingshot in his hand, pulled back and ready to fire. A snarl, fangs a little too long for his mouth exaggerating his expression as he loosed the stone, sending it sailing directly into the forehead of the soldier. Another resounding Tink! followed by the man’s pathetic yelling and grabbing at his face made the young man known as Fareed start cackling, holstering his trusty slingshot as he shouted, proudly in his mother tongue.
“{Eat shit, bucket head!}”
Making a crude gesture with his hands, Fareed laughs and begins running the opposite way as the soldier bellows and charges at him, dragging a couple extra soldiers along. The cacophony of metal armor behind him is all he needs to hear as he sprints down the street, peeking over his shoulder to make sure they’re following. As he runs by a specific alleyway, he glances as quickly as he can to the side. His eyes meet the small huddle of kids behind the crates in the walkway; Fellow orphans from the war.
The markets were unsafe for them as long as the Garlean soldiers were lurking around. Unattended kids were easy prey for them to scoop up and drag off to add to their pile of conscripts. But the only way to find a meal was to access the markets…so Fareed did what he had to do. Eyes turning from his friends, he reaches into the pocket of his tattered overcoat and grabs another rock. He half turns on the run, whipping it at the soldiers behind him. He hits one square in the chest, irritating them further and keeping their attention fully on him.
He darts past the hiding spot, dragging the soldiers far enough away to buy the crew enough time to scrounge up enough for a meal for the night. Confident that they were safe, Fareed turns the chase down a narrow alleyway, getting himself into what could be perceived as a dead end. Facing the wall, he hears the soldiers taunting him as they approach. Threats and hateful words thrown at him merely rolled off his back as he grinned, clawed hands grabbing the wall as he begins to climb rapidly; Much quicker and more dexterous than the soldiers could move. They swore and paced at the bottom like starving hounds as the clever little cub crawled his way into an opening on a dilapidated building, scurrying along the rafters and rooftops to reunite with his friends, one more small victory over their oppressors.
After months of physical adjustments and stretches and therapy, his healer - Drummond - had given Onaerion clearance to get on the back of a chocobo. Rion just hadn't been expecting the moment to come so soon.
"Trevoix," he called to his new valet as he wheeled down the hallway and left his older brother standing in the foyer. "I need to change clothes. Can you get out the riding pants and jacket from the wardrobe?" His valet joined him at his bedroom door and politely held the door open while he wheeled through.
"Time to brave the paddock, then, my lord?" Trevoix asked as he crossed to the wardrobe.
"Apparently." Rion sighed and began unfastening his shoes. He didn't need shoes at all, especially not in the house, but he had one of his vassals from Coerthas over earlier and didn't want to look anything less than completely put-together. He left the dress shoes unfastened but still on his feet as he sat up to watch his valet. As much as he hadn't wanted to, he couldn't keep Quinn working at his side forever, so he'd listened to the recommendations Sorren had for staff and he'd gone and hired a new valet, a gardener, and a second maid (the wife of the gardener). He missed having Quinn's hands on him to help him dress, but the poor Garlean had work to do and Rion couldn't selfishly hoard the man for himself. Trevoix was a solid valet and Rion had to admit that his former valet was better positioned as head butler instead. Ivrault was thriving in a management position, even if the cook wasn't going to be managed by anyone. All told, the household was much improved for the reappearance of his older brother and the catalyst of change he tended to be.
Rion glanced towards his bedroom door and the hallway he'd left Daephrin down. Part of him wondered if Dae would be silly enough to come help Trevoix. He was glad when Dae did not materialize at his bedroom door. With his valet's help, he removed his shoes and pants, trading them out for more appropriate gear for chocobo riding. The knee-high boots were fairly frivolous when he couldn't use his legs anyway, but they would fit in the stirrups better than his besocked feet. The riding pants - as with all pants - were a pain in the arse to get into, if only because he had to lift himself out of his chair and let Trevoix slip the pants up over his butt. Eight years of this now and it had not ceased to be annoying. He took the jacket from his valet and shrugged it on, then gave a firm nod. "Alright. Let Egrianne know I'll be out for dinner. I'm going to make Daephrin buy me something."
Trevoix chuckled. "I'll let her know, my lord. She won't be pleased, but perhaps if you bring her home some cake or tarts she might be more inclined to forgive you," he teased. (It was nice to have an employer with a sense of humor.)
Rion only heaved a much put-upon sigh and wheeled out of the bedroom and back down the hall to the foyer. "Well, brother mine?"
Daephrin turned from his idle staring through the window on the side of the door and smiled at his little brother. "Let's go!" He opened the door and held it while Rion passed through. "If it helps," he said, "Quinn will be there."
"He will?! I mean, that is, he will? Good. I...would like to see him." It had been a long two weeks since he'd last seen Tarquinn and it was obnoxious how much he missed the Garlean's company.
Dae wasn't stupid; he knew the two men were circling around a relationship. It was still fun to watch. He chuckled at Rion's enthusiasm and the subsequent attempt to cover it with a more sedate manner. "Dru will be there too. Just in case he's needed. But that's all the audience you'll have - me and Sorren, Quinn and Dru, and you."
"Good," Rion said again. "I don't want to put up with any more." With an arrogant-sounding huff, he wheeled down the ramp out of the front door and down to the street. Dae walked beside him at a casual pace, having learned by now not to volunteer to push the wheelchair. If Rion got tired and wanted a push, he'd say as much. "And you're buying us all dinner," Rion informed Dae.
"I am?"
"Yes."
"Well, then. I guess I am. Good thing I sold those tomestones."
Nightfall over the sun-scorched earth of the Thanalan desert was a mercy– for some. Star studded skies offered a cool respite for those who had no reason to fear the dark. For those who cowered in fear…the bite of the nighttime desert air brought with it the bite of something with far more venom.
Her small figure darted through the sand with ease; Not a single sound produced by calculated strides as she moved with a purpose. It’s as if her feet didn’t even touch the ground as she moved, intense red eyes focused forward towards her destination. An up-and-coming merchant who had run his mouth far too much about the wrong man. The right price was named and now…
Her dagger found its way to her hand as she approached the small settlement where her target was holed up. Back against an outer building wall as the moonlight gleamed off the sharpened edge of the blade, highlighting a sickly green sheen across it. There she waited. Waited until her victim stupidly stumbled within striking distance.
And stumble he did. Without a care in the world, too cocky to think anyone would seek revenge for his careless words and inflated ego. Like a shade, Akuma made her move on the poor bastard. He didn’t even have time to yell for help as her blade slashed his throat, corrosive poison seeping into the wound as the man clutched at his bleeding neck. Wide, terrified eyes met cold, unfeeling ones as Akuma’s boot slammed against his chest, knocking him into the sand. From a holster on her thigh, she produced another blade. This one a generic hunter’s knife; Something that could belong to anyone. A swift motion left it buried deep in the dying merchant’s chest, his gasping breath cut short as it embedded itself into his heart. His struggles ceased and she scowled down at his lifeless body, unimpressed with his lack of fight. Remaining blade in hand, she knelt down and, with hardly any effort, severed a hand; Proof that her job was done. Wrapping it and tucking it into a pouch at her side, she rolled her eyes and turned on her heel, beginning her trek back to the ones who gave her the job.
-Character(s): Siege Einar, E'mal Khama ft. @bloodredhands
*We did a funky lil RP for this one!*
E'mal's life was always something of a whirlwind, good or bad. Nothing has been predictable at any point, and things constantly shifted from what he expected.
Perhaps one of the biggest shifts in recent memory was discovering that he wasn't the last of his kin. In fact, his biological father was still alive. Through circumstances he would have never predicted from people he would've never expected to be acquainted with, he was introduced to a man who shared the same mark upon his forehead. A mark of his people.
So after a period of swirling emotions, energized chats, and reconnecting, E'mal decided it was time to introduce his father to someone very dear to him. His partner. It was a bit of a nerve-wracking idea, seeing as though Siege and Ezekiel shared similar….grumpy tendencies. But perhaps that would bond them!
This thought in mind brought him to where he was now; Milling about the kitchen in the home he shared with Ezekiel as his father sat at the large wooden dining table. E'mal had put on some tea for them all as he awaited his beloved 's return from an excursion. He did at least inform him they'd be having a very important guest today. So hopefully he wouldn’t keep the pair waiting too long.
Ezekiel had been informed of the guest that was to arrive upon his house; and while the Viera was not overly fond of strangers upon his secluded property, he knew that if E’mal was insisting upon the meeting, it was someone important to him. And while the large man disliked the secrecy behind the meeting - he begrudgingly agreed.
This person seemed important enough that Ezekiel took it upon himself to go for a small hunt before the allotted time, knowing there was going to be an unknown person in his home, he needed to be as focused as he could be. He could not have a certain whispering voice in his head demanding flesh and violence. He needed to be clear minded, so he could act accordingly. Either this person was a friend, or someone to be weary of. Whatever it would be - he needed to be on point. So, anything he could do to sate the beast, he would.
His sword was cleaned in the snow, blood staining the white a vibrant red, sheathed upon his back as armoured boots would trudge him back towards his home. Black ichor would slink back from across his form and into his chest, the silence starting to settle in. Peaceful, even if it would be short lived. But it should be long enough to get this stranger out of the way. Perhaps not quite on time, but close enough. His footsteps would sound his arrival before his hand touched the door, knowing E’mal would be flitting around the house in that nervous notion he sometimes had - listening intently for his arrival.
A small grunt was given as the door to his home opened, ducking slightly so ears didn’t drag over the doorframe. He heard the nervous flutter of his partner, and the steady beat of another. Somewhat familiar, in a distant fashion. A figure he had passed upon the street, perhaps.
Nervous flittering was correct – E'mal hadn't been able to sit still since arriving at the cabin. He idly chattered at his father as he darted around, one ear always turned towards the door. A bit of a habit he'd picked up from his ever-watchful partner. That ear flicked as he heard the familiar footsteps, unable to contain the bubbly grin on his face as he trotted towards the door, towel in hand to help brush the snow from Ezekiel's armor. A routine he'd picked up.
Siege, however, had picked up on something far less exciting. The thrum of the newcomers heartbeat…the sound of his steps….something was scratching at his brain in a way he didn't like. He carefully watched E'mal nice towards the door, feeling a brief pang of something softer as he witnessed his excitement. He acknowledged how palpable his affections were for a brief moment before the door swung open. He bristled in his seat as he watched an unfortunately familiar figure step through. His lips curled behind his mask, glad to still be wearing it in this moment. His eyes sharpened and he stared a hole through the side of this newcomer.
Of course it was him.
E'mal, while standing on his toes to lovingly brush Ezekiel's armor and face free of snow and cold with the towel, turned his face and with a dazzling smile spoke. A smile that struck something sharp in Siege's chest just for a brief moment. Shades of her shining through their boy. Though the man at his side killed any sentimental feelings instantly.
“Ezie, darling, this is the guest I wanted you to meet! This is my father! Like [father] father! Isn't that wonderful?”
Ezekiel had braced himself for the fussing. He knew how E’mal could get. He did not mind how E’mal could get. His desire to care for the large man who really did not need to be taken care of all that much, was endearing. It was what had drawn him to the smaller Viera - his unwavering kindness, despite everything.
Despite everything he had done. E’mal was still there, in the doorway, peppering his armour with the kitchen towel to rid of any excess snow and a bright, if not nervous, smile in place. Ezekiel’s weak gaze was fixed upon the man before him for a moment overlong, one ear craned towards him, the other twitching and shifting around the room to focus upon the supposed guest in their shared abode.
He heard the shift of the other man. The parting of lips to bare fangs behind the mask, his brow furrowed gently. The heartbeat that, despite everything, still remained steady. Not unlike his own. A steady heartbeat of a man who had seen far too much - even if it faltered, for just a moment - before resuming that steady thrum.
Pale eyes finally pulled from E’mal upon the introduction to peer at the man who sat upon his table. His features, while a little blurry, all too familiar. He recalled the clash of steel. Father. He recalled the accusations. Father? He recalled the determined actions of a man who only saw Ezekiel’s mask - and nothing else. Father.
The words seemed to take a little longer to register than normal. This was not the same father he had already met, the kind Miqo’te who had adopted E’mal into his life with his wife. No. His biological father, from the Jungle. His brow furrowed, just a little.
Of course it was him.
Hunched shoulders would straighten out, spine straightening out to stand his full height - not the slightly leaned over form he often forced upon himself to look less imposing. Ears twitched, lips parting before falling closed, a twinkle of fang on show as he decided on how best to… say… anything.
E’mal didn’t need to know, right? Right.
“...that is wonderful, E’mal.” He spoke quietly, the words a rasp in this throat as a growl tried to leave with them. But still, he spoke softly to the excited Rava. For him, he knew it was wonderful.
If E'mal was aware of the tension bubbling between the two men he'd just reintroduced, he made no show of it. His smile remained bright and beautiful, taking Ezekiel's hands in his own to walk him– more like drag him– towards Siege.
Siege had already stood as they approached, trying his damnedest to keep his expression level. For his son. He saw the glimmer in his eye as he looked at the over-armored man beside him, knowing all too well what an overflowing heart feels like, and he didn't have it in him to break it so easily.
Despite being significantly shorter than Ezekiel, Siege stood upright with a soldier's posture, clearly unswayed. His ears were forward and trained on the larger Veena, eyes upturned to his face. At this distance, and with far less insults and weapons flying, Siege's age was visible. He was an old jack who had seen too much– not unlike Ezekiel.
Whether he knew it or not, Ezekiel and him were in agreement.
E'mal didn't need to know, right?
There was a pause, tensions building slowly before Siege slowly extended a hand for the other to shake. Through gritted teeth and with a very thick accent, he offered his best attempt at being cordial.
“Greetings [Guardian],” the word was spoken with a small bit of snark, “My son has been eager for us to meet.”
E'mal looked up at Ezekiel with big, expectant eyes. His excitement would be contagious, had he not been in the company of these specific individuals.
Ezekiel was glad that, despite the tension being almost palpable between the two jacks, E’mal did not seem to notice. Perhaps on any other day, with any other individual, he would crack a smile at the man's excitement.
Sadly, however, he had been greeted with the face of a man who had tried to cut him down some time ago - and while he was often one for grudges, in this case, he knew he needed to get over it. As best he could, anyways.
Glad he was, it seemed, his father was in agreement about keeping their altercation between themselves. And it seemed the man was in no rush to raise arms against him now. So, even as the Rava would square himself off against Ezekiel - as he did much the same, he steadied himself as from the corner of his eye he saw that big, expectant grin, upon the face of the man he loved.
His heart fluttered, for just a moment, before a short sigh left him. He bit his tongue. He ignored the way in which the words were spoken to him, the thick accent, the almost accusatory way in which the word Guardian was spoken.
He gave a small grunt of agreement at the man's words. E’mal was eager. Neither of them seemed to be, but, their common connection was.
After a moment, he stepped forward, reaching to take that outstretched hand in his own. The grip firm, vice like, to give the man a less-than-cordial handshake. “It is nice to meet you.”
The grip on his hand instantly irritated him. Though he was disciplined enough to quell it. He channeled the same energy, tightening his grip in an equal display of intimidation as he bared fangs behind his mask. He knew Ezekiel would know. And that’s all he wanted. He held the handshake a beat longer than needed, eyes locked with the taller man. Unspoken, begrudging pact to get along in front of E’mal.
But only what was absolutely necessary.
The stare off was interrupted by E’mal’s hands clapping together, a laugh bubbling up. “Oh, this is wonderful! I’m so happy you two could meet! I’m sure you’ll get along great!” He wrapped his arms around Ezekiel, squishing his cheek against chilled armor. “Shall I make us dinner then? It would be a nice chance for us to all chat!”
Siege released the handshake, looking with furrowed brows between E’mal and the annoyance beside him. He suddenly felt very trapped in this situation.
He eyed the larger Veena, daring him to make the call.
Ezekiel’s ears twitched at the returned grip; his gaze thinning for just a moment, fangs once more flickering into existence behind pulled back lips that was almost a smile. Almost. Before they were hidden back away as the handshake persisted for that little moment longer.
He was unphased. His grip remained firm around the mans before they pulled away, and that same hand came to softly rest upon E’mal’s head as he pressed himself into the cold, slightly blood stained armour that still clung to his form.
His gaze drifted down to his partner, then back to the man before him, head dipping to the side in a slow motion.
Ezekiel saw the way in which Siege looked at him, letting him make the decision, it seemed, to either prolong or reduce their suffering by tolerating each other's presence for a few hours more.
Most days, Ezekiel would jump at the chance to not have to socialise. Most days, he would be the first one out the door.
Today, however, seeing the man before him with that challenging look upon his face - you could almost see the glimmer of amusement that twinkled in his eyes as he gave E’mal a small pat where his hand lay between his ears. “...dinner sounds good.”
It wasn't until the chill of a shadow passed over him that Daephrin Astramente opened his eyes. He looked up, up, and more up until he met the amused gaze of his love, Sorren. "I wasn't napping," he defended as he straightened from the slouch he had against the post of the chocobo stable.
"Sure. You were just sitting in the hay because it's comfy," Sorren drawled with amusement.
"Wh- it is! Hmph." Daephrin pushed himself up until he was standing and could lean casually against the wooden post. He crossed his arms over his chest. "Your shade was blocking my sun, anyway," he grumbled.
"Well, don't let me interfere with your lizard-like sunning."
Dae squinted at Sorren. He still had to look up a bit, being about a full head shorter than his beloved. He chose to ignore being compared to a lizard. "How's the work going with Fleetfoot?"
Sorren glanced towards the bird in question on the far side of the paddock. "The saddle fits. All he needs is his rider." The chocobo wore a saddle that was wider than usual and adorned with straps down the sides where one's legs would drape. Fleetfoot appeared wholly unbothered by the unusual saddle and was munching on greens in a trough.
The smaller Elezen made a little humming sound of thoughtfulness as he studied the chocobo. "I guess we just need to catch Ri on a day he's willing to be brave, then," Dae said.
"Why not check now? It's still early in the day."
Dae paled.
"I don't think Rion needs to be the brave one here," Sorren teased gently. "C'mon, let's go see if he and Quinn are out and about already. It's well beyond time we tried this."
It took Daephrin a moment to compose himself, and when he did, he pushed away from the post and slid an arm around Sorren's waist. He gave a little sideways hug before agreeing, "Alright. Today's the day." His stomach felt a little queasy at the thought, but Sorren made a good point about the timing. He needed to push past his fear of what-if and support his brother in the new-now. He could do this. He slipped his hand into Sorren's and they left the paddock behind, off on the short walk to House Astramente to get Fleetfoot's new rider.
