And then the other Eagle with these same deep crimson eyes- though almost an exact opposite from Nel. Instead of jet-black hair, there was ivory white that gleamed against sunlight almost forming a halo above his head. Blues were replaced with fierce shades of pink, and there was something about their faces that made Sylvain wonder if they were related in one way or another.
Siblings, perhaps? It wouldn’t surprise him, considering how they taught for the same house. “Professor Rafal! How are you doing? I was told you visited Gautier some moons ago, and while the conditions weren’t the best…haha, I hope you still found something about it to like! I’ll care for it in the future, so.”
Once he approached the man, Sylvain made his intentions clear by first handing out a pastel pink box. Under the lid was a framboise tartelette with a layer of cheesecake- a treat considered rather noble in Faerghus due to how sweet it was, making it quite expensive. By this point Sylvain knew the professor seemed to have a knack for sweets, so he figured he’d appreciate that more than flowers. “I was thinking, the Ethereal Ball is coming, and I find you a really interesting guy! You also look quite strong. So, would you like to come with me? Like a pair? I really wanna talk to you more!”
At odds with easy expression, a pinched look of acknowledgement spun Rafal on his heel to receive the friendly young man. Sparsely encountered due to their inherent differences in house, Sylvain was not a common sighting in the Black Eagles classroom if at all, but Rafal possessed of him an impression at the very least; one much to do with the tall but no less grounded tales of his rutting perfidy. Going even further than mere impression was the correlation to both a city and an acquaintance.
"Sylvain. That is correct, and Gautier was. . .pleasant enough, I suppose. Rife with pockets of conflict when last I visited, but I imagine much of its troubles have desisted by now." Resilience was the nature of all living things, after all; the once beset monastery for one, the chaos-ridden Gautier territory for another, and far, far away perhaps even a dead world tipped over the edge of ruin. Slowly made to stand on its own feet with the same grace. The same blooming return to flowers.
But as if thought and reality had merged into one, the waft of a delectable scent bid Rafal blink with surprise. Sweet as flowers, or merely substituted in their place unbeknownst to their receiver. "Well, yes. Of course I am. . ." an unconscious twitch of pleased expression, "quite strong." Bright-eyed interest; wavering of spirit akin to bobbing fishing lure; no doubt the joint application of lavish gift and compliment would have succeeded in reeling in any other.
However, a Fell Dragon was not easily taken and this one least of all.
"But I fail to see why I must go to the ball with you simply to talk. We may do so at any time. Your request is largely impractical." Like guzzling from a lake when a cup of water sat within reach of both convenience and hand. Whether oblivious or sensible, the dragon shook his head with a sway of silvery hair. "Furthermore, I must say. If I am to 'pair' with a Gautier. . ."
Speaking with Sylvain about Gautier city had brought to mind the exchanges with Matthias situated in the same moon; Matthias who at that uncertain time in the bunker expressed the desire to search for his son. Matthias who, more importantly, was 'quite strong' - a figure of Rafal's ample approval unbowed by fang or fury.
"—between the sire and the son, the sire is more to my taste."
