#emerlain moreau

[hithren]

OC-tober 2021 Day 15: Thief List by @locke-rinannis

Something small and simple today cause Im hella distracted. But gotta celebrate that new glam they showed in the media tour. I stg it better not be for DoH or Imma rIOT

I borrowed Ruran’s Emerlain too, I dont think there’s a hat.... but I gave him one anyway

[a-memory-of]

The midday sun beat hot against the sand-weathered stones of Ul'dah's streets. But the heat never stopped the desert city's routines, especially in the marketplace: deliverymen pulled their carts, merchants at colorful stalls battled for attention with shouts of amazing deals and extraordinary wares, and adventurers and buyers of all shapes and sizes perused such goods with either awe or incredulity. In his own way, Emerlain Moreau wanted little to do with the crowd. Not because he didn't care about the lively energy that being surrounded by people offered (on the contrary, he loved that about Ul'dah), but because he was busy with other matters. Sitting against the wall, beneath an awning that shielded him from the sun's rays, he sketched on his parchment. His pale blue eyes then peered up, past the crowd, and to the impressive, ornate building that sat on the other side of the street. Architecture was the subject of the day, and he made certain to note the length of each column and flow of each flag that was caught the hot breeze. As ever, his expression was calm, if not pleasant, and despite his concentration on the building beyond, he gaze occasionally strayed along the streets. His concern wasn't with the crowd, but he certainly didn't mind watching it from his almost-decently cool spot.

The heat was something so entirely different than she was used to. Josephine Gallier found it odd she was missing Ishgard of all places, but she was. Her hair had been tied up in a bun, offering some escape from the warmth and it was an attempt to look more presentable even when she felt as frazzled as she did. Carefully clutching the same leather-bound file to her chest, she hurriedly made her way through the market, dodging the crowd and carts alike. Josephine stopped a moment, looking around and giving an exasperated sigh. How she was supposed to find anyone here, was quite beyond her. Pulling the file back a bit, she looked down to a parchment resting between it and her chest. It had a hastily drawn map and directions upon it. Someone bumped her shoulder as she looked down at it, and then up at the street. Scrunching up her nose, the Elezen stepped off to the side, looking at it and fanning her face with her free hand.

Emerlain wiped locks of hair that had stuck to his forehead in the heat, leaving behind a light smudge of charcoal across his skin. His steel gray tunic was dusty, just like everything in Ul'dah, but otherwise quite well-kept. A few strokes later, and he glanced back up. Then, his head tilted, and a clever smile spanned.

Not far, off to the side, stood Josephine. Their last meeting had not ended well, at least not to her (he presumed), and he was half-tempted to simply pack up his book and slip away. But...that brooch, her name, and a long-distant memory compelled him to act once more. 

Briskly, he tore a piece of parchment from the book and began to fold. It was a simple design, and he worked with nimble fingers, occasionally glancing her direction to make sure she didn't leave yet. Then, he popped to his feet and swept over to the woman, the contents of his hands hidden behind his back. He simply...stood beside her, nonchalantly. Wondering how long until she would notice.

Josephine had been too lost in the scribbled directions to notice the other had all but slid up beside her. Still frustrated and fanning herself, she mumbled something about Halone under her breath before she turned sharply, making to walk back the way she had come. Perhaps she had gone too far down--- 

As she turned, she very nearly walked right into Emerlain's chest, but stopped herself, scrambling for her file to keep it in her arms and an apology already forming on her lips, "Ah, forgive me sir, I didn't--- you!" 

Blinking, she stood there looking at him. It was most certainly the artist from the bar the other night. Clearing her throat, putting a stray hair behind an ear, and standing straight as if she had never had such an undignified moment at all, she pursed her lips at him, "If you'll excuse me, I'm in a hurry."

Emerlain quite positively beamed. “Of course,” he replied in a smooth but chipper tone. “I’m certain you have much better things to do than talk to me. However, I noticed you look like you’re still adjusting to the heat. Especially today, as the sun seems particularly unkind.”

In a swift movement, Emerlain presented her with the parchment he had torn free prior. It was a delicately folded fan, and on one side was a sketch of a mountainous landscape he had done during one session or another. He offered it was a smile and a slight bow of his lanky elezen shoulders. "It isn't much, but perhaps more useful than your bare hand, hm?"

Josephine almost commented on the nerve of his implication, how dare he assume she was anything other than perfectly refined in this Twelve-damned heat? But she thought better of it, it was a waste of time and she was already lacking that. Clamping her mouth shut, she half-turned as if to move away when a folded paper was forced into her line of vision. 

Stepping back and blinking, she studied it. A fan. Her eyes caught on the sketch a moment, taking it from his fingers and into her own, one arm still curled around the folders at her chest. "Is this... why would you ruin a perfectly good drawing like that? How absurd," she clicked her tongue, squinting her eyes at him a moment. 

But it was rather hot. She pursed her lips. Would using it show too much weakness? She could always use it once she was out of sight. To start sweating would be improper, however... and so she gave it a few test flicks.

Emerlain shrugged, lofting a brow in her direction. "Ruined? Now 'tis a beautiful fan, instead of a parchment. One can be both beautiful and highly functional." He grinned, perhaps intending his words to mean something else, perhaps not. As she looked at the fan to test it, he looked at her. And then to that little brooch on her chest. 

"'Tis a fine brooch. But aged." He spoke casually, smiling kindly. "It must be important to you."

The fan helped, she supposed. But she was not about to admit it so readily. Josephine couldn't help but give him a wary look at his words. Had he not been speaking of a simple fan then? 

His next words stilled her hand, before her olive eyes settled back on his face. "One usually finds importance in gifts," she muttered, tilting the papers she had in her free hand his way, "If you must insist on conversation, at least make yourself useful. Do you know where this is?" A gesture of her chin pointed to a neatly written name, likely a merchant stall.

Emerlain merely smiled, a look that often accompanied a mischievous glint in his eyes, as if he knew a secret. His keen ice-blue eyes then peered down at the papers, studying the location. His brows went aloft. “The name certainly looks familiar. I could lead you, of course, but on one condition.” He peeked up toward her. There was that smile again.

Josephine could not help give a wary look at the other, immediately regretting having asked for his aid at all. Not with a look like that. There were countless other's she could have asked on the street for directions. She had no need for his games. Blowing a breath out her nose, she deadpanned, "And the condition?"

Emerlain's expression somehow brightened, realizing that she was going to entertain his offer, at least. He rummaged through the pocket of his trousers and procured an item, obscured by his hand as he offered it to her, looking amused all the while. "You simply must keep this." 

If or when she offered a palm, he would drop the item into her possession. It was small, about the size of the pad of her thumb, and green. The Thanalan sun glimmered off the shimmering sheen of jade, and it had been intricately carved into a creature: a skulking fox.

She found she immediately regretted her answer, frowning at his own suspicious looking smile. Josephine watched his every move as he dug around in his pockets. With hesitance, she raised her hand in turn to collect the offered item. She was not sure what she had been expecting, but she certainly had not expected something like that. 

Josephine studied the little carving, she could not tell it's purpose, but she recognized easily enough it probably not had come without a considerable amount of gil. "But I..." her face fell a moment, the lines of agitation fading in that passing thought, "What am I to do with this? Why are you giving it to me?" When in Halone's name was the last time she had received any sort of gift?

“So many questions. Do you not receive trinkets often? ’Tis surprising. Place it somewhere nice to commemorate our meeting, or keep it out of sight for the same reason, whatever you like. Just do not sell or toss it away, t’would be rude,” Emerlain nearly laughed. Then he stood a little straighter. “Now, the merchant you’re looking for isn’t on this street. I daresay it was in the direction you came from, but you missed the the turn. Come with me, hm?” He motioned to the street behind her, then spun on his heel, tucking the pad of parchment under his arm and moving to lead the way.

Josephine stared down at the little carving for a moment longer, before she carefully tucked it away in a breast pocket. For some reason she felt more agitated about the gift than the heat, being lost, or being late combined. But she carefully trained herself back with a deep breath. 

Thankfully, at least, several of those problems were remedied once the other led her down the proper street. They parted ways at the stall, she had business to attended to, after all, and he seemed content to be on his way. Josephine gave one last look to his retreating back, before shaking her head as she unfolded the paperwork from her stack before the merchant. A strange man like him was not someone to dwell on.

With @locke-rinannis

[hithren]

Inspiration and art in general are still real hard, so have some vaguely shippy scribbles I did for ockiss week/valentine’s that I’ll likely never finish but

featuring @locke-rinannis‘s Emerlain and Ruran and @ffxivaltstars’s Laurens

[hithren]

My turn! (Josie and Emerlain)

Josephine Gallier and Emerlain Moreau have joined your party!

Starting Dungeon: “You—I… why are you here?”

Assisting: “Must you cause a scene?”

Being Assisted: “Stop smiling—!”

Idle Dialogue: “Are you humming? Please stop.” (or) “Why did I agree to work with you…?”

Witnessing Emerlain KO: “…”

Reviving Emerlain: “You are a fool, you know that?”

Finishing Dungeon: “…ugh, my head.”

With plenty of secrets still between them, Josephine and Emerlain are acquaintances at best in her eyes. She understands the benefits of teamwork, and would not forgo mechanics to spite him. She does seem to miss a number of her shots when Emerlain is in party, however, though she will outright deny it if called out on. And despite her cold words and attitude, she genuinely appears concerned if he’s in trouble.

Send me “My turn!” for dialogue my muse would have while in a party with yours.

[hithren]

💛 for a moodboard about our muses’ relationship (Emery & Josie)

Moodboard: Josephine & Emerlain

【You must put these dreams aside, they will only break your heart.  】

Moodboard Meme

[hithren]

XIX: Gelid

Firelight flickered across two suitcases stacked neatly near the door. The warm glow illuminated the small room, empty now, save for old and bare furniture. Upon the empty table there was a small journal, open to pages covered in ink.

A lone figure stood by the window, looking out. It was cold, far too cold outside. Frost clung to the panes of glass, and each puff of breath left a mark. She was leaning against the sill, watching the blizzard outside. In her hands was a warm glass of mulled wine. She was lost in thought, eyes drifting from snowflake to snowflake.

Somehow it seemed fitting her last night in Ishgard, for some time, would be one of gelid memories of times past.

Slowly she glanced back to the opened journal, fingering a brooch on her collar…

It is cold again today. It grows colder with each passing day. I remember looking out my window and seeing the snowfall. I wondered if you saw it too, wherever you were. I had to hope that you did. I honestly do not know if you even survived that night, when the world ended.

I went back to our tree, do you remember it? We used to sneak outside the city and sit under its branches to talk about all the adventures we would have when we were older. Sometimes we would climb it. Sometimes you would carve little pictures in the trunk.

The cold took it away. It was broken and withered when I went. The cold seems to be taking everything from us. Everyone in Ishgard is so cruel. I fear my heart too, will one day wither like our tree.

Oh, Emery, when are you coming back? I miss you terribly.

Mentions of @locke-rinannis‘s Emerlain Moreau

[hithren]

Some gifts for some good eggs for Christmas!

@locke-rinannis @aethersent @ffxivaltstars

[a-memory-of]

Emerlain Moreau beamed at that, sitting down and setting his book and scrolls in front of him. If he noticed the sheets of music beneath the mundane papers, he didn't mention it. "'Tis good to get out of this heat," he smiled, then introduced himself, "I'm Emerlain."

Josephine Gallier merely hummed in response, eyes back on her papers. But as he spoke his name, she looked up, quill stilling in her hand. As she straightened slightly, the light of the oil lamp on the table caught against a small silver brooch on her shirt, "Emerlain...?"

Emerlain's ice-blue eyes flicked down at the brooch, and his brows gave the slightest tick upwards. He adjusted his glasses. His accent held no hint of Ishgardian descent, and was rather indiscernible. "That's right," he smiled, not mentioning the brooch just yet, if he even remembered it! "And you are..?"

Josephine shakes her head, she must have been mistaken. Or tired. The proper thing to do would introduce herself in return, she supposed. "It's Josie," she tapped the quill back on the paper, looking back down.

"Josie," he repeated with a smile. The man was curious, but not overly so, and leaned back to observe her for a moment. He took a sip from his water, then set it down a fair distance from any papers. "...May I sketch you, Josie? 'Tis an usual request, I'm certain, and you're more than able to decline."

She rose a brow at that, "Sketch me...?" She cleared her throat at that. It was improper to blush, after all. But she could blame that on the wine. "I... I'm sure you can find more suitable and willing models at that... establishment down the road."

Emerlain laughed lightly, shaking his head. "You may be right, 'least so far as willing," he smiled. "But I find it more interesting to sketch the people I meet. As a bit of...putting memory to paper, I suppose. So shall I take that as a 'no', then?"

Josephine shook her head at that again, "I suppose I was merely caught off guard. Must I sit still then? I do still have work to do." The faster the paperwork was finished, the sooner she could find distraction, after all.

He beamed, reaching for his pad of parchment, while his other hand offered a lazy wave. "Not at all, simply be as you were, I would not wish to distract you more than I have." He pulled a piece of charcoal from a pouch at his side. "My apologies for catching you off guard, by the by, I simply follow my muse and must answer when the inspiration strikes me."

"...I suppose I can understand," she looked to him, still slightly suspicious but not sure why. Sighing she drew up  the quill once more, reading through the papers, occasionally writing something before flipping them over to another pile, and repeating.

Emerlain opened up his book and quietly sketched, his features pleasant as he concentrated. Light marks scritched against the paper, and his pale eyes flicked upward quite often to study her face. Several silent minutes passed, until his head canted, and he noted while continuing his work, "'Tis a lovely brooch."

She had once again lost herself in the words, mind a flurry of numbers and lists. She only occasionally shifted to bring the glass of wine to her lips as she worked. When he spoke again, her had paused a moment as it wrote, but she did not look up, "Mm. It was a gift. From someone I knew."

With @lockerinannis