#emil baschet

[ishgardian-nights]

[ishgardian-nights]

"Whatever may happen to thee, it was spun for thee by fate. Shirk not the stars reach."

[ishgardian-nights]

He heard it break before he could reach out to grab it. The glass surround to the candle lamp that usually sat atop the bookshelf. The one he’d moved so an impromptu guest wasn’t swallowed in his home’s unfamiliar dark. The one he’d forgotten to return to its place and knocked from the table without realizing it.

Emil stood without moving and exhaled a deep sigh. Pulling a hanker-chief from a pocket he knelt, then resigned himself to crawling on his hands and knees, patting the wooden floor before him blindly as he searched for shards, gently sweeping them toward himself with a cloth covered hand.

He really should have simply used the broom- this was a terrible idea. And still he stubbornly continued, before drawing the hand bracing himself up from the floor with a wince and a hiss, sitting up to carefully rub the fingertips of his other hand over his palm. He pulled the sliver of glass away and growled in frustration when he felt the telltale slide of blood run down his wrist.

Emil swore, shoving the hanker chief into his palm and clamping his hand around it. He pushed himself up, reaching for the bookshelf for balance and it rattled, one of the few books tucked inside dropping forward, it’s spine grazing his knuckles.

Emil grabbed the book, felt the weight of it in his hand, and hurled it across the room. The pages made a brief fluttering sound like a bird taking flight before it smacked into the far wall and hit the floor.

Another reminder of something he was robbed of.

He shifted, reaching for the back of a chair and sliding it out from the table until he could fall into it and slouch, head tipped back, staring unseeing at the ceiling.

He pressed his good hand into his palm. The cloth was sticky. Outside he could hear sparrows.

[ishgardian-nights]

[ishgardian-nights]

[ishgardian-nights]

revelations

"You're moving?" Startled, but Emil felt quite proud of keeping any distress from his voice. Still, Celeste had years of interpreting the subtle tone changes in otherwise emotionless men. She was not fooled. "Aye," she said softly, reaching to pick up the glass she'd sat down next to him and nudge it closer until it touched the back of his hand and he reached for it. "Dzemael has the contract to build at Falcon's nest, or some such. Anyway Remi's going to be there for a while and it didn't seem fair to expect him to make the trip all the time.. or really to try and keep up two households when we can just go and join him. Just til he's finished," she added the last quickly. "The western fronts a little too sparse for my liking," Remi murmured, pausing from shoving forkful into his mouth. All while looking down. If he didn't look around the table he wouldnt feel so bad about dragging Emil's last family even further away. "D'like ta come back and settle in the city. Least for now." But who knew how long from now that would be. Emil grappled for something supportive to say, choosing to hide behind his glass after a moment of silence, making that drink linger to give him longer to think. "I'm glad you're going." He rushed to follow that up. "I mean, I'm.. well theres nothing to be done for it, either way. And it isnt that much further.. I'm sure I could make arrangements to visit on.. holidays.." Celeste bit her lip, then leaned over to check Bastien in his bassinet. "I'm sorry Em. I can't separate Bastien from his da, you know?" Emil leaned, reaching a hand out and patting at the table until Celeste moved her hand into his. "I know Celeste. It's fine, really. I don't want your lives stalled because of me. I'll be here when you get back." ----------------------- Idly, as if to try and distract himself from dinner and the revelations it had held, Emil turned toward the sounds of chatter as they made their way back through Ishgard and the journey home. Hawking wares and calls of fresh produce lead him to the markets, and a few questions later, had him back on track to find the bookshop he'd visited some time ago. The one he'd been summarily dismissed from and sent on his way. What the hells was he bothering with this for anyway? It had been made abundantly clear his presence was... He paused his thoughts when the door didn't push in at his touch. He tried the handle lightly, then after a moment of consideration, knocked. "Haveta find books somewhere else I think," came a voice off to his left. Emil turned slightly, one hand still holding Sombre's reins loosely. "Ah, yes?" He wasn't sure how to reply to that. "Why?" "Abandoned. I think anyway. Ain't seen the couple in or out in weeks. No lights. No nothin'. Nobody even breakin' in cause who steals books?" "Abandoned you say...?" He turned back toward the building, only the vaguest sense of something large to his right looming like a shadow to tell him the building was there. He couldnt very well see the dark empty rooms inside. "Well," he said after a moment, moving to remount. "Thank you for the warning. I'll have to try another shop that sells what I'm after." "Aye, aye," the gruff voice seemed to be nodding, though it was further away now. Probably someone local on an errand. Emil scratched at Sombre's neck and sat back, turning to cast sightless eyes up toward the second story of the building before turning back and clicking his tongue, the familiar sound to begin the trek home.

[ishgardian-nights]

what does your heart look like tagged by: @captainqster ty! quiz is here

broken, missing pieces that once were there

Your heart has been torn before, chipped and maybe even shattered. Some pieces will never be recovered, and you are shaped by the loss. But it can still be shaped into something tangible, something good, even with its flaws and imperfections. You don’t have to do all the work of rebuilding by yourself. Allow other hands to leave their fingerprints on the new heart you create from the remnants.

[ishgardian-nights]

Emil sat up slowly, inhaling a breath cooled by night air seeping in around the window panes. After a moment he pushed away blankets and stood, padding toward the kitchen and busying himself with a cup of tea.

Water was poured into the kettle and sat atop the stove to heat- even a dying fire could warm enough water for tea. He stood in place beside the squat iron stove as he waited, staring but unseeing, mind on what had roused him from sleep.

He’d seen it again. The tree. Dead and burning against a backdrop of night. The hawk was gone, but the viper lay broken in an upheaval of bloodied snow.