Cabin Fever
When he had first gotten the call, Aurvael had wasted no time in heading home, changing from his ‘stuffy nobleman’s clothing’ with its itchy collar and the ridiculous puffy hat that was so fashionable of late into a much more practical and well-worn set of explorer’s clothing. Swinging by to kiss Mama’s cheek goodbye - she worried so, and while this journey was fated to be a short one, he didn’t want to go off without warning her - he raced back to the docks looking for all the world like a half-mad chocbo, boarding the Rose Triumphant and taking the airship off to see the damage.
Personal investigation proved true - massive storms were battering the diadem, visible even with only a spyglass to get a view of that most beautiful, bountiful territory. Even at what should have been a safe distance, the ship wouldn’t quite hold steady as sudden gusts battered her hull, threatening to send her tumbling from the skies. He could see, with use of his spyglass, the large, imposing flora of the diadem being battered as well, but even that was swfitly growing obscured by the windstorm and the clouds all about. Within a few bells or a sun or two at most, the diadem was going to be not just inaccessible, but lost from sight until the winds died down.
He couldn’t risk sending any more people in with the weather acting so abominably, and so, with a heavy heart, Aurvael gave the word to Jaquoinie and the rest of his men to halt all expeditions in or out of the diadem, and prayed that those who had still been within it when these winds began would be able to stay safe. Essential tasks done, he had turned back to Ishgard and settled in to wait.
...That had been nearly two weeks ago, and almost sixteen days of being trapped within the walls of Ishgard was driving Aurvael absolutely mad. While for the first few days he had been able to keep himself busy checking in with his crew and exchanging what last bits and pieces had been brought out of the diadem before the storms hit, such tasks had quickly dried up and he was left adrift with naught to do, save pester his family and try to fill the time however he could.
In short, Aurvael was bored
And a bored Aurvael was a terrible thing for everyone.
He’d already ruined, after many years of abstaining from doing do, his Father’s old tactical map, redrawing upon its surface to make it more relevant to commercial and adventurous interests rather than movements of the now-defunct Dravanian horde.
He’d pestered the temple knights about any outgoing missions into the wilderness and whether he could come along often enough that he was now quite banned (at least temporarily) from setting foot anywhere near the Congregation. This in turn meant he was side-eyed suspiciously if he went near the Forgotten Knight, and Gibrillont had sternly warned Aurvael if he intended to go there to sit and drink and stay in one place instead of walking laps around the tavern - he was scaring the customers.
He wasn’t exactly banned from it, but Aurvael wisely chose not to return there right away. Not with the way Yolaine looked at him, like she wanted to skewer him with one of her Doman blades. That old woman was frightening!
The chocobo stables was also a possibility, but Aurvael already knew his energy and frustration would upset the birds, and had no desire to bother the poor creatures. He was bored, not cruel, and chocobos were sensitive. So instead, it was the manufactory which next suffered, as the tall blond bounded inside, searching for his brother with a wide (and slightly manic) smile.
“Steph! Steph, do you have a moment? There’s something I would like to ask of you, if you’ve no objection!”
