Nov 20, 2025
teeth bites bleed gold keeps my body from fading
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teeth bites bleed gold keeps my body from fading
Clandestine - In Three Parts
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Word Count: 2,409 Characters: August Mercer, Marcette de Lamoreaux, Sebastian de Vairemont, Vallerin the Butler.
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clan·des·tine
adjective
kept secret or done secretively, especially because illicit.
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August Mercer __________________
“You will find the servant’s entrance at the back of the estate. All deliveries are to be dropped there.”
Mercer had barely caught a glimpse of the butler’s cold gaze before the door was closing in his face. He’d expected this. Even if he’d bothered to run a comb through his hair or wipe the soot from his cheek, he would never belong in a place like this. They could smell the Brume on him, no matter what he did. And today, he wanted them to.
Show her exactly what she wants to see. The advice rang out through his mind. Repeating itself over and over again. Don’t pretty it up. She’s expecting a brume rat, give her one.
“Aye. ‘Spose ya could send me ‘round back.” He leaned against the door frame, looking like an unwanted smudge of black leather against the white of the stone. “But if ya did tha’...” The door stopped, abruptly colliding with his boot. “Without acceptin’ this here callin’ card…” Scarred fingers slipped through the crack he’d created, waving the once-pristine card in the older man’s face. “I’d wager tha Lady’a tha house’d be more’n a li’l pissed.” White gloved fingers gently plucked the card from his grip. The butler’s nose wrinkled and his brow furrowed, causing the lines on his forehead to be even more pronounced. There was no way for Mercer to tell if the annoyance was caused by the black streaks that now marred the previously spotless gloves, or the fact that the was seal was, unmistakably, genuine, but either way, he relished it.
“You are the goldsmith?” Wire-rimmed glasses slid down the butler’s nose as he took in the brume rat, gaze snagging on every smudge and every scar. “You are August Mercer?”
“Aye. Now yer gettin’ it.” The cocky little grin that crossed the Machinist’s lips was enough to send further cracks radiating through the butler’s finely crafted facade. “Ya gonna let me in or wha’? Would’ve stayed m’arse at home if I’d known I was invited here ta jus’ ta freeze it off on tha damned doorstep.”
“Now listen to me…” The calling card crumpled in the Elezen’s grip as he held his ground. Mercer’s grin widened. “It is my duty to…”
“Vallerin...”
Sebastian’s kin ain’t friendly. He’d been warned, and yet the saccharine sweet voice that echoed through the entryway sent chills down his spine. He didn’t know how something so delicate could inspire such fear, but he, too, found his resolve faltering as he watched his previously stalwart opponent shrink into himself.
“Do be so kind as to show my guest to the parlor. We would not wish for him to catch cold.”
Mercer suppressed the chuckle that bubbled in his chest. He didn’t need to be a great player of the game to know that the growing chill in his bones was by her design. It almost made him feel bad for Vallerin. Almost.
“Yes, my lady. At once, my lady.” Vallerin trembled, stooping into a chastened bow, allowing the door to swing open. “Do come in, sir.”
Show them what they want.
“Now tha’ wasn’t so hard, was it?” Mercer caught a flash of sapphire silk on marble as he stepped inside, already shrugging off his coat. “This way then?” He started off in the direction he assumed his host had gone, leaving poor Vallerin behind holding his grease-stained coat and staring down at muddy boot prints.
Marcette de Lamoreaux __________________
That accent.
Marcette had known full well who and what her impending guest was, but nothing had prepared her for the moment his gutter drawl had violated her foyer. She wanted nothing more than to flee to her chambers, where a scalding scrub would cleanse her of the filth he had, undoubtedly, brought with him. But, alas, she had come too far to relinquish her hold on the situation. Her win was close. She could practically taste it.
It was the sweet thoughts of her baby brother finally brought to heel that allowed her to maintain the demure smile she’d pasted across her face, even as she watched the heretic’s son gawp at the silver candlesticks atop the mantle. Perhaps she should have had them moved. It was, after all, best not to tempt the rats.
“Please do accept my humblest apologies. I will have words with Vallerin. His behavior was most unacceptable.” She gently brushed a chestnut curl from her face, gifting him a polite little smile in the same motion. “Ain’t really all tha’ worried ‘bout it. Was rilin’ ‘im up, anyroad.” The rat had finally managed to tear his gaze away from the silver long enough to hobble towards the settee. Why he bothered trying to hide his limp was beyond her. Even if he had no need for sympathy, battle scars were the only redeeming quality he had. He certainly wasn’t going to win any hearts with that crooked grin of his.
“Tea?” She asked, always the perfect host, even to the vermin.
“Nah.” The Machinist shook his head, black hair falling into his soot-smudged eyes. Is this what Sebastian would have looked like had their mother left him in the gutter he should have been born to? There was an undeniable resemblance. That smirk she’d always longed to wipe from her brother’s face now sat there mocking her as the man who wore it rubbed his grease-stained fingers on the periwinkle silk cushions beneath him. She would have to burn them when he left. There was simply nothing else to be done.
“I ain’t really lookin’ ta take up much’a yer time. I would’a outright refused yer invite, but an uh… associate’a mine told me tha’d be rude. Ain’t sure why’ tha’s more rude than showin’ up an’ bullyin’ a lady’s butler ‘fore tellin’ ‘er tha’ ya ain’t wha’ she’s lookin’ fer, but…”
Who was he to ever refuse her? An offer of patronage from the House of Lamoreaux was certainly worth more than the hovel he had crawled out of. It was a disgusting, yet also familiar, show of arrogance. One that she simply could not abide.
“And yet you presume to know what it is that I am looking for without giving me so much as a moment to explain myself?” She reached for her cup of tea, praying silently to Halone that he would not see the fury he had stirred within her. “I am afraid your associate was correct, Mr. Mercer. That is quite rude.” Fiery blue eyes peered at him over the rim of her teacup. A girlish giggle bounced free from her lips. She hoped he would not see it for what it was, an attempt to pass her venom off as playful banter.
“It’s jus’ tha’ I ain’t…” Tension radiated from his jaw. Leather creaked as he shifted in his seat. Her gaze practically dared him to rise up and meet her challenge. “Well, I don’t rightly know who’s been tellin’ folks I’m a goldsmith’a any sorta renown. Tha’ really ain’t wha’ I do.”
A wave of disappointment washed over her, dousing her fire. Perhaps the similarities between him and their shared siblings began and ended with the dark hair and lopsided grin. For Sebastian had never once failed to meet her head on. A skill he had clearly inherited from their mother.
“Oh, dear me, who was it that recommended you? I do believe it must have been Aveline de Heroux. Though, I could not tell you who told her. It takes someone far more clever than I to track down the true source of such things.” Relaxation returned to her and she brought her cup to her lips once more. This would be easy. All she had to do was keep him here, ruining her settee for just a bit longer. “What is it that you do then, Mr. Mercer? If you do not craft the most divine jewelry, then what is it you have to offer? I would so hate to have to send you home without having come to some sort of accord.” It was not a lie, though it was not him she sought to best. No, he had proven that task to be too trivial. It was the youngest of the heretic’s spawn that she wished to bring to his knees.
“Hate ta be tha bearer’a bad news, but unless yer lookin’ fer a prosthetic limb, I ain’t gonna be able ta help ya.” His attempts to hide the edge to his tone failed miserably. He seemed to be wound tighter than a top as he shifted once more, leaving even more soot streaks on her Thavanarian silk cushions. “Ain’t never sold a piece’a jewelry in m’life. It is jewelry yer lookin’ fer, yeah? Hate ta have wasted yer time.”
A chime rang through the foyer, signaling the arrival of what, or rather, who, Marcette was truly looking for. And he was right on time. How unusually considerate. “You have hardly wasted my time, Mr. Mercer. It is always beneficial to know of the best craftsman. In all fields.” She straightened her sapphire skirts as she rose from her seat, eyes already on the parlor door. “But, I am afraid I must cut our time together short, as it would seem I have another guest to attend to.”
“Don’t ya worry ‘bout it. Have uh… have a nice evenin’...” The relief was written all over his face. He wanted nothing more than to be rid of her. The feeling was mutual, of course, but only once she had gotten what she wanted from him.
“I most certainly will.” Her tone was overly sweet. She did very little to hide her excitement as she stepped into the foyer to greet the guest who was already shrugging off his overcoat, a mop of wild black hair covering his face.
“Ah, dear brother, you are just in time for tea.”
Sebastian de Vairemont __________________
Sebastian de Vairemont found the sight of his brother standing there, grease-stained and soot-smudged, in the stark white of Marcette’s marble foyer almost as comical as it was frustrating. It was not, however, a surprise.
His sister had never learned the true meaning of the word patience. Not in any aspect of her life. It was why she now found herself married to the youngest son of a lesser lord. Because, unlike Sebastian, she had never been capable of holding her cards close to her chest. She played what she drew, immediately, and without hesitation.
“How very kind of you to wait for me.” The Bastard of Vairemont tossed his overcoat unceremoniously at the butler, who had to lunge forward to catch it, his wire glasses clattering to the floor.
Sebastian didn’t give the man a second look. He kept his bright blue eyes trained on Marcette and her cat-like grin, closing the space between them with only a few steps.
“Oh! Before you go, Mr. Mercer… Sebastian, you might know the answer to the question that has been troubling us. Where was it that Aveline heard that little tidbit about the excellent goldsmith?” She was practically bouncing at her perceived success. “Surely she told you?”
“If she did, I have long since forgotten.” Sebastian leaned in to press a soft kiss to his sister’s cheek, refusing to give her the satisfaction of even acknowledging the game she already felt she had won. “Now why don’t you let this poor chap get on with his business? Surely you’ve had your fun?” His tone may have sounded jovial to some, but he had been besting Marcette for the better part of twenty-five years. He knew exactly how to send her spinning.
And when she crossed her arms over her chest and stamped her foot, he knew he’d gained at least a little ground.
“Fine.” Marcette brushed him off with a wiggle of lace-covered fingers, an act he knew meant she could no longer stand to pretend she enjoyed his company, not even to continue the show she’d so carefully scripted for his poor brother, who was still trying his level best to appear unphased.
“I do hope to see you again soon, Mr. Mercer.” She crooned once more before vanishing back into the parlor.
“Surely you’ve got better things to do with your time, Cette.” He remained in the doorway, allowing his gaze to return to Mercer if only to flash a quick wink and a happy little smirk. There was very little to be done if the man did not find the small act to be of any comfort. This was hardly the place to exchange pleasantries.
“Or are you so lonely as to seek companions at the Machinist’s Guild?” Sebastian’s attention returned to his sister as strode into her parlor, making a mental note to congratulate Mercer on the disastrous state of that horrid settee. He would be glad to see it go.
Marcette’s white knuckles beneath the lace of her gloves spoke volumes. That teacup was not long for this world. “Perhaps I should be asking you that. He’s your little charity case.” She huffed as he took a seat on the settee, careful to avoid the smudges. “Do not bother denying it. I am not an idiot, Sebastian.”
That was something he very much wished to debate but now was hardly the time. “And you thought, what, that you would meddle in my investments? Surely your dear husband has many business ventures should you find yourself desperate to test the waters. You need not stoop to the patronage of craftsmen.”
“Business venture?” She scoffed, cold tea sloshing quite indelicately in her cup. “And do not attempt to use that smirk on me. I just sat here for half a bell staring it on the face of that grubby little bug you are trying to pass off as your business partner. Really, Sebastian. It’s uncanny.”
“Yes.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, blue eyes sparkling. “And your husband has the butler’s eyes. Now, what shall I do with that information, I wonder?”
The sound that came from his sister could only be compared to the cry of a wounded couerl. She nearly leapt from her seat as she sent the teacup spiraling toward him. He dodged, deftly, sending it crashing into the stone floor. Tea now mingled with soot on the cushions of the ruined settee.
Sebastian smirked. “Dear me, I do believe this settee will need to be replaced.”
Prompt 30: Sojourn
Content Warning: Endwalker Spoilers
Without the proper light of a shining sun around, each day Esredes woke up to his alarm only to see red peer back at him from the window.
Even with the red skies, Thavnair was still beautiful to a foreigner like himself. All the color was a stark contrast from Ishgard, and the people seemed friendlier even in the midst of the apocalypse. Elouan woke up alongside him at the same time, as per usual- the two had been rooming together since Garlemald. Esredes got himself ready as the barracks were coming to life with activity, slipped into the Thavnairian outfit he had purchased in order to blend in more with the local attire, and passed through the barracks area into the colorful consortium that had been set up as their base of operations. Between going out there into the hell of the apocalypse, Esredes had come to enjoy this place for every little inch of color and vibrance and life it still contained.
In but a couple weeks, Esredes had faced down numerous foes that were once people, been burned multiple times, had flesh-eating scarabs all over him, and then nearly killed someone, only to find a surprisingly smooth reconciliation with the victim later, no charges being pressed, and a newly forged understanding, however limited it was. Yet despite going through all of that, this was one of the days in which he woke up oddly happy. The world could very well be slowly ending, and if it was, that happiness wasn't going to last. But Esredes wasn't at that point yet- he still had a firm belief this would only be temporary, and they'd figure a way out of it, and in the meantime, even if everything were to crash and burn, at least he spent the last of reality together with fellow soldiers fighting to the last in a new and unique place he never thought he'd see, and no longer had to worry about the long term effects of the Dragonsong or his people if it all went down together.
Perhaps he was a bit crazy. Perhaps he was insane. Some people definitely looked at him that way when he didn't want to leave Garlemald. But what could he say? Being a soldier and not a real person had its benefits sometimes, and perhaps this was one of them.
As he made his way through the halls and up the stairs to the mess hall, Esredes said hello to several of his fellow Alliance members as he passed them, with a wave here and there. Aster had that big smile on his face Esredes was used to, Nostrada smiled back with a wave and replied that Kotaide also said hello from back home, Rae greeted him in his usual formal tone, followed immediately by Sona who held his hand out for a fist bump. Esredes couldn't help but smile and complete the gesture towards the tiny Ala Mhigan before moving on.
The mess hall food probably wasn't the best thing ever if you were Thavnairian, but Esredes was very much not, and so to him each new or unfamiliar dish mixed with the familiar was new, and exciting, and such a contrast to Coerthan faire. There was so much more spice in Thavnair, and unlike most of his fellow Ishgardians, Esredes loved spice. He had not yet figured out how high his spice tolerance was, as nothing he ate in Eorzea ever hit it- but maybe, just maybe, he'd figure it out in Thavnair. He didn't have a mission immediately today, and still had about an hour before deployment, so he took a bit of his time with eating and taking in the sights of the mess hall. He saw both Vallienne and Elias leaning against a wall near each other, but paid them both no more than a glance. His history with both of the Dragoons was awkward, to say the least, with the former having slaughtered his people and the latter nearly slaughtering him on an extremely dangerous mission in Garlemald, and he silently thanked the gods he didn't worship he didn't have a mission with either today. Even with both of them apologizing, it didn't quite change the weight in his heart.
Once he was done in the mess hall, Esredes made his way back towards the barracks. He found a few more people in the halls to say hi to- Lakaera was her usual jolly self, Ema had a big smile on her face as she said hello back, and even Vilette stopped him for a couple moments to have a brief chat before departing for duties.
Back at his bed in the barracks, he opened his bag and pulled out the mail he picked up from his Ishgardian home and office mailbox yesterday, before returning by aetheryte after a brief chat with a young squire woman he had befriended shortly after coming back from Garlemald. It was unopened, and now was a good a time as any to open it. There were quite a few letters here, the natural result of having your linkpearl open to only emergencies for long stretches of time. Maylis had sent a loving letter filled with questions about if he was doing all right and enjoying Thavnair, along with one of her usual doodles at the edge of the paper. She told him that Xavierre also sent his regards, and she had a new girlfriend, and there was someone else she wanted him to meet when he was back from Thavnair. That was great news from her to keep his mind occupied with positive things when he went back outside. Next, Quincy had written him a very long letter... and Esredes put it aside for later. He loved that little young man, but he needed to devote his own session to reading anything from him. Quincy never wrote short. Of all people, Yvesoix had written a letter, adding in regards from Victor. It was his usual badly spelt writing, and didn't take long to read. He folded it back up to put aside. His feelings on the man were complicated, but he still found appreciation in the gesture. The next letter was lengthy, but still short enough he could read it. It was from Vette. She was writing in detail with more questions towards him and sending regards on from Dione, Luken, and even Minami. Then Esredes found a single yellow flower with a note attached that simply said good luck, signed from Evianne. Exactly what he'd come to expect from her style. Ah, those two really needed to catch up...
Marie wrote a short but sweet letter. Ferrant had a letter keeping him updated but also being proud of him, and stuck with it was Heilyn's letter, in his usual tone of being a shithead but well meaning and telling him to keep an eye on Alastor. He decided he wouldn't write back telling him the last time he saw him he was about to stick an alchemy vial in his mouth. Divah had a letter too, also proud of him, and written in such a motherly tone Esredes could almost believe his own mother wrote it, if not for the fact she didn't write like that. Armel also wrote, which surprised him a little, hoping he was doing well and that his daughter was okay. Well. His definition of okay probably wasn't Armel's or Mumune's, considering the last he saw her she was on a bear with her axe slaying blasphemies left and right. Sure. She was doing just fine. Elodie was as motherly and worried yet blunt as all hells in her letter, as he expected. And there was a box, with a little cake inside. Yup. Elodie never changed. Was it his fault for refusing to tell her his nameday? Perhaps absolutely, but he wasn't going to admit it. The final letter pricked his finger as he tried to open it, and that immediately cued him in to its writer as he raised an eyebrow. Enisla had written, once more requesting information from him even though the Inquisitor woman who once saved him from being captured surely knew he had almost nothing to give here in Thavnair. Lovely. His reply could be shorter than this whole letter- she had decided to write all about an incident in Ishgard the other day, where she and her companion Inspector Rickard, with the help of Temple Coroner Gio, were dealing with some necromancer activity before handing someone off to another Inquisitor with mismatched eyes. Esredes recognized none of these peoples' names, and so his eyes mostly glazed over the text. Whoever they were, good for them, he supposed. He kept away from members of law enforcement, and was content to keep it that way. He had seen a man with mismatched eyes recently himself, funnily enough, writing in a notebook to tell him to stay away from those he knew at the same knight appreciation event he met the squire at. Well, it might be a rare condition, but even Ishgard had to have its fair share of it.
With all the letters opened and a quiet smile on his face, he put them aside back in the bag, and rose to change into his armor. They were going to call for him at the top of the consortium soon, and he wanted to be there and ready beforehand. So Esredes strapped his sword sheath to his belt, made sure the obsidian blades and potions were in place, and walked back out over the bridge up to the consortium and towards the planning room. He thought he saw a couple people he recognized out of the corner of his eye, but when he turned back, no one was there. Hm. Maybe he was imagining things. Bellona wouldn't have wanted to say hello, anyhow, and that was probably another green Roegadyn with red hair he mistook for Rusty. Rusty was Rusty, and no one else looked like him, hair short or long.
Soon, everyone filed into the planning room not long after Esredes. Azarah arrived first in her signature mage robes- the repaired ones, anyhow, since she had destroyed them in part pressing them to his wound after the chimera bit him. She greeted him with her usual variants of a hello with asking him how he was, and he replied that he was doing quite well today, actually. Avalaine came next, still in that black tank top she had been wearing all the time since they came to Thavnair, as if somewhere in there she had stopped caring about her appearance. Esredes quite liked seeing her and being on missions with her- the machinist woman was pleasant company who took comfort in his presence and guidance inside and outside of therapy, and she had been helpful when he was distressed over the incident with the conjurer. Vallerin joined next, and him and Esredes shared smiles, but nothing more than hellos. His presence was a small comfort to Esredes, awkward as it was for them to be together like this. He was his first therapy client that he didn't already know once upon a time, after all, the patient zero, and he was once used to him in a blue top with glasses. Seeing him now after finishing therapy in his knight's armor and doing missions together was... well. It was a good thing they finished therapy.
Finally, Knight Commander Ser Kainen came in, wearing that standard issue coat he was almost always in. The soft-looking Hyur man was always a welcomed sight to Esredes, even with his perpetually hard to read, set expression that rarely varied. Still, even though he felt like more of an equal officer to Esredes, he was not as long as they were in official Alliance duties, and so Esredes clasped his hands behind his back to listen at attention for the briefing.
They were in Thavnair together, once again allies in the conflict. Whether he would take Kainen's offer to be allies in war and peace after this, still remained to be seen. If the world was to see blue skies again, and there would be a world to live in after this...
Kainen had a way of talking in briefs that struck a nice balance by Esredes' standards. He was to the point, but thorough enough that it felt everything got covered quickly. And the mission was just as to be expected- go to a village to help, evacuate, dispatch blasphemies. A large one had been sighted in the area to keep out for.
No one had any questions, so the group was going out the door not long after he finished. Whatever they faced, they'd start to turn and see things from stress, and Esredes knew that. It wasn't going to be fun, not in the slightest.
And yet, still, something felt light inside him as he left with his companions, facing the red sky outside in all of its fiery glory as each step drew them into the streets of Radz-at-Han and towards the entrance.
A sound broke through the skies, and suddenly wings of green broke through the horizon, flying towards the center of the city. While Vallerin and Avalaine winced and looked away, Esredes watched on with wide eyes of awe as the creature disappeared behind tall reaching buildings, and his mouth even opened.
There was exactly one dragon in Thavnair, as everyone had recently learned. The true Satrap himself. And seeing even a glimpse of the must be distressed dragon felt like a good omen for the day ahead. While Vallerin and Avalaine recollected themselves, Esredes just smiled. Unity in Thavnair, and unity among the Alliance- what a journey it had been indeed, from Carteneau to Garlemald to here. And Esredes could feel in his heart it was still not over.
"Let's be off," he told the rest of the party as he turned back to face the endless red sky, and took a deep breath. Calm, collected, ready.
And together with his party, Esredes walked on towards the end.
Set me free, I've been caught in you Overcome with a heartsick voodoo
Vallerin w/ Arafel ~ @thedarknesssings
So tell me your secrets And join me in pieces To rot in this garden made of stones
Eternally yours
@bastardofvairemont
So take my hand, you are invited in Share my darkness and my lusts I'm filled to the brim
Vallerin & Ives w/ @bastardofvairemont
𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭 𝘛𝘰 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘯'𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵
haunt me in my dreams tonight it's home