The Next Morning (Francel & Aymeric)

[heiresy]

[The crisp morning brought out the flush in Aymeric's cheeks as his hot breath hung in the air in front of him. He smoothed his coat and brushed a piece of hair from his face before he rapped on the House Haillenarte's front door. He supposed that he could have sent a courier to deliver the costume piece, but that would defeat the purpose, wouldn't it?

He was a little confused with his actions, but nevertheless. It was too late to turn back now... And it wasn't as if he was afraid or that this could be a bad idea...

He greeted the surprised manservant at the door with a warm smile and a politely worded request for Lord Francel.]

Comments

[heiresy]

They just put up the posters. I can't remember the title, but it appears to be a comedy about mismatched lovers. We have quite a bit of time before the performance. Should you like to go to the Crozier and browse the shops? I fear my coat is about to fall out of fashion.

[He does seem a slight bit overly energetic to go. He bites his lip as he gazes at where the chaise was and where it currently is based on the dustless imprint on the floor.]

Perhaps a midmorning pastry to replenish our strength?

[haillenarte]

[shopping and sweets. oh, aymeric knows just how to tempt him. blissfully unaware of how far (and how loudly) they moved the chaise in their lovemaking, francel blinks quizzically at aymeric's eagerness to leave — but he's comforted by the fact that the man wants to leave with him.]

...I doubt your coat will ever be out of fashion, my lord. You seem to set the fashions in Ishgard these days.

[once aymeric is done, francel pulls his own pants back up and laces them properly, rolling over to find his discarded bliaud.]

...If anything, perhaps I should get something new to wear. I will look out of place beside you at the theater, if I do not...

[heiresy]

We should get you something new. [Rather than undressing Francel with his eyes now, he was imagining him in different cuts of garments. He tapped his lips with a finger as he thought. He only barely waited for Francel to get his bilaud back on as he headed for the door, stopping on the rug as he heard a set of footsteps.]

[Stephanivien's voice came through, muffled by the thick wooden door. There was a feverish knocking. "Francel, are you in there still?"]

[Aymeric felt like a schoolboy caught with a shirtless girl behind the stacks in the library and remained silent.]

[haillenarte]

[the sound of stephanivien's voice coming through the library door makes francel jolt so badly that he drops his bliaud laces altogether.

he has to scramble to tie them up, rushing over to the door on his shaky legs — although, being fresh off the high of an afterglow, he feels a little less nervous than he arguably should be. "oh, er, yes!" he calls back through the keyhole, a little more high-pitched than usual. "wh-why, is something the matter, brother?"]

[heiresy]

["Aurvael and I heard a bit of noise. Are you, um, alright?"]

[Aymeric seemed to get a bit paler. Facing dragons and disenters? Fine. But dealing with guarding brothers? That was a bit new for him. Most men were in too much awe of him to be pissed when he danced with their sisters.]

[Aymeric turned to Francel to whisper uncertainly.] Do they think I hurt you?

[haillenarte]

No... No, I think they are just... curious...

["we are just fine," francel replies, a little too quickly. "ser aymeric was simply... he helped me move some shelves. they — they are quite heavy, but — we managed!"

he needs to convince stephanivien to leave, and quickly. "er — would you, ah, do me a favor, brother, and ask our manservant to ready my traveling-cloak? after all this... lifting, ser aymeric wishes to browse the crozier."]

[heiresy]

["That didn't sound- Why would the Lord Commander be helping you move shelves?" Stephanivien couldn't resist picking that apart. It didnt even make remote sense.]

[Aymeric was caught between laughing and trying to think of a way to buy into this lie. They would have to come clean. Besides, there was no real reason to lie, besides the rumors. It was a little late for that anyway with the shelf moving business. Aymeric was still whispering, feeling silly.] You can't tell them that it's none of their business?

[haillenarte]

["i-it just — came up in conversation," francel calls back, lying very badly. he gives aymeric a scandalized look.]

I-I could never be so disrespectful to my brothers!

["we will be finished in another minute," he adds to stephanivien, in a much more convincing tone. "was there aught that you needed, stephanivien?"]

[heiresy]

[Aurvael and Stephanivien look at each other. "Brother, your shelves are built into your walls. They were custom Dzemael, remember?]

[Aymeric squeezed the bridge of his nose as a headache was coming on. As this conversation dragged on he dressed. Everything but his coat now- That was simply folded over his arm. And his shirt wasn't laced either, but. He wasn't naked. He stepped forward and opened the door, tousled hair and all.]

Gentlemen, your concern is most admirable, but you will find it sorely misplaced. Pardon our brusqueness, but we have a show to attend.

[He topped it off with one of his diplomatic smiles and nodded to Francel.]

We must be on our way, my Lord.

[haillenarte]

[it's a good thing that aymeric saves francel when he does, because the young lord is caught so off-guard by stephanivien's infuriating common sense that he finds himself blushing red, at a total loss for words.

this is made... even worse by the fact that aymeric answers the door in a state of total disarray, and francel himself is — well, he's just managed to pull himself into decency, but he's missing his hat and his gloves and his brothers know he never leaves his room without his hat and his gloves! but there's nothing else to do about it now but... well... follow aymeric out as meekly as possible and pretend everything is just fine.]

...Y-Yes, Ser Aymeric. Ah... good day, brothers. Fare thee well. I will be back... anon.

[smooth.]

[heiresy]

[Aurvael and Stephanivien are at an entire loss for words as they watch the two leave. They look between one another and the undeniable evidence of Aymeric having totally banged Francel.

"Aurvael. I saw Francel sneak out of the party last night. Could it have been...?"]

[They move quickly out of earshot of the rumormill starting already.] We will use my home next time. My sincerest apologies, Francel.

[haillenarte]

[francel has never felt so uncomfortable walking down the halls of his own family home.]

N-No, I... I was at fault, as well, Ser Aymeric. You offered to relocate to your home, but — 'twas I that refused.

[he lowers his voice, wary of any eavesdropping maidservants as he adds:]

I simply could not wait...

[heiresy]

[He places a hand on Francel's shoulder to speak closely into his ear as they walk.] Neither could I. This is hardly anything treacherous. It will be scattered into the wind for tomorrow's gossip.

[Which would likely be something else juicy about the two of them, but anyway. They made their way out the door, Aymeric popping his coat on as the chill hit him. He caught sight of Francel's delicate little fingers, bare in the perpetual winter.] Ah, that just won't do. [ He pulled his gloves from his inner pocket and placed them into Francel's hands.]

[haillenarte]

[the expression on francel's way is probably best described as ecstatic — in a much different way from his earlier ecstasy in the private library. francel looks like a delicate maiden swept off her feet, or like a brume starveling offered kindness for the first time in his life.]

Oh! I... I can wear your gloves?

[the shy, sweet way he asks this would convince anyone that he's a pure, unsoiled virgin.]

[heiresy]

But of course, Francel. [What kind of bastard would just make the guy he just had sexwith carry his gloves in the cold???]

They were beautiful gloves, however. They were lined with soft white wool, the outsides a handsome, familiarly-colored blue leather with metallic detail on the knuckles. He smiled down at Francel before catching himself in the reflective glass of a neighbor's mansion. He straightened his hair a little- it barely helped. He turned his attention quickly back to Francel, however.]

Should I take you to my tailor?

[haillenarte]

[francel puts those gloves on so happily that one might think he has never owned a pair of gloves before. they're a little loose in the fingers — not that the difference in size between aymeric and francel is so great, but merely that francel has uncommonly delicate hands — but the lordling certainly doesn't seem to mind in the least. on the contrary, it seems to add to his enjoyment of the gloves; he almost seems to skip down the steps out from the last vigil toward the jeweled crozier.]

Oh, I... I shall go wherever you take me, Ser Aymeric. I've not had aught properly tailored in some years. The bliaud I wear now is... is a hand-me-down from Ser Chlodebaimt.

[heiresy]

[He let out a soft chuckle at Francel's innocent maiden behavior, but took on an appropriately solemn expression at the mention of the departed Haillenarte son.]

Then it is well time that you were given a suit of your own.

[He caught up with Francel quickly enough, offering his arm for Francel to take. It was a bit public, but his fondness for Francel outsized his general shame right now.]

What are your favorite colors?

[haillenarte]

[even francel hesitates at the sight of aymeric's proffered arm, but his long-held desire to walk arm-in-arm down the crozier with a beautiful man far outstrips any concerns he might have about not attracting rumors at the moment. smiling shyly, he loops his elbow in aymeric's own.]

I... I suppose I have always been partial to the House colors. Dark red and deepwood green... I think greens best suit the color of my hair. But, ah... in my youth I was often told that a navy blue might bring out the color of my eyes...

[heiresy]

[A soft blush came over his ears as Francel took his arm. He turned his head to look into Francel's eyes, noting the color.]

Blue would indeed be a lovely color on you. [He smiled as he spoke. If his outfit and the interior of his home had anything to show for it, he was being entirely honest.]

But the other colors would be very handsome on you as well. There's hardly a reason to only pick one. A man needs more than one set of clothes if he is to attend the theater with any regularity.

[haillenarte]

[francel smiles, too, breaking into a boyish giggle when aymeric mentions other colors.]

You're one to talk! There is a reason they call you Aymeric the Blue, you know.

[they're nearing the crozier now, and... and children might be watching, but all the same, francel feels daring enough that he lets his head rest on aymeric's shoulder for a moment as they walk.]

...I would wear any color that pleased you best, though. Even, ah... sunshine yellow.

[heiresy]

It sounds as though you don't care for it. I don't think I do either. That color hasn't an ounce of class. [His voice falls to a dead whisper as they pass a lady in the selfsame color. He presses a hand to his mouth, looking sardonically mournful.

They breach the Crozier proper now. Everything was in its proper place in a comforting way. And not terribly comforting as Emmanellain seemed to snap out of his hangover instantly and tried to lock eyes with Francel.]

[haillenarte]

[aurvael and stephanivien are one thing. emmanellain is quite another entirely.

francel's arm jerks in aymeric's, but he doesn't quite disentangle himself entirely. instead, he... tries to just... avoid emmanellain's eye contact. that's a nice, polite way to indicate that he doesn't want to talk, right?

...he doesn't dislike emmanellain, especially not in the wake of haurchefant's death. just. please. go away. i will tell you everything later, just... go away.]

[heiresy]

[It is by the narrowest margin that Emmanellain does not approach. While Francel flails, Aymeric turns his head to meet the gaze with a peculiar smile. Emmanellain shrinks back immediately, but stares after the two. This would not be the last they would see if him. He settles for waving to Francel and a tasteless wolf whistle. ]

Quite a day already, isn't it, Lord Francel?

[Though they were through Emmanellain's gauntlet, there were clusters of slack jawed ladies and a few unemployed lords loitering about.]

Are you uncomfortable in the center of attention?

[haillenarte]

[by the grace of halone, aymeric's piercing gaze stays emmanellain from outright interrupting them, and francel breathes an audible sigh of relief. to their onlookers, though, it might be more construed as a sigh of dreamy pleasure, a sign of how intoxicating aymeric's presence might be...]

...I am fine, so long as I am by your side. Though I imagine Lord Emmanellain will corner me for some juicy gossip in few bells' time.

[heiresy]

Would you prefer to elude him? You are welcome into my manor whenever you wish.

[Aymeric begins to pull him in the direction of the tailor, though gently. He leads Francel down a set of stairs and opens the door into a small, reasonably well lit shop. A duskwight of middle age looks up with pins between his teeth and smiles. He pulls them from his mouth and stuffs them into a nearby cushion. "Ser Aymeric! What a tremendous pleasure to have you back. Pray, look around, look around. I see that you have brought Lord Francel. Welcome, milord." ]

Good day to you, Hairrant.

[Aymeric gave Francel a knowing little grin before unhooking his arm to navigate the smallish space.]

Pick whatever catches your eye, Lord Francel. He can alter the sizing and color with ease.