dutyroulette | The Next Morning (Francel & Aymeric)

Tempted, of course. But I've never found anyone worth my while. I have never met a man who has captured me so. I have danced and taken others to bed, but...

[He looks down at their hands at as the house lights dim again.]

You have changed things for me.

[As the room goes dark to their unadjusted eyes, Aymeric leans forward to place a kiss on his lips.]

[oh.

oh.

the second act starts with a musical number that francel really should watch and listen to, given that his beloved lord ilvaux is singing and dancing on stage, but this kiss from aymeric is far more important, and he closes his eyes to savor every second, as if it's their first. aymeric's lips are wonderfully warm, and it takes all the self-control that francel has in his body to stay perfectly still as those soft, plush lips pull away.]

...I do not understand what it is that draws you to me. But I am... so very drawn to you, Aymeric, I...

[simultaneously greedy and innocent, francel ignores the voices and the sound of strings from below in favor of leaning close for another kiss.]

[Aymeric reciprocates the second with enthusiasm, allowing the music to color his own love story.

He pulls after a moment, placing a fingers softly to Francel's lips. ]

I think it may bother you if you miss the handsome lord's song. We can resume at my home.

...Your song is sweeter.

[but on that lustful note, francel sighs and makes himself comfortable leaning on aymeric's shoulder to watch the play.

lord ilvaux and his many romantic woes distract him from his pressing lust for aymeric soon enough; eventually, he gets back to being engrossed in the comedic courtship of ilvaux and hatione. in the end, ilvaux does not fake-marry echette the way francel had hoped — instead, it turns out that hatione has been a noble lady in disguise all along, which rather defeats the whole purpose of the play being about a lord and a maidservant...]

[Aymeric places his head upon Francel's, finding it easier to pay attention now.

Sadly, there's hardly anything that controversial in the theaters. He had heard of some nobleman writing a ballad about the dragonsong war, but surely they would be waiting many, many moons for that. He was a little curious who would play him in it...]

Did you enjoy it, Lord Francel?

[He asks with a small smile as he finishes the last drop of his drink. He sets it down on the tiny seat-side table. He offers his hand to Francel to assist him in standing.]

[francel stirs as if from a long slumber, holding tightly to aymeric's hand and allowing the older man to pull him to his feet. the drinks were rather more strong than he was expecting, also; feeling vaguely dizzy, he continues leaning on aymeric's arm as they walk out.]

...I was rather hoping Hatione would not turn out to be a noblewoman in disguise. But — yes, aside from that point, I thought it was a lovely show.

Oh, I wonder if I should speak to the actor who played Lord Ilvaux...

A terribly safe choice, wasn't it? [Aymeric gives him a momentary knowing sideways smile.]

[He pulls Francel up much more easily than he thought he would. He is still unused to Francel's light frame.]

It is not unusual to pay compliments to the actors. [Aymeric is very slightly tipsy, his constitution much higher than his partner's.] Shall we find him?

Edited 2017-01-02 02:21 (UTC)

With the both of us so dizzy?

[francel laughs — at least he's self-aware enough for it.]

Oh, he will think us a pair of terrible drunkards! Let us not, let us not. I am much too shy.

[He pulls Francel in close against his side, wrapping his arm around the back of Francel's middle.]

Are you sure? He likely deal with worse.... Though I am eager to take you home.

[He walks them down to towards the lobby, firing serious looks to onlookers.

[being so close to aymeric is absolutely ruining francel's sense of propriety. he giggles again, breathlessly, and — heedless of the fact that they're now in the heart of the throng — leans forward and talks to aymeric in a flirtatious voice.]

Will you be angry if I go to say hello?

[his nose touches aymeric's ear when he croons:]

I love a jealous man...

[Aymeric's face heats as Francel touches his ear. He looks down at him with a curious look. He figures that it's only natural to feel desired as such. He vaguely remembers some stories of husbands in a jealous rage, but that's entirely too far and not even a little romantic-]

I won't be angry if you want to greet him. I would be terribly sore if you tried to leave with him, however.

[He squeezes Francel for emphasis. In this, Aymeric has lessened his diligence, and the chattering about them raises to a murmur.] I believe that's him there. [He whispers and points close to his body, trying not to be rude.]

[francel follows aymeric's gesture to where lord ilvaux's actor is indeed standing outside the stage doors, politely greeting his small crowd of devotees. already, some noble ladies have begun plying the young man with gifts: one woman is holding a bouquet of roses; another, a box of some no doubt luxurious jewelry. tokens to show who truly loves their idol most.

all of them are calling his name to get his attention. "alterre!" "alterre, a moment, if you would?" "alterre..."

because of the actor's fans, francel can't get any closer to him without pushing through some very determined ladies — so he settles for calling out, the only tenor voice in a chorus of sopranos. "master alterre!" he says, somewhat loudly. "your performance was brilliant!"

that gets lord ilvaux's attention. the chance that he would reciprocate francel's particular brand of admiration is not terribly high — but, in ishgard, there are things that men may do between men that they cannot do with the fairer sex, and being rather more intimate is one of them. alterre the actor has graced every noble lady with a smile and a polite thank-you; when he turns to the only noble lord that has greeted him, he instead delivers a roguish wink and a blown kiss. "thank you kindly, my lord — thank you kindly, brother!" he calls back, in a rather genuine voice.

elated, francel turns back toward aymeric, gleaming with glee.]

Oh, did you see that, Aymeric? He winked at me!

Edited 2017-01-02 04:09 (UTC)

[Aymeric is personally floored by this other man's charm. This shouldn't be baffling- the man is an actor. He makes a hand gesture as if he is trying to think to cover his reddening cheeks. He takes a steadying breath and drops his hand once he thinks he's good.]

I forbid you from getting any closer to that incubus of a man.

[His hand moves from his lower back to Francel's hip. His hand squeezes very firmly there]

O — Oh? Er — Aymeric? Why is that?

[this is just innocent stammering, and not an actual question, but the squeeze to his hip makes him squeak with delight and he melts into aymeric's touch all over again.]

Surely he won't bite...

[but he allows himself to be walked out of the theater, quite eager now to see aymeric's home.]

You can't trust a man like that. [He fans himself a bit, hoping that Francel just chalks up it up to the body heat in the lobby.]

[They step up into the cold, Aymeric looks over to Francel to see if he seems cold. They walk towards his home, and Aymeric can't stop smiling at him. The way back to Borel manor isn't a horrible walk, but by the time they can see it, the sun is beginning to set.]

Pardon if this is an intrusion, but your family won't be expecting you tonight, will they?

No, I do not believe so. They never seem to care whether I am out or at home...

[francel's siblings likely care for him a lot more than he thinks. still, he doesn't seem upset about the situation as he smiles back at aymeric and pulls his capelet tight over himself to shield his neck from the cold.]

Besides, I am a man grown. They've little room to complain even if they wished to.

Aye. You aren't a young maiden. [Aymeric makes a noise of confusion as he sees a few people standing outside his gate.]

Though perhaps your assessment is somewhat off.

[Count Baurendouin, his sons, and bizarrely, Lord Emmanellain are milling about. The Count seems agitated as he turns. "Joacin!"]

F-Father?! Oh... oh dear...

[at first francel makes as if to break away from aymeric, but, well... they've already been seen snuggling and it wouldn't do any good now. instead, francel looks around desperately, as though trying to identify escape routes.

in the end — thankfully — he steps up to face his father like a real man.]

Father, what are you doing here?!

["I've come to end this farce, Joacin. Your brothers and Lord Emmanellain corroborate that you have been parading the Lord Commander around all of Ishgard! You will be coming back with me at once! And my humblest, most sincere apologies on behalf of my rotten son," the count offers a bow so deep that his hat nearly falls off.

Aymeric's words are stopped in his throat. He's unsure if he should laugh, or allow Francel to talk first? He looks at Francel with a baffled look.]

No, no... Ser. That is, Count Baurendouin. You are mistaken.

[for all of francel's respect for his father, his own anger comes first. in days past he was much more deferential to the count's opinions — but these days, in the wake of haurchefant's death, when no one had come to speak to him, francel finds it hard to conceal his inner bitterness.]

I — parading? What do you mean, parading?!

I will go back with you if you wish it, Father, but I have done nothing wrong!

["Then why is our Lord Commander taking you around town? You've had him buy you new clothes and take you to the theater! We can't possibly afford to pay the reparations, Joacin."]

Count Baurendouin, Francel speaks true. He has done nothing wrong. Moreso, I object to you taking him back if he does not wish it. I have already invited him into my home.

[coldly:]

Is that what it looked like to you, now? You think me capable of — threatening and pressuring Ser Aymeric to give me things?

[as much as francel holds certain grudges against stephanivien (namedays forgotten and the decision to give the warrior of light a wind-up haurchefant chief among them), even he knows that stephanivien is most likely of his siblings to take his side. the tall, tanned elezen rubs the back of his neck sheepishly at the display of his father and younger brother snarling at one another. "father," he begins, rather cautiously, "perhaps we might listen to joacin's... version of events? that is — if he is willing to give them," he adds, with another wary glance towards francel's frown.]

I believe that to be most amicable, milord. Francel is a grown man, after all.

[He turns to Francel and lowers his voice] Francel, you may tell them whatever it is as you see fit. I trust you to keep my intent and dignity intact.

["Fine. You may say your piece." The count does not look pleased or reassured.]

I...

[for a moment, francel lowers his eyes, and it looks as though he might waver in the face of his father's glower — but in the end, as it turns out, he was merely choosing the right words.]

...I became acquainted with Aymeric last night at Count Dzemael's party. [was that really only yesterday?] He came by earlier this day to return something I had left with him. We spoke once more, and he offered to have a meal with me, then to see a show at the theater.

Am I not allowed to have friends, now? Or do you expect every man I know to be dead?

[the cold allusions to chlodebaimt and haurchefant might be a little too much. but francel can't find it in himself to repeat aymeric's talk of courting him.]

[The count still looks completely unamused. "There is still aught left unexplained in the wake of this... "friendship". Your brothers reported noises from your library where we found evidence of struggle and a hasty retreat."

Lord Baurendouin looks uneasy as a new thought comes to mind. In a flash of anger he speaks. "I had wondered if you were blackmailing Lord Aymeric. I must now consider whether the gifts are to keep you hushed under the hand of this older man and his untoward ministrations?!" ]

Pardon me, but you have this all wrong! I have not taken advantage of Lord Francel! [He looks over, pleadingly with Francel to back him up here. What a mess!]

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