Estinien Wyrmblood (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dravanicide) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
dutyroulette2016-07-20 09:26 pm
dravanicide) wrote in dutyroulette2016-07-20 09:26 pm
Estinien + Ysayle
[With the others asleep, or so Estinien assumes as such, he quietly sneaks away from the now dwindling campfire. Though, less so would you call it a campfire than a pile of weakly glowing embers barely clinging to life. Nevertheless, not being able to sleep easy, as he never has been able to since childhood, he decides to patrol the area around them.
With so many dragons nearby, his senses are rather flooded, and as such he rather relies upon his own eyes to detect any would be threats. However, he also knows it's scantly just that, that his mind is elsewhere with the meeting of Hraesvelgr on the horizon, and if naught comes of that, then too a showdown with Nidhogg. At long last, his thirst for vengeance may yet be sated. The thought is comforting, to be sure, but with his beliefs, and the foundations there of being shaken so thoroughly, he is rather besides himself with his thoughts.
He's almost disappointed that there doesn't seem to be any dragons threatening to march upon the camp. It'd be a welcomed stress relief to fell one of the beasts, even if it might result in Iceheart's shrill mewling. However, since that does not seem to be the case, he instead decides to spend this sleepless night training (not unlike the days when he first joined the Knights Dragoon) with his Gae Bolg, a handful a yalms outside of their camp.
Those days, being a young lad with scant a thought in his head save for vengeance, are still burned into his mind. His training, rigorous and scarring as it were, promised to never leave him. How could it? When his anger, his hatred—his trauma was used to fuel him, to make him that much more focused, that much more deadly. That much closer to vengeance. The reminder of what he had lost, what others could lose, that Nidhogg and his brood were responsible...
His movements, precise and calculated, speak of years of training. He moves with ease with his practiced jabs and thrusts, and as his mind goes back to that place, near as horrifying as when his village was razed to the ground, what with being forced to relive it again and again, it's almost as if he's in a trance. It was all part of the training, to fan the flames of his contempt. To open that emotional wound so that it may gush forth with utter rancor, not unlike that of Nidhogg's own. So that he may become a better weapon in lieu of his own self preservation.
With his focus being poured into his practice, and his thoughts leaving him elsewhere mentally, he scant will realize the approach of another—for how could he, when he's so utterly consumed with the past, presently.]
With so many dragons nearby, his senses are rather flooded, and as such he rather relies upon his own eyes to detect any would be threats. However, he also knows it's scantly just that, that his mind is elsewhere with the meeting of Hraesvelgr on the horizon, and if naught comes of that, then too a showdown with Nidhogg. At long last, his thirst for vengeance may yet be sated. The thought is comforting, to be sure, but with his beliefs, and the foundations there of being shaken so thoroughly, he is rather besides himself with his thoughts.
He's almost disappointed that there doesn't seem to be any dragons threatening to march upon the camp. It'd be a welcomed stress relief to fell one of the beasts, even if it might result in Iceheart's shrill mewling. However, since that does not seem to be the case, he instead decides to spend this sleepless night training (not unlike the days when he first joined the Knights Dragoon) with his Gae Bolg, a handful a yalms outside of their camp.
Those days, being a young lad with scant a thought in his head save for vengeance, are still burned into his mind. His training, rigorous and scarring as it were, promised to never leave him. How could it? When his anger, his hatred—his trauma was used to fuel him, to make him that much more focused, that much more deadly. That much closer to vengeance. The reminder of what he had lost, what others could lose, that Nidhogg and his brood were responsible...
His movements, precise and calculated, speak of years of training. He moves with ease with his practiced jabs and thrusts, and as his mind goes back to that place, near as horrifying as when his village was razed to the ground, what with being forced to relive it again and again, it's almost as if he's in a trance. It was all part of the training, to fan the flames of his contempt. To open that emotional wound so that it may gush forth with utter rancor, not unlike that of Nidhogg's own. So that he may become a better weapon in lieu of his own self preservation.
With his focus being poured into his practice, and his thoughts leaving him elsewhere mentally, he scant will realize the approach of another—for how could he, when he's so utterly consumed with the past, presently.]
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Nay, not missing. Misplaced. Intentionally set apart from the rest of the group as though he didn't belong.
When in truth, it was she that didn't belong. Most of the thoughts that danced about in her little head reminded her of this. Ysayle's place was with those who took to the sky and cared little for the races that littered the ground beneath them. As usual, she had her head in the clouds and her heart captivated by the upcoming reunion with Hraesvelgr. It mattered little who she traveled there with so long as she was able to see him once more. Despite the absurdity of her background, she was here to share in the mission of forging an everlasting peace together with them. To be without one of them felt strange however the Azure Dragoon was a man capable of taking care of himself. He didn't need a keeper like certain others did, Ysayle tried to convince herself. If he did, then would it not be better to stir awake the Elezen lord or the Warrior of Light to fetch him?
(Best not to send the Moogle after all)
After a few more twists against the ground in order to get comfortable, Ysayle concedes. Sleep was being denied to her, either by her own excitement or that of Saint Shiva's--she couldn't tell--so with little else to do, she rose to her feet. The hunters in Tailfeather taught her a great deal of things in her time there, so she put to use her skill in tracking to hunt down the black sheep that wandered off on his own.
It doesn't take her long to find him. Not that he was intentionally hiding away, so she determines by the location, but rather moved this distance in order to not disturb their rest. For a moment, she almost thought it a deed of consideration for their well-being before deciding it was likely done to avoid being asked to train another. Should she speak and announce her presence, lest he hurts himself in surprise when he discovers her there suddenly? Ysayle weighs the options before her all while keeping a watchful eye on him. ]
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