come on over, help me forget

[baemeric]

[ She should be ashamed of herself.

There is much to do. There always is, but she cannot quite recall a time when things have been so hectic; the Alliance petitioning Ishgard to rejoin, the threat of the Horde increasing, a primal, here, in their own lands -

- and still her mind wanders, settling and sticking in the one place it always does when the want knots up in her body like an ache. She pushes through. Ishgard needs her, now more than ever, and she will not disgrace her position by pining like a maiden from old stories. And then an opportunity presents itself: the Azure Dragoon himself, sighted in Ishgard. A rarer occurrence these days, given his determination to draw Nidhogg's attention elsewhere, but that only makes her more determined. She sends for him. This is entirely innocuous; why would she not wish to speak to the Azure Dragoon when the Dravanian threat seems so pressing?

Less innocuous is the way she arranges for final adjustments to be taking place on a dress when she expects him to arrive, or the order to have him sent directly to her quarters. She needs the gown for upcoming events in any case, and Estinien has been distant of late; if he arrives and sees her in this, with her shoulders bared and the flowing skirt of it accentuating how it nips in at her waist and accentuates the rise of her breasts -

well, then she must write the whole affair off as done with, and try her best to recover. Perhaps a broken heart will prompt her to focus fully on her work, as a distraction.

She'll find out soon enough. There is a knock, and she dismisses her attendant with a smile. ]

Estinien! Thank you for making time for me.

Comments

[vindictae]

[ it's a strange thing, to be at once exhausted and invigorated.

estinien has spent so long playing at being prey in order to draw nidhogg's ire away from ishgard that it is exhilarating to resume the role of hunter -- but he's also been a solitary force for just as long, and now having to cast his lot with the warrior of light and her companions exhausts him as if he has been exercising ill-used muscle. the companionship isn't entirely unwelcome, but it is as vexing about as often as it is useful; they take the tact of caution and hedging one's bets when far too often estinien would rather take up his lance and be done with it.

even now, they've returned to ishgard to consult their allies instead of pursuing the heretics like fleeing rats, and it irks. he is a hound with blood on the wind, far too restless to even enjoy the food and rest his body clamors for. and just as he is weighing the appeal of taking off on his own to resume the hunt --

a summons from the lord commander.

it is the last thing estinien needs in this state. just being around her when he is at his calmest is enough to stir him into a tempest -- with every glance, every touch, aymeric seems to ask him questions that she must know he cannot answer, and he often parts from her company feeling half-crazed with everything he means to keep at bay. it puts her at risk for him to simply be near her with nidhogg shadowing the back of his mind, he knows this. but she has always known how to undo his sense of reason more swiftly than anyone else, and requires little more than a look at him from underneath her lashes to do so.

still. she will need to be debriefed, and he will not go skulking through the streets simply to hide from her... wiles.

of course, the moment he steps into her quarters and sees her in that dress, he regrets his choice immensely. he knows too little of either dressmaking or ishgardian fashion to have an opinion on either, but he cannot help but see the way it accentuates the slenderness of her waist and the way it frames her breasts as if they might be artwork. to say nothing of the way the rich blue makes her eyes look like jewels, and the velvet seems to call to mind the softness of her skin --

estinien is immensely grateful for both the visor and the armor: the first hides the fact that he gapes at her like a consarned fool, and the latter keeps it from being apparent when the blood in his body is directed suddenly downwards. ]

Did your summons leave me an option? [ remarkably dry, given that he feels embarrassingly like a mongrel salivating over a cut of steak. ]