[after their cursory search of the museum's eastern wing fails to yield any real results, the museum crew settles in to rest for the night.
as usual, francel has found a clean area to lay their various pieces of cloth out into a makeshift bed. he has to hobble a bit, given that he's injured his ankle a second time, but in the end haurchefant will find him lying on their pile of blankets, poking about on his tablet. after uploading the wrong video, he has a lot of people to reply to...]
[Haurchefant stands with his hands on his hips as watches his companions settle in for the night and seek shelter from the eternal cold. He grimaces as he feels another deep stab of phantom pain lance through his body.
This place.]
Aye, of course.
[He walks over to the cloth and sits, rather than lies, upon them.]
Think naught of the video, my friend. There are worse mistakes to make in places such as this.
[francel's not looking at haurchefant's face in the moment that he grimaces — otherwise, the young lord would surely fret and fuss over his well-being. as it is, francel only sees his friend settling on their blankets.]
I suppose it is better than being thought of as a murderer, but...
Oh, of course. Nary a winter passed without some wild gossip of how so-and-so dallied with someone-or-another in his wife's absence, or someone-or-another betrayed her betrothed for a night with the new squire. Lady Ninne was always ever so skillful at keeping up with all the talk.
Indeed! This is the selfsame situation! Ah...with fewer dragons, I suppose.
'Tis not as though the video were salacious, anyroad. 'Twas not but a depiction of warriors at work. What others choose to see in it needn't be your concern.
[francel smiles back, resting his cheek on his makeshift pillow.]
You're ever too kind, Haurchefant.
Say... [he hesitates.] I know we have discussed this, but you... are you alright? You said that this town... interferes with you, that it causes you pain. Do you still... suffer so?
[His smile wavers. The last thing he wants to do is worry his friend but Francel is observant and will see through any attempts he might make to insist there is no problem.]
...I know full well how strong you are, Haurchefant — you are a valiant knight and a fearsome warrior, and I am ever so proud to call you my friend. But... if ever you are in pain, I would like to know of it. The knighthood does not mean that you must needs suffer in silence.
I know this must seem silly, but... we are friends, are we not? I... I mislike this sense of secrecy between us. I want to know your heart's troubles, but — I can hardly do that if you will not speak to me for fear of worrying me.
[Haurchefant watches Francel and feels his heart sink. He cannot lie to the younger man... If he cannot be honest with Francel there is nobody in any world he can be honest with.
But his denial is not just for Francel's sake, it's for his own. It's hard to admit to a wound that will never heal. His Ishgardian pride won't allow it.]
Joacin... Pray forgive me. 'Tis not simply for your own benefit, 'tis for mine as well.
I must confess it is quite difficult to admit to such pain.
[He's always been the strong one, after all. Being the strong one is all he knows how to do.]
[francel winces. he hadn't meant to force haurchefant into the position of choosing between his pride and his friendship. but, on the other hand, he can't find it in him to back down. this is important.
sometimes friendships just have to be tested in this way.]
..It does no one good, to bottle things up and pretend they do not hurt you.
[francel pushes himself up from his makeshift bed and gently rests his head on haurchefant's shoulder.]
I want only to share in some of your burdens. Pray pardon me, if I am being selfish.
[a tiny smile plays about francel's lips as his hair is stroked. he's almost like a cat. a... rather large, oversized cat, anyway.]
I'm always fine so long as I am with you.
If I have any concerns at all...
[well, estinien is one of them. but he doesn't want to talk about that.]
'Twould be that the lack of hourly bells in Norfinbury make it difficult for me to remember my daily prayers. We have the time on our tablets, I know, but it's ever so queer to not hear bells.
[francel looks up earnestly, though his eyes are dreamily half-closed, as if on the one hand he wants to pray with haurchefant, and on the other he is very much enjoying having his hair stroked.]
Oh... then would you like to pray with me? I know that sometimes prayers can ring hollow, but — in other times I find that the words give me strength.
[Haurchefant lifts his hand away and is silent a moment.
It's been hard to ask Halone for Her guidance. For so long he'd been convinced that his existence in Norfinbury was because She no longer loved him and was demanding that he prove his worth all over again.
Since then he'd seen his younger brother, then the Admiral, Francel, the Lord-Commander and the Azure Dragoon. Surely such people as these were still in Halone's graces?
Maybe they really have simply been torn away from Her.]
[francel smiles and draws back, fishing his mythril rosary out from his chest-pocket. despite the fact that his gloves have become dirtied with dust and soot, francel's rosary still shines with the untarnished silver-blue glow of true mythril, and the chains jingle quietly when he slips it around his hand. once he's rearranged it comfortably, he looks up at haurchefant and again smiles reassuringly. he reaches out to take haurchefant's hand.]
Glory be...
[the prayer is supposed to begin: glory be to king thordan and his twelve. francel pauses, and decides that saying that in front of haurchefant isn't the best idea.]
Glory be to Haldrath the Dragonseye, our first and greatest. And upon us, the weak and sinful, let mercy and compassion be showered. Hail, Halone, goddess of war, our life and our hope. Lead all souls into Your hall, especially those in most need of thy mercy. Forgive us of our sins. Save us from the fires of the Horde. Grant, we beseech thee, Your guiding light, and weep for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death.
[francel leads them through the traditional praying of the rosary, with its answers and echoes; he pauses after each line so that haurchefant to repeat after him. he is reciting an abbreviated variation of the prayer meant for knights on the warfront — they haven't the time for a complete ceremony. still, francel's voice is surprisingly deep and rich, like a true ishgardian priest's, and it is hard not to miss the authority in his inflection when at last he finishes:]
[Haurchefant recites the words back. They feel rote at first; mere sounds formed from his lips out of mechanical habit but devoid of real meaning.
As the prayer goes on he starts to feel a distinct warmth from the familiarity of it all and he smiles once he is told to rise. He turns his head slightly to hide the faint glistening of a tear that threatens to roll down his cheek.]
[though he told haurchefant to rise, francel still has haurchefant's hand — and the rosary — in his when he finishes the prayer. he tilts his head and peers carefully at haurchefant's expression, squeezing gently on haurchefant's fingers.]
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silverfuller) wrote2015-08-09 03:25 pm
action; day 164
as usual, francel has found a clean area to lay their various pieces of cloth out into a makeshift bed. he has to hobble a bit, given that he's injured his ankle a second time, but in the end haurchefant will find him lying on their pile of blankets, poking about on his tablet. after uploading the wrong video, he has a lot of people to reply to...]
Haurchefant? Will you be coming to bed soon?
no subject
This place.]
Aye, of course.
[He walks over to the cloth and sits, rather than lies, upon them.]
Think naught of the video, my friend. There are worse mistakes to make in places such as this.
no subject
[francel's not looking at haurchefant's face in the moment that he grimaces — otherwise, the young lord would surely fret and fuss over his well-being. as it is, francel only sees his friend settling on their blankets.]
I suppose it is better than being thought of as a murderer, but...
no subject
[He claps a hand to Francel's shoulder.]
Aside from a focus on survival there is little here to occupy anyone's time and idle minds are apt to gossip.
Remember the stories of drama and lasciviousness that would circle camps during the colder months?
no subject
Oh, of course. Nary a winter passed without some wild gossip of how so-and-so dallied with someone-or-another in his wife's absence, or someone-or-another betrayed her betrothed for a night with the new squire. Lady Ninne was always ever so skillful at keeping up with all the talk.
no subject
Indeed! This is the selfsame situation! Ah...with fewer dragons, I suppose.
'Tis not as though the video were salacious, anyroad. 'Twas not but a depiction of warriors at work. What others choose to see in it needn't be your concern.
no subject
You're ever too kind, Haurchefant.
Say... [he hesitates.] I know we have discussed this, but you... are you alright? You said that this town... interferes with you, that it causes you pain. Do you still... suffer so?
no subject
The pain is worse some days than others.
no subject
But... does it hurt now?
no subject
It does. But worry not, my friend, I am a warrior and what warrior cannot deal with some pain?
[This pain can be far worse than any wound he's sustained on the battlefield, however. At least wounds can be treated.]
no subject
[francel hesitates.]
...I know full well how strong you are, Haurchefant — you are a valiant knight and a fearsome warrior, and I am ever so proud to call you my friend. But... if ever you are in pain, I would like to know of it. The knighthood does not mean that you must needs suffer in silence.
I know this must seem silly, but... we are friends, are we not? I... I mislike this sense of secrecy between us. I want to know your heart's troubles, but — I can hardly do that if you will not speak to me for fear of worrying me.
no subject
But his denial is not just for Francel's sake, it's for his own. It's hard to admit to a wound that will never heal. His Ishgardian pride won't allow it.]
Joacin... Pray forgive me. 'Tis not simply for your own benefit, 'tis for mine as well.
I must confess it is quite difficult to admit to such pain.
[He's always been the strong one, after all. Being the strong one is all he knows how to do.]
no subject
sometimes friendships just have to be tested in this way.]
..It does no one good, to bottle things up and pretend they do not hurt you.
[francel pushes himself up from his makeshift bed and gently rests his head on haurchefant's shoulder.]
I want only to share in some of your burdens. Pray pardon me, if I am being selfish.
no subject
[He reaches up to gently stroke his friend's hair.]
'Tis hardly selfish to be concerned for a friend.
[A pause.]
If either of us is selfish it is I. I've been so preoccupied by this place of late I've not had the chance to ask if you are well!
[And he smiles.]
If you ever need aught of me do not hesitate to ask.
no subject
I'm always fine so long as I am with you.
If I have any concerns at all...
[well, estinien is one of them. but he doesn't want to talk about that.]
'Twould be that the lack of hourly bells in Norfinbury make it difficult for me to remember my daily prayers. We have the time on our tablets, I know, but it's ever so queer to not hear bells.
no subject
I've not said a prayer now in many moons. Not one of the like that we once recited at home, anyroad.
I think if there were ever a time that the Fury would forgive a lapse in regular prayer 'twould be a situation such as this.
no subject
Oh... then would you like to pray with me? I know that sometimes prayers can ring hollow, but — in other times I find that the words give me strength.
no subject
It's been hard to ask Halone for Her guidance. For so long he'd been convinced that his existence in Norfinbury was because She no longer loved him and was demanding that he prove his worth all over again.
Since then he'd seen his younger brother, then the Admiral, Francel, the Lord-Commander and the Azure Dragoon. Surely such people as these were still in Halone's graces?
Maybe they really have simply been torn away from Her.]
I think I would like this.
no subject
Glory be...
[the prayer is supposed to begin: glory be to king thordan and his twelve. francel pauses, and decides that saying that in front of haurchefant isn't the best idea.]
Glory be to Haldrath the Dragonseye, our first and greatest. And upon us, the weak and sinful, let mercy and compassion be showered. Hail, Halone, goddess of war, our life and our hope. Lead all souls into Your hall, especially those in most need of thy mercy. Forgive us of our sins. Save us from the fires of the Horde. Grant, we beseech thee, Your guiding light, and weep for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death.
[francel leads them through the traditional praying of the rosary, with its answers and echoes; he pauses after each line so that haurchefant to repeat after him. he is reciting an abbreviated variation of the prayer meant for knights on the warfront — they haven't the time for a complete ceremony. still, francel's voice is surprisingly deep and rich, like a true ishgardian priest's, and it is hard not to miss the authority in his inflection when at last he finishes:]
Rise, Haurchefant, for the Fury is with you.
no subject
As the prayer goes on he starts to feel a distinct warmth from the familiarity of it all and he smiles once he is told to rise. He turns his head slightly to hide the faint glistening of a tear that threatens to roll down his cheek.]
no subject
Haurchefant? Are you alright?
no subject
[He looks at Francel and rubs at the corner of his eye.]
Forgive me, it has simply been some time since I've truly heard one of our prayers.
no subject
I am glad that I could lead you back to Her. Or... if not to Her, then at least to me.