A plea he feared may fall onto deaf ears, but once that he still felt the need to make. If not for his own sake, then for Ishgard's--for Estinien's. That he be willing to kill his own kin to drive his crusade even past death should have been enough indication...yet Nidhogg had given something Aymeric had thought lost since he had taken the dragoon's body.
Hope.
And it is with hope that he drives forward, hoping that his aim is true. Naegling has slew many dragons through her life even before she came to Aymeric's hand, yet this is the one time that he hopes she spares one. Or, at least, the body that it holds captive. He directs the blade at the wyrm's core. ]
[Nidhogg, or rather, the enraged shadow of the beast that was once Nidhogg, was no longer capable of reason. One goal, one track, and nothing was going to shake him from it, not even death itself.
Perhaps Halone herself heard that silent prayer, for the blade struck... But the dragoon didn't fall. Injured, terribly so, the shriek of pain both hideously inhuman, and painfully familiar all at once, but he did not collapse.
But then, nothing had come easy to them, not before and certainly not now. This time the blood he spat was his own, as he wrenched himself away, Naegling having just barely missed its target, and instead found itself having sunken just right of its target.
The wings flared, and in the blink of an eye, man became dragon as the wyrm hurled himself into the sky, his wounds leaving vibrant splashes of red in the snow. Fleeing, so it would seem, he'd been far, far too careless.]
[ The cry of pain is enough indication that Aymeric's aim was true--yet it still did not have the intended effect. He had hoped that he could deliver a blow hard enough to render the wyrm helpless and from there they could go about extracting him from Estinien. Yet it seems all he has accomplished is to now send Nidhogg and, by association, his friend fleeing and out of reach.
Aymeric grits his teeth as he watches the dragon take to the sky. He stumbles a step, propping the blade back into the snow and using Naegling as a crutch to lend his weight as his left and returns once again to his neck.
The two Temple Knights come rushing to his side, bruised for their own efforts--efforts that have paid off in that all three of them leave with their lives and mostly intact. But this does not feel like a victory, not to Aymeric.
[And like that, the wyrm was gone, leaving nothing but crimson stains in the snow, and ragged wounds on Aymeric. At least, if nothing else, they'd be left in peace, allowed to keep their lives as the dragon nursed his wounds and gathered his strength. The next battle, he was sure, would not end as this one had. The next battle, he'd paint the ramparts red with Ishgardian blood.
And indeed, the fight was vicious. Bloody and merciless, the walls left crumbling and bodies broken beneath the wyrm's assault. Surely, had it not been for their champion, for their warrior of light, carrying the eye of Hresvelgr, the outcome would have been far more grim. The wyrm had done his best, even at the end, to take his vessel down with him, hateful and wrathful to the very last. And yet, the eyes were prised from the armor, and Estinien lay limp and motionless upon the stone. Freed, and by some miracle of fate, still breathing. Too stubborn to die, not yet, though his eyes remained closed.
[ His ill-fated friend indeed...but he yet lives. Against all the odds stacked against him, Estinien still shone through at the end, and had it not been for Alphinaud and the Warrior of Light's quick actions, he may have truly been done for. They did what Aymeric could not and he will be eternally in their debt for more reasons than this. After parting words with Hraesvelgr, Aymeric's chest feels light even with the weight of Estinien in his arms.
Or, perhaps, in a large part due to it.
Though several Temple Knights offered to take the Azure Dragoon from him, Aymeric denied every request. He is determined to carry his dear friend all the way to the infirmary where he is certain Lucia has rallied the healers to be ready. They will surely be busy due to the battle and all the wounded filing in, yet he would be lying if Estinien was not his highest priority at the moment. Ishgard is still indebted to him in many ways.
So they give him a wide berth, many saluting as he passes. Aymeric keeps his gaze forward for the most, every so often glancing down at Estinien's partially concealed face as if to verify that he really is there. That he is whole. ]
Not too much farther, my friend.
[ He speaks quietly, privately, as carefully ascends the steps to Foundation, trying to avoid jostling Estinien overmuch. ]
[At some point, eventually, when Aymeric would look down, he'd find himself being looked back at. Through half lidded, tired eyes, the dark circles that had always been there seeming just a little deeper now. But as exhausted as that look was, the serenity in it was as clear as day. An expression that had never actually ever seemed to have touched his face before.
He hurt, by the Twelve did he hurt, every limb ablaze, every breath a dull ache, but he still forced himself to move. One hand shifted, and the armored fingers brushed against the side of Aymeric's hand, as if to make certain that this was actually real.]
Even were I not...
[His voice rasped, but the pain only caused him to pause just once, briefly pressing his hand against the other man's.]
[ He had not expected to see that stormy blue gaze look back at him so soon. Aymeric feels his heart skip a beat and stomach leap. The last time--the last time he beheld Estinien he had mere moments before succumbing once again to the wyrm's influence, only to beg for death.
But no longer. He could be his own man again, reclaim his body and take all the needed time to heal wounds, both physical and otherwise. And Aymeric vowed that this time he would be there each step. So he smiles, the warmth of it reaching his eyes, his own hold raising Estinien up just a fraction as if embolden by the dragoon's wakefulness alone. ]
Let us not court such notions so soon after leaving the battlefield. I would much rather look forward to your recovery.
[The simple fact that he could will his arm to move, and it would do so without hesitation, was almost euphoric. A shame he'd not the strength to do more. It was with some measure of quiet frustration that he found he'd have to be satisfied with this small measure of movement, his head rolling to rest against the other man's upper arm.]
I'd ask about your neck...
[But it was plain as day that Aymeric was hearty and hale enough, not a single indication of damage in neither his movement nor his voice, in spite of the violent meeting near Dragonhead Camp. As grim a memory as it was, there was a soft snort from Estinien, the sound as close to a laugh as he'd ever gotten.]
[ That Estinien was aware of each movement that Nidhogg had taken in his body makes Aymeric's heart ache. What true torture to see his own hands, hear a twisted version of his own voice shout out against his comrades. Truly, Estinien deserved no such fate and the wounds inflicted there were not ones to be undone by even the most skilled healers. That would be left up to Estinien himself, yet Aymeric is determined to offer all the aid that he can.
Aymeric shakes his head, wishing he could will away the image entirely. Yet Estinien seems to be in good humor about the incident none-the-less. ]
Aye. Though I admit it had caught me off guard, 'twas the kinder fate.
[ Nothing in comparison to how exhausted the dragoon must be feeling after everything else that has transpired. For all the warmth that Ayemric emits, he does feel the pangs of regret start to seep in despite his best efforts to keep them concealed for Estinien's benefit. ]
...A lesser man would yet be able to speak after such an ordeal. You never cease to amaze me, my friend.
[It was a vile memory, unpleasant in every aspect. He'd tasted the man's blood in his mouth, heard his pained cry. But, he'd also shared a mind with Nidhogg. Looking up at Aymeric, smiling and warm as the wyrm lay dead, stood in direct defiance to the ancient dragon's pure arrogance and wrath. He'd felt the outstanding and overwhelming rage and power of the wyrm, and yet here still stood the other man, practically unscathed.
Practically poetry.
It stood to reason however, that the sensation of it wouldn't be so easily forgotten, nor personally forgiven. But now perhaps was not the time to burden the other man with those darker, more private thoughts.]
Could I not... I'd surely disappoint myself.
[Even if it was only a few words at a time, spoken no louder than a murmur. Now though, his consciousness was starting to fade, the extent of his injuries too great to stay awake for much longer. His hand upon Aymeric's began to falter, his eyes unfocusing.]
Please, should Alphinaud ask after me... Let him know... I'm going to be very upset if his whinging wakes me up.
[ A few words, yes, but each appreciated. Aymeric certainly does not want Estinien to burden himself with the effort should it prove too much, but he most assuredly enjoys the confirmation of his well-being. That they could come to this moment at all feels a gift--a part of him had accepted that Estinien may truly be beyond their ability to save.
Never has he been so glad to be wrong. ]
No one would have thought less of you, yet you insist on being a stubborn fool...and full glad am I for it.
[ Aymeric shifts Estinien's weight ever so, a slight readjustment to make sure that his grip holds fast. The steps up towards Congregation will be the most difficult part, but he is determined to see this through to the end.
For his chiding, Estinien does earn a smile and a light huff of a laugh. ]
Rest, love. We will have Alphinaud take care.
[ That is if Aymeric is at all willing to relinquish his own vigil when the time comes.
...The irony being, of course, that Estinien does wake as soon as Aymeric departs and gives into the boy's requests to see the sleeping dragoon for himself. ]
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jumpygrumpy) wrote2020-11-02 01:23 pm
no subject
A plea he feared may fall onto deaf ears, but once that he still felt the need to make. If not for his own sake, then for Ishgard's--for Estinien's. That he be willing to kill his own kin to drive his crusade even past death should have been enough indication...yet Nidhogg had given something Aymeric had thought lost since he had taken the dragoon's body.
Hope.
And it is with hope that he drives forward, hoping that his aim is true. Naegling has slew many dragons through her life even before she came to Aymeric's hand, yet this is the one time that he hopes she spares one. Or, at least, the body that it holds captive. He directs the blade at the wyrm's core. ]
no subject
Perhaps Halone herself heard that silent prayer, for the blade struck... But the dragoon didn't fall. Injured, terribly so, the shriek of pain both hideously inhuman, and painfully familiar all at once, but he did not collapse.
But then, nothing had come easy to them, not before and certainly not now. This time the blood he spat was his own, as he wrenched himself away, Naegling having just barely missed its target, and instead found itself having sunken just right of its target.
The wings flared, and in the blink of an eye, man became dragon as the wyrm hurled himself into the sky, his wounds leaving vibrant splashes of red in the snow. Fleeing, so it would seem, he'd been far, far too careless.]
no subject
Aymeric grits his teeth as he watches the dragon take to the sky. He stumbles a step, propping the blade back into the snow and using Naegling as a crutch to lend his weight as his left and returns once again to his neck.
The two Temple Knights come rushing to his side, bruised for their own efforts--efforts that have paid off in that all three of them leave with their lives and mostly intact. But this does not feel like a victory, not to Aymeric.
He has to ask himself...
Have I failed him? ]
no subject
And indeed, the fight was vicious. Bloody and merciless, the walls left crumbling and bodies broken beneath the wyrm's assault. Surely, had it not been for their champion, for their warrior of light, carrying the eye of Hresvelgr, the outcome would have been far more grim. The wyrm had done his best, even at the end, to take his vessel down with him, hateful and wrathful to the very last. And yet, the eyes were prised from the armor, and Estinien lay limp and motionless upon the stone. Freed, and by some miracle of fate, still breathing. Too stubborn to die, not yet, though his eyes remained closed.
Unconscious, but refusing to pass on.]
no subject
Or, perhaps, in a large part due to it.
Though several Temple Knights offered to take the Azure Dragoon from him, Aymeric denied every request. He is determined to carry his dear friend all the way to the infirmary where he is certain Lucia has rallied the healers to be ready. They will surely be busy due to the battle and all the wounded filing in, yet he would be lying if Estinien was not his highest priority at the moment. Ishgard is still indebted to him in many ways.
So they give him a wide berth, many saluting as he passes. Aymeric keeps his gaze forward for the most, every so often glancing down at Estinien's partially concealed face as if to verify that he really is there. That he is whole. ]
Not too much farther, my friend.
[ He speaks quietly, privately, as carefully ascends the steps to Foundation, trying to avoid jostling Estinien overmuch. ]
You will be whole again ere long.
no subject
He hurt, by the Twelve did he hurt, every limb ablaze, every breath a dull ache, but he still forced himself to move. One hand shifted, and the armored fingers brushed against the side of Aymeric's hand, as if to make certain that this was actually real.]
Even were I not...
[His voice rasped, but the pain only caused him to pause just once, briefly pressing his hand against the other man's.]
I could still die here complete.
no subject
But no longer. He could be his own man again, reclaim his body and take all the needed time to heal wounds, both physical and otherwise. And Aymeric vowed that this time he would be there each step. So he smiles, the warmth of it reaching his eyes, his own hold raising Estinien up just a fraction as if embolden by the dragoon's wakefulness alone. ]
Let us not court such notions so soon after leaving the battlefield. I would much rather look forward to your recovery.
no subject
I'd ask about your neck...
[But it was plain as day that Aymeric was hearty and hale enough, not a single indication of damage in neither his movement nor his voice, in spite of the violent meeting near Dragonhead Camp. As grim a memory as it was, there was a soft snort from Estinien, the sound as close to a laugh as he'd ever gotten.]
Bit off more than he could chew.
no subject
Aymeric shakes his head, wishing he could will away the image entirely. Yet Estinien seems to be in good humor about the incident none-the-less. ]
Aye. Though I admit it had caught me off guard, 'twas the kinder fate.
[ Nothing in comparison to how exhausted the dragoon must be feeling after everything else that has transpired. For all the warmth that Ayemric emits, he does feel the pangs of regret start to seep in despite his best efforts to keep them concealed for Estinien's benefit. ]
...A lesser man would yet be able to speak after such an ordeal. You never cease to amaze me, my friend.
no subject
Practically poetry.
It stood to reason however, that the sensation of it wouldn't be so easily forgotten, nor personally forgiven. But now perhaps was not the time to burden the other man with those darker, more private thoughts.]
Could I not... I'd surely disappoint myself.
[Even if it was only a few words at a time, spoken no louder than a murmur. Now though, his consciousness was starting to fade, the extent of his injuries too great to stay awake for much longer. His hand upon Aymeric's began to falter, his eyes unfocusing.]
Please, should Alphinaud ask after me... Let him know... I'm going to be very upset if his whinging wakes me up.
no subject
Never has he been so glad to be wrong. ]
No one would have thought less of you, yet you insist on being a stubborn fool...and full glad am I for it.
[ Aymeric shifts Estinien's weight ever so, a slight readjustment to make sure that his grip holds fast. The steps up towards Congregation will be the most difficult part, but he is determined to see this through to the end.
For his chiding, Estinien does earn a smile and a light huff of a laugh. ]
Rest, love. We will have Alphinaud take care.
[ That is if Aymeric is at all willing to relinquish his own vigil when the time comes.
...The irony being, of course, that Estinien does wake as soon as Aymeric departs and gives into the boy's requests to see the sleeping dragoon for himself. ]