Entry One

[heiresy]

[Some terribly nice handwriting finds its way into your journal, unfortunately using the ink provided]

My dear fellows,

I am unable to restrain my curiosity with this magical book. Forgive my intrusion and meaningless talk within these pages. It is an oddity to write whatever comes into me. I usually have purpose- reports, organized letters, aught with specificity. I've put little else into myself besides ale these days. With no access to a proper kitchen, I fear I am at the mercy of our employer's meals.

Worse, I find myself with little privacy in these shared guard's rooms. I dealt with them happily as a younger man, yet I find myself requiring a bit more. Even if I were to make a friend, I would need to meet them at the inn... I needn't lose myself in my cups while making acquaintances.

I suppose I needn't secure my bunkmates' permission to invite someone in, yet I cannot in good conscience be so rude. Has anyone any better ideas for meeting places? Perhaps a recipe for when I can find myself by a stove?

May the Fury watch over each of you,
Aymeric de Borel

Comments

[dravanicide]

[Aymeric... Estinien wonders if he had thought his words through before writing all of this, but he'd sooner guess he didn't. Normally he'd find Aymeric, where ever he may be, and talk in person. But that could be anywhere, and this is much more convenient.

Except for the ink, and his horrible chocobo scratch one could dare to call handwriting.]

Truly Aymeric? I find myself aroused at your poor word choice.

[Estinien stops as he sees what he's written... that, certainly was NOT what he had intended to write. By the Fury...]

Pray ignore my previous statement, would seem this quill is cursed. Nevertheless, would that if you found yourself hungering for aught else besides ale, you would sooner come to me, so that I may sate such an appetite.

[Godsdammit.]

[heiresy]

[Aymeric knows that horrible handwriting the moment he sees it. The words merely confirm it, though- He had never seen or heard anything like this out of Estinien before..]

Cursed indeed! I'm aching to know what the true nature of the curse may be. Pray bear with my piqued curiosity, my friend. In what manner would you sate my appetite? Were those words your own twisted, or merely thrust into you by an unknown force?

[dravanicide]

[Alright, this is just getting more frustrating, but not knowing where Aymeric is at the moment does not make for a continued conversation. Maybe if this gets to be too much, he will track the man down, but for now...]

This force unknown would scarce be the only one thrusting, my friend, should I be the one to satisfy you. You spoke of being come into, and I have a mind to oblige.

[There's a long pause between that, and what he says next. The way in which it is written, looks as though each letter was carefully, if not a bit forcefully, done. As if the scribe was fighting with something else that might be trying to spill more nonsense.]

Where are you?

[heiresy]

[If he were less drunk, this would probably be less funny. Maybe. Though, Estinien writing like this was honestly very funny and a little arousing.]

My, my, Estinien! You write as if I am your sorely missed betrothed. We should inspect these implements. Mayhap one of the Mistress' apprentices could tell us more about the curse. While I am able to communicate quite clearly, you have little else to tell me but what you would do with me.

I'm perched upon a stool in the inn pouring ale into my mouth. Would you care to warm the seat beside me? The last time we drank together it ended somewhat intimately, but I would ask you to keep me company regardless.

[dravanicide]

Not as intimately as I would have preferred. Mayhap ale will not be the only thing pouring into your mouth this evening.

[And that's about enough of that, because Estinien will no longer be replying via this sodding book, and he'll be on his way to find Aymeric, though keeping the horrid thing in tow. The Fury is merciful in letting the village not be nearly so vast as it could have been, and for the Inn to be rather singular in presence.

He hopes that Aymeric makes this easier on him, and is in the lobby, and not hidden away in one of the rooms. Halone have mercy if he must knock on each door and suffer what might answer him before he finds the Lord Commander.]

[heiresy]

[His Lord Commander is indeed very merciful, and is very wary of those beds because he knows they just cannot possibly be as well cleaned as anyone would hope. He is sitting at the bar with his ink and his quill. The Quill is very handsome and very blue. Aymeric greets him with a sorely restrained smile. He is actively trying not to laugh. He also has a little bit of an erection because he's a little easy as far as unexpectedly arousing writing from his friend is concerned.]

Estinien!

[He pulls a stool out for him and waves the bartender over.]

And this is why I asked for a few suggestions for places to meet. Though I expect that you would happily take an ale right now.

[He was half expecting Estinien to say something just as filthy as he was writing.]

[dravanicide]

[Estinien meanwhile seems not nearly as excited as Aymeric, though his own eyes do not wander to the pitched front of Aymeric's pants. He's hardly curious of what his vulgarity has done to his friend, and wants even less for any reality to make itself known. Silently he approaches, taking the offered seat, and placing his own book and quill—a black crow's feather, a little rough and not finely kept—onto the bar before him.]

Aye.

'Tis a mockery what this cursed tome and quill wrote. Had I not played witness to the atrocity from mine own hand, I would nary believe it happened. Disregard all of what I had said, such brash perversion is scarce mine intent.

But what of you? I find it beggars belief that you would flavor your speech with such lecherous phrasing.

[heiresy]

[He laughs. He has to. He has a record of what transpired, and so does everyone who lives here. Don't they? That's that the note from the Mistress had implied. Everyone else had been having a terrible time as well.]

Aye, yet not nearly as extreme as your choice of words. You claimed the quill to be cursed, yet only you can use it. Does that mean that the Mistress cursed you in this way, then? Mayhap it is your book...

[Aymeric passes his own book to Estinien and nudges the bottle of ink over with it.]

May as well see.

[If he's being honest with himself, he really did want to see Estinien write those things in person. They were hard enough to believe as it was.]

[shieldofrohan]

Even so. It aches to be without purpose, once the relief passes.

[heiresy]

Aye, you write truths plain. I have few sources of relief in this place, each less virtuous than the last. Perhaps I should find a hobby... Something to do with my hands, at least.

[shieldofrohan]

I have taken to wandering, and for a time that salved my boredom, but it is no purpose. I suppose that here, perhaps, we must make our own.

[heiresy]

What was your former purpose, dear writer? I have considered adventuring in the bushes outside town, yet I wonder if I should worry about unfamiliar beasts and bandits.

[shieldofrohan]

My uncle, the King, is sick. Has been for some time now, since his son fell. I cared for him, and kept his household. And did what I could to strengthen us for the war to come - though I fear not enough.

I ought to be there still. I abandoned my duty, and 'tis no comfort to know it was not by choice.

[heiresy]

I can sympathize. My sincerest condolences for the anxieties this must cause you. I stand, sword in hand, at the head of an army, though one that has only just come into ending one war while standing at the precipice of another. The only thing that calms me is knowing that I am not wholly irreplaceable. My people will find a way, and I am sure that yours will as well.

[He presses aside the awkward feelings of knowing how subtly inappropriate his messages are as well as how it's entirely possible she's a princess for an unsavory nation. ...He'd risk it for now and worry about all that later.]

[shieldofrohan]

I would sooner stand in such a way. Alas that I am a daughter, and not a son.

I fear for my uncle. I fear for Rohan.

[maledictus_semper]

I would gladly like to invite you to my humble abode over a few red wines or two.

[Make that a whole bottle.]

[heiresy]

Don't you live in the castle, Ardyn? Don't let The Mistress hear you calling it yours.

[maledictus_semper]

I was referring to my room within the castle. It is not mine, of course. Would you be interested in spending some time with me, Aymeric?

[shenunigans]

dear diary

mom said i couldnt go to the jonas brothers concert next week
im so mad
i hate her
she is the least cool mom ever
now nick jonas will never ask me out in front of everyone
and like
being a guard is like totally uncool wtf
i just wish i was one of the popular kids

so over it
xoxoxo

aymeric

[heiresy]

This is the worst forgery I've seen in my life.

[shenunigans]

i think it sounds a lot like everything you just said

[heiresy]

You consider our predicament unworthy of comment?

[shenunigans]

i consider your predicament to be first world problems
you live in a big castle bourgeois scum
oh shit
you have to share a room
my shack is made of fucking transparent crepe paper and the whole forest has seen me take a shit

oooOOOps didnt see this for a week sorry

[heiresy]

This isn't a circumstance of birth, you chose to live in a shack. Unless you're too weak or incompetent, you could very well seek the Mistress' employ.

[shenunigans]

if we arent allowed to complain about our choices then what are you doing