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]

You seem not to deny what you wrote, merely that it was ill placed.

[A telling stare, before he takes a drink of his alcohol. He might have some suspicions, but he's going to let Aymeric try to save face.]

[heiresy]

I-

[He was so caught up in the whole concept of Estinien's chest that he forgot that he wrote that he wanted to pour oil on him]

Only the part about your chest being handsome. I have no desire to pour oil over it. Just as I'm sure that you don't truly wish to-

[His finger slides up the page to some of Estinien's terrible handwriting.]

Oblige coming inside me.

[dravanicide]

I denied that outright. 'Tis passing strange it took till now for you to deny yours.

[The slight grin makes it plain he's teasing. It's honestly easier to believe that Aymeric doesn't want to do anything of the sort, it's bad enough that nearly everyone here wants to jump him as is.

If Aymeric too wanted to, he's not quite sure how he'd handle it. It'd be a far more welcomed advance than the others, at least, but still.]

[heiresy]

I'm simply-

[It's true. Between trying to ignore his cock and the thought of Estinien's chest- with or without the oil...]

A bit tipsy.

[He finally looks back at Estinien, glad that he at least seems like he's having some fun. He sips his wine, figuring that he may as well go for convincing if he's pretending that he's drunk enough to be stupid.]

I was more focused on how you asked if I found your chest appealing!

[dravanicide]

I suppose you're right. You are well into your cups—far before even I arrived.

[He says before finishing his own mug of ale. However, the redness of Aymeric's face betrays him, but Estinien decides it's better to not bring attention to it.

It's just easier to accept that it's the alcohol.]

Speaking of. Quite how many glasses have you imbibed?

[heiresy]

Counting this one?

[Well there's the rub. This was his first glass, but he was trying to pass off for third- And he would like to get to his third, but without making Estinien thinking that he's drinking that much.]

Two. Before this one.

[He'd rather Estinien think him a lush than a lech.]

I might save the barkeep the trouble and buy myself the bottle.

[dravanicide]

You spoke of not eating. Are you drinking on an empty stomach, Aymeric?

I would hope you'd be wiser than that.

[He knew well the stress of this place, and having been woken up by Aymeric's own stress relief exercises more than once, he much prefers alcohol to the other.

But starving himself? That won't do.]

[heiresy]

Oh, I suppose I have.

[He presses his forehead into his hand.]

My apologies, Estinien. I do know better than that. It isn't even as if I'm drowning in paperwork or duties particularly.

[He gets the barkeeps attention, just getting them some bread and butter. He wasn't feeling terribly inspired. Omelettes were just making him think about sex anyway.]

I'm glad I have you here with me, Estinien. I would be lost without you.

[dravanicide]

You would, at the very least, be a sorer sight than you are now.

[There's a teasing fringe to his words as he give Aymeric a sidelong glance. He's glad he's at least putting something in his belly—bread will certainly help soak up that alcohol, at least.]

Though... I pity you. This place seems to have worn you down far more than it has me.

[heiresy]

[Aymeric plops his jaw into his hand, propping it up from the bar.]

Perhaps you are a tougher man.

[he takes a bite of bread roll.]

Though to be fair, I have to wonder if you have had easier sleep without Nidhogg's chatter.