boxofkururu | a disaster waiting to happen

[ The missive requesting Emmanellain's presence at a certain restaurant to make the acquaintance of a lady whose name said missive neglected to divulge is unlikely to be a trap. Nevertheless, it is unexpected, hardly the norm, and Honoroit insists on accompanying his master, at least to stand watch outside. Assuring the boy that he will keep his wits about him, Emmanellain enters the building.

A waiter immediately approaches to lead him to his table. The young woman already seated there is an eye-catching sight, in part for the vibrant blossoms adorning her dark hair, in part for the clockwork doll keeping her company.

And in part because there is something strangely familiar about her, something that Emmanellain can't quite put his finger on.

Upon reaching the table, he bows. ]

Emmanellain de Fortemps. 'Tis a pleasure, my lady! You haven't waited overlong, have you?

[ ...Ah. At first, looking over this fine lad, Emmanelle was examining him far too closely - now there was a wonderful-looking man.

But then he had to speak, and she realised within but a moment who this man must be - the man she's heard about but a little from her dearest of brothers.

It didn't take her long to reply, however - quickly deciding to not use the Fortemps name. No, that'd mean she'd need to make a mistake - as she offers her hand. ]

Emmanelle Kota, and not at all! No, I just arrived but a few moments ago, dear Emmanellain!

[ Kota-- the name of her brothers' wife. Well, the one he was legally married to. Of course it was the first name which came to her mind. ]

Emmanelle?

[ He can't help but wonder whether their similar names, an incredible coincidence, prompted this little rendezvous. With a smile, he takes Emmanelle's hand to raise it to his lips before he sits down at the table across from her.

It's somewhat a new experience to see a woman so pleased in his company. ]

Fate must have had a hand in our meeting, Lady Emmanelle! And may I say, you are as fair as your name is charming.

[ The clockwork doll is slightly out of place, but there are far more eccentric interests to pursue. ]

[ For a moment, again, she considers telling the truth. That they might be the same, from other worlds - but the thought passes once again. Who'd want to remain with a crazy lady who believed in alternate timelines? ]

I'd not call it fate - simply my family desiring I meet more.

[ Though, Emmanelle must admit, she doesn't enjoy these Ishgardian games - it is nice to have a man appriciate her. Even if they might be herself from yet another world. ]

That is to say - I'd not expected somebody as exciting as you.

[ By the sound of it, his reputation precedes him — which reputation, exactly, is unclear. That Emmanelle thinks him exciting, mere moments after they exchanged names, is flattering, in any case.

Emmanellain near glows in his seat. ]

Nor did I know what to expect myself, I confess! Your family arranged for us to meet, then?

[ House Kota rings no bells... ]

[ Whichever reputation it is, Emmanelle isn't saying. ]

That they did - well, my elder brother worked with my father. Though...

[ There's a tug on her long socks, from the clockwork automation - Emmanelle leaning down for a moment. No, not simply so she can show off her chest more in her lean. There's soft whispers from the doll, however - and Emmanelle gives a slight frown. ]

I'm not lying, old girl - House Kota is quite respected. [ Yes, the soul of her Honoroit is already giving such a look - he's figured this out a while ago. Please, Emmanelle - you had a crush on Huguette, and now this?

Emmanelle sits back up, giving a little shrug. ] They've been working hard at it, my dear family! But second-borns never get involved in that kind of thing.

[ Apparently they have more in common than their similar names alone. It's akin to looking into a mirror (a flesh and blood, shapely mirror), and hearing his dramatically altered reflection speak.

Emmanellain's expression turns bemused. ]

...Rather true, that...

[ He tilts his head, eyeing the mammet at Emmanelle's feet. She addressed it as though it spoke to her first. ]

Well, we may have our paths laid out for us from birth, but we came here of our own will this day, did we not?

[ A mirror which even seems to show some nerves between trying to remain charming - leaning forward ever-so-slightly. ]

Though I doubt we'd have given up this chance, no - chosen or not?

[ To meet somebody who wanted to see them - failures as they were. But, then, she lets out a little laugh. ]

Oh - this automation is named Calca, by the by. A gift - they can talk, if not a little quietly. And they even hold a soul, even if that was quite the incident. [ One which she should have been able to help with more - even in public, she couldn't stand thinking that this truly was Honoroit, after everything.

Emmanelle, however, is laughing to hide her nerves from... all of this. Gently beginning to tap on the table - oh, thank the Fury, there's a waiter and the menu. ]

I'd not want to appear less sound of mind around a Fortemps, after all. [ Even after everything, their name is still important. Both of them. ]

[ The tapping causes the table to tremble against Emmanellain's palms. Emmanelle does seem abruptly uneasy, and so Emmanellain smiles with all the reassurance that he can muster, despite his puzzlement. ]

Ah, I see, it's exceptionally advanced... Worry not, you appear perfectly sound of mind to this Fortemps!

[ Giving the menu a glance, he takes it up, but his thoughts wander to Honoroit waiting outside, briefly drawing his gaze in that direction before it returns to his dining companion. ]

In fact, if I might be so bold, my lady, I daresay we have a wonderful friendship ahead of us, kindred spirits that we are.

[ ...She couldn't lie anymore, at that smile.

It would feel far too dishonest. But usually, she'd have one of her siblings explain. Even if she hadn't seen Artoirel in far too long - her Artoirel. No, she'd usually rely on Haurchefant or Huguette to explain what in the Fury was going on.

She could do this. ]

I feel it'll be closer then a friendship, I'm almost afraid to say.

[ even if that might be taken out of context. Letting out a soft laugh of her own, Emmanelle focused her gaze - before looking to the menu, taking a little to choose her words carefully. ]

Have you ever wondered what would happen if you made a different choice in life?

Afraid?

[ For a moment, taken aback, Emmanellain is rendered incapable of uttering more than that. Laniaitte has grown as chilly as the Coerthan climes even though the ties of friendship link them together, not only their houses, yet here is a woman alluding to the depth of her feelings at their very first meeting.

That doesn't happen. Not to Emmanellain de Fortemps, no matter what he does to pretend otherwise.

As he tries to find his composure and his wits, and keep them about himself as promised, Emmanelle continues, and Emmanellain looks all the more perplexed for it. It's a strange question to ask, a sudden change of subject. It's vaguely uncomfortable, picking at Emmanellain's history of fleeing from choices and thought, from responsibility, though none of that seems to colour Emmanelle's opinion of him.

It must be unintentional. ]

I... [ He shrugs lightly. ] Surely we all have, from time to time, but it does us little good to linger on the past. What's done is done, after all. But why do you ask?

[ There's a slight pause, as Emmanelle considers her next words... well, as carefully as she can. For once in her life, she... she's truly scared. (That's a lie. She's afraid a lot.) ]

House Kota is a front to... an organization who can travel though those possibilities. And I'm from one of them - if dear Haurchefant had been... noble-born.

[ ...Yeah. Dropping his name right there, a small tremble in her voice. (Even if Haurchefant was alive and leading their company when Miscarlet had vanished, it wasn't her Haurchefant.) Of course Emmanelle expects to screw this up - she's a bastard, born of a... what did those people call him again? A Paragon. A Paragon and a man. Having to work her way to even be seen as a knight, and still feeling as if she's not worthy. She got a crush on her own alternate universe sister! And this man - herself - was quite attractive as well. (Was she truly attracted to alternates of her family? It was one of those taboo which she didn't want to breech.)

But perhaps it's best she says this now, before they get fine wine or the such. Or maybe he'll see her as the crazy... thing she was. ]

The organization itself is called the Judge Magisters - something special to the founder, so I've been told. But I wouldn't trust anything he said - he does far too much lying for just one man.

[ And is also the Paragon - the Asci-whatever - who helped create her. ]

[ An organization that travels through possibilities, every fork in the road — Emmanellain isn't sure what answer he expected, but it certainly isn't this turn that their conversation has taken. He isn't sure he comprehends half of it. ]

If Haurchefant had been noble-born... Do you mean to say that you've come to Ishgard from another Ishgard? That another Haurchefant lives there?

[ Two Ishgards, two Haurchefants. A different Haurchefant, one who never fell, shielding the Warrior of Light?

Spoken aloud, it sounds ludicrous, but there is a convincing earnestness to Emmanelle's expression, and who would go to these lengths to make him look a fool?

Emmanellain drops back in his chair, at a loss. ]

[ (Emmanelle barely understood it, herself - let alone comprehended it. But when you were the ignored bastard, forced down a path unfitting, you got used to being dragged along for the ride.) ]

Another Haurchefant, another Edmont - and even another... you.

[ Her voice wavered a little, trying to not backtrack. No, if she did, her poor hurt doll would guide her right. But Emmanelle dropped to a whisper, reaching her hands out towards Emmanellian. ]

And that, dear Emmanellian, is what... you see.

[ It stands to reason that if there really are multiple forks in the road, so to speak, they wouldn't stop at two Ishgards and two Haurchefants. Possibilities implies that they go far beyond two.

It's just rather a lot to take in all at once, to sit here before a woman who claims to be another version of himself. Bewilderment is writ large upon Emmanellain's features as that particular realization dawns on him. The menu is forgotten.

And yet, even now, he finds that he doesn't think Emmanelle less sound of mind for her tale. ]

...I suppose we do share too many similarities to explain it any other way.

[ A beat, then he offers her his hand. ]

I must say, I make quite a comely woman!

[ The waiter, returning to take their orders in time to overhear the remark, gives Emmanellain an odd look. The young lord hastily selects a dish, his questions set aside for the moment. ]

[ ...Thank Halone for the waiter. And for not being thrown out - perhaps it was her tenacity in her speech? Yes, of course it was. She gave a firm nod, as she placed her own order.

Before leaning back a little, taking his hand with more confidence and gutso. ] And I'd never thought of what a fetching man I'd make. Well, uh, I suppose I had, but that's quite different.

[ Even as she said that, though, her expression flickered with a slight anger. ]

[ Thank Halone that the waiter leaves as soon as he has their orders. Emmanellain squeezes Emmanelle's hand ere he releases it, a little unsure how to take her compliment, if the first woman ever to call him fetching is simply... himself...

His head already aches.

Noticing Emmanelle's look, he considers her confession. ]

And now you have your answer, seated before you?

It's a finer answer then I expected.

[ Her head has been hurting this entire time - but a smile grows on her lips. ]

Oh - Haurchefant will be so happy to see you, I'm sure! He's... well, he's alive. [ She assumes that this Emm... he's probably not a bastard. ]

[ Emmanellain's eyes widen. He draws himself up in his chair, straight-backed. ]

Haurchefant?

[ The hole torn in the fabric of the world where Haurchefant once occupied his space, filling it with his presence, is not so easily mended. Emmanelle can't possibly mean his half-brother.

Even so, Emmanellain's voice carries a hopeful note, his heart open to Emmanelle's impossible claims. ]

...Which Haurchefant?

...Well, he doesn't speak too much of his past before arriving here. [ But of course he wouldn't - Haurchefant was a private person, when it came to his past. ] But, ah... he told me of his brother - you. And how he... passed. It's quite the scar on him...

Before awakening here, that is. He's been welcoming of all of us - even if it was quite a shock to meet him. Ah, and the female him - Huguette. They're both... so much like him in life. But better.

[ Better then she could ever be. ]

By the time I arrived, he'd already gotten us who are lost - he'd brought a home, by the sands of La Noscea. And he... showed me love.

[ It feels so strange, to Emmanelle. To be cared for. She loves him. ]

He's all the way there, in La Noscea?!

[ Too many questions tumble through Emmanellain's head. They laid Haurchefant to rest, but he lives — how? He didn't send word — why?

Are they to meet with this Huguette, too? ]

It sounds as though he's the same as ever... [ Warm, full of life despite his scars. ] But what do you mean, "here"?

[ Emmanellain glances left and right. ]

...Right. [ That was the thing she disliked the most. Not just the lingering thought of losing everybody because she ran, but... ]

This is a whole different world. Like those tales wherein once person escapes the mundane to become a true hero!

[ whoops she's getting a little loud and excited. But really - this is her chance. ]

[ It is an exciting notion, phrased in those words, even if it adds to Emmanellain's bewilderment. Boasting aside, he isn't high on the list of potential heroes... ]

Truly? Even though we still appear to be in Ishgard?

[ A different Ishgard, he supposes, completely without knowing how he arrived here. ]

...Apologies, old girl, it must seem ordinary to you by now.

...If you think it may ever sound ordinary, then perhaps we're not the same being? [ She says, laughing a little. No, it's not normal, and she knows it - feeling the small doll grip to her a little. ]

But - yes. This may look like Ishgard, and we still both have a warm bed - though Father had no children in this world. Something about the Company saving his life? [ Emmy wasn't part of the company during those times, okay. But... it's a home, in Ishgard. (If it were any other time - or any other person - she would spend more time on that.) There's then a little bit of quietness. Important matters they both need to know about-- ah. ]

...Your Honoroit has most likely come with you. I'd hope the travel wouldn't make us abandon him!

[ That this Ishgard is neither his Ishgard nor Emmanelle's confirms that, no, all of this is highly unlikely ever to become ordinary. Yet more questions take shape, but first Emmanellain turns his head in the general direction of the restaurant's entrance. ]

Honoroit? He's just outside...

[ Which doesn't really feel right, truth be told. As something occurs to Emmanellain, he looks around. There must be other Honoroits about, too. ]

And yours?

[ ...outside? She gave a shake of the head, softly smiling. ]

You should let him in - outside is no place for a Honoroit! Why, mine... well, it's a long story.

[ but one she felt she should mention, at least. placing a hand to the calca doll who had moved to climb on her lap, emmanelle looked so affectionately at it. ]

My dearest Honoroit was cursed. To save him... we needed to place him inside a new body.

[ Emmanellain is in wholehearted agreement that Honoroit should not be made to wait outside. He makes to rise, intending to see to adjusted arrangements to allow the boy to join them, but the start to Emmanelle's long story keeps him in his seat. His gaze drops to the doll in Emmanelle's lap.

A curse. A new body.

Once more, Emmanellain stares, eyes wide. ]

Honoroit... Your Honoroit is in there?

[ No wonder the doll came with her. ]

a disaster waiting to happen

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