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[ Go to the Dravanian Forelands to find where Haurchefant rested.

That was what the two - Emmanelle and Emmanellian had been told when asking where he'd taken off to.

Emmanelle had remained in Tailfeather, however - not just because her Chocobo was showing off to some of the wild ones nearby. Not at all. But because the path was nice and safe to the mountain follow that Haurchefant had taken over. It was the one which seemed to have crystal blood frozen on it, signposted for people who need help.

On the path, though, Emmanellian would feel like he was being watched. Because he was, by one who wanted to hunt down the dragon who cared for the outcast. Until there was a soft cry... the following Dragoon, in armour like the Azure Dragoon (if not very scratched up and broken), slipped onto the path behind him. ]

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[ ...

If this was a heretic, he hadn't attacked him yet. But the boy was skittish, and he would answer. Even if he seemed the madman - it had been ten years since the attacks on Ishgard from both sides. Emmanellian had been twenty-six, for he'd been able to defend him so very well.

Damn this man, for taking this disguise.

But it took him a moment to even think of a question, to think back to happier times. His gaze is focused so very tightly, ready to fight (or flee) at a moments' notice. ]

His favorite hangout - where was it?

[ It may seem obvious to those who knew him... but it had been so long. Why would a heretic bother to learn facts of Old Ishgard, above the ground? ]

[ Honoroit's choice of question meets with a vaguely embarrassed look from Emmanellain. He gained a certain reputation for his favoured activities, for the establishments he took to frequenting, but for all he knows, this deceased version of himself was a pious man who preferred daily visits to Saint Reymanaud's Cathedral, or an accomplished knight, training for bells on end.

Emmanellain tries to imagine both options, and clears his throat. With less conviction than he would like, he offers: ]

Why, the Jeweled Crozier, of course? Any Emmanellain de Fortemps ought to know its many merits!

[ And he can only hope that this is enough to win this Honoroit's trust. It remains troubling to see the boy so on edge. ]

[ ...This can't be real. Everything that Honoroit knew - men died when they were turned to ash right on top of him. But of course he knew.

Oh, how Honoroit wanted to trust this.

And so, his voice seems to waver, as he just asks... ] How? [ As he asks, he does move closer - his armour clanking as if it didn't fit properly, his expression turning from fear to... wonder, if only for a moment. ]

[ The response seems promising, and Emmanellain ventures onward. He takes a step closer, and another, and another, as if approaching that cornered animal desperate to bolt or lash out. He raises his empty hands above his head, no threat.

He won't pretend to be anyone but himself. ]

I don't know what happened to the man you knew, Honoroit. I don't claim to be the same Emmanellain, but you can trust me, I swear it. I mean you no harm.

[ Honoroit whispers, however, so very gently. ] Lord van Garlond did claim... [ He claimed he could bring the dead back. But he was promised it in exchange for the eyes of the Mist Dragon. (Yes. He made deals with Garleans.)

As Emmanellian is close to him, though, one thing is clear - Honoroit is a little taller then him, even when he's this scared. (He's standing tall, trying not to let himself just...

Just...) As he stood, looking as strong as any Dragoon, his eyes began to well up the smallest bit. Tears beginning to drip down, Honoroit kept his gaze focused, even as he couldn't believe his eyes. ]

...Why are you here, sir?

Garlond...?

[ But the sight of Honoroit's tears silences Emmanellain's questions. Honoroit so often seems a grown man in a young boy's body, mature beyond his years and rarely shaken out of his composure — when did he last need his master, really? To see him distressed (and it makes no difference that this is another Honoroit, one truly grown, at that) is exceedingly alarming. ]

Honoroit—

[ Without hesitation or thought, Emmanellain reaches out, placing one hand on the young dragoon's armour-clad shoulder. With the other he finds his handkerchief, unused, and presses it decisively into Honoroit's palm. ]

...I should ask you the same thing. I've come here to find Haurchefant, and I could have sworn that you were following me all along.

[ He speaks of another dead man, up there? Honoroit tries to hold back his tears, but it's just too much, as he takes the handkerchief. moving to dab at his eyes. He's meant to be the mature one - this kind of thing, though impossible, shouldn't rattle him like this. (Then again, it's also been a long time since he's had a good cry.) ]

...I was commissioned to take down the dragon at the peak. By my new master. A strong dragons eye is what he needs. But you're going the same way, sir.

I... see.

[ Emmanellain chooses to take it as a good sign that Honoroit accepts and uses the handkerchief. With a perhaps surprising gentleness, he moves to steer the young man towards a low rocky ledge upon which they might sit down awhile and give Honoroit some time to calm himself. ]

I would strongly recommend avoiding any involvement with the eyes of dragons, my boy. No good comes of it, believe me.

[ He pats the back of Honoroit's armour, somewhat noisily as metal strikes metal. ]

Edited 2017-08-17 23:47 (UTC)

[ Honoroit is gentle, but he can't help but flinch when he's patted - because he's sore inside his armour. (The life of a Dragoon was harsh.)

But he was calming, in his own way. As he sat, he looked away. Ashamed. ]

I know that they are dangerous - but they could be used to power machines the Empire had created. At least, that is what I've been informed.

Garlond Ironworks makes use of dragon eyes?

[ Honoroit's flinching doesn't escape Emmanellain's notice, and it stays his hand. He withdraws it, eyeing Honoroit with concern. ]

Honoroit... are you hurt?

[ His patting wasn't rough in the least, he thinks, and Honoroit's armour should have absorbed most of it — unless it jostled an injury? That, to Emmanellain, is far more pressing than imperial machines and powering them. ]

...Ironworks? What use would van Garlond have with...?

[ He asks quietly, confused for a moment - before getting concerned at Emmanellians' concern. ] Just some old bruises - it's nothing too bad, sir. [ But that's a lie, one obvious to both of them. ]

[ Explanations will need to wait (which might buy Emmanellain the time to think of a way to persuade Honoroit to abandon his mission without seeming a heretic all over again to an active dragoon, so he hopes). For now, Honoroit's blatant lie is Emmanellain's priority.

He tuts, shaking his head. ]

Come now, as I've said, you can trust me. Why don't we turn back and make a stop at Tailfeather? Such stubborn old bruises could do with some salve or something of that sort!

...I suppose it can wait. H[ e says, quietly. It can't wait, he has to take this dragon down... but if this is who it seems to be, if this is truly his old Emmanellian - then he has questions. Mostly the how. And besides, the dragon up above has the power of an elder - it could be older then the Dragonsong War. (Though, really, it was because of a terrified glitch boy not wanting Haurchefant to die...)

Honoroit stood again, looking to Emmanellians' chocobo. ] You'll lead, then?

Good lad!

[ Standing when Honoroit stands, Emmanellain remembers the boy's discomfort and refrains from any more pats to his person. Haurchefant isn't going anywhere. Gaining Honoroit's trust and dissuading him from slaying innocent dragons (how strange a notion still) comes first.

Holding his mount steady, Emmanellain beckons to Honoroit, assuming that if he can leap onto a perch in a tree, he isn't too weary to lift himself into the saddle. ]

Climb on — I'll lead us there on foot.

[ Slower than he would if the chocobo could bear two riders, mind, but they'll make it eventually. ]

Edited 2017-09-06 01:17 (UTC)

[ Haurchefant can wait - even if, as the two are talking, there is the softest of cries from afar - a roar, which might be mistaken for just another fight between beasts if it didn't seem almost melodious.

It doesn't take much for the boy to climb on the Chocobo - in fact, he seems to move elegantly, saddling up within moments.

But then, he pauses. ]

It won't be too far, will it? You still have... [ you know - whatever Emmanellian was going to do. He trails off, placing his helm over his face. Deep down, the man - no, the boy still thought this was a trap.

Fear had taught him well. As the large bird followed Emmanellian, however, Honoroit spoke up. ] You look healthy. [ Not burned alive. It is a little rude to ask, but... ] Were you ever attacked by a dragon?

No, no, we'll reach Tailfeather in the blink of an eye!

[ Emmanellain waves his hand airily. As soon as Honoroit is securely seated in the saddle, the young lord gives his chocobo's reins a tug, and they're off, on their way. At Tailfeather, he can rely on Emmanelle's back-up, he thinks to himself.

He looks over his shoulder, however, taken aback by Honoroit's question, and nearly stumbles over stones on the path. Is that how the other Emmanellain met his end, perishing in a dragon's attack? ]

The assaults on Ishgard, you mean?

...They breeched the wards.

[ This truly was an odd man - odd in the way that Emmanellian had been. At that little stumble, though, Honoroit couldn't help but let out a little gasp - before gripping to the Chocobo more. Yes, it'd be much better if he simply remained on them, trying to keep himself comfortable.

No point irritating the long-painful wounds. And no point, truly, trying to understand the odd amnesia this younger Emmanellian - so very familiar - held. ]

It was-- the Garlean and the Dravanian struck at the same time, but not as partners.

The wards... yes...

[ Ishgard had had her hands full with the Dravanians alone, but Garlean forces on top of that? Emmanellain isn't eager to dwell on the suffering left in the wake of the combined attacks that Honoroit mentions. He falls silent, if only while he pays mind to the path ahead.

Thankfully, Tailfeather gives him something to point out in the distance. ]

— Almost there!

[ As they got closer, however, it was Emmanelle who noticed them - before her cursed doll or Chocobo. She stood, a little confused - something had happened? (Something always happens.) But she carefully walked along the path, to meet them. ]

Found a new boyfriend, hm?

[ ...Of course, she's misread the situation a little - but there's less joking in her tone, as she looks up at the Dragoon. Now that his face is covered, there's a lot less to pick him as who he was.

Even if she was used to chaos. ]

[ Upon glimpsing Emmanelle, Emmanellain greets her with a wave. She doesn't seem too surprised to see him back so soon, and with an unexpected companion. Reaching her, he guides his chocobo to a halt and laughs until the sound peters out somewhat. ]

Actually, I've found a familiar face of sorts...

[ Like Emmanelle, he looks up at Honoroit. ]

The poor fellow is injured, I persuaded him to have that treated. Emmanelle, meet Honoroit. Honoroit, let me introduce you to Emmanelle.

[ Listen, if she got shocked by every interrupted trip, she'd barely have breath to flirt. Er, be a good Fortemps and be smothered by Edmont. (Well, at least loved.

It's weird. He's... caring. A little too much. It's because he didn't have children after Artoirel...?) But, another Honoroit...? Trying to hide her shock, Emmanelle gave a small bow. ]

The pleasure's all mine, Ser. But-- injuries? Let's get you off this Chocobo, huh?

[ Honoroit is quiet, as he gets off - before stumbling a little. ]

There should be some ointments back in the room! Shall we take him there?

[ ...Why does Honoroit feel like this is a trap? Nervously giving a little cross of the arms, he looks between the two. ]

...You have a twin?

[ Emmanellain stands ready to catch Honoroit when the young dragoon stumbles, and he hovers at his side, keeping one hand on Honoroit's back, the other on the front of his armour, just above Honoroit's folded arms. The boy still seems rather uneasy in their company. Is he in any shape or state of mind to hear the full truth? ]

Er... [ Desperately, Emmanellain shoots Emmanelle a look, seeking her help. ] Will you do the honours, old girl, or shall I? Though I fully agree — first things first! Let's get you inside and make good use of those ointments, Honoroit!

[ Already he begins to usher Honoroit into that direction. ]

Ah-- it's a little more complex, but twins is a way to think of it. [ It's a good cover - Emmanelle gave a soft nod to Emmanellian. Later, they'd tell the poor kid. Once he was rested and full and healed. It wasn't worth ruining a mind to give the kid the truth.

But the three are soon inside, the small Calca doll looking over - before staring. Judging ]. Ah-- it's fine, we just need to help. Sorry we're back early - and without any gifts, except for a new Dragoon friend.

[ Breathing a sigh of relief that they won't need to address the complicated truth just yet, Emmanellain helps Honoroit into a seat. He gives the quiet dragoon the most reassuring smile he can muster. ]

Here we are! Now, we'll have to ask you to undress, my boy, or we won't get very far, with all that armour in the way...

[ Emmanellain trails off, glancing at Emmanelle again. Honoroit can take off his armour and whatever he wears beneath on his own, so the young lord assumes, but he might like his privacy.

On the other hand, this Honoroit has probably been in various states of undress around his fellows, and seen the same. ]

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