aefenglom | ♞ 1.

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♞ 1.

Name: dylas
Date: June 2nd
Format: voice

Hey.

[That’s it. One word. Dylas’ voice is low, like usual, but there’s something unsteady about it. Maybe it’s nerves from using the pocketwatch, a device he’s still not used to, or...well.]

I know people have been...changing. It’s, uh. Not great. But...do the changes hurt for anyone else? There’s this spot on... my friend’s arm that’s all grey, and it hasn’t stopped hurting ever since it showed up. Does anyone else have that?

I’m asking for my friend.

[He’s not asking for a friend.]

[OOC; Dylas is infected by the Cwyld after an encounter with some Shades. He’s been hiding it under his clothes, but now his arm is hurting real bad.]

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[francel almost laughs at dylas's slip-up, but he decides it's best to continue humoring the man. it's very endearing, though, and dylas may be able to hear that francel is smiling just by the sound of his voice.]

I'm not certain. Perhaps a wisent? Or a chimera with the skin of a wisent? ...I don't believe there are wisents here, however. They may be native only to my homeland.

[in any case, whatever a 'wisent' is...]

That's why I'd suggest you get it looked at. The locals will know more about this world than we do, after all.

A chimera, huh? My friend's already not human, so...so that'd make sense, I guess.

[Francel can't see it, but Dylas is looking a little down on the other end. This is the first time he's hypothesized about the changes he's going through.]

Isn't it weird to ask a bunch of strangers why your arm looks funny? That's what my friend thinks. If he can tough it out, that would be ideal.

[that's... quite a response. is it really so strange to be seen by a chirurgeon? francel wonders. were there no physicians in this man's world? perhaps he lived some sort of extremely nomadic lifestyle...]

Well... perhaps so. It might be reasonable to conclude that I have a weaker constitution than you — er, than your friend does. The pain from my transformation proved rather too much to bear, so I sought a Bond rather quickly, and that has made things far more manageable.

Still, if the pain from his greying skin worsens, persuade him to pay the Coven a visit. 'Twould be the least you can do as a friend, and I promise they won't think it's... weird.

You're a pretty patient person, aren't you?

[Francel seems pretty good at putting up with Dylas' bullshit. It makes him feel good, at least. He likes people who can stick around and handle his awkward word vomit.]

My friend should just suck it up and go, I guess. But...bonds, huh. You fell for that? There's no way something like that actually works.

[francel laughs, both for the compliment and for the suggestion that he's been somehow tricked into his bond. admittedly, he sometimes feels that way himself... but he doesn't feel like he's been tricked at the moment, at least!]

Perhaps you're right! Maybe it doesn't do anything, and I just like being touched. Still, I never feel more at ease with my transformation than when the Witch I am Bonded to is tending to my hurts.

[wow francel that's gay.]

And the alternative of suffering alone, possibly losing control — that scares me more than what others might think of me.

You like what now?

[Did Dylas just hear that right? Did his new friend(?) just say something...lewd? Who would just...form a bond for such a silly reason! He's actually blushing on the other end, he's a disaster.

also yeah that's super gay]

I'm not going to lose control. [As for suffering alone, well, he decides to completely leave that out.] I'm not that weak.

[He scoffs, but, uh. You know. Famous last words and all that.]

I... I enjoy being touched?

[francel repeats this with a touch of confusion — then, suddenly, it sinks in, and he gets flustered, too.]

I-I — Twelve have mercy, not like that! I just mean — I missed the warmth of another person's hand and being held and —

[this just went from "a fun thing he would readily admit to other people" straight into "really gay shit he should never say out loud" in the blink of an eye. excellent! now they are both idiotically blushing on their respective ends!]

I-It's wholly innocent!

Yes! That!

[This is the worst conversation he's had since arriving. He almost wishes they were talking more about monster changes and whether or not the Cwyld is going to be the death of him. That's how flustered he is.]

Y-you should think about the way you say things next time! It sounded like you were...like you were...

[He can't even bring himself to say it??? Gods above, can he just chuck his pocketwatch at the wall?!]

You sounded so shameless! Be more careful!

I-I'm hardly shameless! I'm an upstanding Ishgardian citizen!

[he, in fact, has a great deal of internalized shame at all times! wheezing softly on his end, however, francel eventually manages to rein in his own desire to chuck his watch at the wall. coughing to clear his throat, he tries to muster a sense of renewed dignity.]

Er... well... yes. I... apologize for that. That was unseemly of me. I meant no offense.

[see?? look at how diplomatic he is?? absolutely not lewd at all, no sirree, very refined elf man speaking.]

W-well, fine! I'll take your word for it! But you're on thin ice!

[He's not one-hundred percent sure why he's threatening Francel like that, no, Dylas isn't even sure what this man is on thin ice for.

But it sounds good to him. A good warning. Dylas clears his own throat, his tail coming to a standstill slowly after thudding against his seat so many times.]

I'm not offended. [He clears his throat again for good measure.] Up until then, you weren't so bad to talk to. It caught me by surprise.

M-My apologies... I'm sorry, really...

[francel sounds as mournful as a child who keeps apologizing because he accidentally hurt a classmate, but he recovers in good time, apparently not too put off by the fact that he is now, evidently, on thin ice. (why is he being threatened? and what is that thumping noise in the background? strangely, he doesn't seem too bothered by it.)]

A-At any rate... I, er, I take it that you don't like others very much?

It's...fine. It's fine.

[He repeats himself, still trying to regain a little of that composure. Despite these assurances that things are okay, the next question throws him right back into the thick of things.]

It's not that I don't like people...maybe it's just that you like people too much?

[He means 'people in general' but it sure sounds like another shot at Francel's supposed promiscuity.]

[a little breath of laughter escapes francel at this accusation. really, nothing could be farther from the truth! though it's perhaps a bit too simple to simply say that he either likes or dislikes people...]

I... confess that I do not think of myself as particularly trusting. But I suppose I have been oft told that I am a fool.

Yeah. I can see that.

[But despite his rudeness, Dylas doesn't dislike whoever he's speaking to. That's just how it is with him sometimes.]

Like you said, you took on a Bond. That has to be the biggest scam here.

Why do you suppose that to be the most... dubious part of this world?

[genuinely curious. if anything, the coven and parliament strike francel as untrustworthy merely for the fact that they are organizations, but the bonding system hadn't seemed especially strange...]

It sounds like they just want everyone to hold hands and...sing campfire songs or something. No one needs a Bond. Like I said, I'm not that weak.

[He really believes he can withstand all the pain and all the changes on his own. Again. Famous last words.]

I... I see...

[it's occurred to francel a few times as well that the coven might stand to gain something from promoting bonds among the otherworlder populace. what that something might be, however, isn't anything he's managed to figure out. it's certainly true that he and aymeric might have played into someone's nefarious hands.

dylas's problem, however, seems to be an excess of pride — one which francel isn't fool enough to confront head on.]

I suppose it is the impetus of any government to encourage peace among those it governs. Do you think the system is designed to discourage us from seeking a way home, or something else?

[Pride. Stubbornness. Fear of intimacy. Fear of self. Dylas has a lot going on, and he's happy to keep it all to himself.]

What? No, I don't...why would they discourage us from getting home? The people are already annoyed that they're being displaced so there's room for us here. If that keeps happening, they're just going to get even more pissed off.

[That doesn't make sense to him.]

[not the sort of man who believes in conspiracies, then, francel concludes solemnly. dylas must just be very prideful and a little grumpy. and possibly misanthropic.

which is endearing in its own way. there is a hint of his smile in his voice when he speaks again.]

Of course. You're right. Well, in any case, will you let me know if the pain in your arm worsens? Consider it the nosy curiosity of a concerned stranger.

[Only a little. He wants to fit in, but...closing himself off? That's easier.]

Curiosity, huh. I can't see why you'd possibly want to know that for any reason other than being nosy.

[But. He kind of wants to talk to this guy again.]

I'm Dylas.

[the sentiment is reciprocated.]

Dylas, then. You may call me Francel — Francel de Haillenarte.

[he got him to admit it...!!!]

I hope you feel better, Dylas.

Huh. You some kind of noble or something?

[That's one fancy-ass last name. It's enough to pique Dylas' curiosity. Are obnoxiously eloquent surnames a noble thing in other worlds, too?]

I'll be fine. I can handle whatever this is.

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♞ 1.

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oh my god I -love- him

someone send help, they are both so dumb

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