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year 5, quarter 3
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Don't ask if I'm happy, you know that I'm not But at best, I can say I'm not sad
Mateus dreamed. These dreams always seemed to start in the same fashion for him: in his mother's room with him sitting on her lap as she did his hair. Her lips moved but there was no sound as Mateus' eyes could only concentrate on the Wild Rose in the vase on her nightstand. It was so pretty and tempting to reach out and touch. Still, he remembered last time he had grabbed for it and he looked down to his finger only to see it split open once more as the blood hit the floor.
Fire. The field of roses on fire. Mateus stood in the inferno raging around him as all of the flowers turned to ash. Buildings flashed in the fire, people with obscured faces, screaming, burning. Still through the pyre, three figures continued forward. One a brutish being of might with. One a woman of hair as deep as the violets of his gardens. Lastly and most predominantly a being of cropped silver hair tied back with a bandanna. Their face distorted in the flame and smoke, and Mateus could not make them out. The silver haired man nocked his arrow before it flew straight at Mateus.
He awoke with a quick inhale of breath and panic as all he could see was silver. Mateus lay paralyzed as the fear pulsated through his body. Something stirred next to him, and as quietly as possible Mateus rolled away from the potential danger beside him. Mateus blinked as a stream of light crept through the blinds illuminating the situation. The terror in the night wasn't a menace at all. It was Lior, not an unnamed terror come to do him in. Mateus took a few deep calming breaths as he watched the man sleep next to him. He could feel his cheeks redden again as the emotions of both his dreams the night before swelled in him to the bursting point. He wanted to leave quickly and take his leave to get his emotions under control, but he couldn't move. No, he couldn't wake the man as he seemed to be sleeping so peacefully. Instead Mateus quietly exited the other side of the bed before making his way to his vanity.
His makeup and jewels sprawled the entirety in an organized chaos. As delicately as possible he began to put on his face. Every pat of cream or powder was akin to placing a piece of armor and every stroke of liner like a sword strike. He stacked and placed the beads and jewels into his hair like placing men on the field. Mateus winced as the chest creaked as he brought out a robe of bright whites and gold, quickly glancing behind him to see if the noise had woken Lior. Mateus lowered the lid a quickly as he could without it creaking or him slamming the lid. He slid into the thing his coup de grace of his facade. Beautiful and undecipherable.
Still, as he sat back down and looked in the mirror he couldn't look at himself as a chorus of questions of emotions fluttered up threatening to overwhelm his ability to breathe. He needed to get them under control before he had to deal with the man awakening and the oddity of the arrangement and situation being brought to the light of dawn. No, Mateus couldn't deal with it yet. He carefully rummaged through the drawers before finding both paper and pen thinking of a lie. As he wrote it though his stomach growled and the lie became truth.
"I've ventured out to get our breakfast. I shall return before you wake, hopefully ~ Mateus"He lay the note on the night stand near the slumbering man before quietly grabbing his coin purse, exiting the room and making his way through the passage and down the stairs. As he made his way through the lobby, he approached the clerk. "If a man of fair hair shoulder length should inquire later, there are no vacancies." Mateus slid the man some gold pieces and he was acknowledged with a fervent nodding as made his exit.
The street still lay quiet and somber as the pinks and reds of dawn had only began to creep up not that Mateus noticed much as he mulled over his own thoughts. The dream seemed to be on a loop in his mind every time growing a little murkier as he trained to concentrate on it more. Lior had told him his hair had never been cropped so short, but still a sense of unease sat around him as the nock of the arrow suddenly became the draw of a sword in his hazy recollections
Mateus fell into the bushes of an estate as he was bum rushed from behind by a fast moving individual. Before he had a chance to figure out what was happening the vision of purple hair became reality before him. "You," he exclaimed his tone commanding and cold, "what a vile lack of decency you display after having been so errant in your stride." Mateus picked himself out of the bushes as he took a closer look at the assailant stumbling away. Unlike his dreams this idiot seemed boorish in a way the woman of his dreams seemed lithe. "I see," Mateus laughed curling his fingers under his chin. Anger and wishing to focus his energy on something other than his thoughts caused his tongue to waggle at the man walking away. "A drunken bastard too lost in his drink to apologize like a man, but from your looks and smell, it seems you wouldn't know how a proper man would behave."
Post by Faris Scherwiz on Feb 23, 2019 20:14:11 GMT -6
[attr="class","oneword1"]
[attr="class","fromyou1"]@dust
This is the most regal argument I've ever seen.
You've got a lot of brass, or mayhap you're just lacking in brains!
Faris was drunk.
He’d promised himself that he wouldn’t drink, not with Krile around and not when they depended on each other, but he’d known deep down that wouldn’t keep him away. Not when his crew was still missing. Not when he’d lost Bartz, and not when he still didn’t know up from down on these shores he’d somehow washed up on. He’d deal with the shame later. Tell Krile something he knew she wouldn’t believe. But for now, the night was a passing mistress bidding him farewell. Or maybe that was just the last rounds of laughter echoing from the other drunkards as he stumbled away from their table.
”Aye! I can get by fine on my own! It’s just-..Just a few paces to the south! I think. A sailor’s guts never fail him! I’ll find it! I’ll-!” Faris let out a bark of laughter as he staggered over a bench he hadn’t seen. His knees throbbed with a dull pain that he didn’t quite notice. ”I’m a Warrior of Light, lads! I can handle myself!” He drew himself up, hands on his hips, and they whooped with applause. Faris grinned.
”You’re a step above the rest! All of you!” He opened the door, blinking sunlight hit him in streams. ”When’d the sun get there?” He shielded his eyes before letting out a slow groan. ”Krile’ll knock me senseless for this!” Faris took a breath and tried his best to steady himself.
He took a few more steps, stopped, regained his balance, and continued on. Was he swaying? He couldn’t be, could he? And what was that in front of him? He squinted into it. A dazzling, gleaming, blaring something glinting gold in the sunlight like a second sun. He opened his mouth to say something, but the second he took his mind off his balance, he found himself toppling sideways.
The golden something turned out to be a man, or rather the hair of one. He felt their bodies meet, felt his momentum topple into the other, heard the solid thud of flesh meeting the ground, and Faris staggered to the side, taking a sharp intake of breath as he muttered a thousand curses overlaid on top of each other.
He wasn’t that drunk, was he?
”You.” A voice came cold and sharp from the bushes. Out of their leaves emerged a man dressed in a way that Faris could only call regal. About a dozen different powders and creams smeared his face in deliberate arches. He wore silken robes accented in gold, and his hair was stringed with honest-to-god jewels. For a moment, Faris could only stare at him, blank and uncomprehending, as the man gathered himself to his feet.
Then the man laughed.
”I see. A drunken bastard too lost in his drink to apologize like a man, but from your looks and smell, it seems you wouldn't know how a proper man would behave."
And suddenly it clicked. Like a match flicked onto dry timber, his blood flared with the heat of a thousand slights all roaring together. ”’A proper man?’” He couldn’t help a step forward, head tilted in challenge. ”From the looks of it, you wouldn’t know a proper man if it knocked you upside the head!”
There was something about the man that rubbed him the wrong way three times over. Something about the way he spoke, the way he carried himself, that little laugh he gave without any humor in it. No, Faris had been wrong on first sight. The man wasn’t regal. He was excessive. Compensating. Faris knew regal, and he knew it carried a certain responsibility and respect. Lenna would never have acted like this.
”Aye, I’ll give you an apology once you wipe that smug look off your face! I might’ve done you wrong, but a proper man’d take it in stride!” Faris scowled at him. ”You self-important lout.”
(Here are some examples of "casual" Wolly: OneTwoThree )
This sleep was unlike any he had in a long, long time.
Usually, the Warrior’s nights were filled with terrors unimaginable. Swords that clashed until they broke, sharp edges that sliced mercilessly through flesh. Blood that painted the ground, whether it was soft grass or cruel stone. Typically, he awoke gasping for breath, silently screaming in blind pain from the killing blow delivered to him by his opponent. So very many nights, he dreamed of his imminent death, fighting for a cause he couldn’t quite remember, bleeding out to the sounds of haunting laughter.
Tonight, though, was different.
He slept … peacefully. Lior had stared at the dark ceiling in silent contemplation as his eyelids slowly became too heavy to hold, afraid to let sleep take him back to that familiar pain. However, the forgotten memories never came. In his dreams, he didn’t see the menacing faces of enemies unknown. Instead, he saw those familiar. His friends, old and new, softly flitted through his nighttime visions. Familiar faces that brought him comfort, and caused his heart to swell in his chest. Princess Sarah, and the other Warriors of Light he’d come to call his own little family in Cornelia. The people on Zephon who’d embraced him, despite his oddities. Captain Faris, who’d fought by his side, and --
Mateus…?
Slowly, the knight opened his eyes, taking in a slow, long breath through his nose as he stretched. He felt groggy, the way one did after a deep slumber, rather than the adrenaline filled panic he was used to. Lior stared at the subtle hues of orange on the ceiling, just barely peeking through the curtains, before turning his head to look to the other side of the bed.
Empty.
If it weren’t for the interactions of the previous day, the Warrior would have considered the entire encounter a dream. As he sat up, however, his fingers softly traced the area of his chest that Mateus had healed; free of the rough edges of deep scar tissue. Quietly curious, Lior traced the room with a still-waking gaze, quickly picking up that Mateus had left the room. His fingers reached out to the other side of the bed, feeling the soft sheets under his calloused skin.
Even as the knight began to fully wake, he wasn’t sure what he was feeling. Yet, for whatever reason, he had hoped that the blonde man he’d shared so much with the previous day would still be there, beside him. Shaking the thoughts from his mind, the Warrior slipped out of the bed, stretching his stiff muscles as the borrowed robe attempted to slip from his form. He moved to the window of the balcony, opening the curtains to illuminate the room as the gears of his mind slowly turned.
It had been a long time since Lior had to consider another person to interact with. He’d spent so much time alone recently, his already terrible social tact was rustier than it had ever been. His blue eyes drifted over the room, noticing that the jewels Mateus wore in his hair were no longer on the vanity he’d been sitting at the previous night. Perhaps he was an early riser? The Warrior turned to look over the rest of the room as he considered what to do, before he noticed a piece of paper sitting on the nightstand.
Oh no.
Lior padded over to the night stand and picked up the stray paper that hadn’t been there the night before. On it was a delicate scrawl, spelling out letters that looked familiar, but their sounds and meaning were difficult for him to remember. I, he knew what that was, at least. The knight frowned at the note, which had certainly been left with an explanation, maybe even instructions. Chewing on his bottom lip, he set the note back down and walked toward the bathroom, where he’d left his clothes the previous evening.
He had no way of knowing what the note said, but considering the rest of Mateus’s belongings were still in the room, the Warrior figured he hadn’t left permanently. Perhaps he was simply out for a stroll? Lior slipped out of the borrowed robe, setting it on a counter as he began to slip into his own clothes. He wanted to go out and look for the emperor, as well as stretch his own legs. But, he needed to do something to let Mateus know he hadn’t gone for good, in case the blonde came back to the room before he did, and he couldn’t leave a note.
The Warrior grabbed his armor, turning over the battle scarred steel in his hand. … Well, there was no need to immediately put his armor on. Maybe if he left it in the room, Mateus would realize he was coming back? Either way, it was unlikely the regal emperor would want to do anything with his armor. It was practically worthless in these new kingdoms, rich in their own ores and colors. He quickly moved the armor from the bathroom into the living area, stacking it neatly against the wall. He checked in the mirror for only a moment to make sure his tunic was straight, before grabbing his sword and strapping it to his waist. He could take this time to inquire about a room for himself while getting a breath of fresh air to sort his thoughts.
Lior slipped out of the room, lost in thought as he made his way toward the lobby area. The halls were as quiet as his own mind as the knight fought with his disconnected thoughts, finding his way to the main desk before he’d had time to form a single clear idea.
“Pardon,” the Warrior grabbed the man’s attention quietly, “I would like to request a room.”
The attendant stared at him, seeming to study him more than Lior would have thought. The man shook his head with a small smile, “I’m very sorry, sir. There are no vacancies at the moment. Perhaps, try again tomorrow?”
The knight raised his eyebrows in surprise. The place didn’t seem so occupied yesterday, but maybe people here were typically quiet? “Alright, thank you,” was all he managed to say in reply as he turned and walked toward the glass doors leading outside. He was likely reading too much into the situation, but the man seemed to think about his answer for a few seconds longer than a normal person would. No, he was likely just considering all the taken rooms at the time. Surely, he had a lot to keep track of.
Outside, Lior took a deep breath, immediately feeling refreshed by the slight scent of salt in the air from the nearby sea. As nice as it had been to stay indoors for an evening, a part of him missed listening to the sounds of birds chirping and the wind rustling leaves in the trees. The near empty streets were painted orange, yellow and red, the steadily rising sun bathing the sleeping city in tranquil light. The knight cautiously smiled for a moment, taking in the peaceful sight. Moments like these were just that -- moments. Soon the city would awake and come to life, and the soft sounds of nature would vanish into the background once more.
The Warrior quickly memorized the face of the building he was staying in, before wandering off down the worn road. The air was crisp and clean this early, and without Torensten’s constant crowds, he could truly appreciate the architecture and beauty of the city. That, or staring at buildings and flowers was much more enticing than trying to decipher how he felt about the previous night. His heart beat unsteadily as his eyes glanced over a set of beautiful yellow flowers, glowing in the orange sunlight. Absolutely radiant.
Just like --
The sounds of shouting nearby yanked Lior from his thoughts, startling him as the voices broke the peaceful tranquility. Dazed, the knight wondered who could possibly be so upset, so early in the morning? What was that saying he’d heard; waking up on the wrong side of the bed? Frowning deeply, Lior followed the sounds of the voices, turning the corner by a large, beautiful estate, his eyes immediately latching onto a familiar head of blonde.
“Mateus?” He inquired, his voice a stark contrast to the angry noises that he’d heard previously. What was happening, here? The emperor seemed fairly ruffled -- there were leaves stuck to the back of his robes -- and he was staring down the man likely to have caused the scuffle. Lior quickened his pace, hoping to quell the situation before it got any more out of hand, squinting through the backlit sunlight to identify the assailant who…
Who was also familiar.
“Captain Faris?” the Warrior asked as he stopped before the two, his eyes wide with surprise, hand quickly falling from the hilt of his sword. He felt as if he’d been struck across the face, suddenly reunited with a close friend and his newest … friend? Both of whom seemed angry with one another. He could smell the alcohol in the air, quickly identifying that Faris was likely inebriated, but it still left him in a state of total confusion. He quickly glanced between the two; elegant and poised Mateus, and rough and tumble Fairs, before finally inquiring, “What’s going on here?”
He was very happy to have found Mateus, and excited as well to see his friend and fellow warrior Faris once more. However, the feeling of warmth was quickly draining from his heart as his eyes studied the frustration on the faces of both of his friends.
Don't ask if I'm happy, you know that I'm not But at best, I can say I'm not sad
"Oh how quaint. Are you threatening me now?" Mateus asked indignant as the man talked of knocking him upside the head. He knew that drunks sometimes had a strength unbeknownst to them, but he doubted that the man could throw a punch without falling over from the force at the point. Still, he did not care for the implication at all. "Color my surprised that you still are cognizant enough to see my face at all," Mateus taunted as he felt his agitation turn to pulsating electricity in his fingertips. Part of him wished for the man to simply stumble away and leave him to his thoughts, the other hoped he would attack giving him a way to release his pent up emotion.
What he had not expected as an out was to hear his name from a familiar source coming to his rescue. Mateus turned his head to see his silver haired companion coming to his aid. He looked so majestic as the sunlight weaved through his hair and his tunic clung to his muscular frame his sword strapped to his thigh. So, it looked like Mateus would be having no time to think things over before they came barreling towards him. Still an escape from the situation was still an escape. As Lior came closer, Mateus immediately B-lined to the man grasping at his shoulder and positioning himself a step behind the man.
"Lior," his own voice surprising him as it came out a breath of relief and excitement. He smelled musky just the same as yesterday, a problem they could address later, but for now it comforted him in some strange way. "I," Mateus began to explain, but as he did so Lior spoke another person's name. "Excuse me?" Mateus questioned shocked as he peered from the man's neck back to the purple haired assailant. He knew Lior must have had to deal with all sorts of buffoons and rock headed individuals as a knight and a warrior. Perhaps this was one his adversaries. When he asked for an explanation, Mateus immediately readied to have Lior believe his innocence in the whole affair.
"I hope my departure was not the reason for your waking," he began not understanding why he felt the need to start his account of events that way. "As the note I left for you said, I've been out trying to find something worth eating for our breakfast. I ,minding my own business, was accosted by this drunken buffoon, and shoved into the bushes. Imagine my fear and shock, I thought myself the victim of a robbery." Matt let out one distressed gasp as he turned his head away from Lior. "I was relieved of course to find that instead of a robber it was merely a drunkard. Feeling a wound from my fall begin to ache, all I asked for was a simple apology, and now this unruly man is threatening to 'knock me upside the head'" Mateus said the last few words with disdain as though the idea of violence was reviling and disgusting. "I know the commoners are of a certain mind and base manner, but this is crass even for them," he added staring down the purple haired man across from them. "I say we take our leave before the idiot can stumble even another sentence or step." Mateus turned from the scene waiting for Lior to agree and follow behind him. Hopefully breakfast would be enough to wipe away the memory of this foul encounter.
You've got a lot of brass, or mayhap you're just lacking in brains!
”Oh how quaint. Are you threatening me now?"
”Threatening you? You lousy-! That’s not what I said, and you know it!” The blood rose to Faris’ cheeks, burning hot. It cleared his head from the alcohol -- at least for now -- and he felt the crystal pulse in time with his heart.
He’d met people like him before. People like this gold-adorned stranger who felt like they were too good to be touched by lesser hands. Back then, he would have smirked it off, laughing to himself because he knew full well that they were only painting a target on their backs. But he didn’t have his crew now. No plans, no authority, and this man wasn’t about to be robbed. Too bad too, Faris thought. It would have done him some good.
There was also the alcohol. It always had a way of loosening his tongue.
Before either of them could say any more, they were interrupted by a voice. A familiar one at that. It called an unfamiliar name -- the man in gold if he had to guess -- and then his own. ’Captain Faris.’ It was only then that he recognized it, perking up immediately and spinning to find the more than welcome source. He was already grinning wildly.
”If it isn’t that Warrior of Light!” And there he was -- the same man he’d fought beside and drank beside and admired more than anyone he’d met on this marooned land. He looked a little different without his armor, but that face was the same, that mess of white hair, those impassive eyes. ”Aye, you came at a rough time. I was just telling this lout to pull the stick out of his-”
Then said lout started talking.
Faris blinked at him slowly. ’Not his reason for waking?’ Did the two know each other? The knight didn’t seem like the type to hang around self-important dunderheads like this one, but the devil must have used his tongue to slip straight through his defenses. Trying to use him, maybe. Well, Faris would just have to set him straight on that-
”I, minding my own business, was accosted by this drunken buffoon, and shoved into the bushes. Imagine my fear and shock, I thought myself the victim of a robbery.”
”Robbery? Are you daft?” Faris felt his blood pound harder, felt it rise to his head independent of any alcohol. It was fine enough to call him out on their own terms, but doing it in front of the knight…
”You dirty, yellow-! And you call yourself a proper-man, slinking up to the first man of honor you see? He’s three times the man you are, you gutless cur! Telling him I was about to knock you senseless…” His words faded to a grumble as he crossed his arms, more annoyed now than anything. The knight’d see right through him, Faris was sure of it. It didn’t matter now so long as he got his say. And yet…
”I know the commoners are of a certain mind and base manner, but this is crass even for them.”
”Common? I’m a princess, you dolt! And it’s meant just as much here as it did back home. Around here, you’re just the same as me or him or anyone else! ’Noble blood’s got nothing to do with it.” Faris shot him a scathing look, more critical than heated, before turning to the knight.
”You know the kind of man I am. A Warrior of Light the same as you! I wouldn’t go wasting my time holding up a dunce like this one. You shouldn’t give him the time of day either if you know what’s good for you. He’s got the sense of a louse and the guts of one to boot.” Faris crossed his arms. ”But it’s good to see you with that dolt or not. We should catch up after I’ve cleared the ale from my head. I’ve got some tales you wouldn't believe if you're willing to trade.”
Both men quickly turned their attention to him, the frustration temporarily melting away from their faces. Mateus made a beeline for him, reaching for his arm, and the knight obliged him without really thinking. Mateus’ slender hand gripped at his shoulder for a moment before the blonde took a step behind him, peering out from behind his shoulder. The knight glanced over his shoulder for a moment, before turning his stunned attention back to Faris, as they’d both uttered his name yet-not-name.
"Lior," one breathed, relieved. ”If it isn’t that Warrior of Light!” the other exclaimed excitedly.
Lior himself wasn’t quite sure what to do. He acknowledged the two of them quietly, yet he was unable to give either of them a reassuring glance or smile. Though both of them seemed happy to see him, the tension that was previously in the air returned full force. He felt suddenly as if he were trapped between two behemoths, both with their hackles raised, eyes carefully watching one another -- their claws and teeth unknowingly aimed at him rather than each other.
Before the Warrior could think of anything to do or say to keep the ticking time bomb from exploding, the two began to speak.
”Aye, you came at a rough time. I was just telling this lout to pull the stick out of his-”
"I hope my departure was not the reason for your waking," Mateus began calmly behind him, his familiar smooth voice tugging at Lior’s attention. He turned his blue eyes to the former Emperor, listening intently for a moment, "As the note I left for you said, I've been out trying to find something worth eating for our breakfast. I ,minding my own business, was accosted by this drunken buffoon, and shoved into the bushes. Imagine my fear and shock, I thought myself the victim of a robbery."
Right. The note. As much as the knight wanted to interject and embarrassingly explain that he didn’t know how to read said note, there was no time. Mateus’s explanation of the event quickly went into insulting Captain Faris, calling him a buffoon. However, perhaps he wasn’t particularly wrong about being shoved into the bushes. Lior was sure Faris hadn’t meant to knock the man down -- but Mateus was dotted in leaves and smudged with a bit of a dirt.
The Warrior opened his mouth to speak, but quickly shut it as Faris’s voice entered the conversation. If one could call it that.
”Robbery? Are you daft?” Lior’s attention whipped to Faris, whose eyes were wide with disbelief and rolling anger. The Warrior had to agree, however, such a thing was daft. Perhaps it was only because he personally knew Faris, but the knight was well aware that Faris was a man of good heart and intentions. He would never attempt to rob someone. Shout at, surely, but not attack and rob.
"I was relieved of course to find that instead of a robber it was merely a drunkard. Feeling a wound from my fall began to ache, all I asked for was a simple apology, and now this unruly man is threatening to 'knock me upside the head'".
That … surely wouldn’t have upset Faris, right? Lior turned his attention back to Mateus again, his eyes quickly searching over the blonde’s form. An unexpected fall into the bushes surely would have created a few scrapes and perhaps a bruise -- ah, but Mateus wasn’t a knight who threw himself into trouble on the daily. He likely wasn’t used to be shoved around, beaten and bruised. Did he ask for a simple apology, or did he demand one? Why would an apology have upset Captain Faris? The Warrior’s head was spinning as he attempted to piece together what must have happened between his two friends, taking a quick moment to brush a few of the leaves from Mateus’s back.
”You dirty, yellow-! And you call yourself a proper-man, slinking up to the first man of honor you see? He’s three times the man you are, you gutless cur! Telling him I was about to knock you senseless…”
How are their stories so different? Lior thought to himself as he looked back to Faris, his gaze questioning and becoming distressed and frustrated. The knight crossed his arms over his chest, releasing a held sigh that was beginning to burn in his throat. Friends argued, he knew this, but this wasn’t any kind of playful banter. These were words aiming to hurt and damage. This was something crass and petty. Maybe it was the early hour, or simply the unbelievable circumstances that led him to this moment, but Lior was finding his patience increasingly tested, unable to get a word in edgewise with either of them.
"I know the commoners are of a certain mind and base manner, but this is crass even for them. I say we take our leave before the idiot can stumble even another sentence or step."
That particular statement struck the Warrior’s own heart, igniting a frustrated fire in him. Captain Faris was many things; loud, typically drunk, a dash of insane, but he was not an idiot. Mateus was letting his offended emotions get the better of him, and while Lior wanted to give him that benefit of the doubt, it was becoming harder with each insult. He didn’t move from his spot in between the arguing pair, even as Mateus turned to leave.
”Common? I’m a princess, you dolt! And it’s meant just as much here as it did back home. Around here, you’re just the same as me or him or anyone else! ’Noble blood’s got nothing to do with it.”
Lior turned an incredulous look to Faris immediately, his eyebrows scrunched in fleeting scrutiny. Princess? Captain Faris was a princess? He certainly didn’t look like any princess that the Warrior had ever met before, and he definitely didn’t behave like any of the nobles he knew, either. It appeared there were still some secrets between them, not that such was a problem. Knowing that Faris was a princess changed nothing about the Warrior’s opinion of him. The past was the past, after all.
”You know the kind of man I am. A Warrior of Light the same as you! I wouldn’t go wasting my time holding up a dunce like this one. You shouldn’t give him the time of day either if you know what’s good for you. He’s got the sense of a louse and the guts of one to boot… But it’s good to see you with that dolt or not. We should catch up after I’ve cleared the ale from my head. I’ve got some tales you wouldn't believe if you're willing to trade.”
The Warrior was stunned. How could both of these men, good friends of his, dislike each other that much in such an extremely short amount of time, with one simple interaction? From the sounds of it, they’d judged each others character in nothing but a span of a few moments based on something superficial. He wanted to defend Mateus and Faris from … each other? He took one last glance between the two of them, his expression neutral, before his frown deepened into something truly upset.
Lior took a few brief steps to catch Mateus, gripping the man’s shoulder to force him to stop walking away. He let go as quickly as he’d grabbed the blonde, stepping back in between the two of them, taking the time to cast them both a disappointed gaze.
“Enough of this,” the Warrior demanded, and though his voice was soft with affection for both of his dear friends, he placed his hands on his hips and stared at one, and then the other, sternly, “The two of you are behaving childishly. I know both of you to be good, decent people, and yet you stand here and insult each other over one, clearly misunderstood interaction.”
Lior turned his hardened gaze to Mateus, his frown becoming less angry and laced with disappointment, “Mateus, Faris is a good man, a warrior of light. I am sure that him bumping you into the bushes was an accident, and nothing more.”
“And Captain Faris,” the knight continued, before either could interject to interrupt him, “I understand that Mateus insulted you, but he is not a dunce, nor any of the other … colorful descriptors you gave. He, too, is a good soul who has been nothing but kind to me.”
Hopefully, having a mediator between the two hot-tempered men would give them a moment to catch their breath, maybe a chance to think about the rationale behind their thinking. It was early, one was maybe sleep-deprived and the other was drunk. Both of them had loud personalities and strong wills, despite being near polar opposites of one another. They were more alike than they realized.
“I believe you two should apologize to one another,” Lior continued, crossing his arms over his chest again as he kept his feet planted firmly in place between the two of them, “and let this childish arguing and name-calling go. We are all men of honor and dignity here, yes? Let’s behave like it.”
Besides, it’s too early for this madness. I cannot imagine this hanging over any of us for the rest of the day.
Let alone, imagining the two of them ever existing in a space together. Mateus and Faris were both good friends of his, and allies to a similar cause. Such sudden discourse and unbelievable vile behavior towards one another needed to be culled and fixed, before the Warrior found himself being pulled in two.
Don't ask if I'm happy, you know that I'm not But at best, I can say I'm not sad
The drunk continued to spit their vitriol, but Mateus couldn't be bothered to listen to anymore. Lior was here now, and he hoped they would soon put this sordid incident behind him. However, he almost stopped in his tracks as the man claimed themselves a princess and seemed to have found exactly where to strike his wounded pride. Electricity crackled at his fingertips as the insult took hold and his hand turned into a fist. What this person, this princess, spoke was true. He was no one here but another face. It was a fate he had come to terms with shakily, and something he had somehow found the strength to share with Lior, but to hear it from someone else made his blood boil. What was a princess to an Emperor? A vision flashed in his brain of the Hilda only make his irritation grow more intense as he slowed his pace ready to turn.
Before his emotions got the better of him and he went for the man's blood, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Mateus shot his head round quickly the anger and anguish shooting from his gaze in waves. However, it was Lior who had come, and Mateus' expression softened as he believed they were to depart now. The thought was fleeting as Mateus gave Lior a quizzical look as he returned back to where he had been standing. Was the knight about to defend him and his honor against the drunkard, to tell him off, and demand his departure from their sight? Mateus gave a soft smile at the idea, but his smile quickly faded as the knight gave them both a talking to.
Mateus recoiled slightly at the man's steely gaze and frown. Something instinctual made him want to retreat, to keep the man at a distance, as if his eyes could somehow pierce him through the gut. That feeling disappeared almost as much as the fierce angry look that Lior shot him. Instead it was replaced with a look of disappointment and frustration, and Mateus felt even more unnerved by this expression. It was easy enough to cast aside the looks of hatred and disdain, for what did others know of the decisions he had to make, the battles he had to fight. No this was a look of someone who knew more than he cared to let others know usually, the same look his mother gave him at his coronation.
"An apology?" Mateus asked with a slight laugh. This was clearly a jest that Lior was putting on. Why should he apologize for taking a simple walk through town and then being bum rushed. Mateus smiled waiting for the knight to let up, but his smile slackened as the man stayed vigilant and steely as his armor. Mateus shot Faris another look sizing him up once more. Perhaps the warrior had a penchant for picking up strays to help out of their predicaments, and he flinched slightly as he said they were all men of honor. Was Mateus one of these causes? Something tugged in his stomach that said no. Their conversation the evening before and soul sharing had been too deep for him to think the man still saw him as something so base. Or at least he hoped. Perhaps just maybe this Faris was worth their weight in gil.
Still the situation at hand needed resolved as his stomach gave a quiet rumble. His lie about finding breakfast was becoming more and more a reality by the moment. A part of him thought to leave them both, he owed no one anything. Still, he wanted the words Lior spoke of him to be true and for him to truly believe them. Others wouldn't have taken to him so willingly after knowing who he had had been. Taking a steadying breath while closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose, Mateus stepped forward. He looked at Lior first his lips pursed as he formulated just what an apology was looking for help or guidance in the cold blue disappointed eyes. His shoulders fell as he sighed and turned to face Faris crossing his arms. "Fine," he started looking above and slightly aside of the man's face, "if Lior speaks for you and your character perhaps we can forget this incident and introduce ourselves anew. I am Mateus, your highness." The last word came out hard and harsh with only a sliver of honor and the disdain thinly veiled, but it was a start, he hoped this was enough to appease both of them as he stood now turning his head to the sky.
You've got a lot of brass, or mayhap you're just lacking in brains!
The Warrior didn’t leave with him.
In fact, something almost sad crossed his usually placid brow, and he fixed them both with a solid look. He said they were both acting like children. He said he knew them to both be ‘good, decent people.’ Faris cast the lout a doubtful look, but crossed his arms to listen. He’d have followed the Warrior to the ends of the earth if he asked, and he’d certainly listen if he had something to say. No matter how wrong-headed it seemed.
Because Faris knew people, and he knew the kind of nobility he was faced with now. This man (Mateus apparently) was not a good soul. The very fact that he’d call Faris a base commoner was enough to prove that. But he kept his thoughts to himself -- at least for now -- out of respect alone. If the Warrior wanted an apology, he’d give it. The knight deserved that much after all.
So he crossed his arms and watched Mateus with something less than disdain. Even as the man spat out a mocking title of nobility, Faris only smirked back at him, a challenge in his eyes. Maybe the Warrior wouldn’t catch the implication, but Faris certainly had, and he wouldn’t be forgetting it any time soon. If he wanted to play it that way…
Faris laughed. ”Enough of that. I’m a pirate first, a Warrior second, and hardly a princess at all. I’d’ve been queen if it wasn’t for my sister stepping up. By the grace of gods, I say.” Faris swept his hair out of his eyes with a jerk of his head and shot the man a half-grin.
”Captain Faris Scherwiz. I’d’ve offered you a proper apology all at once if your words hadn’t cut me like daggers. I didn’t mean any harm by it, but I’ll defend my honor to the death if I have to, and calling me less than a ’proper man,’” Faris shook his head before tilting it back at Mateus, grinning. ”Well, it’s all behind us, eh?” Faris gave Mateus a hard pat on the shoulder, the kind he’d have given a man of twice the size and enough to nearly topple some high-headed, twig-armed noble. Faris’ eyes lit with a challenge again even as he grinned.
Mateus would get the picture even if the Warrior didn’t.
”Well with that nasty business done, how about we all catch up over some eggs and a biscuit? Any friend of yours is a friend of mine, and I’ve got half a mind to drag you off right here to catch up. It’s been a time since I saw you last, and I’m not letting you go until we have a proper talk, you and I.”
