The chatbox has been hidden for this page. It will reopen upon refresh. To hide the CBox permanently, select "Permanently Toggle Cbox" in your profile User Settings.
This chatbox is hidden. To reopen, edit your User Settings.
It seemed fitting that it was raining, as his mood was the same as the weather. There was little joy in his life as of late, with Elias looking for any reason to end his life and both of his girls away in Aetea. And he was expected to keep his mood high in the city, to lie his way through each and every meeting without vomiting from the vile lies he was telling. It went against everything he’d ever stood for, as a beacon of truth and grounded mentality, to spread the sort of rumors he was. And yet, there was little he could do about it but continue the course.
Elias would kill those he loved quicker if he did not.
And it was that fear, the loss of those he loved, that put him on the path he was on today. Usually, he didn’t ride on horses, preferring to use his time in a carriage for studying or work. But the need for speed, for a quick journey from the city into the small town of Arcana to visit his old friend.
It was a relationship that few knew of, just as few knew of the connection between the man and the royal family. He was in no hurry to expose his fondness of the single father and his girls, not when he had been a single father himself in a very similar situation. He trusted the man to give advice, to quietly suggest how to handle situations that had him wholly out of his element. And, in the more distant past, the two of them had made a pack. And while Aimias had never seen fit to call in his need, there was no avoiding it now.
It was his turn.
The ride was arduous in the rain, and he was not a man made for journeys like the one he took. But the need to have it done before he was needed back home was enough to press him. Iris was too angry with him to worry about what he was doing on a day to day basis, stuck in Aygris with Phillipa as he had told her to do. The home in the city was empty and lonely-- and even as a man who was used to this, it still felt crushing. His plight was his own doing, he knew. There was no denying that he had no one to blame but himself. But his actions would at least be understood by the man he was en route to.
As he made his way into Arcana, he opted for discretion, as he always did. It was important to keep this friend a secret, as connecting dots between him and the Xanthos line would never happen directly. So while it would have been easier to ride to his house, he chose to stable the docile beast at an inn instead, paying handsomely for the horse to be bedded down after the wet journey. His thick wool himation was topped with a cloak, up high around his face to hide his identity and keep him dry: Aimias opted to make the rest of the journey on foot.
It didn’t take him long, glad for the thick boots to keep his feet warm as he sludged through town. The doorway was all too familiar for him in his direct path, relieved to see light from the windows and smoke in the chimney. There had been a little worry that he may not have been home, but it was washed away with the rain. He had sent word ahead that he would be seeking out his confidence, but had not given a date. Still, there was no hesitation as he firmly knocked on the door. His hood was moved back a bit, so that the light of the doorway would reveal his identity without a second thought needed.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
It seemed fitting that it was raining, as his mood was the same as the weather. There was little joy in his life as of late, with Elias looking for any reason to end his life and both of his girls away in Aetea. And he was expected to keep his mood high in the city, to lie his way through each and every meeting without vomiting from the vile lies he was telling. It went against everything he’d ever stood for, as a beacon of truth and grounded mentality, to spread the sort of rumors he was. And yet, there was little he could do about it but continue the course.
Elias would kill those he loved quicker if he did not.
And it was that fear, the loss of those he loved, that put him on the path he was on today. Usually, he didn’t ride on horses, preferring to use his time in a carriage for studying or work. But the need for speed, for a quick journey from the city into the small town of Arcana to visit his old friend.
It was a relationship that few knew of, just as few knew of the connection between the man and the royal family. He was in no hurry to expose his fondness of the single father and his girls, not when he had been a single father himself in a very similar situation. He trusted the man to give advice, to quietly suggest how to handle situations that had him wholly out of his element. And, in the more distant past, the two of them had made a pack. And while Aimias had never seen fit to call in his need, there was no avoiding it now.
It was his turn.
The ride was arduous in the rain, and he was not a man made for journeys like the one he took. But the need to have it done before he was needed back home was enough to press him. Iris was too angry with him to worry about what he was doing on a day to day basis, stuck in Aygris with Phillipa as he had told her to do. The home in the city was empty and lonely-- and even as a man who was used to this, it still felt crushing. His plight was his own doing, he knew. There was no denying that he had no one to blame but himself. But his actions would at least be understood by the man he was en route to.
As he made his way into Arcana, he opted for discretion, as he always did. It was important to keep this friend a secret, as connecting dots between him and the Xanthos line would never happen directly. So while it would have been easier to ride to his house, he chose to stable the docile beast at an inn instead, paying handsomely for the horse to be bedded down after the wet journey. His thick wool himation was topped with a cloak, up high around his face to hide his identity and keep him dry: Aimias opted to make the rest of the journey on foot.
It didn’t take him long, glad for the thick boots to keep his feet warm as he sludged through town. The doorway was all too familiar for him in his direct path, relieved to see light from the windows and smoke in the chimney. There had been a little worry that he may not have been home, but it was washed away with the rain. He had sent word ahead that he would be seeking out his confidence, but had not given a date. Still, there was no hesitation as he firmly knocked on the door. His hood was moved back a bit, so that the light of the doorway would reveal his identity without a second thought needed.
It seemed fitting that it was raining, as his mood was the same as the weather. There was little joy in his life as of late, with Elias looking for any reason to end his life and both of his girls away in Aetea. And he was expected to keep his mood high in the city, to lie his way through each and every meeting without vomiting from the vile lies he was telling. It went against everything he’d ever stood for, as a beacon of truth and grounded mentality, to spread the sort of rumors he was. And yet, there was little he could do about it but continue the course.
Elias would kill those he loved quicker if he did not.
And it was that fear, the loss of those he loved, that put him on the path he was on today. Usually, he didn’t ride on horses, preferring to use his time in a carriage for studying or work. But the need for speed, for a quick journey from the city into the small town of Arcana to visit his old friend.
It was a relationship that few knew of, just as few knew of the connection between the man and the royal family. He was in no hurry to expose his fondness of the single father and his girls, not when he had been a single father himself in a very similar situation. He trusted the man to give advice, to quietly suggest how to handle situations that had him wholly out of his element. And, in the more distant past, the two of them had made a pack. And while Aimias had never seen fit to call in his need, there was no avoiding it now.
It was his turn.
The ride was arduous in the rain, and he was not a man made for journeys like the one he took. But the need to have it done before he was needed back home was enough to press him. Iris was too angry with him to worry about what he was doing on a day to day basis, stuck in Aygris with Phillipa as he had told her to do. The home in the city was empty and lonely-- and even as a man who was used to this, it still felt crushing. His plight was his own doing, he knew. There was no denying that he had no one to blame but himself. But his actions would at least be understood by the man he was en route to.
As he made his way into Arcana, he opted for discretion, as he always did. It was important to keep this friend a secret, as connecting dots between him and the Xanthos line would never happen directly. So while it would have been easier to ride to his house, he chose to stable the docile beast at an inn instead, paying handsomely for the horse to be bedded down after the wet journey. His thick wool himation was topped with a cloak, up high around his face to hide his identity and keep him dry: Aimias opted to make the rest of the journey on foot.
It didn’t take him long, glad for the thick boots to keep his feet warm as he sludged through town. The doorway was all too familiar for him in his direct path, relieved to see light from the windows and smoke in the chimney. There had been a little worry that he may not have been home, but it was washed away with the rain. He had sent word ahead that he would be seeking out his confidence, but had not given a date. Still, there was no hesitation as he firmly knocked on the door. His hood was moved back a bit, so that the light of the doorway would reveal his identity without a second thought needed.
Every passing day put Hector more and more on edge, and it was beginning to show. One thing after another seemed simply tap against his edges, deepening long worn cracks in his veneer that he had worked years and years to fill and smooth. As a father, he did his best never to let his girls see any sign of worry - even as young children, they could always sense his disrupted mood, now even more so as they had grown. It was harder to hide, particularly the more they understood about the world.
Tensions of his own making had developed between himself and Demi, somedays more manageable than others. He could not stand the gods-cursed lines that fate had drawn between them and had no choice but to accept them, as it was never the time or place to fix things as he wanted them.
And then, there was the gods-forsaken Kingdom of Athenia.
For that's what it had to be at this point, right? Forsaken by the gods, left aimless like a ship without sails or rudder in the midst of a storm. There was only confusion, no clear truth to be found. Sure, he had his suspicions, but the fact that they never developed from that point was maddening for a man whose sole purpose it seemed was to plan and protect. It felt nearly impossible to do when there was no clear answer to anything and different words and instructions seemed to come out of opposite corners of the same mouth.
Harvest had softened some of the blow, and the worry of food on the table for his household was one less thing off his mind, but the missive that had been in his study drawer for a few weeks now took its place.
For the past several evenings, Hector had found himself attempting to busy himself with work in his study, despite finishing much of it while at the barracks during the day. It was an attempt to keep to himself for a while, leaving the girls and Gregor to their own devices within their walls. His brother had asked once or twice why Hector kept such an ardent view on the window that led to the front of the house. Hector told him simply that he waited for someone, leaving it plainly at that.
All the more frustrating when a knock came to the door in the brief moments he did actually find himself engrossed in something, and he noisily shifted his chair away to reach the door before the ever-vigilant Ariadne, unclasping it and immediately recognizing the face, despite being hooded and drenched.
"In," Hector murmured in a low rumble, glancing over to the inside of the house to see if any of his family's prying eyes were around before gesturing to the study directly to the right of the cramped entryway. He did not say his name or anything else until he latched the front entry behind him and followed into the study, doing the same to that door.
The diminutive hearth in the study put off heat, but as it was half the size of the one in the living area, it was not much at all. Hector dragged one of the sitting stools from the corner of the room to the hearth's edge, reaching out a hand to take Aimias' soaked riding himation for hanging.
"What are the chances you were followed?" Hector asked, calmly, setting the himation aside. Hector crossed to the window and pulled closed the shutter he kept cracked to look out and then reached over to smoothly pour a small pewter of honeyed liqueur. It would hopefully bring some feeling to the Lord's extremities after facing the winter rain. Hector had faith in his longtime friend's ability to make it in any other circumstance, but knowing that given his closeness to the Xanthos princess, he would be watched. It...was a risk, but if Aimias needed to meet, Hector was hardly one to deny him simply for his current notoriety.
All but placing the pewter cup into the man's hands, Hector took a step back to lean against the edge of his desk, his arms crossing, not in an unfriendly manner but as a mark of habit - of bracing.
If Aimias made the choice to leave Athenia for somewhere other than Aetea, things must have been going just as poorly as he imagined - or words.
"It is good to see you safe somewhere. There are too few friends left in the kingdom."
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Every passing day put Hector more and more on edge, and it was beginning to show. One thing after another seemed simply tap against his edges, deepening long worn cracks in his veneer that he had worked years and years to fill and smooth. As a father, he did his best never to let his girls see any sign of worry - even as young children, they could always sense his disrupted mood, now even more so as they had grown. It was harder to hide, particularly the more they understood about the world.
Tensions of his own making had developed between himself and Demi, somedays more manageable than others. He could not stand the gods-cursed lines that fate had drawn between them and had no choice but to accept them, as it was never the time or place to fix things as he wanted them.
And then, there was the gods-forsaken Kingdom of Athenia.
For that's what it had to be at this point, right? Forsaken by the gods, left aimless like a ship without sails or rudder in the midst of a storm. There was only confusion, no clear truth to be found. Sure, he had his suspicions, but the fact that they never developed from that point was maddening for a man whose sole purpose it seemed was to plan and protect. It felt nearly impossible to do when there was no clear answer to anything and different words and instructions seemed to come out of opposite corners of the same mouth.
Harvest had softened some of the blow, and the worry of food on the table for his household was one less thing off his mind, but the missive that had been in his study drawer for a few weeks now took its place.
For the past several evenings, Hector had found himself attempting to busy himself with work in his study, despite finishing much of it while at the barracks during the day. It was an attempt to keep to himself for a while, leaving the girls and Gregor to their own devices within their walls. His brother had asked once or twice why Hector kept such an ardent view on the window that led to the front of the house. Hector told him simply that he waited for someone, leaving it plainly at that.
All the more frustrating when a knock came to the door in the brief moments he did actually find himself engrossed in something, and he noisily shifted his chair away to reach the door before the ever-vigilant Ariadne, unclasping it and immediately recognizing the face, despite being hooded and drenched.
"In," Hector murmured in a low rumble, glancing over to the inside of the house to see if any of his family's prying eyes were around before gesturing to the study directly to the right of the cramped entryway. He did not say his name or anything else until he latched the front entry behind him and followed into the study, doing the same to that door.
The diminutive hearth in the study put off heat, but as it was half the size of the one in the living area, it was not much at all. Hector dragged one of the sitting stools from the corner of the room to the hearth's edge, reaching out a hand to take Aimias' soaked riding himation for hanging.
"What are the chances you were followed?" Hector asked, calmly, setting the himation aside. Hector crossed to the window and pulled closed the shutter he kept cracked to look out and then reached over to smoothly pour a small pewter of honeyed liqueur. It would hopefully bring some feeling to the Lord's extremities after facing the winter rain. Hector had faith in his longtime friend's ability to make it in any other circumstance, but knowing that given his closeness to the Xanthos princess, he would be watched. It...was a risk, but if Aimias needed to meet, Hector was hardly one to deny him simply for his current notoriety.
All but placing the pewter cup into the man's hands, Hector took a step back to lean against the edge of his desk, his arms crossing, not in an unfriendly manner but as a mark of habit - of bracing.
If Aimias made the choice to leave Athenia for somewhere other than Aetea, things must have been going just as poorly as he imagined - or words.
"It is good to see you safe somewhere. There are too few friends left in the kingdom."
Every passing day put Hector more and more on edge, and it was beginning to show. One thing after another seemed simply tap against his edges, deepening long worn cracks in his veneer that he had worked years and years to fill and smooth. As a father, he did his best never to let his girls see any sign of worry - even as young children, they could always sense his disrupted mood, now even more so as they had grown. It was harder to hide, particularly the more they understood about the world.
Tensions of his own making had developed between himself and Demi, somedays more manageable than others. He could not stand the gods-cursed lines that fate had drawn between them and had no choice but to accept them, as it was never the time or place to fix things as he wanted them.
And then, there was the gods-forsaken Kingdom of Athenia.
For that's what it had to be at this point, right? Forsaken by the gods, left aimless like a ship without sails or rudder in the midst of a storm. There was only confusion, no clear truth to be found. Sure, he had his suspicions, but the fact that they never developed from that point was maddening for a man whose sole purpose it seemed was to plan and protect. It felt nearly impossible to do when there was no clear answer to anything and different words and instructions seemed to come out of opposite corners of the same mouth.
Harvest had softened some of the blow, and the worry of food on the table for his household was one less thing off his mind, but the missive that had been in his study drawer for a few weeks now took its place.
For the past several evenings, Hector had found himself attempting to busy himself with work in his study, despite finishing much of it while at the barracks during the day. It was an attempt to keep to himself for a while, leaving the girls and Gregor to their own devices within their walls. His brother had asked once or twice why Hector kept such an ardent view on the window that led to the front of the house. Hector told him simply that he waited for someone, leaving it plainly at that.
All the more frustrating when a knock came to the door in the brief moments he did actually find himself engrossed in something, and he noisily shifted his chair away to reach the door before the ever-vigilant Ariadne, unclasping it and immediately recognizing the face, despite being hooded and drenched.
"In," Hector murmured in a low rumble, glancing over to the inside of the house to see if any of his family's prying eyes were around before gesturing to the study directly to the right of the cramped entryway. He did not say his name or anything else until he latched the front entry behind him and followed into the study, doing the same to that door.
The diminutive hearth in the study put off heat, but as it was half the size of the one in the living area, it was not much at all. Hector dragged one of the sitting stools from the corner of the room to the hearth's edge, reaching out a hand to take Aimias' soaked riding himation for hanging.
"What are the chances you were followed?" Hector asked, calmly, setting the himation aside. Hector crossed to the window and pulled closed the shutter he kept cracked to look out and then reached over to smoothly pour a small pewter of honeyed liqueur. It would hopefully bring some feeling to the Lord's extremities after facing the winter rain. Hector had faith in his longtime friend's ability to make it in any other circumstance, but knowing that given his closeness to the Xanthos princess, he would be watched. It...was a risk, but if Aimias needed to meet, Hector was hardly one to deny him simply for his current notoriety.
All but placing the pewter cup into the man's hands, Hector took a step back to lean against the edge of his desk, his arms crossing, not in an unfriendly manner but as a mark of habit - of bracing.
If Aimias made the choice to leave Athenia for somewhere other than Aetea, things must have been going just as poorly as he imagined - or words.
"It is good to see you safe somewhere. There are too few friends left in the kingdom."
He did not expect a warm welcome until they were alone. The fact that he was here at all was dangerous, and they both knew it, so when he did make an appearance at the home of an old friend, he was quick to enter as soon as the door was open enough for him to do so. The longer he waited outside, the more likely he was to be recognized and the cover they’d worked years to keep intact will be gone.
They needed that now more than ever, and he knew it.
Aimias kept his hood pulled low over his face until the door was closed firmly behind him, and even then, still maintained its position until the doors of the study were tightly closed behind them. It was only then that he stripped himself of the soaking cloak to reveal the damp clothing beneath. Allowing the material to be taken by his host, there was no hesitation as he dropped down onto the stool in front of the fire, glad for the chance to thaw after the ride.
”Slim, the roads were empty most of the ride. And even then, I circled back a few times.” He took the offered cup, sipping slowly on the brew inside. He was not a man to drink, much like Hector. And perhaps that’s why the two had always gotten along. It was easy to make friends with those in a room who were sober. And even if their friendship had started by the late Queen’s own hand, it was maintained now by years of shared heartache. And there was almost no one that Aimias respected more than this man. When his wife had died, Hector provided care and concern and advice. And helped him realize that he had a reason to live.
The man must have known how grim his own position was just by him being there, but Aimias was not about to assume that he knew just how poor he was truly doing. ”And those friends are getting fewer and farther between, I fear. It is impossible to know who to trust anymore. Save you, of course.” Lifting his glass in a toast, he took another sip and sighed. If he was followed, he would need to make this meeting quick. ”I’ve married Lady Iris-- a baron by name only. Mutually beneficial, it would seem.” He wondered if the weight of his worry showed physically on his body, or if he was just being fantastic in that image. He felt as if he was barely surviving, even with his good fortune of a wealthy wife. ”And not even a month into the marriage, she is angry with me. And it is only going to get worse.”
Setting the cup down, he stood, and started to pace. ”I must tell you what has happened within the Xanthos home. I do not wish for my family to know yet, but as you once relied on me, I am afraid I must call on you to care for this for me.” He pulled out the stone tablet from the bag at his side, setting it on the desk. ”I cannot leave this where my wife will find it, and I cannot keep it in the palati for fear that Elias will realize in full what he has done. But as I give you this, I must confess my transgressions as well.”
If he died, he needed someone to know why he’d done what he was doing.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
He did not expect a warm welcome until they were alone. The fact that he was here at all was dangerous, and they both knew it, so when he did make an appearance at the home of an old friend, he was quick to enter as soon as the door was open enough for him to do so. The longer he waited outside, the more likely he was to be recognized and the cover they’d worked years to keep intact will be gone.
They needed that now more than ever, and he knew it.
Aimias kept his hood pulled low over his face until the door was closed firmly behind him, and even then, still maintained its position until the doors of the study were tightly closed behind them. It was only then that he stripped himself of the soaking cloak to reveal the damp clothing beneath. Allowing the material to be taken by his host, there was no hesitation as he dropped down onto the stool in front of the fire, glad for the chance to thaw after the ride.
”Slim, the roads were empty most of the ride. And even then, I circled back a few times.” He took the offered cup, sipping slowly on the brew inside. He was not a man to drink, much like Hector. And perhaps that’s why the two had always gotten along. It was easy to make friends with those in a room who were sober. And even if their friendship had started by the late Queen’s own hand, it was maintained now by years of shared heartache. And there was almost no one that Aimias respected more than this man. When his wife had died, Hector provided care and concern and advice. And helped him realize that he had a reason to live.
The man must have known how grim his own position was just by him being there, but Aimias was not about to assume that he knew just how poor he was truly doing. ”And those friends are getting fewer and farther between, I fear. It is impossible to know who to trust anymore. Save you, of course.” Lifting his glass in a toast, he took another sip and sighed. If he was followed, he would need to make this meeting quick. ”I’ve married Lady Iris-- a baron by name only. Mutually beneficial, it would seem.” He wondered if the weight of his worry showed physically on his body, or if he was just being fantastic in that image. He felt as if he was barely surviving, even with his good fortune of a wealthy wife. ”And not even a month into the marriage, she is angry with me. And it is only going to get worse.”
Setting the cup down, he stood, and started to pace. ”I must tell you what has happened within the Xanthos home. I do not wish for my family to know yet, but as you once relied on me, I am afraid I must call on you to care for this for me.” He pulled out the stone tablet from the bag at his side, setting it on the desk. ”I cannot leave this where my wife will find it, and I cannot keep it in the palati for fear that Elias will realize in full what he has done. But as I give you this, I must confess my transgressions as well.”
If he died, he needed someone to know why he’d done what he was doing.
He did not expect a warm welcome until they were alone. The fact that he was here at all was dangerous, and they both knew it, so when he did make an appearance at the home of an old friend, he was quick to enter as soon as the door was open enough for him to do so. The longer he waited outside, the more likely he was to be recognized and the cover they’d worked years to keep intact will be gone.
They needed that now more than ever, and he knew it.
Aimias kept his hood pulled low over his face until the door was closed firmly behind him, and even then, still maintained its position until the doors of the study were tightly closed behind them. It was only then that he stripped himself of the soaking cloak to reveal the damp clothing beneath. Allowing the material to be taken by his host, there was no hesitation as he dropped down onto the stool in front of the fire, glad for the chance to thaw after the ride.
”Slim, the roads were empty most of the ride. And even then, I circled back a few times.” He took the offered cup, sipping slowly on the brew inside. He was not a man to drink, much like Hector. And perhaps that’s why the two had always gotten along. It was easy to make friends with those in a room who were sober. And even if their friendship had started by the late Queen’s own hand, it was maintained now by years of shared heartache. And there was almost no one that Aimias respected more than this man. When his wife had died, Hector provided care and concern and advice. And helped him realize that he had a reason to live.
The man must have known how grim his own position was just by him being there, but Aimias was not about to assume that he knew just how poor he was truly doing. ”And those friends are getting fewer and farther between, I fear. It is impossible to know who to trust anymore. Save you, of course.” Lifting his glass in a toast, he took another sip and sighed. If he was followed, he would need to make this meeting quick. ”I’ve married Lady Iris-- a baron by name only. Mutually beneficial, it would seem.” He wondered if the weight of his worry showed physically on his body, or if he was just being fantastic in that image. He felt as if he was barely surviving, even with his good fortune of a wealthy wife. ”And not even a month into the marriage, she is angry with me. And it is only going to get worse.”
Setting the cup down, he stood, and started to pace. ”I must tell you what has happened within the Xanthos home. I do not wish for my family to know yet, but as you once relied on me, I am afraid I must call on you to care for this for me.” He pulled out the stone tablet from the bag at his side, setting it on the desk. ”I cannot leave this where my wife will find it, and I cannot keep it in the palati for fear that Elias will realize in full what he has done. But as I give you this, I must confess my transgressions as well.”
If he died, he needed someone to know why he’d done what he was doing.
Hector's concern manifested as stoic seriousness as he kept his hands busy - laying out his friend's riding himation, pouring the liqueur, shuttering the window. It was only once he was able to still again that he was able to settle appropriately into the unease of the room.
The world they lived in now seemed like the upended worlds of the tales in myths, before a strike from the gods sent reality spinning on their own whims. The state of it all now was at their feet, with no certainty as to which gods were winning some unseen competition from the heights of Olympus. It was easy to come to terms with such things when younger, but Hector found himself more frustrated as he grew older, particularly as a father and head of his household, with the games they played in the lives of mortals. He would never say it aloud, lest they turn their eyes to him.
"At least we have that," Hector noted, his unease growing as Aimias confirmed what the knew to be true. With the Senate unable or unwilling to be convened, there was no doubt that wheeling and dealing took place behind closed doors. There was no telling what web of words was being spun to take advantage of the state of the world now.
Hector's brows launched towards his hairline as Aimias - or now, Baron Aimias of Argyris - came forth with the rapid passings of the past month, including his nuptials to Lady Iris and the now uncertain state of their marriage, given whatever it was that had passed.
"Congratulations...and condolences," Hector replied, never having been the best at navigating the social graces many others had. Such was the burden to bear of a career militant. Both were intended with sincerity, something that he knew his friend would understand. It was when Aimias began to pace that Hector also stood, shifting closer to the hearth and leaning his forearm against the simple mantlepiece that held a few small tokens and figurines.
The lines that ran across Hector's forehead and between his brows attested to his interest in hearing the happenings in the Xanthos house, and they changed their shape like foam across water as Aimias reached into his parcel bag and pulled out a stone tablet. The weight of the moment was echoed by the distinct sound it made as it came to rest on the desk.
In an instant, he was pulled back in time by ten years - a man of 28 years, with young daughters and a wayward brother, doing the best that he could in this life and being sent away to war. He left it in Aimias' care and upon his return, it was passed to Gregor's care and then tucked away inside the house where Demi could find it in case it was ever needed. Uncertainty drove him to write his own words on the tablet, his writing disjointed and hardly legible given his limited education before he joined the White Shields as a boy. Stepping away from the mantle to stand over the written stone, his fingers traced along the words there. Aimias script looked perfect, nearly each letter matching the other in size, shape, and form. As different as the two permanent documents were, they were written with the same gravity of a man walking towards his own death.
That was how serious this had become, and it felt like a punch to the gut. Hector bore it solemnly and after a moment blew out a heavy breath through his nose.
"Of course. I will hold on to this," Hector swore, his eyes lifting from where his hand touched the stone and meeting Aimias' eyes. He knew the weight of the burden he was asked to bear, just has he had made such a request years ago. "With the blessing of the gods, I will be able to return it to you as you did to mine when this is all said and done."
It was a soldier's optimism - not a true positive outlook, particularly seeing the way whatever grim news Aimias bore had worn on his features and posture. Still, it was a willing for the best of cases to happen, despite how unlikely. The gods had favored him once, bringing him back from nearly dipping his toes into the River Styx. Aimias was a good man as well. Perhaps the gods would favor and spare him as well in this.
"Tell me everything."
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Hector's concern manifested as stoic seriousness as he kept his hands busy - laying out his friend's riding himation, pouring the liqueur, shuttering the window. It was only once he was able to still again that he was able to settle appropriately into the unease of the room.
The world they lived in now seemed like the upended worlds of the tales in myths, before a strike from the gods sent reality spinning on their own whims. The state of it all now was at their feet, with no certainty as to which gods were winning some unseen competition from the heights of Olympus. It was easy to come to terms with such things when younger, but Hector found himself more frustrated as he grew older, particularly as a father and head of his household, with the games they played in the lives of mortals. He would never say it aloud, lest they turn their eyes to him.
"At least we have that," Hector noted, his unease growing as Aimias confirmed what the knew to be true. With the Senate unable or unwilling to be convened, there was no doubt that wheeling and dealing took place behind closed doors. There was no telling what web of words was being spun to take advantage of the state of the world now.
Hector's brows launched towards his hairline as Aimias - or now, Baron Aimias of Argyris - came forth with the rapid passings of the past month, including his nuptials to Lady Iris and the now uncertain state of their marriage, given whatever it was that had passed.
"Congratulations...and condolences," Hector replied, never having been the best at navigating the social graces many others had. Such was the burden to bear of a career militant. Both were intended with sincerity, something that he knew his friend would understand. It was when Aimias began to pace that Hector also stood, shifting closer to the hearth and leaning his forearm against the simple mantlepiece that held a few small tokens and figurines.
The lines that ran across Hector's forehead and between his brows attested to his interest in hearing the happenings in the Xanthos house, and they changed their shape like foam across water as Aimias reached into his parcel bag and pulled out a stone tablet. The weight of the moment was echoed by the distinct sound it made as it came to rest on the desk.
In an instant, he was pulled back in time by ten years - a man of 28 years, with young daughters and a wayward brother, doing the best that he could in this life and being sent away to war. He left it in Aimias' care and upon his return, it was passed to Gregor's care and then tucked away inside the house where Demi could find it in case it was ever needed. Uncertainty drove him to write his own words on the tablet, his writing disjointed and hardly legible given his limited education before he joined the White Shields as a boy. Stepping away from the mantle to stand over the written stone, his fingers traced along the words there. Aimias script looked perfect, nearly each letter matching the other in size, shape, and form. As different as the two permanent documents were, they were written with the same gravity of a man walking towards his own death.
That was how serious this had become, and it felt like a punch to the gut. Hector bore it solemnly and after a moment blew out a heavy breath through his nose.
"Of course. I will hold on to this," Hector swore, his eyes lifting from where his hand touched the stone and meeting Aimias' eyes. He knew the weight of the burden he was asked to bear, just has he had made such a request years ago. "With the blessing of the gods, I will be able to return it to you as you did to mine when this is all said and done."
It was a soldier's optimism - not a true positive outlook, particularly seeing the way whatever grim news Aimias bore had worn on his features and posture. Still, it was a willing for the best of cases to happen, despite how unlikely. The gods had favored him once, bringing him back from nearly dipping his toes into the River Styx. Aimias was a good man as well. Perhaps the gods would favor and spare him as well in this.
"Tell me everything."
Hector's concern manifested as stoic seriousness as he kept his hands busy - laying out his friend's riding himation, pouring the liqueur, shuttering the window. It was only once he was able to still again that he was able to settle appropriately into the unease of the room.
The world they lived in now seemed like the upended worlds of the tales in myths, before a strike from the gods sent reality spinning on their own whims. The state of it all now was at their feet, with no certainty as to which gods were winning some unseen competition from the heights of Olympus. It was easy to come to terms with such things when younger, but Hector found himself more frustrated as he grew older, particularly as a father and head of his household, with the games they played in the lives of mortals. He would never say it aloud, lest they turn their eyes to him.
"At least we have that," Hector noted, his unease growing as Aimias confirmed what the knew to be true. With the Senate unable or unwilling to be convened, there was no doubt that wheeling and dealing took place behind closed doors. There was no telling what web of words was being spun to take advantage of the state of the world now.
Hector's brows launched towards his hairline as Aimias - or now, Baron Aimias of Argyris - came forth with the rapid passings of the past month, including his nuptials to Lady Iris and the now uncertain state of their marriage, given whatever it was that had passed.
"Congratulations...and condolences," Hector replied, never having been the best at navigating the social graces many others had. Such was the burden to bear of a career militant. Both were intended with sincerity, something that he knew his friend would understand. It was when Aimias began to pace that Hector also stood, shifting closer to the hearth and leaning his forearm against the simple mantlepiece that held a few small tokens and figurines.
The lines that ran across Hector's forehead and between his brows attested to his interest in hearing the happenings in the Xanthos house, and they changed their shape like foam across water as Aimias reached into his parcel bag and pulled out a stone tablet. The weight of the moment was echoed by the distinct sound it made as it came to rest on the desk.
In an instant, he was pulled back in time by ten years - a man of 28 years, with young daughters and a wayward brother, doing the best that he could in this life and being sent away to war. He left it in Aimias' care and upon his return, it was passed to Gregor's care and then tucked away inside the house where Demi could find it in case it was ever needed. Uncertainty drove him to write his own words on the tablet, his writing disjointed and hardly legible given his limited education before he joined the White Shields as a boy. Stepping away from the mantle to stand over the written stone, his fingers traced along the words there. Aimias script looked perfect, nearly each letter matching the other in size, shape, and form. As different as the two permanent documents were, they were written with the same gravity of a man walking towards his own death.
That was how serious this had become, and it felt like a punch to the gut. Hector bore it solemnly and after a moment blew out a heavy breath through his nose.
"Of course. I will hold on to this," Hector swore, his eyes lifting from where his hand touched the stone and meeting Aimias' eyes. He knew the weight of the burden he was asked to bear, just has he had made such a request years ago. "With the blessing of the gods, I will be able to return it to you as you did to mine when this is all said and done."
It was a soldier's optimism - not a true positive outlook, particularly seeing the way whatever grim news Aimias bore had worn on his features and posture. Still, it was a willing for the best of cases to happen, despite how unlikely. The gods had favored him once, bringing him back from nearly dipping his toes into the River Styx. Aimias was a good man as well. Perhaps the gods would favor and spare him as well in this.
"Tell me everything."
Aimias had always liked the domesticity of the home that Hector kept. It reminded him so much of his own upbringing, where he could find a seat by the fire to sink into with a good tome and lose himself. It seemed as if the man was always trying to be both parents at once, creating a warm and loving home for his family while also providing safety and comfort. It was something that, at one time, had seemed like a daunting task that he would never be able to achieve as a single parent. His mind was always in his title, in his job, and there was little he could do to create a home. That was half the reason he had accepted the open arms of the Xanthos family when they offered to help with his daughter.
And that was part of the reason he asked Iris for her hand-- to provide what he was constantly worried his daughter was missing. Aimias was certain that he wasn’t even doing that well of a job with her anyway.
He looked up to Hector, admired the ways he embraced the task and refused to fail at it. But he knew he could never be like the man, especially not with what had happened over the past few weeks. He was not a man of many words, had always relied on what he could write to really express his true feelings and emotions. He had stayed up all night making sure the words he etched in were how he wanted them to appear, making sure not to leave anything out of them. He’d written it the day after he had been cornered by Elias, unsure just how long he would have before he met his end. But the man had made it apparent that he was at his mercy. And he would not leave his child with nothing.
He added two letters to the top of the stone, after Hector had run his fingers across the script-- one addressed to his wife and one to his daughter. The man would kept these safe as well, to be given if he was murdered, as he was expecting to be. ”The city is at the mercy of Elias of Stravos, and I do not believe that he will be releasing his power anytime soon.” He said cautiously as he sat back down, wondering just how much had reached the man’s ears. ”He is doing his damndest to use Princess Emilia as both a scapegoat and friend. As much as I’ve tried, Elias will not aid in calling the senate to order. Emilia does not have the confidence to do it, and Elias won’t let me near her to try and make it happen.”
There was an inability to stand in this moment, and he refused not to look Hector in the eye as he spoke. ”Try as I might, I am unable to truly help the Xanthos house. Elias continues to control Emilia, and there is little I can to to stop him. And,” He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and continued, ”He has threatened my family should I not discredit Queen Persephone among the senate. It would not take much for him to see them harmed, or to send Phillipa away without my knowing as punishment for not doing as he wishes.” He continued to describe the way he painted Persephone as a witch, whispering with any member who would listen that she must have bewitched them into voting as they had. The truth was thick on his tongue, the lies as painful to confess as they had been to say the first time. ”And, what’s worse, is that I cannot bring myself to tell my wife any of this. The Queen is one of her closest friends, her father recently dead-- I do not think she will ever forgive the action. But Elias would not think twice about raping her as punishment for my actions. And I cannot, in good conscience, let that happen.”
He sighed, running a hand through his hair, finally standing from his seat to pace in front of the fire again. ”Every time I think of speaking the truth, of uncovering just how treacherous Elias is, I see him taking my wife and I…” He was not a militant man, had no formal training when it came to fighting. He could offer no real protection of his body, save for the words he spoke. ”I have all but ruined Persephone’s chances at a unified senate. And whatever Elias plans to do, he will not leave me alive at the end of this. I know he will see me across the river as he takes the throne.” It felt a bit relieving to tell someone, to deal with the aftermath of his actions with a trusted friend before he had to take on his wife’s reaction.
”Promise me you will look after them. I know she will be fine, but…” He didn’t want to say the words, didn’t think he needed to ask him to help raise Phillipa as if she was his own. He sat back down, letting his head fall into his hands as a defeated man.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Aimias had always liked the domesticity of the home that Hector kept. It reminded him so much of his own upbringing, where he could find a seat by the fire to sink into with a good tome and lose himself. It seemed as if the man was always trying to be both parents at once, creating a warm and loving home for his family while also providing safety and comfort. It was something that, at one time, had seemed like a daunting task that he would never be able to achieve as a single parent. His mind was always in his title, in his job, and there was little he could do to create a home. That was half the reason he had accepted the open arms of the Xanthos family when they offered to help with his daughter.
And that was part of the reason he asked Iris for her hand-- to provide what he was constantly worried his daughter was missing. Aimias was certain that he wasn’t even doing that well of a job with her anyway.
He looked up to Hector, admired the ways he embraced the task and refused to fail at it. But he knew he could never be like the man, especially not with what had happened over the past few weeks. He was not a man of many words, had always relied on what he could write to really express his true feelings and emotions. He had stayed up all night making sure the words he etched in were how he wanted them to appear, making sure not to leave anything out of them. He’d written it the day after he had been cornered by Elias, unsure just how long he would have before he met his end. But the man had made it apparent that he was at his mercy. And he would not leave his child with nothing.
He added two letters to the top of the stone, after Hector had run his fingers across the script-- one addressed to his wife and one to his daughter. The man would kept these safe as well, to be given if he was murdered, as he was expecting to be. ”The city is at the mercy of Elias of Stravos, and I do not believe that he will be releasing his power anytime soon.” He said cautiously as he sat back down, wondering just how much had reached the man’s ears. ”He is doing his damndest to use Princess Emilia as both a scapegoat and friend. As much as I’ve tried, Elias will not aid in calling the senate to order. Emilia does not have the confidence to do it, and Elias won’t let me near her to try and make it happen.”
There was an inability to stand in this moment, and he refused not to look Hector in the eye as he spoke. ”Try as I might, I am unable to truly help the Xanthos house. Elias continues to control Emilia, and there is little I can to to stop him. And,” He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and continued, ”He has threatened my family should I not discredit Queen Persephone among the senate. It would not take much for him to see them harmed, or to send Phillipa away without my knowing as punishment for not doing as he wishes.” He continued to describe the way he painted Persephone as a witch, whispering with any member who would listen that she must have bewitched them into voting as they had. The truth was thick on his tongue, the lies as painful to confess as they had been to say the first time. ”And, what’s worse, is that I cannot bring myself to tell my wife any of this. The Queen is one of her closest friends, her father recently dead-- I do not think she will ever forgive the action. But Elias would not think twice about raping her as punishment for my actions. And I cannot, in good conscience, let that happen.”
He sighed, running a hand through his hair, finally standing from his seat to pace in front of the fire again. ”Every time I think of speaking the truth, of uncovering just how treacherous Elias is, I see him taking my wife and I…” He was not a militant man, had no formal training when it came to fighting. He could offer no real protection of his body, save for the words he spoke. ”I have all but ruined Persephone’s chances at a unified senate. And whatever Elias plans to do, he will not leave me alive at the end of this. I know he will see me across the river as he takes the throne.” It felt a bit relieving to tell someone, to deal with the aftermath of his actions with a trusted friend before he had to take on his wife’s reaction.
”Promise me you will look after them. I know she will be fine, but…” He didn’t want to say the words, didn’t think he needed to ask him to help raise Phillipa as if she was his own. He sat back down, letting his head fall into his hands as a defeated man.
Aimias had always liked the domesticity of the home that Hector kept. It reminded him so much of his own upbringing, where he could find a seat by the fire to sink into with a good tome and lose himself. It seemed as if the man was always trying to be both parents at once, creating a warm and loving home for his family while also providing safety and comfort. It was something that, at one time, had seemed like a daunting task that he would never be able to achieve as a single parent. His mind was always in his title, in his job, and there was little he could do to create a home. That was half the reason he had accepted the open arms of the Xanthos family when they offered to help with his daughter.
And that was part of the reason he asked Iris for her hand-- to provide what he was constantly worried his daughter was missing. Aimias was certain that he wasn’t even doing that well of a job with her anyway.
He looked up to Hector, admired the ways he embraced the task and refused to fail at it. But he knew he could never be like the man, especially not with what had happened over the past few weeks. He was not a man of many words, had always relied on what he could write to really express his true feelings and emotions. He had stayed up all night making sure the words he etched in were how he wanted them to appear, making sure not to leave anything out of them. He’d written it the day after he had been cornered by Elias, unsure just how long he would have before he met his end. But the man had made it apparent that he was at his mercy. And he would not leave his child with nothing.
He added two letters to the top of the stone, after Hector had run his fingers across the script-- one addressed to his wife and one to his daughter. The man would kept these safe as well, to be given if he was murdered, as he was expecting to be. ”The city is at the mercy of Elias of Stravos, and I do not believe that he will be releasing his power anytime soon.” He said cautiously as he sat back down, wondering just how much had reached the man’s ears. ”He is doing his damndest to use Princess Emilia as both a scapegoat and friend. As much as I’ve tried, Elias will not aid in calling the senate to order. Emilia does not have the confidence to do it, and Elias won’t let me near her to try and make it happen.”
There was an inability to stand in this moment, and he refused not to look Hector in the eye as he spoke. ”Try as I might, I am unable to truly help the Xanthos house. Elias continues to control Emilia, and there is little I can to to stop him. And,” He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and continued, ”He has threatened my family should I not discredit Queen Persephone among the senate. It would not take much for him to see them harmed, or to send Phillipa away without my knowing as punishment for not doing as he wishes.” He continued to describe the way he painted Persephone as a witch, whispering with any member who would listen that she must have bewitched them into voting as they had. The truth was thick on his tongue, the lies as painful to confess as they had been to say the first time. ”And, what’s worse, is that I cannot bring myself to tell my wife any of this. The Queen is one of her closest friends, her father recently dead-- I do not think she will ever forgive the action. But Elias would not think twice about raping her as punishment for my actions. And I cannot, in good conscience, let that happen.”
He sighed, running a hand through his hair, finally standing from his seat to pace in front of the fire again. ”Every time I think of speaking the truth, of uncovering just how treacherous Elias is, I see him taking my wife and I…” He was not a militant man, had no formal training when it came to fighting. He could offer no real protection of his body, save for the words he spoke. ”I have all but ruined Persephone’s chances at a unified senate. And whatever Elias plans to do, he will not leave me alive at the end of this. I know he will see me across the river as he takes the throne.” It felt a bit relieving to tell someone, to deal with the aftermath of his actions with a trusted friend before he had to take on his wife’s reaction.
”Promise me you will look after them. I know she will be fine, but…” He didn’t want to say the words, didn’t think he needed to ask him to help raise Phillipa as if she was his own. He sat back down, letting his head fall into his hands as a defeated man.
Hector struggled with processing emotional responses. Not in the sense that he was incapable of such a thing, but in that he would either fail to think through his words thoroughly before speaking or overthink them to death to the point of words being meaningless in the end. Ultimately, his struggle came from the fact that it was simply easier not to even broach highly charged issues like love, fear, or impending hurt by redirecting his thoughts and actions to things that he could change in the immediate.
For example, the glass he placed in Aimias’ hand, laying out the riding cloak to dry, and offering an oath to tend to whatever business Aimias needed of him - that he could handle.
Hector was a blessedly simple man, and he knew it. He was not socially inept, but instead thrived in his place as a common militant, despite the years in his high rank. He rarely reached above his station and if he did so, it was for the good of his family and not his own glory. He could hardly read still, having learned to read and write so late in life at the age of 15, but could make due. He liked his world small, usually limited to the walls of Arcana, keeping himself out of sight and out of mind on his trips to Athenia, separating himself from being ‘involved’ there minus crossing paths with a few friends - like Aimias- and doing his duty as a Captain delivering his re.
So, when he asked for his friend to tell him everything, he did not realize the struggle he would have in hearing it all.
Physically, his body responded by tightening his jaw and moving to stand as the newly-minted baron moved around the room, as if doing so would help him in some way. It wouldn’t, he knew. Mentally, he kept up with the new information, but he found his eyes glancing away as if by following the grain of the wooden floorboards he could align the information appropriately and let it sink in.
There was no separating the issue any longer.
Everything he imagined about the current state of the kingdom paled in comparison to everything Aimias told him. His heart ached for the young Princess and fretted over the missing Queen, even feeling somewhat appalled at the initial admission that Aimias had been behind the blackening of her name. Yet, the further he went on, the deeper the pain seemed to jab into his chest, inadvertently swallowing down the ghost of an old feeling - of dread of death, of the dread of not knowing, of worry over his family.
Aimias felt that now, and with being on the reverse end of this for the first time, Hector regretted his part in ever making Aimias feel such a way - of wanting to help but being unable to do anything in that moment.
When his friend settled, circling back around to the promise of protection for his family, Hector crossed the room and placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. It was remarkably slender beneath his hand, the only muscular strains it ever having faced before likely from being bent over a ledger for too long.
“I will do all in my power, you have my word,” Hector said, knowing that the fervor behind his words was genuine and real, though he could not have laid out any particular plan in making such an action a reality where they stood now. His mind thought a moment, the soft crackle of the fading fire in the hearth the only sound for a moment.
“If I can,” Hector started, bordering the line of overthinking his words before he let them through, “I will see what I can do about getting an audience with Princess Emilia. Though many guards in the Palace now may be in service to the Stravos, I can find out who her guard is now and try to gain an audience with her in such a way - or...through Ariadne.” Hector hated the way the words felt on his tongue. He did not truly want to be involved in some intrigue, and loathed the thought of bringing his daughters into it either. “If it comes to that, which I hope it shall not. Regardless, if you cannot get close enough to her, perhaps in some way, we can. I knew both princesses well enough as children...I can only hope that would count for something now. As you said, it is rare to find friends these days...I can only imagine what good it would do for her to find that she has some out here.”
Hector puffed out a heavy blow of air, knowing that any chance of keeping his world small would have just ended here. He was no politician, but he was a tactician. It would be easier in time for him to see this as simply strategy and action, but without the iron in hand.
“Will you need to stay the night? You can have my rooms for the night,” Hector offered, again resorting to simpler solutions, “Or at least a warm meal. I know my daughters and brother would say nothing of your presence here tonight.”
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Hector struggled with processing emotional responses. Not in the sense that he was incapable of such a thing, but in that he would either fail to think through his words thoroughly before speaking or overthink them to death to the point of words being meaningless in the end. Ultimately, his struggle came from the fact that it was simply easier not to even broach highly charged issues like love, fear, or impending hurt by redirecting his thoughts and actions to things that he could change in the immediate.
For example, the glass he placed in Aimias’ hand, laying out the riding cloak to dry, and offering an oath to tend to whatever business Aimias needed of him - that he could handle.
Hector was a blessedly simple man, and he knew it. He was not socially inept, but instead thrived in his place as a common militant, despite the years in his high rank. He rarely reached above his station and if he did so, it was for the good of his family and not his own glory. He could hardly read still, having learned to read and write so late in life at the age of 15, but could make due. He liked his world small, usually limited to the walls of Arcana, keeping himself out of sight and out of mind on his trips to Athenia, separating himself from being ‘involved’ there minus crossing paths with a few friends - like Aimias- and doing his duty as a Captain delivering his re.
So, when he asked for his friend to tell him everything, he did not realize the struggle he would have in hearing it all.
Physically, his body responded by tightening his jaw and moving to stand as the newly-minted baron moved around the room, as if doing so would help him in some way. It wouldn’t, he knew. Mentally, he kept up with the new information, but he found his eyes glancing away as if by following the grain of the wooden floorboards he could align the information appropriately and let it sink in.
There was no separating the issue any longer.
Everything he imagined about the current state of the kingdom paled in comparison to everything Aimias told him. His heart ached for the young Princess and fretted over the missing Queen, even feeling somewhat appalled at the initial admission that Aimias had been behind the blackening of her name. Yet, the further he went on, the deeper the pain seemed to jab into his chest, inadvertently swallowing down the ghost of an old feeling - of dread of death, of the dread of not knowing, of worry over his family.
Aimias felt that now, and with being on the reverse end of this for the first time, Hector regretted his part in ever making Aimias feel such a way - of wanting to help but being unable to do anything in that moment.
When his friend settled, circling back around to the promise of protection for his family, Hector crossed the room and placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. It was remarkably slender beneath his hand, the only muscular strains it ever having faced before likely from being bent over a ledger for too long.
“I will do all in my power, you have my word,” Hector said, knowing that the fervor behind his words was genuine and real, though he could not have laid out any particular plan in making such an action a reality where they stood now. His mind thought a moment, the soft crackle of the fading fire in the hearth the only sound for a moment.
“If I can,” Hector started, bordering the line of overthinking his words before he let them through, “I will see what I can do about getting an audience with Princess Emilia. Though many guards in the Palace now may be in service to the Stravos, I can find out who her guard is now and try to gain an audience with her in such a way - or...through Ariadne.” Hector hated the way the words felt on his tongue. He did not truly want to be involved in some intrigue, and loathed the thought of bringing his daughters into it either. “If it comes to that, which I hope it shall not. Regardless, if you cannot get close enough to her, perhaps in some way, we can. I knew both princesses well enough as children...I can only hope that would count for something now. As you said, it is rare to find friends these days...I can only imagine what good it would do for her to find that she has some out here.”
Hector puffed out a heavy blow of air, knowing that any chance of keeping his world small would have just ended here. He was no politician, but he was a tactician. It would be easier in time for him to see this as simply strategy and action, but without the iron in hand.
“Will you need to stay the night? You can have my rooms for the night,” Hector offered, again resorting to simpler solutions, “Or at least a warm meal. I know my daughters and brother would say nothing of your presence here tonight.”
Hector struggled with processing emotional responses. Not in the sense that he was incapable of such a thing, but in that he would either fail to think through his words thoroughly before speaking or overthink them to death to the point of words being meaningless in the end. Ultimately, his struggle came from the fact that it was simply easier not to even broach highly charged issues like love, fear, or impending hurt by redirecting his thoughts and actions to things that he could change in the immediate.
For example, the glass he placed in Aimias’ hand, laying out the riding cloak to dry, and offering an oath to tend to whatever business Aimias needed of him - that he could handle.
Hector was a blessedly simple man, and he knew it. He was not socially inept, but instead thrived in his place as a common militant, despite the years in his high rank. He rarely reached above his station and if he did so, it was for the good of his family and not his own glory. He could hardly read still, having learned to read and write so late in life at the age of 15, but could make due. He liked his world small, usually limited to the walls of Arcana, keeping himself out of sight and out of mind on his trips to Athenia, separating himself from being ‘involved’ there minus crossing paths with a few friends - like Aimias- and doing his duty as a Captain delivering his re.
So, when he asked for his friend to tell him everything, he did not realize the struggle he would have in hearing it all.
Physically, his body responded by tightening his jaw and moving to stand as the newly-minted baron moved around the room, as if doing so would help him in some way. It wouldn’t, he knew. Mentally, he kept up with the new information, but he found his eyes glancing away as if by following the grain of the wooden floorboards he could align the information appropriately and let it sink in.
There was no separating the issue any longer.
Everything he imagined about the current state of the kingdom paled in comparison to everything Aimias told him. His heart ached for the young Princess and fretted over the missing Queen, even feeling somewhat appalled at the initial admission that Aimias had been behind the blackening of her name. Yet, the further he went on, the deeper the pain seemed to jab into his chest, inadvertently swallowing down the ghost of an old feeling - of dread of death, of the dread of not knowing, of worry over his family.
Aimias felt that now, and with being on the reverse end of this for the first time, Hector regretted his part in ever making Aimias feel such a way - of wanting to help but being unable to do anything in that moment.
When his friend settled, circling back around to the promise of protection for his family, Hector crossed the room and placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. It was remarkably slender beneath his hand, the only muscular strains it ever having faced before likely from being bent over a ledger for too long.
“I will do all in my power, you have my word,” Hector said, knowing that the fervor behind his words was genuine and real, though he could not have laid out any particular plan in making such an action a reality where they stood now. His mind thought a moment, the soft crackle of the fading fire in the hearth the only sound for a moment.
“If I can,” Hector started, bordering the line of overthinking his words before he let them through, “I will see what I can do about getting an audience with Princess Emilia. Though many guards in the Palace now may be in service to the Stravos, I can find out who her guard is now and try to gain an audience with her in such a way - or...through Ariadne.” Hector hated the way the words felt on his tongue. He did not truly want to be involved in some intrigue, and loathed the thought of bringing his daughters into it either. “If it comes to that, which I hope it shall not. Regardless, if you cannot get close enough to her, perhaps in some way, we can. I knew both princesses well enough as children...I can only hope that would count for something now. As you said, it is rare to find friends these days...I can only imagine what good it would do for her to find that she has some out here.”
Hector puffed out a heavy blow of air, knowing that any chance of keeping his world small would have just ended here. He was no politician, but he was a tactician. It would be easier in time for him to see this as simply strategy and action, but without the iron in hand.
“Will you need to stay the night? You can have my rooms for the night,” Hector offered, again resorting to simpler solutions, “Or at least a warm meal. I know my daughters and brother would say nothing of your presence here tonight.”
He couldn’t deny the dread that filled him as he stood there, telling everything before he’d even told his wife anything. And yet, Hector was a man he could trust. There had been no reason for him to believe anything other than the fact that Hector cared for the Xanthos line as much as he did. And when Gregor was gone, he had been the one who most likely would have been left to look after his daughters.
The thought of his own death sent a shiver down his spine, as if Hades was simply biding his time before claiming him for the river.
“When the dust settles, my friend, I do not think that I will be alive to see what remains.” He said in earnest. Even if Persephone lived, there was little he could do to gain her trust back. And if Elias was truly crowned, he would seek retribution for the trial that had all but ended his future. It was only now that he could see how poorly they had set up the argument against the man. Even with all their facts, presented as truthfully as possible, it was far easier for those who wanted to believe that it was just a power grab and not a genuine concern for the throne.
As his hand settled onto his shoulder, Aimias let out a frustrated sigh. It had been so long since he’d had a reassuring touch of a good friend that it felt so foreign initially. He wanted to jerk back, to tell Hector that he didn’t deserve his pity. But he couldn’t form the words. Because while he didn’t need pity, he did need friendship. So his hand came onto Hector’s, hoping it was enough to truly show how grateful he was for the understanding. But at least he knew, and now he would be vigilant for anything that seemed out of the ordinary.
Aimias had an ally in this, and he knew that he wouldn’t never be able to repay this.
There was relief in having someone else looking after Emilia. And while the idea of his daughter putting herself in harm’s way to do so, there was no denying that she would be the most likely person who could get direct contact. But that would also take some convincing of Elias for the side in which she was on. And after what he’d walked in on, he’d rather not have to beg his friend’s forgiveness. “Let’s leave her out of it-- family is already too entangled into this.” Hadn’t that been the very reason he was in this mess in the first place?
“I have a few that I trust keeping an eye on her.” He disclosed, knowing that her condition would at least be watched. “But another set wouldn’t hurt. As far as anyone is aware, you and I do not know each other, so it would most likely never get linked back to me. I know you’ll be discreet about it.” The offer of a warm meal after his wet ride was all too appealing. And the journey was long ahead of him. “If you don’t mind the added mouth, I wouldn’t say no to a meal. And perhaps, after that, I will decide about leaving or waiting until the morning.”
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
He couldn’t deny the dread that filled him as he stood there, telling everything before he’d even told his wife anything. And yet, Hector was a man he could trust. There had been no reason for him to believe anything other than the fact that Hector cared for the Xanthos line as much as he did. And when Gregor was gone, he had been the one who most likely would have been left to look after his daughters.
The thought of his own death sent a shiver down his spine, as if Hades was simply biding his time before claiming him for the river.
“When the dust settles, my friend, I do not think that I will be alive to see what remains.” He said in earnest. Even if Persephone lived, there was little he could do to gain her trust back. And if Elias was truly crowned, he would seek retribution for the trial that had all but ended his future. It was only now that he could see how poorly they had set up the argument against the man. Even with all their facts, presented as truthfully as possible, it was far easier for those who wanted to believe that it was just a power grab and not a genuine concern for the throne.
As his hand settled onto his shoulder, Aimias let out a frustrated sigh. It had been so long since he’d had a reassuring touch of a good friend that it felt so foreign initially. He wanted to jerk back, to tell Hector that he didn’t deserve his pity. But he couldn’t form the words. Because while he didn’t need pity, he did need friendship. So his hand came onto Hector’s, hoping it was enough to truly show how grateful he was for the understanding. But at least he knew, and now he would be vigilant for anything that seemed out of the ordinary.
Aimias had an ally in this, and he knew that he wouldn’t never be able to repay this.
There was relief in having someone else looking after Emilia. And while the idea of his daughter putting herself in harm’s way to do so, there was no denying that she would be the most likely person who could get direct contact. But that would also take some convincing of Elias for the side in which she was on. And after what he’d walked in on, he’d rather not have to beg his friend’s forgiveness. “Let’s leave her out of it-- family is already too entangled into this.” Hadn’t that been the very reason he was in this mess in the first place?
“I have a few that I trust keeping an eye on her.” He disclosed, knowing that her condition would at least be watched. “But another set wouldn’t hurt. As far as anyone is aware, you and I do not know each other, so it would most likely never get linked back to me. I know you’ll be discreet about it.” The offer of a warm meal after his wet ride was all too appealing. And the journey was long ahead of him. “If you don’t mind the added mouth, I wouldn’t say no to a meal. And perhaps, after that, I will decide about leaving or waiting until the morning.”
He couldn’t deny the dread that filled him as he stood there, telling everything before he’d even told his wife anything. And yet, Hector was a man he could trust. There had been no reason for him to believe anything other than the fact that Hector cared for the Xanthos line as much as he did. And when Gregor was gone, he had been the one who most likely would have been left to look after his daughters.
The thought of his own death sent a shiver down his spine, as if Hades was simply biding his time before claiming him for the river.
“When the dust settles, my friend, I do not think that I will be alive to see what remains.” He said in earnest. Even if Persephone lived, there was little he could do to gain her trust back. And if Elias was truly crowned, he would seek retribution for the trial that had all but ended his future. It was only now that he could see how poorly they had set up the argument against the man. Even with all their facts, presented as truthfully as possible, it was far easier for those who wanted to believe that it was just a power grab and not a genuine concern for the throne.
As his hand settled onto his shoulder, Aimias let out a frustrated sigh. It had been so long since he’d had a reassuring touch of a good friend that it felt so foreign initially. He wanted to jerk back, to tell Hector that he didn’t deserve his pity. But he couldn’t form the words. Because while he didn’t need pity, he did need friendship. So his hand came onto Hector’s, hoping it was enough to truly show how grateful he was for the understanding. But at least he knew, and now he would be vigilant for anything that seemed out of the ordinary.
Aimias had an ally in this, and he knew that he wouldn’t never be able to repay this.
There was relief in having someone else looking after Emilia. And while the idea of his daughter putting herself in harm’s way to do so, there was no denying that she would be the most likely person who could get direct contact. But that would also take some convincing of Elias for the side in which she was on. And after what he’d walked in on, he’d rather not have to beg his friend’s forgiveness. “Let’s leave her out of it-- family is already too entangled into this.” Hadn’t that been the very reason he was in this mess in the first place?
“I have a few that I trust keeping an eye on her.” He disclosed, knowing that her condition would at least be watched. “But another set wouldn’t hurt. As far as anyone is aware, you and I do not know each other, so it would most likely never get linked back to me. I know you’ll be discreet about it.” The offer of a warm meal after his wet ride was all too appealing. And the journey was long ahead of him. “If you don’t mind the added mouth, I wouldn’t say no to a meal. And perhaps, after that, I will decide about leaving or waiting until the morning.”
Hector pulled a slight face at his friend's words, but knew that refuting it would be moot. Every soldier had spoken similar words at some point in their lives. In many ways, with the way the kingdom had gone, Aimias had been on the front lines - a pen in his hand instead of a sword.
There was a slight relief in his chest as Aimias encouraged him not to include Ariadne in these affairs. Family meant the world to Hector, and with his brother seemingly back from the dead after his time enslaved in Egypt, he was keen to keep them whole for as long as possible. It was yet another impossible goal he had placed upon his own shoulders.
Yet, he knew his duty to the Crown.
"Very well, though, I know she laments the feeling of purpose that came with her position. And, she is a child of mine," Hector added, smirking, "I would not be surprised if she takes matters into her own hands, if the time comes." Over the years in service to Queen Persephone, he knew of Ariadne's closeness and devotion to the Princess-turned-Queen.
"I insist you stay, then. You are always welcome in this house. We know who our friends are and we will always keep them close." Clapping a hand on Aimias' shoulder, he guided the man to the door, opening it to the scent of food cooking in the kitchen, a warm meal and a warm bed to greet him.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Hector pulled a slight face at his friend's words, but knew that refuting it would be moot. Every soldier had spoken similar words at some point in their lives. In many ways, with the way the kingdom had gone, Aimias had been on the front lines - a pen in his hand instead of a sword.
There was a slight relief in his chest as Aimias encouraged him not to include Ariadne in these affairs. Family meant the world to Hector, and with his brother seemingly back from the dead after his time enslaved in Egypt, he was keen to keep them whole for as long as possible. It was yet another impossible goal he had placed upon his own shoulders.
Yet, he knew his duty to the Crown.
"Very well, though, I know she laments the feeling of purpose that came with her position. And, she is a child of mine," Hector added, smirking, "I would not be surprised if she takes matters into her own hands, if the time comes." Over the years in service to Queen Persephone, he knew of Ariadne's closeness and devotion to the Princess-turned-Queen.
"I insist you stay, then. You are always welcome in this house. We know who our friends are and we will always keep them close." Clapping a hand on Aimias' shoulder, he guided the man to the door, opening it to the scent of food cooking in the kitchen, a warm meal and a warm bed to greet him.
Hector pulled a slight face at his friend's words, but knew that refuting it would be moot. Every soldier had spoken similar words at some point in their lives. In many ways, with the way the kingdom had gone, Aimias had been on the front lines - a pen in his hand instead of a sword.
There was a slight relief in his chest as Aimias encouraged him not to include Ariadne in these affairs. Family meant the world to Hector, and with his brother seemingly back from the dead after his time enslaved in Egypt, he was keen to keep them whole for as long as possible. It was yet another impossible goal he had placed upon his own shoulders.
Yet, he knew his duty to the Crown.
"Very well, though, I know she laments the feeling of purpose that came with her position. And, she is a child of mine," Hector added, smirking, "I would not be surprised if she takes matters into her own hands, if the time comes." Over the years in service to Queen Persephone, he knew of Ariadne's closeness and devotion to the Princess-turned-Queen.
"I insist you stay, then. You are always welcome in this house. We know who our friends are and we will always keep them close." Clapping a hand on Aimias' shoulder, he guided the man to the door, opening it to the scent of food cooking in the kitchen, a warm meal and a warm bed to greet him.
Aimias had known that coming here was a risk, but he knew that at the end of the day, it truly was worth it. He was a man who wanted to take care of his family, and no one knew what that was like quite like Hector did. He was a man who understood what it was like to raise children alone, and who had been the first person to come to Aimias with advice when his wife had died. And who came to him months later, who encouraged him to love the child they had made as a way to honor his late wife’s memory. And while it had taken another month for him to finally take the man’s advice, Hector was a man that he trusted above all.
So while he hated to burden him, there was no one else he could think of to speak with.
Because, like him, there was little need to say more than was necessary. Hector was a man who felt that there was little need to say more than the point of the conversation. And Aimias knew that, if anyone understood why he’d done what he’d done, it would have been the man in front of him.
“I will trust your judgment on it, then. If you feel that she will benefit, then perhaps we will have no other choice. But I hope to exhaust all other means before then.” He said simply, leaving it at that. He wouldn’t argue with the man for now, unable to deny that he was looking forward to a night that was from a simpler time. For while he was mostly happy in his marriage, he was a man who had known little wealth until the last few years. Now, as a Baron, he had wealth. But he missed the feeling of home.
And he wondered if he’d ever find it again.
SIghing, he allowed himself to be drawn to the kitchens, where he was pushed into a seat at the table. A bowl of food was set in front of him, Hector taking the seat across from him. And while neither said a word, Aimias knew that both were quite content with the comfortable silence of a trusted friend. He would stay the night, and in the morning, he would face the world knowing that he at least had this matter well-settled.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Aimias had known that coming here was a risk, but he knew that at the end of the day, it truly was worth it. He was a man who wanted to take care of his family, and no one knew what that was like quite like Hector did. He was a man who understood what it was like to raise children alone, and who had been the first person to come to Aimias with advice when his wife had died. And who came to him months later, who encouraged him to love the child they had made as a way to honor his late wife’s memory. And while it had taken another month for him to finally take the man’s advice, Hector was a man that he trusted above all.
So while he hated to burden him, there was no one else he could think of to speak with.
Because, like him, there was little need to say more than was necessary. Hector was a man who felt that there was little need to say more than the point of the conversation. And Aimias knew that, if anyone understood why he’d done what he’d done, it would have been the man in front of him.
“I will trust your judgment on it, then. If you feel that she will benefit, then perhaps we will have no other choice. But I hope to exhaust all other means before then.” He said simply, leaving it at that. He wouldn’t argue with the man for now, unable to deny that he was looking forward to a night that was from a simpler time. For while he was mostly happy in his marriage, he was a man who had known little wealth until the last few years. Now, as a Baron, he had wealth. But he missed the feeling of home.
And he wondered if he’d ever find it again.
SIghing, he allowed himself to be drawn to the kitchens, where he was pushed into a seat at the table. A bowl of food was set in front of him, Hector taking the seat across from him. And while neither said a word, Aimias knew that both were quite content with the comfortable silence of a trusted friend. He would stay the night, and in the morning, he would face the world knowing that he at least had this matter well-settled.
Aimias had known that coming here was a risk, but he knew that at the end of the day, it truly was worth it. He was a man who wanted to take care of his family, and no one knew what that was like quite like Hector did. He was a man who understood what it was like to raise children alone, and who had been the first person to come to Aimias with advice when his wife had died. And who came to him months later, who encouraged him to love the child they had made as a way to honor his late wife’s memory. And while it had taken another month for him to finally take the man’s advice, Hector was a man that he trusted above all.
So while he hated to burden him, there was no one else he could think of to speak with.
Because, like him, there was little need to say more than was necessary. Hector was a man who felt that there was little need to say more than the point of the conversation. And Aimias knew that, if anyone understood why he’d done what he’d done, it would have been the man in front of him.
“I will trust your judgment on it, then. If you feel that she will benefit, then perhaps we will have no other choice. But I hope to exhaust all other means before then.” He said simply, leaving it at that. He wouldn’t argue with the man for now, unable to deny that he was looking forward to a night that was from a simpler time. For while he was mostly happy in his marriage, he was a man who had known little wealth until the last few years. Now, as a Baron, he had wealth. But he missed the feeling of home.
And he wondered if he’d ever find it again.
SIghing, he allowed himself to be drawn to the kitchens, where he was pushed into a seat at the table. A bowl of food was set in front of him, Hector taking the seat across from him. And while neither said a word, Aimias knew that both were quite content with the comfortable silence of a trusted friend. He would stay the night, and in the morning, he would face the world knowing that he at least had this matter well-settled.
