beyondthedoor | shadowbringers spoilers galore.

[He's certainly seen better days, though he's recovering apace, all things considered. But today, perhaps, he might be getting an unexpected visitor...

One may find him reading something at the Cabinet, or strolling through the grassy area around the Pendants, or perhaps even exchanging a word with the guard. Everything appears to be normal-- though he's visiting his people with a great deal more zeal than usual.]

[The last however long has been brutal on Rhel, but not nearly as brutal as it has been on poor G'raha.

And yes, she will continue to call him by his name in private unless he tells her otherwise. It's never fun to have your name forgotten for a title. Also the little face he makes when she calls him by it is adorable and she can't pass that up.

Rhel is asleep on a sofa in the Cabinet, because of course she is. There are so many wonderful books she'll never get to see located here, and now that the world's saved why would she ever be anywhere else? Too bad not even the Warrior of Darkness can resist the urge to nap in a sunbeam, though.]

[The last thing he's expecting is to find the Warrior of Light napping here, but then again, maybe he shouldn't be surprised at all. He casts a glance around for Moren or one of the other library-dwellers but somehow, for some reason, they've all made themselves scarce. Hmm. Maybe they're having lunch?

Still, he can't simply leave her unattended...

He disappears regardless, but only for a few moments. When he returns it's with softer steps and a softer blanket in his arms. With utmost gentleness, he lays it over Rhel and tucks her in around the edges.]

Mm...

[Look, she's exhausted and the sofa was comfy. But being tucked in is enough to jerk her out of her sleep a little and she snuffles, frowning.]

Not now, Feo Ul...

[Feo Ul? Maybe it's because they both have red hair? No, she's definitely out of it. The comparison earns a soft chuckle, which he tries to muffle behind his hand. He ought to leave her alone and get some work done. She's safe here.

... He'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious, however. He glances at the books around the couch to see what she was reading, or at least interested in reading, before she passed out.]

[The pixie is worse at mothering than her own mother, alright.

He'll find books on every topic available, or close to it. Mystel history and cultures from before and after the Flood, faerie tales, a novel wherein the author tries to come up with a story for the Crystal Tower, a manual on how to use your tomestone to communicate, stories of the "ancients", and half the section on thaumaturgy in the First as well as a notebook filled with what is probably arcane gibberish if you're not a black mage or aetherologist. (And possibly even if you are.)

The books are all balanced precariously around the sofa, as if a stiff breeze or errant tail is all it'll take to destroy the entire pile.]

[That's quite a selection of titles, and most of them he's read himself. He got a kick out of the one trying to explain the origins of the Crystal Tower, as it was fanciful and entertaining even if nowhere close to the truth. Sometimes he liked the revised history better. However, as he's reaching for that last notebook-- he doesn't recognize it-- his wrist bumps one of the other books and sends it wobbling precariously.

He manages to catch it with his other hand, but then one of the other parts of the pile wobbles. So his arm crosses over his other arm to steady that one... And then, of course, there's a third wobble, because this is fucking Jenga in the First, and he has to stick out his leg to balance that one.

He breathes a sigh of relief as he avoids utter catastrophe. It would be pretty funny if Rhel opened her eyes and saw him doing an impression of ancient Sil'dih murals as he tries to keep the books from falling. But as long as everything's okay, then--

Of course, just as he's about to call it good, a loose pet darts through the room and knocks over the rest of the books before scurrying right back out. By some miracle none of the tomes land on the couch or its sleeper, but the Exarch is now on the floor, half-buried in them.

He holds his breath. Maybe she slept through that too.]

[Nope. The chaos startles her awake and she starts swearing in...Miqo'te huntspeak, which of course startles the errant pet, which then of course darts out of the room and by the time Rhel has remembered where she is, grabbed her glasses, and looked around the poor Exarch is buried under more books.

She just sorta blinks down at him.]

Uh. Did I...I missed something and I'm afraid to ask what.

[Of course it was too much to ask not to have his ass absolutely whooped by books of all things, but here he is, laying in books. Drowning in them. He manages to wrench one hand loose, sending a book of fairy tales tumbling to the floor. He can't see her over all these books but maybe she can see his hand.]

I am not entirely sure what happened either, but it appears I've been... er, entomed. [Bards and their puns.] But no matter! I'll free myself shortly, just-- [He inhales sharply. Okay, so he's not as recovered as he'd like to pretend, but it's not his fault that the books are putting pressure on every coercive injury he suffered at the hand of a certain Ascian.] -- I only need a moment. You need not concern yourself, or exert yourself.

[That pun gets the dirtiest of looks, not that he can see it right now.]

Uh-huh. And in a moment when you need my help...?

[This is embarrassing. He's glad she can't see his face because he is so, so red right now. He shouldn't be failing this hard in front of her, and yet... this is his lot in life right now. In response to her sass, he tries to free himself as promised. However, this only makes a couple more piles of books fall over onto him, and he collapses back against the floor with a painful wheeze.]

All right! All right, [he manages.] I-- I concede there was some... miscalculation on my part.

You knocked them over and tried to stop the pile from falling, only to fail in a most spectacular fashion, didn't you?

[Yeah, she's going to sit up and start saving the Crystal Klutz from himself.]

I thought bards were light on their feet.

I was doing just fine until that-- loose minion. I hope it returned to its owner safely and will not suffer us a repeat performance.

[He struggles a bit but he might only be making it worse, so he focuses instead on removing books with his one free hand and setting them aside. Gently, though, because Moren would probably show a rare temper if he saw his books being abused so.]

Need I remind you, [he mutters, his face still quite warm from the accusation,] that I am much older than I look and also partially crystallized? This fragile man is better suited to-- [ugh] -- activities that do not require the utmost adroitness.

A fragile man would have cracked under all that Ascian attention.

[Just saying. Rhel is just as careful with the books, trying not to laugh.]

So the crystal does affect your weight? Urianger and I were wondering but that's not really something you can just ask.

Are you calling me stout?

[He's trying not to laugh even though part of him wants to cry from all this humiliation. When he has both hands free, he sets to digging himself out with more fervor.]

Of course it would be the two of you who burn with such curiosity. [He makes a soft, amused noise.] For your information-- [He shoves a particularly thick tome about fire spells aside.] -- I do not weigh much more than I ought, but my center of gravity has shifted to compensate for the unequal distribution. Had I given much more of myself to the Crystal Tower I believe walking would be something of a chore.

I am calling you no such thing!

[She giggles as he finally starts to break from the fall of Dala-book.]

You could have just traded in a leg of flesh for one of crystal to equalize it a bit, though I guess you'd be easy to hear coming if you had.

[He props himself up on his elbows. His smile lingers for a moment, and then fades into something a little softer, a little sad.] As you may know, the hardest diamond can shatter if hit in the right place. Solid though I may appear, I am every bit as fragile as the substance in my given title.

[He runs his left hand through his bangs.]

I have made greater sacrifices than stealthy midnight snacking, though that one is further toward the top of the list than you might realize.

[At last he is freed from his bookish prison. Mostly. Rhel has to stand to get the last of the books out of the way.]

Oh, the Crystal Exarch doesn't just keep a larder in his room for midnight snacking?

[Twelve be blessed, it feels like no time has passed at all. His eyes crinkle as he tries very, very hard to stay professional-- stay cool-- but he really, really wants to let his guard down a little. He's... trying, a bit. One never knows when their last day comes, even if they planned it.

He gathers his feet beneath himself but doesn't stand up just yet.]

That depends. Did you look for one?

[Professional is for other people. Or teachers when their students are around.]

I didn't.

[A beat and then casually as she's straightening out the blanket:]

My Little Yang mammet sometimes has a mind of its own, however.

[Or she instructed it to go looking. Shut up.]

[He's busy straightening the books now, trying to put them in more manageable piles so that someone like Moren doesn't come along and become buried under them alone. That remark gets a look from the Exarch, though.]

Really?

[He sounds equal parts amused and skeptical. Mammets only have very limited programming, for the most part, but it's cute that she's using that as an excuse.]

Well, I suppose I cannot fault you for that. Bearing the weight of two worlds on your shoulders would work up anyone's appetite.

[ Rest is something they both sorely need though neither are likely, or in Meara's case want, to get. The burden they carry is great; his the Crystal Tower itself and the people of the Crystarium, hers the fate of the worlds. Though she has never been one for idleness, even in the most peaceful of times she would busy her hands with one thing or another. Much to the chagrin of all those who would see Warrior of Light rest after she has been through.

Although there are times when she finds herself at a loss, when her own determination is outmatched by those around her and she is forced to concede. A difficult defeat to take but one she does so gracefully. Thus leading Meara to her spot amongst the grassy area of the Pendants, far from any sort of work that needs to be done. Resting.

It isn't the worst fate imaginable, in fact the spot in the grass is quiet comfortable. The grass soft, the sun warm, she had forgone her boots for the moment just to feel the grass between her toes. It's nice. Quiet, unbearably so, but nice.

She is moments away from calling Feo Ul (for company perhaps, though she quickly remembers that may not be the best of ideas) when she spies her wandering nearby. He looks a lot better now, not so many marks scarring what little skin is left to him. There is a pep in his step that brings a grin to her lips, distracting her from her current sufferings a little. But then, if she must suffer idle hands and rest, shouldn't he? ]

Shouldn't you be resting? [ Hello Exarch, she is maybe just a little bored. ]

Ah!

[He'd been so preoccupied with his thoughts (chores, lists, who to talk to and who to arrange things for) that he hadn't seen the Warrior of Light taking a dappled sunbath in the grass. Her greeting is warm, even with the teasing, and it isn't a moment after that he returns it with a crinkle of his red eyes.]

How is it that when I walk around, I'm accosted by do-wells, but when you stroll out of the Pendants unaccompanied there isn't so much as a peep of disagreement?

[He rests a hand on his hip, the other on his staff.]

Whatever spell you are weaving, I shall endeavor to learn from your example. But to answer your question: I am getting some fresh air. Even a scholar could grow tired of the smell of books after a long century or two.

Edited (WORD CHOICE...) 2019-07-09 08:12 (UTC)

[She had to try!

Rhel sighs at being called out.]

I'm desperate for miqo'bobs, alright? This place doesn't have any or anything close to them!

[He rests an arm on his knee and looks at her seriously for a moment.]

Is that all? Just a taste of home?

[He smiles, albeit mysteriously.]

It may not be as hopeless as you think.

shadowbringers spoilers galore.

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