[ He motions with one hand to where Charon lays curled up, finding a slice of... whatever passes for sunlight in this dreary place to take her nap in. She is atop one of those garish pillows with the sequins, though Emet-Selch does his level best to make sure they are sequin-side out at all times and not that godsawful face.
Charon seems to like them, that's the only reason they stick around. ]
[ It is not a name he has ever heard before and yet... somehow it does not surprise him that Emet-Selch has named her thus. Estinien frowns; he does not think he enjoys having this knowledge, knowing not whether it was something implanted into his head or if it was some... manifestation of his soul. He doesn't like either prospect, if he is honest; he is himself, not some residual of a man named Promachos.
He hadn't realised she slept, however, and so he lowers his voice appropriately, approaches on quiet feet to take stock of her as she dozes in the light. She has grown much last he saw her, he thinks. She was naught but a scrap of fur, and yet there was not a onze of give in her as she turned the full force of her fury on him. Estinien smiles, his tail snaking back and forth at a lazy beat through the air as he watches her sleep. ]
[ Unaware of whatever might be running through Estinien’s head, Emet-Selch watches the man watch Charon, no doubt taking in how much she’s grown since they last spoke. A home and a pair of owners who are more than willing to spoil her have done a lot for her, it’s true – not that Emet-Selch will admit to the latter. ]
If you were to crack open one of those cans of tuna, I wager she would wake on her own.
[ Estinien nods and sets the bag down so he can extract one of the tins. Having spent little and less time around cats, he's not entirely sure what to expect when he pulls the tab to open it up, but it certainly wasn't for Lady Charon's head to pop up from where it was resting on her paws with a quiet mrrp?
Of course, approximately 0.2 seconds later she registers his presence and hisses at him, fur puffing her up to twice her size. Estinien can do naught else but smile. ]
Lady Charon. [ She yowls at him and he places the tin of tuna on the floor at the foot of the sofa. ] Your dinner awaits.
[ Emet-Selch watches this whole scene unfold with a sort of quiet amusement. What might the vaunted knights of Ishgard think if they could see their once champion doing his utmost to impress a cat who wants nothing at all to do with him?
Close on the heels of that thought is another: it is a wonder that they have ended up here at all. Estinien in his home (currently the sole Scion with the dubious honor of knowing where he lives), sharing in his company like they are old friends.
After all they went through on the train, a small lifetime packed into a matter of hours, they practically are. ]
I really must wonder what you’ve done to offend her so.
[ Charon likes Emet-Selch well enough, and he is something far older and arguably scarier than any dragon. The cat really isn’t having it, fur on end as she watches Estinien with the can of tuna, her desire for food clearly warring with her dislike of the man offering it to her.
Emet-Selch reaches out to gently take Estinien by the elbow and guide him back a step or two. The distance mollifies her enough that she hops off the couch and gingerly sniffs at the offering of tuna, like she’s trying to make sure this strange man didn’t do anything strange to it. ]
[ Knowing now what he does, he realises it makes little sense for her to fear the dragon in him and not the... Well, whatever it is Emet-Selch turned himself into. If Estinien were any weaker willed he might take her animosity personally, but he has fought in a war; in a battle of attrition he'll not lose. The fact that, with some distance, she'll eat the food he brings for her after some inspection bodes well. ]
Aye, 'tis strange. Generally, beasts have no issue with me.
[ Dragons, certainly, but he meets all kinds of creatures on his travels and it doesn't always end in a fight.
Well. Not a fight to the death, at least.
Her face is pressed eagerly into the tin of food now. It's too soon, he knows, to attempt to press his advantage, but the space between her ears seems to call to him. Estinien manages to resist for now. ]
Perhaps she simply takes after her owner.
[ Added with a smile and a quirked brow in Emet-Selch's direction. ]
[ One brow lifts in response. The look he levels at Estinien is far from amused, but that’s nothing new. That is, after all, his default more often than not. ]
I’ll have you know I cannot be won over by tuna.
[ They ate enough of that dreadful canned stuff in that frigid wasteland to last him several lifetimes. However, the implication here is that he was still won over – something he is not going to give voice to. He does not need to. ]
Cats are contrary creatures. Perhaps she can sense your desire to befriend her and is making it difficult on purpose.
[ That sounds... familiar, brief though their acquaintance may be. Estinien shoots Emet-Selch another look. He wonders if Emet-Selch knows that he is describing himself. Either way Estinien knows well enough to not actually say that if he wishes to remain here. ]
Then, if I must engage in psychological warfare to gain her affection, perhaps we might sit down for that tea you mentioned.
[ Emet-Selch catches the look being thrown his way, and his gaze narrows, almost daring Estinien to say something. The dragoon is wise enough to keep it to himself, at least.
Besides, the kettle has started to whistle, as if on cue. Emet-Selch waves a hand and the small burner in the kitchenette clicks itself off. ]
Have you a preference? Between myself and Sunday, we've amassed quite a selection.
[ Emet-Selch starts opening cabinets, letting Estinien see for himself and pick something out if anything should appeal. Otherwise, there is a hibiscus tea on offer and Emet-Selch will grab a couple of those and some mugs. ]
The very same. I take it you are acquainted?
[ “Extremely helpful.” He can just picture Sunday preening over the descriptor while pretending it doesn’t mean much. It makes him smile a little to himself.
After a beat or two, he offers Estinien one of the mugs, and motions to the little dining table where he can sit. ]
[ Despite his mention of hibiscus and black tea, on perusing the collection he decides to go with a raspberry rooibos tea instead, having never heard of it before. And on smelling its fragrance as it steeps, he can tell he has made an excellent choice. ]
He assisted me in picking out a gift for Alphinaud despite having his own business to attend to.
[ He only hopes that Sunday had been able to find a gift in kind for his own friend.
Ah. ]
And perhaps you are the friend he had been gift-shopping for?
[ Estinien takes the offered seat with his tea in hand and chances a quick sip of it.
Divine.
Unbeknownst to him, his tail has taken up a slow metronome of movement, wagging back and forth in the air behind him. ]
[ Given all that's happened in the short few moons since, Starlight almost feels like a lifetime ago. Certainly, for himself and Sunday it was quite a different time, the both of them being utter fools.
Emet-Selch breathes out a snort, amused. ]
'Tis entirely possible. Do you recall what he purchased?
[ Emet-Selch isn't about to draw attention to Estinien's tail wagging, but unfortunately(?) for him, Charon has noticed and decided that this is a foul beast most in need of slaying. Tuna abandoned, she bounds into the kitchenette to pounce on it. ]
[ Unfortunately for Charon, what she is hunting is covered in dragonhide and so Estinien doesn't even notice the attack until she lets out a noise of pure thwarted rage behind him. When he looks, she is hanging midair from his tail, teeth and claws doing their level best to savage it. Estinien tilts his head, pondering how best to handle this, and then lets his tail drop to the ground dead.
The noise Lady Charon lets loose this time is one of triumph. She picks up his tail in her mouth and the drags it over to Emet-Selch to drop it at his feet.
Estinien laughs. ]
It seems as though you have found yourself a fierce protector. I don't imagine you'll ever have to worry about vermin in this place.
[ After a moment he twitches his tail alive again. 'Tis passing strange to have so much control over it now, to truly feel it as something of his own, something to have control over, given how things started. He is... adaptable, he knows, but he thinks he may have long left the realm of 'adaptable' behind. Has edged into enjoyment, perhaps. Well. He cannot deny its usefulness. And, perhaps this too is merely another form of adaptability. To become someone who can live with the changes forced upon him.
Lady Charon lets loose a long rolling growl, body crouched low, rear wiggling in anticipation, and launches herself at it once more to begin the charade all over again. The play is similar to the play fighting of the hatchlings he spent time with, though a great deal tamer. Perhaps this is a feature of all predators. ]
I do not believe this is endearing me to her, however.
[ Emet-Selch watches this whole thing for a few moments, lifting his mug to his lips to mask his grin, but only barely. It’s no great secret that he spoils Charon to no end – it’s the only reason why some of the godsawful “gifts” Hythlodaeus has foisted on him get to stick around – so he can’t help but watch her the way a doting father would watch their child. ]
Is it not?
[ He glances up at Estinien, brow arched. A mouse would stand no chance against Charon, it’s true, but he doesn’t think she means Estinien’s tail any actual harm. ]
[ Estinien is not so sure. He is playing, certainly, but he's sure that if his tail were as unprotected as G'raha's is, he'd be sporting a great deal of injuries there. But Emet-Selch would know Lady Charon best.
(Though as to that, he would not put it past Emet-Selch to mislead him.) ]
As you say.
[ Still... He takes another sip of his tea as he plays with her some more. A give and take to it— dodging away as she pounces, pushing her over when she least expects it, which is apparently a great affront to her person. And each time, bringing her closer and closer until...
He takes it back. Emet-Selch was indeed correct, and Estinien looks up to grant him a somewhat triumphant look as Lady Charon lands in his lap, pawing up at his tail.
[ There’s a key difference between Estinien and G’raha Tia, which is that G’raha Tia wouldn’t be caught dead within a malm of Emet-Selch’s home. Whether Charon would similarly attack the miqo’te’s tail, they will never know.
In any case, Emet-Selch is proven right, because of course he is. His eyebrows go up in response to the look the dragoon gives him. This whole thing is getting funnier by the moment. ]
Surely you can outlast a cat, Ser Estinien.
[ Especially if she is worn out from all the playing, and if Estinien’s lap is proving to be surprisingly comfortable. She’s started turning in circles atop him and pawing at his trousers to make herself comfortable. ]
[ Estinien frowns. He knows he is being baited but... well, it wouldn't do for him to lose to a cat.
Gods. Who knew cats were such contrary creatures. ]
Suddenly, the reasoning behind you taking in such a creature has become abundantly clear.
[ It's the same picture.
Lady Charon has finished inspecting her new territory and has apparently deemed it acceptable. She lays down and curls up into a tight ball, though from this angle he is unable to see whether she sleeps or not.
His hand lifts, and then carefully lands on her body, feeling the way it rises and falls with her breathing. ]
I suppose this means I am trapped here for the foreseeable future.
[ Do not answer that question. Emet-Selch knows very well how he comes off to other people, and it's not the first nor last time he's been compared to a finicky cat. If anything, the fact that he's here is a testament to Estinien's ability to win the creatures over.
Demonstrated quite handily by Charon, who chooses this moment to curl up on thee dragoon's lap. The man's face might not change overmuch, but Emet-Selch can imagine how pleased he must be about this development. ]
I suppose you are.
[ Ah, to be struck down by CiL (cat in lap) in one's prime. How tragic.
The corner of Emet-Selch's mouth lifts. ]
I suppose I'll prepare some lunch for us bipeds, as well.
[ Since it seems Estinien is staying for a while. Quietly, so as not to disturb the queen of the household now quietly dozing in the Azure Dragoon's lap, Emet-Selch rises from his seat to do just that. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[ He motions with one hand to where Charon lays curled up, finding a slice of... whatever passes for sunlight in this dreary place to take her nap in. She is atop one of those garish pillows with the sequins, though Emet-Selch does his level best to make sure they are sequin-side out at all times and not that godsawful face.
Charon seems to like them, that's the only reason they stick around. ]
Her name is Charon, by the way.
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[ It is not a name he has ever heard before and yet... somehow it does not surprise him that Emet-Selch has named her thus. Estinien frowns; he does not think he enjoys having this knowledge, knowing not whether it was something implanted into his head or if it was some... manifestation of his soul. He doesn't like either prospect, if he is honest; he is himself, not some residual of a man named Promachos.
He hadn't realised she slept, however, and so he lowers his voice appropriately, approaches on quiet feet to take stock of her as she dozes in the light. She has grown much last he saw her, he thinks. She was naught but a scrap of fur, and yet there was not a onze of give in her as she turned the full force of her fury on him. Estinien smiles, his tail snaking back and forth at a lazy beat through the air as he watches her sleep. ]
'Twould not do to wake her, I think.
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If you were to crack open one of those cans of tuna, I wager she would wake on her own.
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Of course, approximately 0.2 seconds later she registers his presence and hisses at him, fur puffing her up to twice her size. Estinien can do naught else but smile. ]
Lady Charon. [ She yowls at him and he places the tin of tuna on the floor at the foot of the sofa. ] Your dinner awaits.
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Close on the heels of that thought is another: it is a wonder that they have ended up here at all. Estinien in his home (currently the sole Scion with the dubious honor of knowing where he lives), sharing in his company like they are old friends.
After all they went through on the train, a small lifetime packed into a matter of hours, they practically are. ]
I really must wonder what you’ve done to offend her so.
[ Charon likes Emet-Selch well enough, and he is something far older and arguably scarier than any dragon. The cat really isn’t having it, fur on end as she watches Estinien with the can of tuna, her desire for food clearly warring with her dislike of the man offering it to her.
Emet-Selch reaches out to gently take Estinien by the elbow and guide him back a step or two. The distance mollifies her enough that she hops off the couch and gingerly sniffs at the offering of tuna, like she’s trying to make sure this strange man didn’t do anything strange to it. ]
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Aye, 'tis strange. Generally, beasts have no issue with me.
[ Dragons, certainly, but he meets all kinds of creatures on his travels and it doesn't always end in a fight.
Well. Not a fight to the death, at least.
Her face is pressed eagerly into the tin of food now. It's too soon, he knows, to attempt to press his advantage, but the space between her ears seems to call to him. Estinien manages to resist for now. ]
Perhaps she simply takes after her owner.
[ Added with a smile and a quirked brow in Emet-Selch's direction. ]
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I’ll have you know I cannot be won over by tuna.
[ They ate enough of that dreadful canned stuff in that frigid wasteland to last him several lifetimes. However, the implication here is that he was still won over – something he is not going to give voice to. He does not need to. ]
Cats are contrary creatures. Perhaps she can sense your desire to befriend her and is making it difficult on purpose.
[ That’s silly though, right? ]
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Then, if I must engage in psychological warfare to gain her affection, perhaps we might sit down for that tea you mentioned.
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Besides, the kettle has started to whistle, as if on cue. Emet-Selch waves a hand and the small burner in the kitchenette clicks itself off. ]
Have you a preference? Between myself and Sunday, we've amassed quite a selection.
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[ Strange now to hold discussions on tea when mere years ago he would not have known to differentiate, nor would he have cared to.
And yet he finds himself following Emet-Selch into the kitchenette in the hopes of seeing this collection himself.
Wait. ]
Sunday?
[ Is that a common name? That can't possibly be a common name. ]
Silver hair and gold eyes? Extremely helpful?
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The very same. I take it you are acquainted?
[ “Extremely helpful.” He can just picture Sunday preening over the descriptor while pretending it doesn’t mean much. It makes him smile a little to himself.
After a beat or two, he offers Estinien one of the mugs, and motions to the little dining table where he can sit. ]
He lives here with me.
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[ Despite his mention of hibiscus and black tea, on perusing the collection he decides to go with a raspberry rooibos tea instead, having never heard of it before. And on smelling its fragrance as it steeps, he can tell he has made an excellent choice. ]
He assisted me in picking out a gift for Alphinaud despite having his own business to attend to.
[ He only hopes that Sunday had been able to find a gift in kind for his own friend.
Ah. ]
And perhaps you are the friend he had been gift-shopping for?
[ Estinien takes the offered seat with his tea in hand and chances a quick sip of it.
Divine.
Unbeknownst to him, his tail has taken up a slow metronome of movement, wagging back and forth in the air behind him. ]
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Emet-Selch breathes out a snort, amused. ]
'Tis entirely possible. Do you recall what he purchased?
[ Emet-Selch isn't about to draw attention to Estinien's tail wagging, but unfortunately(?) for him, Charon has noticed and decided that this is a foul beast most in need of slaying. Tuna abandoned, she bounds into the kitchenette to pounce on it. ]
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The noise Lady Charon lets loose this time is one of triumph. She picks up his tail in her mouth and the drags it over to Emet-Selch to drop it at his feet.
Estinien laughs. ]
It seems as though you have found yourself a fierce protector. I don't imagine you'll ever have to worry about vermin in this place.
[ After a moment he twitches his tail alive again. 'Tis passing strange to have so much control over it now, to truly feel it as something of his own, something to have control over, given how things started. He is... adaptable, he knows, but he thinks he may have long left the realm of 'adaptable' behind. Has edged into enjoyment, perhaps. Well. He cannot deny its usefulness. And, perhaps this too is merely another form of adaptability. To become someone who can live with the changes forced upon him.
Lady Charon lets loose a long rolling growl, body crouched low, rear wiggling in anticipation, and launches herself at it once more to begin the charade all over again. The play is similar to the play fighting of the hatchlings he spent time with, though a great deal tamer. Perhaps this is a feature of all predators. ]
I do not believe this is endearing me to her, however.
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Is it not?
[ He glances up at Estinien, brow arched. A mouse would stand no chance against Charon, it’s true, but he doesn’t think she means Estinien’s tail any actual harm. ]
She is playing with you, yes?
[ She is. ]
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(Though as to that, he would not put it past Emet-Selch to mislead him.) ]
As you say.
[ Still... He takes another sip of his tea as he plays with her some more. A give and take to it— dodging away as she pounces, pushing her over when she least expects it, which is apparently a great affront to her person. And each time, bringing her closer and closer until...
He takes it back. Emet-Selch was indeed correct, and Estinien looks up to grant him a somewhat triumphant look as Lady Charon lands in his lap, pawing up at his tail.
Then he remembers the psychological warfare. ]
How long must this war of attrition last?
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In any case, Emet-Selch is proven right, because of course he is. His eyebrows go up in response to the look the dragoon gives him. This whole thing is getting funnier by the moment. ]
Surely you can outlast a cat, Ser Estinien.
[ Especially if she is worn out from all the playing, and if Estinien’s lap is proving to be surprisingly comfortable. She’s started turning in circles atop him and pawing at his trousers to make herself comfortable. ]
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Gods. Who knew cats were such contrary creatures. ]
Suddenly, the reasoning behind you taking in such a creature has become abundantly clear.
[ It's the same picture.
Lady Charon has finished inspecting her new territory and has apparently deemed it acceptable. She lays down and curls up into a tight ball, though from this angle he is unable to see whether she sleeps or not.
His hand lifts, and then carefully lands on her body, feeling the way it rises and falls with her breathing. ]
I suppose this means I am trapped here for the foreseeable future.
[ It does not sound like a complaint. ]
🎀
[ Do not answer that question. Emet-Selch knows very well how he comes off to other people, and it's not the first nor last time he's been compared to a finicky cat. If anything, the fact that he's here is a testament to Estinien's ability to win the creatures over.
Demonstrated quite handily by Charon, who chooses this moment to curl up on thee dragoon's lap. The man's face might not change overmuch, but Emet-Selch can imagine how pleased he must be about this development. ]
I suppose you are.
[ Ah, to be struck down by CiL (cat in lap) in one's prime. How tragic.
The corner of Emet-Selch's mouth lifts. ]
I suppose I'll prepare some lunch for us bipeds, as well.
[ Since it seems Estinien is staying for a while. Quietly, so as not to disturb the queen of the household now quietly dozing in the Azure Dragoon's lap, Emet-Selch rises from his seat to do just that. ]