Vayne Carudas Solidor (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cruentatafoedus) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
concordance_logs2015-02-25 07:47 pm
cruentatafoedus) wrote in concordance_logs2015-02-25 07:47 pm
Entry tags:
[Pirated Tea | Locked to Dr. Cid]
Characters: Vayne Carudas Solidor, Dr. Cidolfus Demen Bunansa
Where: Balfonheim port
When: 24th Blackfrost/February, closer to early afternoon
What: A tea party
Warnings: Cid and Vayne, two of Ivalice's primary antagonists sharing tea and gossip? What more warning do you need?
The day is brighter, warmer at these later hours, and so calm despite the portent from earlier of a Terrible Thing having been done yet again. Vayne feels if anyone is to blame for the ruckus, it should indeed be the High Seraph as is her rightful claim to all things that seem to want to upend the plans he died for those four years ago. He sits in a partially covered terrace with a stunning example of what could be considered some amount of class for the place, one part of a larger restaurant boasting fare he has deemed palatable. He has altered his disguise just enough so the sun can touch his paled skin. From his vantage point he can see many things, many places, many faces, but better still is the soft lull of the ocean, a surprising joy to behold after so long spent inland. Even on his trips to and from Jylland o'er the sea he has taken little time to sit and breathe, though as with all pirates and ports they make more noise than he cares for.
Here and there he notes Archadian Imperials, some observing, others forging ahead with business deals, and some doing what he can only assume is the business of the 9th though he feels the Captain would never own up to it. They stick out like the threat of unspent violence, soiling the cuff, and nearly the smell of the tea.
While he awaits Cid's inevitable appearance, he watches the curl of steam from the spout of the pot, piecing together in his mind the events which have come to trouble him. The good Doctor had always been useful to Vayne's plans, his studies and interests thankfully coinciding, and though, indeed, many called him mad, he had survived and outwitted many over the years before even the young lord himself had been any sort of self propelled force in the courts in Archades. He could be intimidating, humorous, tasteless, crafty, misleading, tenacious - really, he was everything the Solidor knew to respect, and after some traits, even admire.
He tests the tea, pouring a little into his cup, then removing the strainer with practiced grace.
Still no sign of the Doctor. Oh well, better not let the drink go to waste. The once Emperor sips, letting his gaze meander once more.
Where: Balfonheim port
When: 24th Blackfrost/February, closer to early afternoon
What: A tea party
Warnings: Cid and Vayne, two of Ivalice's primary antagonists sharing tea and gossip? What more warning do you need?
The day is brighter, warmer at these later hours, and so calm despite the portent from earlier of a Terrible Thing having been done yet again. Vayne feels if anyone is to blame for the ruckus, it should indeed be the High Seraph as is her rightful claim to all things that seem to want to upend the plans he died for those four years ago. He sits in a partially covered terrace with a stunning example of what could be considered some amount of class for the place, one part of a larger restaurant boasting fare he has deemed palatable. He has altered his disguise just enough so the sun can touch his paled skin. From his vantage point he can see many things, many places, many faces, but better still is the soft lull of the ocean, a surprising joy to behold after so long spent inland. Even on his trips to and from Jylland o'er the sea he has taken little time to sit and breathe, though as with all pirates and ports they make more noise than he cares for.
Here and there he notes Archadian Imperials, some observing, others forging ahead with business deals, and some doing what he can only assume is the business of the 9th though he feels the Captain would never own up to it. They stick out like the threat of unspent violence, soiling the cuff, and nearly the smell of the tea.
While he awaits Cid's inevitable appearance, he watches the curl of steam from the spout of the pot, piecing together in his mind the events which have come to trouble him. The good Doctor had always been useful to Vayne's plans, his studies and interests thankfully coinciding, and though, indeed, many called him mad, he had survived and outwitted many over the years before even the young lord himself had been any sort of self propelled force in the courts in Archades. He could be intimidating, humorous, tasteless, crafty, misleading, tenacious - really, he was everything the Solidor knew to respect, and after some traits, even admire.
He tests the tea, pouring a little into his cup, then removing the strainer with practiced grace.
Still no sign of the Doctor. Oh well, better not let the drink go to waste. The once Emperor sips, letting his gaze meander once more.
no subject
The casual dismissal of the name Vayne had offered for Cidolfus' use comes as no surprise though the kind words in return are gratefully heard. He ensures his companion is seated comfortably before taking his own seat once more (and the man's cup filled as is polite), fishing out the grimoire that has stalked him and yet been a suspicious blessing in disguise with it's disreputable insistence upon recording all that happened to the Solidor, including his revival and meeting with Ajora.
When Cid mutters his pleasured shock, the younger man chuckles, head rising a little from where he flips through the pages in his search, tongue forming the words in a humorous tease: "Fished fresh from the bay like ourselves? The golden lady may be a fishmonger, but fortune favors the schooling I received despite all malignant effort."
Vayne, bitter? Why never.
no subject
"I would count thy blessings despite however meager they are, Siegfried." He answers once he had enough or the heated slop within his cup. Balfonheim's glory lies within its tropical locals, not its less than refined cuisine. This much he realises now that his stomach has lurched a bit. They are both truly far away from the elegant refinery of Archades, and this actually saddens Cidolfus.
"It only makes sense to show slithers of gratitude for that fact alone, lest we be comforted by the thought of being eternally damned." While Cid cannot recall a thing after being slain by his son, the good doctor is still not eager to return to nothingness.
"However, I digress, my lord."