travelerscurse (
travelerscurse) wrote2021-01-13 12:54 pm
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There's a price to pay and a consequence - for darlingdatura
There's protocol to be observed, both as a field agent returning from the field and as an "Imperial deserter" come to join the rising tide of resistance in Ala Mhigo. But the first thing he does the moment all of that is taken care of is secure a change of clothes out of his uniform and a bath. The bath is in a river and the clothes are simple, used but not quite threadbare yet, but it's a start. He's never liked the more "advanced" Garlean fabrics even without the farce of putting him in a soldier's uniform and it's a relief to be back in something organic, homespun, a comfort he didn't know he was missing until he had it again.
Food is next and the most difficult. He has no money, not that would be good here, anyway, and has traded what he carried for what he has gotten so far. He's down to the clothes on his back, his bow, and his instruments and none of them are things he's willing to give up.
So old habits die hard, perhaps, or maybe it's more like riding a chocobo, you don't forget, or maybe, just maybe, this is it's own form of homecoming. Whatever the reason, he finds himself singing for his supper just like he used to years ago, moving from place to place in a Calamity-pocked world, helping where he could, working where there was work. His voice is somewhat out of service like this, but it's good enough for some tavern songs and the quickly erected pavilion tent does seem to become a tavern once he starts, hopefully making the owner a bit more gil than normal, enough to off-set his own meal and mead, meager though it may be.
He's mostly been playing the violin. It and the harp are his favorites, for their ability to both allow him to sing with them and their ability to keep a tune all on their own where he needs to rest his voice, but the harp is a bit too calm for a place like this. The violin is soothing without being overbearing, and he can fiddle with it when he needs to.
It's shaping up to be a good enough evening, a balm to a soul that has seen precious little of music these past two years in Ilsabard.
Food is next and the most difficult. He has no money, not that would be good here, anyway, and has traded what he carried for what he has gotten so far. He's down to the clothes on his back, his bow, and his instruments and none of them are things he's willing to give up.
So old habits die hard, perhaps, or maybe it's more like riding a chocobo, you don't forget, or maybe, just maybe, this is it's own form of homecoming. Whatever the reason, he finds himself singing for his supper just like he used to years ago, moving from place to place in a Calamity-pocked world, helping where he could, working where there was work. His voice is somewhat out of service like this, but it's good enough for some tavern songs and the quickly erected pavilion tent does seem to become a tavern once he starts, hopefully making the owner a bit more gil than normal, enough to off-set his own meal and mead, meager though it may be.
He's mostly been playing the violin. It and the harp are his favorites, for their ability to both allow him to sing with them and their ability to keep a tune all on their own where he needs to rest his voice, but the harp is a bit too calm for a place like this. The violin is soothing without being overbearing, and he can fiddle with it when he needs to.
It's shaping up to be a good enough evening, a balm to a soul that has seen precious little of music these past two years in Ilsabard.
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Surely he was reading too much into it. The handsome Elezen surely wasn't flirting seriously with him.
"As much of a lightweight as I am, it's definitely better I don't have anything stronger this evening." He managed after a moment, as Zaika was plunking down from Gustavain's shoulders to drape over the table like a spoiled cat. Sniffing at the cup sitting in front of Mikka, sneezing at the alcohol in it but otherwise unbothered which soothed his own concerns.
"I'll drink to that." He commented with a warm little grin and a lift of his cup before sipping at the wine in kind.
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Gustavain isn't exactly difficult to get into bed, never has been, nor does he usually find any difficulty in finding his way into someone else's when the mood or need strikes. But he's not really ever been one of those people who went after it aggressively, made up of intense innuendo or a lot of tension. He's more just open and clever in equal measures, and lets other people react as they will to that.
"No head for your liquor?" he says with a shake of his head, as though he's teasing, before he adds, "I'm not really any better. I have to be careful, I'll feel nothing at all for a number of drinks and then have them catch up all at once. Perhaps it's something to do with my height? Anyroad, I've learned it the hard way."
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"None whatsoever." He replied in a cheery tone, a bit of teasing at his own expense. "You too though? Makes me feel slightly less silly, but it dashes apart my theory that it's how tiny I am."
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He shakes his head with a laugh,
"I've met entirely too many Lalafels who could drink me under the table. But I do think probably if you're going to feel it, you'd feel it faster if you're smaller?" he shrugs, none of that kind of figuring has ever been his strong point. "To be honest, I really only care because I think I may well be the only bard on this star that doesn't actually enjoy being drunk." He grins to that, a little too wide to be sheepish.
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He considers the second part, nodding agreement. "I can't say I don't agree... I'm rather awkward enough sober, I feel positively foolish with alcohol to make things worse."
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He grins to the rest of it, shaking his head, "I mostly just prefer to know any bad decisions I make are my own," and now there's the tone, almost purring, "and to remember any memorable ones."
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A faint chirp at the tone that was following, tail twitching faintly. "I... yes I can see how that would be... important."
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"Though, perhaps a bit shy," he ammends, "I'm not used to flustering people quite so easily when making jokes about how I often choose to spend my nights. If it makes you uncomfortable, I can endeavor to be more circumspect."
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An understatement to be sure, but one he was sure Gustavain would be well aware of.
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"Well, I'm glad to have not caused offense," he says after a moment, "but perhaps I'll watch my tongue all the same. I think much of my humor might be a bit off-color for you, ser," and there's that grin again, "And I prefer to only fluster people on purpose"
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"You do me a kindness. Are you sure you're not wont to join the game of 'see what innuendo soars over Mikka's head next?' I hear it's quite entertaining." Not that he especially minded it. No one ever seemed to mean it cruelly, and there were oftentimes a scarcity of things to get people laughing.
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Though perhaps he doesn't fully mean it to, it does put some of his earlier, gentle flirtations in an... interesting light.
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"...In earnest?" He repeated as more an inquiry, the tone tentative and definitely shy. But at the same time... not a thing that sounded upset by the idea.
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"Are you so shocked that I might find you charming?" If Mikka were someone else, perhaps now would be a good time for a more sexual comment, but he doesn't think Mikka would appreciate it quite so much as something like, "I already know you're pleasant enough to spend an evening with, why not a night?"
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Gustavain is starting to become aware that Mikka maybe doesn't think super highly of himself. Perhaps it's simply that no one has ever been quite so obvious. Well, more for him, then, he supposes, or at the very least, their loss.
"If you invite me back to your tent, we don't have to stop talking when I finish my wine," he offers, "And you can set the pace for anything else. I enjoy the all the rest of it, and would absolutely enjoy it with you," he wants to make that abundantly clear, "but I don't care to make you uncomfortable. But yes, if you'd have me, I'm certainly interested"
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Whatever the case he did smile at the plainspoken offer, heartened by the clarification.
"I... think I'd like that, actually. I can't say I've experience with all the rest as you put it," Might as well be clear with that even if his cheeks reddened a bit more at the admission. "But if you've the patience for such, it is something I-I think I would like to try."
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"It'd be an honor. And a pleasure, I'm sure," there's a warm lilt to his voice when he says that, teasing but only in the best way. "And again, if you find anything not to your liking, I'll be just as happy with the bed and the additional warmth in the night," there's that openly sly expression a moment later, "Though I will certainly endeavor to leave you with nothing to complain about."
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"Whatever happens, I can't say I'd complain about the extra warmth regardless, I'm a warm weather sort through and through." A soft chuckle, brows lifting. "But call it a wild guess, I'm thinking I'll have naught to be upset about regardless."
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"I usually like to fully enjoy my wine, but I find myself willing to make an exception this evening..."
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"Please, lead on, then, unless you have a tab to close?" He's not sure whether this young man has found an actual room somewhere or if they're destined for a tent out in the encampment, but it really doesn't matter much. He's a bit worried about keeping their voices down if they're out in the field somewhere, but it's more for Mikka's sake and politeness than caring if the whole world knew what he was up to.
He was already looking forward to the evening, but he hadn't been looking forward to the part where he had to fish for someone to take him home, so skipping all of that and going straight to the good part is more than fine by him, a delightful turn of events.
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"My room's not too far." He'd fussed that they could just give it to someone else, it wasn't like he was going to be there long enough to need it, but a room he had. At least this time he supposed it was a good thing he had it, rather than worrying about noise in a tent. As it was he just reached lightly to take Gustavain's hand with a shy little grin as they headed out, the little glowing carbuncle leading the way in the dim evening.
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"Oh, you're one of the lucky ones," he comments when he sees that Mikka not only has a room but a decent room. Truthfully, though, he does know luck has little to do with it. Mikka is either someone very rich or very important or both to have scored accommodations like this.
Not that that's going to stop him. It's just an interesting detail.
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"The bed is a good perk," He replied with a soft laugh. True enough for all he didn't have much time to enjoy the room typically. "Make yourself comfortable."
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