dravanicide | IC Inbox (Snowblind)

[it's too loud.

that's all that francel can think as he sits in a clean corner of building 222, the shattered-glass apartment. while estinien and aymeric are busy enjoying their new animal companions, and haurchefant admires his new leather collar, francel has set his copy of the enchiridion in his lap and is sitting very still and quiet in one corner. something about being lost in the maze hasn't left him. he pictures it again. that hellish white landscape; the twisting corridors; lutha spitting at his feet. he was scared. alone. fragile. helpless.

they were right about me, he thinks, and when he tries to put a face to the word they he finds himself unable.

there's a strand of hair in front of him, but somehow even the compulsion to pick that up doesn't move francel from his seat. it could be one of estinien's hairs, but it might also be from the long tail of aymeric's cat. it's not worth moving over. his thoughts are in total disarray.

for some reason, all he can think of as his fingers reach for a shard of glass on the ground is i wonder if anyone will notice.]

[Francel is not alone with such thoughts of the white maze they had all been lost within. Estinien proved himself as stoic as ever, even if his mind has been busy with such an abstract experience. It helps even less that at the end he would get this karakul. The one that is presently besides him, unwilling to leave his side.

Estinien attempts to not acknowledge it while the others are looking, but it's not so easily accomplished with their numbers. In one such attempt, his eyes wander to the youngest of their group—the young lord who has found himself a corner to brood in. The sight alone is enough to irritate him, but when he sees him reach for a shard of glass.

Curious, he thinks idly to himself, before he approaches him, the karakul close at his heels.]

Looking to arm yourself?

[It's stated more than asked, but the way he looks Francel over does not lend itself to believing the answer to his question is yes.]

...I was just thinking about the fragility of glass.

[he lifts the shard of glass up and attempts to hold it to the nearest light source, but it's rather evenly dark in the building, and there's nothing that could illuminate the piece.]

Things that are broken have such little use... no, perhaps this never had any use at all.

Feeling a kinship with it, I wager.

[His tone isn't as harsh as it normally is, perhaps the slightest hint of humor to it.]

That white abyss of a labyrinth certainly did not lend itself to soothe us in our situation. Regardless of what questionable "gifts" it bestowed upon us. Shallow comforts, or cruel mockery, I am hard pressed to decide which is a more apt description.

Mm.

[that's as far as he'll acknowledge feeling like broken glass. he tosses the shard back into one of the cleaned-up piles, turning his gaze back toward the holy book in his lap.]

...If you would know the truth, I... I do feel mocked. That anyone would give me the Enchiridion now, after all this time...

Aye. I care not to get into particulars...

[He trails off a bit as he glances at the karakul at his side, who is blissfully staring off into nothing at the moment.]

But 'twould seem our captors know far more about us than I feel a right comfort in. To capture and confine us is one thing, but to bequeath us with objects of personal sentiment... 'tis quite another.

'Tis not that which disturbs me...

[it's not that francel is bothered by the fact that the powers that be in norfinbury seem to know his deepest, darkest secrets. as far as he's concerned, those might as well be on full display. it's just...

estinien and aymeric received real, living creatures — things that loved them, or that were loved by them. haurchefant was gifted with a token bearing his family crest, a reminder of everything he'd worked to become.

francel got the book in which he'd written all his regrets.

but this feeling of emptiness isn't something he could explain to a friend, much less to a traveling-companion who doesn't even like him very much, so francel refocuses his gaze on the empty-headed karakul. his lips twitch into something that much be a smile.]

...At least we might feed this one on paper. Aymeric's cat is quite another problem. Do not cats require meat for sustenance? I know not what we might provide for it...

[Though curiosity would press him to ask what else was there to be disturbing in this matter, he felt himself far more compelled to remain silent. It's true that he did not care for Francel much, in fact, a lot of Francel's general personality clashed with a lot of Estinien's general way of being. As such, should the young lord share with him such turmoil over his gift, Estinien would not offer him words of comfort.

Though, perhaps he would not exactly chastise him either. This place enjoyed playing its captives for fools, either with tricks, monsters, or mockery. If anything, he may even somewhat pity Francel to some degree. For he is not a man made to endure such trials.

The mention of Aymeric's cat draws an annoyed noise from Estinien, and with a glance in Aymeric's direction, he curtly replies:]

You are not alone in your line of questioning. 'Tis true such a creature must needs eat meat to survive. Though, little can I complain if we do not find any.

[It's said in jest, but his delivery reads more as cruelty than anything else.]

[francel at least has enough energy to raise a brow at estinien's words.]

You would prefer that his cat simply died?

'Twould certainly be one less agitation to worry ourselves over.

[The delivery is about as lively as the stones in boulder downs, to be quit honest.]

IC Inbox (Snowblind)

@joacin; action; day 196

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