francel de haillenarte (
haillenarte) wrote in
gurabad2018-02-09 02:47 pm
Entry tags:
043 » and it's getting hard to know what's real
[the discovery of a fishman in central coerthas might leave naturalists reeling — if only there were any naturalists around.
as it is, francel doesn't quite know what to do with himself. the red-and-white creature that he found lying in the snow at the stretch of hilltop just beyond his house has scales and claws, but not like a dragon — instead, it's more like a fish, with fins and a tail at the back of what appears to be its head. there are fishmen in eorzea, to be sure, but francel has seen illustrations of the sahagin, and he's quite certain that sahagin do not have the features of men — and though the red fishman's eyes remain closed, he seems strangely handsome, with distinct lips and a well-set jaw.
not wishing to immediately kill what might be a sentient creature capable of speech, francel orders his knights to take it indoors — perhaps, he reasons, it has merely passed out from the cold, and could do with some warming by the fireplace.
though his knights follow their orders, they each have their doubts. sylvaintel, ever distrustful, suggests that they kill it first and ask questions later; stephannot, on the other hand, is less wary, but suggests that they tie it up until it can prove that it will not harm them.
francel, for his part, has faith. this is not a sahagin, he thinks, and even if it is, they can be reasoned with.
for now, he is wrapping sidon in blankets by the fire, while his knights bicker in a corner of the room. will the blankets help at all? he isn't sure; the fishman doesn't feel warm to the touch, but it can't hurt to try...]
as it is, francel doesn't quite know what to do with himself. the red-and-white creature that he found lying in the snow at the stretch of hilltop just beyond his house has scales and claws, but not like a dragon — instead, it's more like a fish, with fins and a tail at the back of what appears to be its head. there are fishmen in eorzea, to be sure, but francel has seen illustrations of the sahagin, and he's quite certain that sahagin do not have the features of men — and though the red fishman's eyes remain closed, he seems strangely handsome, with distinct lips and a well-set jaw.
not wishing to immediately kill what might be a sentient creature capable of speech, francel orders his knights to take it indoors — perhaps, he reasons, it has merely passed out from the cold, and could do with some warming by the fireplace.
though his knights follow their orders, they each have their doubts. sylvaintel, ever distrustful, suggests that they kill it first and ask questions later; stephannot, on the other hand, is less wary, but suggests that they tie it up until it can prove that it will not harm them.
francel, for his part, has faith. this is not a sahagin, he thinks, and even if it is, they can be reasoned with.
for now, he is wrapping sidon in blankets by the fire, while his knights bicker in a corner of the room. will the blankets help at all? he isn't sure; the fishman doesn't feel warm to the touch, but it can't hurt to try...]

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It takes him a good fifteen minutes to start to stir. If not for the prickling in his warming limbs, he likely would have slept a little longer. Since the knights are still arguing about his fate, it's Francel he first lays eyes on. A Hylian? What a relief! If he'd been found by moblins, he would probably be roasting on a fire rather than warming up next to one.
His cheeks are still cold, so his smile isn't as wide as it usually would be as he tries to sit up properly. It's still wide enough to show those intimidating teeth of his, and no one would blame Francel for having second thoughts.]
Did you bring me inside? Thank you, my friend!
[Sparkle sparkle.]
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naturally, there can be no doubt that they are all thinking the same thing — that the fishman's voice sounds too much like haurchefant's.
it is francel who shakes off the delusion first. they are all in mourning, and imagining things, he tells himself; he knows too well the timbre of haurchefant's voice to mistake it for this fishman's. nevertheless, being called my friend after so long stirs something in him — a warmth he thought he had lost. unwittingly, he smiles back, undaunted by sidon's rows of razor-sharp teeth.]
No, it was naught worthy of praise. We found you lying in the snow outside. Do you feel alright? Are you hungry, perchance?
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I may be a bit stiff yet for chewing, [he replies, taking that smile down a few notches as he holds out a hand to ask for the Hylian's name... only to realize he hasn't given his own.]
Oh, pardon me! I am Sidon.
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Sidon, is it? A pleasure to meet you! I am Lord Francel de Haillenarte, but pray call me Francel.
[one of francel's knights interrupts at this point — by his softer voice, it must be stephannot. "my lord, perhaps we should call an inquisitor? we would not want, er... any misunderstandings..."]
Well, he speaks for himself, does he not? So there can be no misunderstandings. [turning his attention back towards the fishman, francel smiles again, as if to reassure the prince that he isn't a burden at all.] You aren't too stiff for questions, are you, Sidon?
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Not at all! Though, if it is not too much trouble, perhaps a hot drink would help?
[He doesn't want to be rudely rasping or clearing his throat, after all!]
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["we were saving the hot chocolate for you," sylvaintel grumbles, in his usual way, but he lifts his hand and indicates for stephannot to stand down.]
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I do not have any dietary restrictions. Tea will do nicely, but what is chocolate?
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[francel rises and walks the few short steps to his kitchen — fortunately, everything in his house is laid out within plain sight — and begins fixing the drink at once. it takes only a few moments (stephannot and sylvaintel appear to have moved to the adjacent room to discuss their thoughts — despite their best efforts to be discreet, however, francel can hear their chainmail and their clinking).
at last he resurfaces with the two last cups of hot chocolate he has left in the house — one for himself, and one for sidon. he holds the steaming mug out for sidon to hold.]
Be careful. It's hot.
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Of course, [he says, taking the cup in hand and just holding it for a few seconds before taking a sip.]
...It's marvelous! Yes, thank you. Truly, thank you!
[One thank you is not enough, clearly.]
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I'm glad you enjoy it! You'll be much warmer after drinking it, this I promise you.
Now, ah... Sidon, do you know what you were doing all the way out here, in central Coerthas? You don't seem to be, er... like anything I have seen before.
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...Coerthas?]
I'm afraid I've never heard of Coerthas. Is it in the Tabantha region?
[Oh dear, he shouldn't be asking questions of his host when his host is looking for answers.]
My method of transport was... unusual. There was a strange glowing ring in the domain. Naturally, we thought it might be something the Hylian champion needed to know about, but he's quite busy so we went to investigate before calling him. Once I got close to it, it sucked me inside! I was terribly surprised, and terribly cold. Thankfully, I saw lights in the distance, so I began to head toward them. It seems that I lost consciousness before making it to the light's source. Of course, I am not dressed for such weather, and we Zora become sluggish in the cold.
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[oh dear, oh dear... francel purses his lips, going over sidon's words in his mind.]
I fear Coerthas is not in your Tabantha region. Nor, perhaps, in any place you are familiar with. This portal you spoke of... I believe I may be familiar with such a thing? Some may simply transport a man from one place to another, but other interdimensional rifts are said to be able to bridge worlds, even times...
It may be an outlandish theory, but... perhaps you have come from a world that is not like mine own.
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Then... you have never heard of Hyrule? Are you not a Hylian?
[As fascinating as another world would be, he's really hoping that is not the case. Sidon doesn't think his father could bear the loss of another child.]
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I am an Elezen, and an Ishgardian — that is, I live in the nation of Ishgard. But I am not a Hylian, no. Do I resemble one?
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[Grimacing, he brings a hand up to his chin.]
Was there no one else found near where I was? If not, a man named Link may show up there soon. I have no way of returning on my own, but he should be able to...
[Does he just have to wait here for Link, then? He'll be imposing on him again.]
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I can tell my sentries to keep watch for such a man. With any luck, your companion may come to claim you soon.
[though francel is imagining a sorcerer of great power, rather than a silent, wandering swordsman...]
Is this Link a Zora like yourself?
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[It's a little hard to clearly see the color of Francel's hair by the firelight... Sidon reaches out and lifts a lock of it, nodding to himself.]
His hair, eyes, and skin all have similar coloration to yours. He stands about this tall.
[Even sitting on the floor, Sidon can hold his hand up to Link's height. As Francel suspected, Hylians seem to be about the size of hyur.]
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A-Ah... a man of Hyuran build, blond hair, and blue eyes, then. Yes, we can inform all of our knights immediately... Sylvaintel, if you would...
[he tries to blink his tears away.
"right away, my lord," sylvaintel announces, from the other room, then wanders out into the cold night.]
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Oh...!
[His hot chocolate is set to the side as Sidon grasps both of Francel's hands.]
Is something the matter, my friend? Have I troubled you?
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A-Ah... 'tis nothing, I promise you. Forgive me. I merely — you remind me of an old friend, and... the resemblance is rather uncanny. But it is nothing to worry about, I swear it!
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[Francel seemed a little startled by having his hands grabbed, so Sidon pulls back.]
Well, if there is anything I can do, please let me know. You have already been of great help to me, so I would be more than happy to return the favor!
[With a toothy grin, he pumps his fist energetically. Smile, new friend!]
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or, well — it does help francel's mood, but it doesn't change the fact that he's crying, and that it's already too late for him to stop. despite his best efforts, the tears spill over; a sob rises in his chest. it's really just too much. and yet, it's almost a relief, too — he never thought he'd meet another person like haurchefant, never again in all his days.]
It — I-I'm sorry, you must think me a dreadful fool — really, it is nothing — n-nothing you have done. Only you are — so very much like him —
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Why would I think you foolish? Love does not simply vanish upon a loved one's death. Though it has been a hundred years, I still ache for my dear sister... your sincere feelings are touching, not foolish.
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I... I'm sorry. Please forgive me. Just... allow me this...
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There is no need to apologize, [he says softly.]
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