122 » know i said no love but i want to

[haillenarte]

[Every now and then, Francel thinks that the Heavens' Ward saved his life. Other times, he thinks that's only his own conceit.

It's not as though they're an internationally renowned, world-touring, chart-topping band, of course. The Heavens' Ward is something of a mini-orchestra — a group of twelve fine Ishgardian men who play classical music throughout Eorzea. Sometimes they play in quartets, or in trios; other times, all twelve perform in a full ensemble. They are popular enough to sell out concerts and have millions of subscribers — four or five might even be charitably described as having fangirls — but they're not so popular that they dance eternally in the public eye. Being an unparalleled cellist in today's day and age will never be quite as demanding as being a teenage idol or a pop star in leather pants, after all.

The Heavens' Ward has just finished a performance — one which was slightly more well-attended on account of the fact that the planned setlist included covers of some very popular songs, one of which was featured in a recent blockbuster hit at the movie's climax — and now it's time for the fan meet-and-greet. Members of the Ward will spend some time shaking hands and signing photos, posters, postcards, and sheet music for their dedicated fans before they head off to the VIP lounge to have dinner with those well-heeled or dedicated enough to pay top gil to see their favorite musicians in the flesh.

The curious thing, for Zephirin, must be this: the same young man has bought all three of his last VIP meet-and-greet opportunities.

His name is Francel de Haillenarte, of the famed House Haillenarte (even in Ishgard's modern age, some respect is still afforded to the old nobility) which certainly explains the amount of money that he seems to be willing to pay for this (the VIP tickets involve a not-unreasonable fee for a professional musician's time, but the privilege is above most budgets). The curious thing is that this Francel hasn't asked for much of anything, each and every time he's sat down for dinner with the musician. He's offered Zephirin no albums to sign, no business opportunities to discuss — hasn't even, as some groupies do, pressed the man into taking him to bed. And yet, far from being a moneyed brat with coin to spend on careless trifles, Francel is obviously a true fan; he's attended many concerts and knows most of the Heavens' Ward discography by heart.

He asks seemingly nothing of Zephirin, in short, except to have dinner with him and talk to him like a friend. And yet, at the same time... surely there must be something he wants from all of this?]

Oh, Zephirin. There you are. You were wonderful today!

[Do these dinners alone satisfy him? But if so, then why?]

Comments

[valhourdin]

[ This third time, too, Francel de Haillenarte looks as delighted to see Zephirin as he did each previous time. Truth be told, Zephirin had in fact been wondering whether the young man would return, once again the one to buy his company for the evening, and while he hasn't asked Francel to answer any direct why, let alone to justify his charming loyalty to the Heavens' Ward (and evidently its harpist, in particular), it's unquestionably intriguing. Francel could have opted for a meet-and-greet with Adelphel and Janlenoux instead, for instance, or else he could attempt to request something of Zephirin by now.

Yet each meeting thus far suggests that the young man is content simply to sit with the harpist, chatting over their expensive dinner. Said dinner will be served shortly, and so Zephirin greets Francel with a subtle smile, pulling Francel's chair out for him before he takes his own seat. His fingers curl around the edge of the chair's backrest, moving with the same fluid grace of their gliding across his harp's strings.

There may be certain fans who indeed proposition Zephirin, given an opening, and some have commented specifically on his hands, but Francel seems unlikely to join their number. ]

I'm pleased to hear it.

[ Francel found his contribution to the performance wonderful last time as well, and the time before that, he recalls. Even so, despite his ready praise, he has brought no items with him to collect Zephirin's autograph. ]

It's good to see you again, Francel. How have you been since we last spoke?

[ Perhaps the words have the sound of practiced, polite small-talk, delivered smoothly out of obligation, as if Zephirin merely carries out his duty, bound by the fee that Francel has paid to spend a few hours with him. The interest is genuine, however, and Francel has Zephirin's undivided attention even as dinner is served.

These meetings have proven refreshing, pleasant. They could be approaching friendship. ]

[haillenarte]

Ah... I'm all right. Thank you for asking. All's well, as always...

[By now, Zephirin will know this quite well about Francel: the young man is strangely elusive about his personal life and his daily goings-on — this despite the fact that most fans who meet their idols tend to prattle on about themselves, about their life stories and their problems and how the Heavens' Ward's music saved them, and other such sympathetic nonsense. Francel, by contrast, avoids discussing himself, though it isn't particularly difficult to guess why. He seems to react with shame and self-hatred — not entirely unexpected for a gloomy young man, perhaps.]

I've been looking forward to this concert all week. It was just as lovely as I imagined it would be.

[Imagined, he says with great reverence, as if he's done nothing but fantasize about the concert all week. Still, surely he must entertain some employment — he doesn't quite have the look of the kind of rich boy who lives off of his father's money. Nervously, he tugs at the cuff of his shirt-sleeve.]

I wrote some music of my own after our last conversation... but I don't think it's very good. And I don't know what I'd do with it, in any case. I never thought of myself as a composer...

[valhourdin]

[ And once again, Francel's answers become vague whenever the conversation makes him its subject — but then, three meet-and-greet evenings are hardly enough time to open up to each other, and Francel is quite unlike most other fans. Doubtless he has his reasons to remain reluctant to speak of himself beyond his interest in music. Like the rest of his demeanor, it holds Zephirin's attention.

For the time being, it suffices that Francel has volunteered something of the days between today and their previous meeting: divulging that inspiration struck and led him to complete a composition is more to note as intriguing.

Zephirin regards his companion with calm curiosity, head angled slightly. What are the flaws that Francel perceives in his piece of music? ]

Would you allow me to play your composition?

[ Though Francel didn't share his admission with the expectation that he would receive any such request, Zephirin imagines. ]

[haillenarte]

Oh — would you?

[ As any fan would, Francel reacts with breathless excitement. His face lights up, a sudden sparkle in his dark blue eyes, which are so often clouded more with self-doubt and insecurity. But the insecurity seems to win out, after a moment — as if flustered by his own reaction, Francel looks away, saved in some part by the waiter coming round to bring them some small items like water and warm towels with which to wipe their hands.

Francel takes one up, wrapping its warmth delicately around his fingers, as he stares everywhere but at Zephirin's face, with a touch of pink dusted over his cheekbones. ]

Ah, but it's... it's nothing so fine as that which you're surely used to playing! More just an idea... even just the illusion of an idea, at present. I don't think I've properly thought through the harmonies just yet. I don't feel that it — that it's worthy...

[ ...And yet, the fact that he can even speak of this suggests more thorough thought than most amateur composers are capable of... ]