gurabad | 016 » it's a shot in the dark but i'll make it

[ There is no answer. Heads turn, searching glances sweep around the campsite, ending in looks exchanged. A murmur goes through the assembled group. The Stones, are they taken, he'll not make it far on foot, mayhap he took a spill in the dark and broke his neck. (Mustadio has the grace to hint at other reasons why a man might wander off in the early hours.) Faith in Ramza's judgment wins out, hushing doubts and accusations; his companions look to him for the final say. Do they go or do they give the unexpected new addition to their number a chance to show his face?

For his part, Isilud had every intention of returning come dawn. Sleep remained a grudging bedmate, after he and Ramza retreated to their tents, the meager hours of a shortened night filled with tossing and turning and a relentless sense of dread. He would close his eyes and see his father, engulfed in an unnatural bright glow, his father's features stretching and splitting, giving way to the monster they had held concealed — and death on such a scale, and his mind replaced those mangled, blood-smeared corpses with his sister's form.

This chafed, to feel so helpless.

Slipping out again, beyond the edges of their camp, he took it upon himself to be an asset in some small way by scouting ahead. The stretch of road to Bervenia is familiar terrain, but in these times of unrest, there is no telling what awaits; least of all what might await an alleged heretic and his band of followers, who have made enemies on every side.

And sure enough, soldiers patrol the mountains.

In Isilud's race against the sunrise, the sun comes out the victor, well and truly risen by the time that he arrives back at camp, to frowns that tell him wordlessly what the others must think. ]

— Isilud!

[they are packed, and assembled, and ready to ride off without isilud by the time he arrives.

ramza's grim expression brightens immediately upon noticing the brunet's approach on the horizon, and, although he's in the middle of strapping on boco's bridle, he abandons the task immediately in favor of running off to meet isilud halfway — and then, once he's there, he seizes both of isilud's hands as though greeting an old friend. words spill over his lips before he's thought twice about them.]

Gods above, I thought you'd —

[and then ramza, quite suddenly, notices what he's done with his hands, and lets go immediately, trying to look for all the world like the capable leader he's supposed to be.]

That is — you gave us quite the fright. Where did you go?

[ Ramza greets him with relief — did he fear his trust betrayed? — not anger, not the faintest trace of it. Lack of sleep rears its head, and Isilud gazes back stupidly for what may be an entire long minute, hands hanging in mid-air even after Ramza's have released them. Finally, he lowers them and remembers to speak. ]

Forgive me... [ Will asking Ramza's forgiveness and thanking him become a staple of their conversations? ] I meant to return sooner. We ought take another route — Dugeura Pass is like to bring us trouble.

[ But first, it appears, his legs decide that now is the time to act in protest against being pushed past their current limits to hurry, and he takes a clumsy, stumbling step that forces him to make a grab for the nearest thing to steady himself. ]

Trouble? Of what sort?

[but ramza does not receive an answer — instead, he receives one very tired isilud tengille (x1), in danger of falling, so of course, ramza instinctively steps forward to bear the brunt of the young man's weight. hands on both shoulders, should be easy enough — or so he thinks, but isilud proves to be heavier than expected, and ramza isn't squaring his feet the right way, and he doesn't get the chance to correct his footing before —

— before he finds himself flat on his back in the grass, staring at the blue sky.

so much for trying to look dignified in front of everyone.]

...I take it you did not rest as I bid you to.

[ He was standing, a moment ago. Now he lies sprawled across Ramza, thankfully still in possession of both eyes despite Ramza's armor, while their gathered audience looks on. Forgive me very nearly makes it past his lips once more, and perhaps they could use his face to fry eggs for their breakfast.

Once he lets Ramza up. Quite possibly turning several new shades of red, Isilud removes his hands from Ramza's arms and his knees from where they bracket Ramza's legs, sitting back on his heels and extending one hand again for Ramza to take.

Ramza, all of them, they must think him careless, more trouble than he is worth. ]

I... Are you hurt?

[ Are you hurt, he asks, as if he has never done worse than knock Ramza off his feet and crush him slightly. ]

Not at all.

[ramza, past his initial surprise at falling, is still wearing his usual stoic expression, all brown eyes and lowered lashes, not red-cheeked in the least. he doesn't seem embarrassed at all, despite rapha's giggling from somewhere far away — better, he thinks, that our group laughs at isilud than dislikes him — so he's probably not angry with the knight, but then, he rather pointedly ignores isilud's outstretched hand in favor of pushing himself off the ground instead.]

As I was saying, what sort of trouble?

[ Even Ramza's patience grows thin, Isilud supposes with something of a sinking feeling. His embarrassment is granted no time to wane; someone laughs, a few someones, and his hand is still poised between Ramza and himself, pointlessly. Ramza has his pride, too, of course. Likely that, not his body, is bruised.

It is another hand that grips Isilud's — it belongs to Mustadio, who has made his way over to them, wearing a look that poorly disguises unmistakable mirth. The machinist offers his assistance alongside a friendly quip about attacks better unleashed upon their foes and informs Ramza how well the leaves caught in his hair suit him.

The ground beneath his feet and no longer his knees, Isilud takes precautions. He adjusts his stance, shakes his head to clear it. ]

I saw lights... Last I heard, Goltanna's men are stationed in those mountains.

[ramza's irritation is more plainly displayed once he takes mustadio's cue and tries to brush the leaves out of his hair — but he's forgetting the fact that he's clad in full armor, and a few blond locks get caught between the plates of his gauntlet. he hisses softly as the hairs get yanked out of his scalp, then stares at the offending gauntlet as though it has personally betrayed him.

this is, somehow, mustadio's fault, and ramza throws the machinist a look even more unimpressed than the one he has just given his gauntlet.]

We — rrgh — we had best avoid altercations with the Order of the Southern Sky as much as possible. What other routes would you prescribe?

[ He isn't thinking, and he reaches for the end of a stubborn leaf clinging to its newfound spot nestled between Ramza's hair at the same time as Mustadio does. Their hands make a strange roof of sorts above Ramza's head before Isilud thinks better of it and steps back. Mustadio, none the worse for wear though he is placed in league with Ramza's gauntlet, clears his throat a little too loudly and emphatically for it to be anything but an attempt to smother laughter.

The affliction is catching. Isilud's eyes widen; he bites the inside of his cheek.

Right. Other routes. ]

... They lengthen our journey, but if we keep towards Gollund and make for Bervenia, we should reach the city in another half a week or thereabouts.

[somewhere by the chocobos, agrias is clearing her throat, looking for all the world as though she'd like to get moving.

the young beoulve tolerates the hands attempting to groom him with all the resignation of a prized family cat: he looks sulky, but he doesn't actually do anything to fight it. once the leaf is removed from its seat upon ramza's head, he stands up, fixing isilud with the steely gaze he normally reserves for his enemies in battle.]

Please, tell me if aught is amiss. You wandered off to scout our path early in the morning, you told no one of where you were going or where you planned to be, and now you are suggesting a route that will delay us some four days in order to avoid the notice of Duke Goltanna's men.

Have I misconstrued this situation?

[ Ramza, despite his stature, manages to be imposing in bearing. Isilud saw it before, when they clashed at Orbonne, when he closed his ears to what he dismissed as nonsense, perhaps madness. The reproach is mild enough and justified, but it stings, and it quickly does away with any amusement.

In his dismay, Isilud surges forward a step, hands spread. ]

Ramza, my intent was to help-- Would you have me wake you without good cause?

[ Had he spoken with the sentries, they would have grown suspicious. For all they know, after all, his plans could have been to reveal Ramza's to the Church.

But even as he presents his case, he knows that nothing he has done since his departure has been of help — better he had stayed and lent a hand to pack their things than this. And in truth, giving Ramza one Stone is too little, too late. He knows, and he cannot expect the people he would have cut down scant days prior to gift him their full trust.

Mustadio excuses himself with a wave of his hand towards the chocobos and a pat for Ramza's shoulder, leaving Isilud and Ramza to their confrontation, this one bladeless. ]

[in response, ramza maintains eye contact.

he stares — just long enough to make isilud sweat for another moment... and then, finally, after what feels like several long minutes but which in reality is a mere fifteen seconds, ramza raises one finger as if to silence isilud's protests —

— and taps it against the knight's chest.]

...You have done well.

[he raises a second finger and taps it against isilud's chest.]

Should you do something so foolish a second time, it will be my sword through your breast, and not a Lucavi demon's. Am I understood?

[turning away, ramza raises his voice and addresses the group.] Clear out! We make for Gollund!

[ Steeled for harsher words, Isilud is certain that he misheard when no such thing comes. Praise, a threat, the matter settled — Ramza takes him by surprise at every turn. It renders him speechless, mouth agape as he stares after Ramza, his hand placed against his chest until he sits astride one of their mounts, the party heading off at last.

This time, the handful of uneasy glances and careful scrutiny escape Isilud's notice.

Dugeura Pass would have meant a shorter journey, across steep rock and narrow trails. Instead they pass through Lesalia's grasslands, which grow sparser the closer they draw to the snow-covered highlands surrounding the town of Gollund. Were they to ride through the night, they might arrive at Bervenia's gates a day sooner than predicted — or the chocobos might stage an uprising against their riders. ]

[what ramza does not mention is that he learned that particular method of doling out praise and punishment from zalbaag — and also, that zalbaag would usually poke his forehead rather than his chest, but it would have been difficult for ramza to reach that far up comfortably.

he chooses the longer route to bervenia, not out of insufficient love for alma, but an equal love of his people. experienced field commander though he may be, ramza does not like the idea of unnecessary bloodshed; any battle is one in which he runs the risk of losing one of his allies, and every battle won is merely one in which he has to take more lives. better to avoid conflict than run into a trap knowing full well that he will have to kill hapless knights under duke goltanna's banner, who, in the end, are merely trying to earn a living.

and alma will be fine. she will be safe. he has to believe that.

with no further words exchanged, they ride on.

by the time they approach gollund, the chocobos look rather eager to be fed and watered, ladd is complaining about his armor again, and several in the group express a wish to nurse their aches and bruises in a warm bed. ramza has few objections. he knows well the need to keep morale high — and, more importantly, he chose the path to gollund knowing that it would take much longer to traverse. it might do them some good to take a longer rest.

as with all things, ramza's party has a procedure for entering towns. they walk in small groups, the better to not look like an invading army, but they make no attempts to hide their association; the official story is that they are traveling mercenaries. agrias — again the only one besides ramza considered responsible enough to manage their communal funds — is dispatched to make room reservations. gollund is a mining town, with few amenities save for its pub and its inn; most in the group opt to visit the former, in order to knock back a few drinks and share some hearty stories of battle. even heretics bent on cleansing ivalice of demons must take time to attend to their earthly desires, ramza supposes.

ramza's status as a wanted heretic matters very little except to ordained inquisitors and bounty hunters, so he does not usually bother to disguise himself, but he wears a cloak to hide his face in gollund — primarily because it is cold, and he likes the extra warmth. in times like these, he has little to do save stand outside the inn, watching his people enjoy themselves while he breathes on his hands to keep them warm.]

[ Gollund's air is thin, crisp with cold, and smoke-laced. Isilud breathes it gladly, for the chill wrenches him out of the exhausted haze he brought upon himself, succeeding where force of will alone came close to failing and pitching him off the saddle. Though Mustadio invites him to join the others at the tavern, he declines, claiming the need to stretch his legs — let them have their peace, unsoured — and chooses instead to pass the time freezing his fingers and toes numb while he keeps an eye on their chocobos and belongings on the other side of a sooty window.

He understands, he thinks, why Ramza agreed to his suggestion only after leading him to believe it discarded. Ramza sees the wider world beyond his goal; the focus of his thoughts must be his sister, but he does not neglect to remember the welfare of his companions, who now seem grateful for this deviation from the straighter route, for such humble comforts as a bed and a bath (no tents, no icy stream). Yet Isilud did act against Ramza's counsel, and so there had to be some form of censure.

Made contemplative, Isilud glances down at himself. Would he have chosen as Ramza did, in Ramza's place? (Had he disregarded his father's orders and Wiegraf's wishes at Orbonne, Wiegraf might yet live.) His forefinger gives his armor's breastplate a tap.

The chocobos are undisturbed, and any living creature's body has its demands — Isilud's reminds him that Mustadio's invitation means a warm hearth and a meal. Refusing will not transport them to Bervenia in an instant, nor locate Alma, nor slay all Lucavi at once. It will take its toll on him.

To his surprise, he soon catches sight of Ramza stood outside the inn as though keeping watch there, apart from his friends, at least until Agrias appears beside him. It could well be a moment they wish to spend together uninterrupted, and with no one nearby to eavesdrop.

"A word, Ramza, if you've the time," Agrias begins. She casts a glance about, continues in hushed tones. "Was Bervenia your thinking or Ser Isilud's? Know that I trust to your judgment, but I would not see your trust abused." ]

[ramza is relaxed around agrias in a way that he is not when he is with isilud, or even mustadio — he closes his eyes when she joins him, his posture at ease, his expression soft and dreamy. his moments of weakness are few and far between, and lady agrias sees most of them, by virtue of the fact that she can be trusted to stand vigil while he rests.

the noble heretic and the stalwart protector. the scene is almost picturesque.

"ser isilud suggested our course," he replies, his voice even, "but his plans align with my own. in truth, i mean for zeltennia, not bervenia. i would speak with count orlandeau of the southern sky — and with delita."

mention of this delita makes agrias bristle visibly. ramza holds up one hand as if to silence her, but it pulls the hem of her traveling-cloak instead, like a gentle admonishment.

"i know you are not fond of the man, lady agrias," ramza continues, "but he was my friend, once, and though he does not walk the path we do, i know that no harm will befall princess ovelia so long as he yet watches over her."

"you mean while he yet has use for her," agrias snaps — but, seeing ramza's unwavering expression, she settles, and in response, ramza lets go of her cloak.

for a moment, they watch the snowflakes dance in midair.

"you do not trust isilud," ramza offers, by way of conversation.

"no," is agrias's blunt reply.

if ramza is perturbed by agrias's obvious anger, he does not show it. he understands. she loses sight of herself when it comes to princess ovelia, as he loses sight of himself when it comes to alma. "he means to negotiate with his sister in bervenia. meliadoul — another knight templar. if he can convince her of our cause, our enemies will number one fewer and our allies one greater. is that not worth the risk of falling into a trap?"

ramza's voice shifts; it is softer, quieter. he speaks with less cold reason and more warm emotion.

"i have known men to lie about many things, lady agrias," he says, softly, almost soft enough that isilud cannot hear, "but i have never known one to lie about his love for his sister. have you?"]

[ Silence follows Ramza's words, broken only by the sounds of a town's activity slowing for the evening, and finally, a sigh. Agrias speaks no more of trust or sisters, but her rigid posture relaxes enough to concede in place of a spoken response. Turning slightly, she gestures with a raised hand. "... Our companions begin to ask what keeps you out here. My skill lies in the sword, but a friend's burdens are my own."

Another minute, Isilud resolves, and he will show himself and confess to having overheard the conversation from start to finish. Loath to disturb the pair now, on the one hand, honesty seems a wise course of action, on the other. He shifts his feet upon snow turned to grey ice, letting his head rest against the wall behind him. ]

[silence, again.

ramza does not answer. he simply looks up, staring at the flat grey sky above gollund and its torrent of flakes that blanket everything in white, thinking to himself, saying nothing. as if turning towards the heavens. as if questioning the gods. as if waiting to be buried under the weight of a thousand thousand memories, ramza looks at the sky and does not answer.

"i hate the snow," he says, finally. "it reminds me of everything i hate about myself."

he sighs, then, and when he speaks again it is in a tone that suggests he would like to turn the subject anywhere else. "i suppose the innkeeper has prepared our rooms by now. i'll be going inside — would you care to join me?"

agrias picks up on his cue, shaking her head, choosing not to press further. "no, i had best join the others at the tavern before alicia has had too much to drink. lavian does not help by encouraging her, and..."

the rest of agrias's response is indistinct, as she is walking away from the inn toward the tavern; whatever it is, it must be funny, because ramza laughs (or forces a laugh?), waves, and simply calls "well, you know where i will be if you have need of me!" before he ducks into the inn, intent on warming himself by a fireplace and possibly turning in early for the night.

that leaves isilud, standing cold against the wall.]

Edited 2016-05-31 21:18 (UTC)

[ Ramza's remark, before he cuts off discussion and he and Agrias part ways, is a puzzling thing. What could there be to hate, Isilud wonders, genuinely taken aback. Now that his eyes are opened, they witness glimpse upon glimpse of the good in one man.

Another minute proves a minute too long. Agrias's footsteps fade, as do Ramza's, utter silence left in their wake. The wind picks up, whistling by in the company of a flurry of snowflakes. A change of plans is in order, and Isilud scrambles out from behind the wall, his new destination the inn. As luck would have it, he forgets to duck and avoid a collision with the awning overhead; clipping a low support beam, he knocks loose a small pile of snow that slips its way between clothing and skin and turns his cry of “Wait!” into a yelp.

The last few steps to the inn's door and across its threshold are crossed with no further mishap, if clutching his head and blinking melting snowflakes from his eyes. On the other side, the innkeeper greets him with a pointed look and a grumbled "Take it to another town, boy."

Isilud musters a mystified furrow of his brow, more focused on determining which of their rooms waiting might be Ramza's — or the room he is to take, for that matter. ]

[given that the innkeeper seems to think that isilud is nursing the mother of all hangovers, she most likely won't offer any assistance in finding either ramza's room or his.

the inn is a rather large one, despite the town's modest size; its guests comprise adventurers, mercenaries, and seasonal mining workers alike. complicating matters, ramza is not by the communal fireplace in the inn lobby, likely because it is being used by a group of treasure hunters arguing loudly about the authenticity of a map — but a sufficiently analytical mind such as isilud's can probably track the beoulve down all the same. ramza spent a long time outside in the snow, letting precipitate pile around his shoes; a trail of wet footprints against stone tile takes isilud to the man's room.

when isilud knocks, there is a muffled reply that might be "enter"... or it might be "please wait."

it was probably "please wait."

inside, ramza is sitting on the bed closer to the wall; he has removed much of his armor and has his knit tunic rolled up to his chest while he examines a dark bruise near his hip. if he is annoyed about being interrupted, he doesn't show it — he looks up, and then back down.]

Ser Isilud. Are we sharing this room tonight?

[ The innkeeper may have been reluctant to point him the right way, but Ramza's trail is an easy one to follow, in the end. Rather than stand around outside the room or decide by coin toss whether Ramza bid him to enter or to wait, Isilud pushes the door open and his head through the widening gap between door and frame, then all of him past the doorway. He would announce his intrusion, but instead he closes his mouth, brows knit.

He cannot help but think that a touch of Gollund's chilly air has accompanied them to this room. It hangs about Ramza, between them, in stark contrast to that morning or the night before.

Perhaps it is nothing; he only imagines it out of guilt, or having seen Ramza together with his friends, he now notes these subtle shifts in Ramza's manner. ]

... Are we?

[ Ramza spoke graciously of him to put Agrias's mind at ease, yes, but surely the day has worn away his patience. ]

To tell the truth, I came to speak with you... but you've other matters to attend to.

[ Matters in the shape of that bruise, a basin to wash, rest. ]

We could, if you wish it.

[he pulls his shirt down around the bruise, as if putting it out of sight will make it go away.]

I typically wake to find Ladd or Mustadio in the bed nearest mine, but...

[...but it would not particularly surprise ramza if either of the two happened to spend the night in someone else's bed. this, however, he leaves unsaid out of tact and decency, opting instead to slide off his mattress and walk, barefoot, to isilud at the door. his expression betrays nothing, says little in the way of either chilliness or warmth. perhaps he really is angry with isilud over some undisclosed offense? perhaps it is merely the effect of that odd conversation he'd had with agrias?]

What is it you would discuss?

[ Just when he'd thought the puzzle of Ramza Beoulve solved, he finds himself mistaken. He has done plenty to offend; perhaps Ramza recalls it now, one thing after another stacked high. Perhaps Ramza keeps his doubts well hidden — but he would not lead his men into a trap, if he had cause to believe himself deceived. He would not be glad upon Isilud's return. ]

Ladd or Mustadio?

[ Isilud's gaze drifts towards the beds, over Ramza's head and then back. ]

Then they lay claim to that one...? If you ask it, Ramza, I would share the chocobos' stables. [ A hasty thing to swear, and he immediately reconsiders, but it is said, and if a night spent with the chocobos somehow proves where his loyalties lie, so be it. He will not go back on his word. ]

I... know your companions' worries. I heard you speak with Lady Agrias. But I promise you, I've no plans to deliver you to the Church.

[in response, ramza arches one brow before he breaks into slightly bemused laughter, stepping back from the door as if to welcome the knight in.]

I assure you, Isilud, I am well aware of that.

[and, as if that completely settles the matter, ramza gestures vaguely towards one of the beds, dismissing any further discussion of the possibility of isilud's betrayal.] Worry not — you may rest your head there, and I shall tell Mustadio to take the chocobos' stables.

[ramza withdraws back to his side of the room, sitting once more at the edge of the bed where he was when isilud first walked in, but he does not lift his shirt again, nor does he look as though he might change into more comfortable clothing; he is still wearing the woolen tunic and leather pants he typically dons beneath his armor.]

...What else did you hear?

Edited 2016-06-01 22:52 (UTC)

[ A weight is lifted from him, to hear Ramza laugh, as though a trap laid is the last thing to enter his thoughts, and there it is again, that boyish side to Ramza that tells stories of Ladd's armor and promises in jest to send Mustadio out to a bed of straw. Isilud chances a retort in the same vein. ]

Even though I knocked you to the ground?

[ The beds are small, narrow, but they are the height of luxury after long days and nights of saddles and lumpy tent floors. Not all are so fortunate. By now, Isilud's fingers have thawed out to let him shed gauntlets and greaves; seated and placing the pieces aside, he glances up from the remainder of his task. ]

... All of it. [ He admits it without hesitation. ] Zeltennia, Lady Agrias's concerns — and the rest. It was chance, not calculation, that took me your way, Ramza.

[ But chance is no excuse for his decision to stay, and that knowledge turns him quiet as he studies Ramza across from him before an observation to voice. ]

—You're hurt.

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