[ She has seen the sort of simple man he is from time to time. The head maid had always mentioned he rarely ate as a noble lord might, instead opting to eat as he would of in his days as a soldier. Not to mention he prefers his armor over the finer trappings of a lord. His social activities are with a small group of people he considers his family as opposed to large parties or dinners. Aymeric is a far simpler man than many give him credit for, but Alkaid finds it all the more endearing. She only hopes that her simplicity may compliment his.
Home, to her, is most certainly where he and her sister might be. Yet, she finds that Manor Borel is their home. Not simply because he inherited it from his true parents--those that loved and raised him--but it is the place that brings a smile to her face when she thinks of it. She remembers looking at the paintings of Lords and Ladies Borel past and quietly realizing that it would mean that she and Aymeric would have theirs added to the long line. While perhaps not direct blood, Alkaid could not remember having the same feeling of connection to her clan. Standing there with the quiet realization of the family line she would be joining and its legacy? That, to her, was enough to cement the idea that Manor Borel was to be their home. Their wedding would need to be in Ishgard under the goddess that they worship.
In a way, it felt more like a clan than she ever felt in hers.
She feels as if she is melting into his hold when he pulls her against him. She leans all that she has into him. A shiver runs through her body as if to demonstrate how cold she is on the inside and outside. ]
...Aymeric. [ Her voice is soft, but filled with unending love. Permission, consent, the word hardly matters as his name serves as a note that she needs his warmth. His strength, his love. Whatever warmth in whichever fashion is to be given she feels starved of.
Her eyes drift shut as she stands there then, only able to by his support. A tear or two manage to slide down her cheeks. She had been so afraid that his tempering would have damaged them to be like this--how they have been since the one simple conversation one night in Ishgard. However, it seems as Aymeric's stubbornness benefits them in this regard, and she thanks both their patron goddesses for it.
Her hands raise to curl into his shirt. They should continue to move before night sets in and it truly does become cold. She finds it difficult to move at all in that moment, as if her feet are sunken into the ground. Her face presses further into his shirt as wave after wave of heavy emotions seem to roll off her. She is trying to shed it all so they might go--so he can warm her as he wishes to. Yet, it feels there is so much and that it might never stop. Not until she can tell him more of the First and the people she left behind there.
Truthfully, she wishes to curl into his arms and be as they normally are. She knows they both have wounds on their hearts that, perhaps, can only be mended by them being as they are in more intimate setting. Touches, conversations, perhaps even being together as one again. Now is far from the time or place, but, her heart practically shouts in her mind.
Her eyes open as a realization comes to mind. She does not know Corethas as well as Aymeric, of course, but perhaps they might attempt to see there. Where else could those on this side of the region go to find shelter that is a distance from Ishgard? Alkaid looks up at him. ]
Monument Tower. [ A hand leaves his shirt to point westward, but never leaves the comfort of his hold. ] If there's anyone here... they would have gone there. The Vigils are too chaotic and dangerous.
[ And, in a cave near the Tower, stands the stone dedicated to Halone. Ishgardians are deeply religious. Where else could they turn to but their Goddess? ]
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Home, to her, is most certainly where he and her sister might be. Yet, she finds that Manor Borel is their home. Not simply because he inherited it from his true parents--those that loved and raised him--but it is the place that brings a smile to her face when she thinks of it. She remembers looking at the paintings of Lords and Ladies Borel past and quietly realizing that it would mean that she and Aymeric would have theirs added to the long line. While perhaps not direct blood, Alkaid could not remember having the same feeling of connection to her clan. Standing there with the quiet realization of the family line she would be joining and its legacy? That, to her, was enough to cement the idea that Manor Borel was to be their home. Their wedding would need to be in Ishgard under the goddess that they worship.
In a way, it felt more like a clan than she ever felt in hers.
She feels as if she is melting into his hold when he pulls her against him. She leans all that she has into him. A shiver runs through her body as if to demonstrate how cold she is on the inside and outside. ]
...Aymeric. [ Her voice is soft, but filled with unending love. Permission, consent, the word hardly matters as his name serves as a note that she needs his warmth. His strength, his love. Whatever warmth in whichever fashion is to be given she feels starved of.
Her eyes drift shut as she stands there then, only able to by his support. A tear or two manage to slide down her cheeks. She had been so afraid that his tempering would have damaged them to be like this--how they have been since the one simple conversation one night in Ishgard. However, it seems as Aymeric's stubbornness benefits them in this regard, and she thanks both their patron goddesses for it.
Her hands raise to curl into his shirt. They should continue to move before night sets in and it truly does become cold. She finds it difficult to move at all in that moment, as if her feet are sunken into the ground. Her face presses further into his shirt as wave after wave of heavy emotions seem to roll off her. She is trying to shed it all so they might go--so he can warm her as he wishes to. Yet, it feels there is so much and that it might never stop. Not until she can tell him more of the First and the people she left behind there.
Truthfully, she wishes to curl into his arms and be as they normally are. She knows they both have wounds on their hearts that, perhaps, can only be mended by them being as they are in more intimate setting. Touches, conversations, perhaps even being together as one again. Now is far from the time or place, but, her heart practically shouts in her mind.
Her eyes open as a realization comes to mind. She does not know Corethas as well as Aymeric, of course, but perhaps they might attempt to see there. Where else could those on this side of the region go to find shelter that is a distance from Ishgard? Alkaid looks up at him. ]
Monument Tower. [ A hand leaves his shirt to point westward, but never leaves the comfort of his hold. ] If there's anyone here... they would have gone there. The Vigils are too chaotic and dangerous.
[ And, in a cave near the Tower, stands the stone dedicated to Halone. Ishgardians are deeply religious. Where else could they turn to but their Goddess? ]