[ Aymeric knows very little of what is transpiring outside of the walls of his home, and that is by choice. At first, what remained of his household staff tried to get him to show interest in the goings on in Ishgard by bringing with them stories of things happening around them, but Aymeric continued to show little or not interest in any of it.
For the most part, they chalked that off to the rather dire state that he was in, because he was hardly in good condition at all, and yet he refused their efforts to convince him to be seen by a healer. Of course, they knew the reasons behind his continued refusals, and yet they could not help but worry at the way he seemed to deteriorate almost before their eyes.
Somehow, however, he managed to stand up and move about as the mood took him, and they barely understood how that was possible. The house steward posited that his sudden change gave him a greater endurance than he might have had before, but that said endurance was hardly permanent.
No, it seemed as though Aymeric's health waxed and waned, but he still refused to be looked at by anyone, healer or otherwise. Most of his days were spent alone in his private quarters, and that was how he preferred it.
He did not wish to see or speak to anyone, although there was one notable figure who decidedly ignored Aymeric's wishes, repeatedly breaking through the walls he attempted to set up in his own attempt to get the man to do something.
But Aymeric would not do something. He had no interest in doing much of anything, even without the injuries he'd managed to sustain from a particularly determined dragon. Perhaps a part of him was resigned to letting himself simply pass on because of the wounds he'd received. A dragon's bite was no insignificant thing, after all, and Aymeric had sustained more than one. Still, it was the largest of them that gave him the most trouble. The combination of the smaller wounds and the more dire one worked together to render him unable to move at some points, and only what remained of his once rock solid willpower was enough to see him leave his bed from time to time.
So, at the present, Aymeric remains unaware of anything that his old friend Estinien may or may not be doing. As far as he is concerned, the outcomes of all of Estinien's visits will always be the same. He will not see a healer, and he will not be coaxed out of his gloomy state of mind and heart.
Today, Aymeric is slightly more lucid than other days, and this particular day sees him pacing a very clearly marked circle in his chambers. He feels ill at ease for reasons he doesn't bother to look into, as there is no point in looking into much of anything. On occasion, he hears bits of conversation, and exchanges between the household staff. He thinks that he hears another voice, a voice that he unfortunately knows quite well: Estinien, returned with yet another healer from what Aymeric is able to decipher.
That outcome will not change either. He has had enough of healers. He will not consent to being seen by one, not now and not ever.
Although much of the conversation being held is one that Aymeric cannot hear, he does make out one particular line:
Who would have believed the Lord Commander to brood more than the infamous Azure Dragoon?
Frustration and anger sparks to life inside him, and in a fit of something bordering on rage, he grabs the nearest object (a wooden bucket) and hurls it away from him.
The sudden act throws him off balance, as he is more unsteady than he would care to admit, and he has to throw out a hand to brace himself against the closest wall.
... Perhaps venting his anger was not the best idea nor the brightest. ]
no subject
For the most part, they chalked that off to the rather dire state that he was in, because he was hardly in good condition at all, and yet he refused their efforts to convince him to be seen by a healer. Of course, they knew the reasons behind his continued refusals, and yet they could not help but worry at the way he seemed to deteriorate almost before their eyes.
Somehow, however, he managed to stand up and move about as the mood took him, and they barely understood how that was possible. The house steward posited that his sudden change gave him a greater endurance than he might have had before, but that said endurance was hardly permanent.
No, it seemed as though Aymeric's health waxed and waned, but he still refused to be looked at by anyone, healer or otherwise. Most of his days were spent alone in his private quarters, and that was how he preferred it.
He did not wish to see or speak to anyone, although there was one notable figure who decidedly ignored Aymeric's wishes, repeatedly breaking through the walls he attempted to set up in his own attempt to get the man to do something.
But Aymeric would not do something. He had no interest in doing much of anything, even without the injuries he'd managed to sustain from a particularly determined dragon. Perhaps a part of him was resigned to letting himself simply pass on because of the wounds he'd received. A dragon's bite was no insignificant thing, after all, and Aymeric had sustained more than one. Still, it was the largest of them that gave him the most trouble. The combination of the smaller wounds and the more dire one worked together to render him unable to move at some points, and only what remained of his once rock solid willpower was enough to see him leave his bed from time to time.
So, at the present, Aymeric remains unaware of anything that his old friend Estinien may or may not be doing. As far as he is concerned, the outcomes of all of Estinien's visits will always be the same. He will not see a healer, and he will not be coaxed out of his gloomy state of mind and heart.
Today, Aymeric is slightly more lucid than other days, and this particular day sees him pacing a very clearly marked circle in his chambers. He feels ill at ease for reasons he doesn't bother to look into, as there is no point in looking into much of anything. On occasion, he hears bits of conversation, and exchanges between the household staff. He thinks that he hears another voice, a voice that he unfortunately knows quite well: Estinien, returned with yet another healer from what Aymeric is able to decipher.
That outcome will not change either. He has had enough of healers. He will not consent to being seen by one, not now and not ever.
Although much of the conversation being held is one that Aymeric cannot hear, he does make out one particular line:
Who would have believed the Lord Commander to brood more than the infamous Azure Dragoon?
Frustration and anger sparks to life inside him, and in a fit of something bordering on rage, he grabs the nearest object (a wooden bucket) and hurls it away from him.
The sudden act throws him off balance, as he is more unsteady than he would care to admit, and he has to throw out a hand to brace himself against the closest wall.
... Perhaps venting his anger was not the best idea nor the brightest. ]