Cyrus the Flailboat (fringeward) wrote in emillion, @ 2014-06-05 09:13:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !log, cyrus colle, esther glass |
Who: Esther & Cyrus
What: Returning a favor
Where: The Bazaar District
When: Noon yesterday
Rating: Tamest of tame
Status: Complete
Though Esther had told Cyrus she would show him a place to eat in exchange for his help with the chocobo, that had merely been to keep up appearances. She would have happily shown him whatever he required with little prompting, his company such a breath of fresh air that Esther was charmed. However, as an engaged lady, it would not do to be seen in the company of an unfamiliar man without plausible reason (or plausible deniability). The Bazaar no longer had as many places, but there were sprouting up again — some make-shift stalls among rubble, others taking advantages of the reconstructions to add space and changes. There were some positive things coming from this, and Esther thought that when everything was done, it would be a beautiful district to visit once more. For now she lingered at the edge discreetly, trailed from a respectful distance by the guards that had been assigned to keep any troublemakers with grudges against mages away. Her outfit a careful balance between adequate without being ostentatious — comfortable, but not an outfit that she would have ever worn on a long chocobo ride. He was late, though not for lack of trying. He’d started to learn the areas around Shieldwyrm and Bahamut, but this was neither; even with his route marked on the map he’d finally acquired, he’d been forced to detour around a construction zone, and it had taken him longer than he’d hoped to get where he was supposed to be, despite leaving nearly an hour early to arrive on time. Cas probably had some wisdom somewhere about making women wait just the right amount of time (not too short, not too long), but frankly Cyrus wasn’t thinking that deeply about it. So when he finally spotted her, his grin was relieved as he jogged over. He’d done the best he could with his clothing, too, though everything he owned was well-worn and plain. Still, the white shirt, bleached an eye-searing white by the guildhall’s laundress, had to count for something, didn’t it? “I’m sorry I’m late,” he said, once he’d drawn level with her. he gave a curious look to the men lingering in the distance, lowering his voice as he asked, “Is there… trouble?” They didn’t seem to be of a mind to cause any, but one just never knew. Esther beamed when he appeared (a little late but nothing horrific) and she lifted one arm to wave enthusiastically; she didn’t courtesy or touch him in greeting, considering a plain smile and wave to be sufficient. His plain attire was noted, a reminder of the different stations they held, but not something Esther considered distasteful, just another little piece of the puzzle Cyrus Colle was. “It is no trouble, I hope you were not lost or delayed by some problem.” There seemed to be enough of that going around already and had opened her mouth to say so when he enquired about trouble. She cast a quick glance over her shoulder, “Oh, no! They’re with me — you know it isn’t safe for mages to be out without protection. It is not an issue, I hope?” “Oh, no, no problems.” The lost part, well. He was practically accustomed to it by now. “Anyway, thank you for waiting for me, and I’m sorry for making you wait. Though I guess you had company.” The presence of the men took on a different meaning once she explained, and he relaxed a little. Though… Well, he didn’t have to tell her he was disappointed to have company. She’s just being friendly, Cy, you great big idiot. “I’m sorry that’s necessary, is all,” he said. “If there’s a problem, I’ll help, too.” Though most people didn’t start problems in the street with tall, muscular, armed men, he’d found. Poor Esther, that she didn’t feel safe leaving her own house! She was clearly a good, sweet, kind person -- why would anyone blame her for anything at all? His stomach growled then, signaling an end to his reverie. He chuckled self-consciously, scratching at the hair at the back of his head (getting long, time to find a likely squire with a pair of scissors), and said, “So… lunch?” “It is alright, it cannot be helped for now. My father does not have to worry if he knows I’m not about town on my own.” She gave him a grateful smile, “Thank you, I feel very safe then.” In truth, she felt more touched that he would offer to help (not that it should have been surprising from what she had seen of him). She still found it daunting that there truly could be such a transparent person about, most facades of this kind had a crack or two. Esther took his arm as he steered him across the street to several makeshift stalls among the rubble. “A lot of restaurants are gone but the food is still very good, what would you enjoy having? A little bit of everything?” “I’m sure he is glad to know you are safe,” Cyrus said approvingly. Not that he remembered his own parents at all, but he could commend the man he’d never met for watching out for his daughter’s safety, even if he had to wonder just how much more mages were paid than typical Rangers or even Fighters’ Guild associates, to afford a protective detail so easily. “I like food,” he said simply. “I mean, I pretty much eat everything. Captain Yurgen says --” I’m a hopeless bottomless pit “uh, that I’m not hard to please. When it comes to food. And you know this area and I don’t, and I’m sure you’ve got great taste -- in food.” How many times can I say food in one breath, let’s find out. Bad enough that she had accused him of flailing, but even though he tried not to, it was difficult around her. “You should choose,” he finished. “I’m sure whatever you pick will be perfect.” She suppressed the urge to giggle and give him a pat, the man was endearing in his awkwardness, and Esther was barely resisting pointing that out. From his circular sentences and gestures, for her it was like having something shiny and new to satiate her curiosity with. (Curiosity could be a cruel instinct to follow, pulling wings off butterflies to understand how they worked — but Esther had never been that kind of curious). It was a simple joie de vivre that filled her. Slipping both her hands on his arm to tug him, Esther guided him among the rubble, to where a leftover arch still stood, “I like this place, it is … well, I think the brokenness of it gives it an unusual feel.” To say the least. “Come on —” A little ways further in were several street stalls lined up on the left, using rubble and pieces of tents as counters and roofs. Different food was being prepared, while on the right side there were small wooden tables and chairs, filled with customers. “Before the attacks, several of these stalls had their own restaurants, but since — anyway, now the owners have all set up an agreement and share stalls down here, share the sitting space for all their customers. It makes the food variety great, and I don’t know — I just like it.” Esther liked the smell of spices in the air, the awkward creak of the chairs when pulled back, she liked to see the people who came and went here. It was not her place but she thought it was ‘special’ in its own way, something worth sharing with her new friend. For his part, Cyrus looked around with eager curiosity, taking in the details of the surrounding scene, so unexpected after passing under the broken arch. This spot seemed to be popular, too -- this time of day, many of the tables were occupied, and many smells, savory and sweet, mixed in the air, underscoring the buzz of conversation and laughter. “I can see why you’d like it. It feels a little like home,” he said. “Everyone banding together, I mean.” Back at the outpost, work and rewards were shared -- this sort of variety wasn’t common, but the feeling was the same. He’d have to try to remember where this place was so he could find it again later (even if that seemed a plan doomed to failure). With a smile, he turned to her as he said, “Everything smells delicious! Which is your favorite? We’ll visit there.” And for once, he hadn’t given all his gil away. Sure, she’d said she’d show him a place to eat, but he could already imagine the ribbing he’d get from any of his brothers-in-arms if it was discovered he’d let a woman -- who wasn’t even a colleague! -- pay for his meal. However, Esther had her ways (and she liked getting her way too) and keeping true to her word she would make sure that he spent no gil on the food today. Maybe she would have to play dirty and flutter her eyelashes to distract him, but it was fine; there was no one here to judge her behaviour. |