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Style'd on 'em in this Burberry trench
[ Before the great war, the fourth prince of Torna hadn't had much of an aspiration to do much of anything in the way of politics. That sort of thing had always been set for his elder siblings, especially as the one member of the family so removed from the throne as he (for more reasons than one). He had been content on being the humble lord of the outskirts of the Titan, traveling as he would wish and using his time and skills to help the people he served. But becoming the bearer of the second Aegis-Blade had meant that his wish for a quiet life was over. Soon he had begun hearing others call him a hero, the hero. The Addam Origo, the one who awakened the Aegis and now uses it to defend the world of Alrest.
Yet being thrust into the forefront of the war with an ultra-powerful Blade also meant that he is now in the spotlight. He has the eyes and honor of attention of not just the commonfolk and those directly affected by the war, but those who still sit upon cushions in their manors and worry not of what they might have for supper in the evening. The brokers, the bankers, the diplomats, the nobles... and, of course, the various royals of the Titans.
All of whom seem to be gathered this even of a gala hosted by Mor Ardain.
Despite his lackadaisical nature Addam cleans up fairly well, and tonight he's even allowed one of his retainers to comb his thick mess of silver hair back. Which, honestly, completes the tailored, formal black uniform he wears. Medals from various battles and achievements adorn the left of his jacket, and a regal silken sash stretches from his shoulder to his hip, bearing his family's emblem in gold proudly. "Wow, you actually look like a prince", Mythra had oh-so-dryly commented to him when he had emerged from the guest room of the palace for the evening, to which he only smiled at her. It had been as much as a genuine compliment as he could get from the Aegis in a while. But even with her words on his mind, he had known even then that a gala dealing with the elites of Mor Ardain would be quite the test indeed.
A harrowing one, as it turns out, and it is hours before he even has a moment to himself. Compared to hearing the praise and wonder from those he has rescued and helped before within the hamlets of the Titan-outskirts ravaged by Malos, the words of the lords and ladies seem so shallow. They are not effected by the first Aegis; they live in luxury of the old names of their houses or the new money of the emerging empire; they are safe. Of course not all of them are like that, but it does get tiresome after hearing the same tone for the upteenth time that night, whether it be the praise of men with not-so-subtle hints to invest in their business or the batting eyes of women in his direction, hoping that they may lure a prince this night. It's moments like these that he longs for the quiet campfire among companions as travel-worn yet determined as he is to see peace restored. Of banter and laughter alike, of a good meal scrapped from the area and hunt around them.
All of those companions, save the children, are actually here, he knows that. But it is simply not the same, and not even the pleasant taste of wine upon his tongue can help with that.
Scanning the room he first spots Hugo, the young and bright-eyed emperor. How small he looks without his armor! The nobels that speak with them clearly do not know of what he is actually capable. He is truly a natural among them, and it almost surprises Addam how easily Hugo has adjusted to the practically stifling nature of the gala without a blink of discomfort. The Emperor is far more the ruler than Addam could ever hope to be, and he can't help the bit of wonder and pride at knowing him at all in these formative years. What sort of man will he grow to be, if he is this gracious and grand already? Aegaeon stands next to him like a hand-appointed guard, and it is only because of his stoic stare that the lords do not dare even look at Hugo with even a thought to try using him because of his youth. A little ways off is Brighid, and Addam finds some amusement from the envious stares of many of the ladies as their husbands turn to watch her as she walks by them, blue curls of fire flowing behind her effortlessly. She is-- and will always be-- the belle of the ball. Even if she had decided to wear a wheat sack as a dress this night, she would be as graceful and striking in both beauty and wit as ever. Speaking of blades--
He spots his own and... internally cringes as he watches Mythra juggle two plates of food at once. She, too, has a number of admirers despite the fact that her personality leaves much to be desired. But what intrigue those that draw to her most is, of course, the legends of her power. It is fortunate, then, that Mythra appears willfully oblivious to-- or perhaps pointedly ignoring-- their offers, instead practically ordering them to bring her more samples of basted duck. She likes being in charge for a change. Addam can only pray that she is not leaking any sensitive information. Yet slowly he has come to suspect that the second Aegis is more of an observer of human behavior than someone who interacts with others of her own accord, and so he trusts that she will do nothing untoward to others tonight. At least, not unprovoked. The gala interests her, he surmises, much like how a child would wonder at a glass cross-section of an ant colony.
Addam catches Mythra's golden eyes in his own, because of course she does. The Blade has an uncanny nature to know whenever his thoughts are about her. The Aegis simply scoffs and shrugs one shoulder as if to silently say What? I'm not doing anything!, turning back to her plate.
Smiling a bit to himself, his eyes begin to roam through the room once more as he nurses a bit more of his glass of wine, soon coming upon another member from his band of companions. But actually seeing her causes his smile to vanish in an instant. The poor girl, she looks completely out of her element here. It doesn't matter if Hugo offered her impromptu dance lessons of the more popular waltzes aboard his flagship in preparation of the event. It doesn't matter if he had also had someone come to her and tailor the current dress she wears, which is made of material so fine that it would cost her more than what she makes in five years. It also doesn't matter if there are those in the party that take an interest in her and her own feats-- a knight of Torna, the wielder of Jin, the nation's paragon! She looks lost among the gold and glamour, surrounded by her own admirers, of men seeking her hand in the name of her fame she's crafted by her own strength, of the flattery from those that give their titles to her first as if she should praise them in return just because they exist.... ]
Would you care for a dance, my lady?
[ It will be his hand in front of her, followed by his voice, deeper in tone out of habit at such an event. Yet it's a voice that greets her with the same charisma and courtesy as when he had first met her-- ] It would be my honor; I've only heard great things about you, after all. [ --as well as a at playful glint in his golden eyes as he looks at her, awaiting her response.
Whoever has been talking to her (or trying to) would have quickly stepped to the side as he'd have approached, knowing that whoever the Addam Origo chooses to speak with, he will have his wish. But Addam is not here to demand her attention. He is here to give her an out from how others might be stifling her. ]
Yet being thrust into the forefront of the war with an ultra-powerful Blade also meant that he is now in the spotlight. He has the eyes and honor of attention of not just the commonfolk and those directly affected by the war, but those who still sit upon cushions in their manors and worry not of what they might have for supper in the evening. The brokers, the bankers, the diplomats, the nobles... and, of course, the various royals of the Titans.
All of whom seem to be gathered this even of a gala hosted by Mor Ardain.
Despite his lackadaisical nature Addam cleans up fairly well, and tonight he's even allowed one of his retainers to comb his thick mess of silver hair back. Which, honestly, completes the tailored, formal black uniform he wears. Medals from various battles and achievements adorn the left of his jacket, and a regal silken sash stretches from his shoulder to his hip, bearing his family's emblem in gold proudly. "Wow, you actually look like a prince", Mythra had oh-so-dryly commented to him when he had emerged from the guest room of the palace for the evening, to which he only smiled at her. It had been as much as a genuine compliment as he could get from the Aegis in a while. But even with her words on his mind, he had known even then that a gala dealing with the elites of Mor Ardain would be quite the test indeed.
A harrowing one, as it turns out, and it is hours before he even has a moment to himself. Compared to hearing the praise and wonder from those he has rescued and helped before within the hamlets of the Titan-outskirts ravaged by Malos, the words of the lords and ladies seem so shallow. They are not effected by the first Aegis; they live in luxury of the old names of their houses or the new money of the emerging empire; they are safe. Of course not all of them are like that, but it does get tiresome after hearing the same tone for the upteenth time that night, whether it be the praise of men with not-so-subtle hints to invest in their business or the batting eyes of women in his direction, hoping that they may lure a prince this night. It's moments like these that he longs for the quiet campfire among companions as travel-worn yet determined as he is to see peace restored. Of banter and laughter alike, of a good meal scrapped from the area and hunt around them.
All of those companions, save the children, are actually here, he knows that. But it is simply not the same, and not even the pleasant taste of wine upon his tongue can help with that.
Scanning the room he first spots Hugo, the young and bright-eyed emperor. How small he looks without his armor! The nobels that speak with them clearly do not know of what he is actually capable. He is truly a natural among them, and it almost surprises Addam how easily Hugo has adjusted to the practically stifling nature of the gala without a blink of discomfort. The Emperor is far more the ruler than Addam could ever hope to be, and he can't help the bit of wonder and pride at knowing him at all in these formative years. What sort of man will he grow to be, if he is this gracious and grand already? Aegaeon stands next to him like a hand-appointed guard, and it is only because of his stoic stare that the lords do not dare even look at Hugo with even a thought to try using him because of his youth. A little ways off is Brighid, and Addam finds some amusement from the envious stares of many of the ladies as their husbands turn to watch her as she walks by them, blue curls of fire flowing behind her effortlessly. She is-- and will always be-- the belle of the ball. Even if she had decided to wear a wheat sack as a dress this night, she would be as graceful and striking in both beauty and wit as ever. Speaking of blades--
He spots his own and... internally cringes as he watches Mythra juggle two plates of food at once. She, too, has a number of admirers despite the fact that her personality leaves much to be desired. But what intrigue those that draw to her most is, of course, the legends of her power. It is fortunate, then, that Mythra appears willfully oblivious to-- or perhaps pointedly ignoring-- their offers, instead practically ordering them to bring her more samples of basted duck. She likes being in charge for a change. Addam can only pray that she is not leaking any sensitive information. Yet slowly he has come to suspect that the second Aegis is more of an observer of human behavior than someone who interacts with others of her own accord, and so he trusts that she will do nothing untoward to others tonight. At least, not unprovoked. The gala interests her, he surmises, much like how a child would wonder at a glass cross-section of an ant colony.
Addam catches Mythra's golden eyes in his own, because of course she does. The Blade has an uncanny nature to know whenever his thoughts are about her. The Aegis simply scoffs and shrugs one shoulder as if to silently say What? I'm not doing anything!, turning back to her plate.
Smiling a bit to himself, his eyes begin to roam through the room once more as he nurses a bit more of his glass of wine, soon coming upon another member from his band of companions. But actually seeing her causes his smile to vanish in an instant. The poor girl, she looks completely out of her element here. It doesn't matter if Hugo offered her impromptu dance lessons of the more popular waltzes aboard his flagship in preparation of the event. It doesn't matter if he had also had someone come to her and tailor the current dress she wears, which is made of material so fine that it would cost her more than what she makes in five years. It also doesn't matter if there are those in the party that take an interest in her and her own feats-- a knight of Torna, the wielder of Jin, the nation's paragon! She looks lost among the gold and glamour, surrounded by her own admirers, of men seeking her hand in the name of her fame she's crafted by her own strength, of the flattery from those that give their titles to her first as if she should praise them in return just because they exist.... ]
Would you care for a dance, my lady?
[ It will be his hand in front of her, followed by his voice, deeper in tone out of habit at such an event. Yet it's a voice that greets her with the same charisma and courtesy as when he had first met her-- ] It would be my honor; I've only heard great things about you, after all. [ --as well as a at playful glint in his golden eyes as he looks at her, awaiting her response.
Whoever has been talking to her (or trying to) would have quickly stepped to the side as he'd have approached, knowing that whoever the Addam Origo chooses to speak with, he will have his wish. But Addam is not here to demand her attention. He is here to give her an out from how others might be stifling her. ]