Private Tales First Tour of Duty

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
Alyx's aloof expression faded a bit as she stopped him with her hand and made it known she would not remain in Dornoch for an extended period of time. Were he sober, he would have done a far better job hiding the look of conflict on his face, the way his smile turned flat and his brows creased. Of course. She wasn't going to stay here. Why would she? This wasn't truly her home, and there was nothing to bind her here, nothing to leave her stuck here like he was.

"Yes..." He muttered, stepping back with a small stumble, his head turning away from hers. "Of course you will. I know that. Of course." Why did the thought upset him so? They hardly knew one another, certainly, they couldn't be considered friends. It was just another taste of freedom, of the outside, washed from his tongue just as he'd begun to savor the taste. Quellchrist should have grown used to it by now, shouldn't he?

Lowering himself to sit back down on the edge of the bed, he nodded, more to himself than to her, before gesturing up with a hand. "I... We'll help you get your bearings and send you on your way. Absolutely." It was torture, having these glimpses of something greater dangled in front of him like a carrot, the fates knowing well and good he couldn't take the bait.

Again, she griped about the bath. Alyx fought the urge to roll his eyes.

"Then don't! Make up your mind! You act as though we don't have clothes here, that I'm completely incompetent!"

He hadn't meant to bark at her, but his frustration with himself had momentarily boiled over, and quickly he shook his head. "I'm sorry, I just... I'm tired, and I have a lot on my mind. If you're not going to take a bath, then I'll take my rest for the night, I think..."

Aristeia Darke
 
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Aristeia did not flinch from his outburts, she remained by the door frame and leaned into it to stay upright, but his raised voice transported her back to the castle she had lived in with her father.

Raised voices and insults were said with love, at least that was what a young Aristeia had convinced herself.

There was something that pulled her into the room and get on her knees before Alyx. Her pale brows knktted together as she searched his face, reading his exhaustion but there was something else there.

"Do you want me to stay?" The words sounded wrong, but even this first day of meeting each other, Aristeia could trust him like no one else she encountered in her homelands. That, or the alcohol made her unusually open. "Or do you want to leave with me?"

She had spoken in soft tones, as if not to startle him when he was this way. A bath was no longer on her mind, not when the Commander was not being all that truthful with his words. She did not owe him any questions, but the unsaid words had drawn her in... made her feel important somehow.

"If you want me to go so that you can sleep..." The words died on her lips, now feeling as if she were too close now, too casual with the Commander. She should be treating him as rightfully his rank demanded, but Aristeia was not always one to follow rules. She remained there, resting on her legs tucked under her as she stared up at him with a determined look.

Alyxander Quellchrist
 
Alyx's efforts not to look her in the eyes after his unprofessional outburst had worked well enough until she walked into the room and dropped to her knees in front of them. Even as he tried to look down at the wooden planks of the floor beneath him, of the pattern on the rug atop it, she was there staring back at him.

As short as their time had been, as little as they truly understood about one another... Aristeia had been the most interesting thing to happen to him in what felt like years. That he didn't wish for their story to end anytime soon was a selfish and irrational desire, but a desire he held nonetheless. The questions that fell so gently from her lips were met with a light, somewhat sad chuckle, coupled with a light shake of his head.

"Truthfully?" He mumbled, wishing he'd controlled his drinking a bit better. He shouldn't have been letting her come so close, letting her affect his emotions as easily as she was. Quellchrist had always been an honest drunk, though. Often to his detriment. "Both. I'd like you to stay, to tell me more about your home, to let me show you what it means to depend on others than yourself, but.." Sadly, even a drunken Alyx knew that was a bridge too far. She didn't belong here; Matriarchy be damned. She had every right to leave. "I know it's not right to ask that of you. This place doesn't chain you like it does me."

Quellchrist's hand reached out and rested on her shoulder, her thumb brushing the side of her neck as he slid his eyes closed.

"It's just that... As much as I wish I could come with you, that I could leave this place behind and start a new life. I can't. These people under me, they need me. This city... it's harsh, but sometimes I feel like I'm the only one keeping it together. I'd always worry, always wonder. I wouldn't be a very fun companion."

"That's why I've been reveling in this. In you. For every moment it lasts. You're new, exciting, something to took forward to."

Aristeia Darke
 
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This scene they were putting on had looked tender and soft, but for Aristeia, she heard words that stirred a feeling inside her. Never had she felt wanted, not in the carnal way, but the reassurance of a connection, a sense of belonging.

In her world, she did what was expected like Alyx would do here. She had not been actively thinking of leaving... it just happened that she was caught in a dream and found herself walking straight into the Waking Realm.

One day, Quellchrist would find that opportunity.

"If I stay... I do not want to feel trapped by being a soldier again." Heat coloured her pale and dirty cheeks. "I want freedom, however that may come in this city."

Aristeia shrugged, her shoulder with his hand working harder against the slight extra weight on it. When was the last time she was close or comfortable with someone like this? The fact no memory sprang to mind made her drop her unusual gaze. It was not guilt or pity she felt in that moment, but rather disappointment that her life had held no meaning for her. That anyone in the Dreamlands were expected to fight and then die, not knowing a life that did not have war burning at the edges.

"A month. We see where I am at in a month and I will decide then if I will stay or journey onwards. Would you like that?" To ask another their opinion... was she starved of connection? To want to please the first friendly face she got to know in this realm? Her eyes flicked back up, a hand rising to rest on his knee like some compulsion had taken over and squeezed softly in reassurance.

They were not Commander and recruit right now. Those roles were left behind once the wine had reached their lips. Without thinking on her current state of drunkeness, Aristeia braved the idea of placing both hands at his knees. "Let's get you into a bath and then to bed with you." She knew then she would have trouble sleeping tonight, not after his outburst and truthful thoughts being spoken aloud. Wanted, for whatever reasons he had, Aristeia felt conflicted with choice. Should she feel the same as him, to worry about the only home she had known?

Would she throw away a victory a prophecy claimed she was able to give for her people? Aristeia, the act of the finest and glorious moments of combat. The moment one would be declared hero, and death soon to collect. Her father did not give her a name, and so those that had to raise her did.



Alyxander Quellchrist
 
Alyxander was too embarrassed at his own behavior to argue with her any further, at least over her staying here. After all, it wasn't as though Quellchrist didn't understand where Aristeia was coming from; he understood her perfectly. What pained him is that while she had an opportunity before her to seize control of her destiny, to break her shackles and start anew, that chance had once again slipped through his fingers.

Again and again, fate taunted him. Even if he had taken her offer, packed up this very night, and fled Dornoch with her, he would never have been able to live with himself. It wasn't about being a soldier to Alyx. It wasn't about serving his city. It was about the men and women who looked up to him for guidance, and who depended on him to lead and protect.

To abandon them all would be a heinous act, one that would make him no better than his absconding father.

"I... don't have any wish to chain you here." Alyx gave a shake of his head, feeling her palms against his knees and placing his own hands over them with a rather aloof smirk. "But I wouldn't recommend splitting town yet... It's a big world out there, and the Matriarchy is gonna have my ass if their new star recruit goes missing one day after training with me." She didn't have to be a soldier, but she'd already made too much noise to be a ghost. "Maybe give me a couple months, make me look good before you bail...?"
It was the most dignified way he could accept her offer, but she knew the real meaning behind his words.

"Let's get you into a bath and then to bed with you."

Alyxander laughed, leaning forward so that his curtains of hair fell down his chest. They'd somehow gone from serious, to heartfelt, and all the way back to the topic of bathing again. They really were a collective mess, the both of them. Still, the humor of the situation overshadowed the brief hold on his heart that his buried grief had seized.

"So now I'm the one who needs a bath? I thought it was your turn?" He tilted his head, raising a teasing eyebrow. "If you're just trying to get my clothes off now that I'm acting all vulnerable, there are much more direct ways to ask." Quellchrist added with a smirk. He didn't wish to put her off though, and he nodded slightly. tightening his hands around hers for just a moment. "I'll be alright Aris. Thank you, for not judging me too harshly. I do wish you'd go first, but if you're going to be insistent about it, I think I'm just about out of arguments for the night..."

Aristeia Darke
 
Two months? She was surprised that was all he would ask for, but it also pressured her to endure the short time to appear as if she were a dutiful subordinate. Aristeia had not wasted her time when she left the lonely confines of her home, immediately following a carefully thought out plan to make her way to the military camp.

And here, in Dornoch, the Waking Realm, she respected the Commander enough to offer him to stay. The life of a soldier was so ingrained into her the words had left her mouth of their own accord. She did not regret them.

Perhaps not until she saw that smirk of his. Him sitting on the edge of his bed, looking down at her, Aristeia found herself matching it.

"What makes you think I am the type to ask?" She chuckled, sliding her hands out from under his hands and off his knees. Aristeia rested them on the rug, either side of her and paused before moving to stand up on her feet. "I prefer action than words. Besides, tonight is not the night for that, Quellchrist." She had only known him for a day, and even if he wouldn't have a hard time to get her to open her legs before she opened up about the truth of herself, Aristeia did not want to complicate things so soon.

She felt as if she had more stability in her step now, testing her legs by shifting her weight from one foot to the other, her face breaking out into a grin, hands resting on her hips as she looked to Alyxander.

"I think I may even brave that bath up the ladder. Now... you wouldn't happen to have anything that would fit me for the night? Until my gear is dried after thorough washing..." The scent of smoke still did not leave her nose, catching a whiff of it each time her silver hair moved over her shoulders. It may even takes days of washing her lutterme before it was void of that scorched smell.

Alyxander Quellchrist
 
Alyxander's lips curled into a wide grin as she gently chastised him for the flirtation, and he raised his hands up in a show of defense. "Merely a joke, of course..." He assured her, but the glimmer of his eye as he looked up at her now that she again stood above him held the slightest tinge of mischief behind it. "But... duly noted, regardless." He wasn't going to pretend he wasn't filing away her preferences in his mind. At least, he wasn't going to deny it while he was drunk.

Regardless, they had both sobered up a bit, and Aristeia appeared far less uneasy on her feet. This final time she decided to ascend the ladder, Alyx nodded and rose with her, stretching his arms out and yawning. Yes, it was probably time for both of them to stop stalling and get a little bit of rest. Anything more, they could figure out later, without the ever-present weight of fatigue on their minds.

"Mmhm. There's a few closets up there with all the spare clothes. We have a few women who stay here from time to time, we keep extras stored in there just in case. Should be something you can bear until you get the smoke stench off."

Quellchrist turned towards the privacy partition that his bath sat behind, unbuckling his belt and tugging it free before leaning over and beginning to fill the basin. Truthfully it was probably for the best she hadn't accepted his invitation to use his own, he'd be passed out cold by the time she was finished, at the rate he was going.

"If you need help coming back down the ladder, yell for me. I'll stack some pillows and you can jump." He joked over at her, snickering.

Aristeia Darke
 
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Aristeia had made it to his door, rolling her eyes as she caught the last words he was able to get out before she truly disappeared from view.

"I can take a fall." She called out, unable to hide the smile pulling at the corners of her lips. As far as Commanders went, Alyxander was a breath of fresh air. He was not weary from war, voice hoarse from the constant yelling of orders or seen thousands of new faces join up the ranks of the army against the Corrupted.

And when was the last time she had experienced something as little as prison transport? The closest she came to it was in dreams; walking the dreamer from one scene to the next in hopes to run from their nightmares before she could be the last one out that door and defending their subconscious.

As she climbed the ladder to the bathing room up above, Aristeia began to fall into the loneliness that came along with her sobering. A drink for each comrade that died, only once did Aristeia completely inebriated herself to the point of recovering for days after. It had left her miserable and depressed, and once she was able to move and soldier on, she pushed it all away.

The thought of home... she was adamant on not returning. She would be another name in the graveyard, unless they stopped making gravestones again. When so many of her people died in order to keep the worlds in dreams separate, why should she let a prophecy dictate she too would join the same fate? Aristeia had wasted away in a castle, joined a losing cause, and suddenly found herself here with a chance to live.

There were too many thoughts in her head, enough to make her bath last over an hour as she cleaned her skin, hair, and clothing. She had lathered up with the floral scented soap she found by the basin, happy to be smelling fresh after spending hours wearing the aftermath of the fires. She found a small undershirt and a long tunic to wear while her clothes were set by the fireplace to dry overnight in her appointed room. She went without the trousers she had found, the pair too loose around her hips to keep upright and left in a bundle at the end of the bed she had crawled into.

The hour was late, enough for her to tune out the world and fall into the plane of dreamers. The tug of magic pulled her back in seamlessly, as if welcoming her return with a warmth surrounding her. In the Waking Realm, she closed her eyes, but in the Dreamlands, on the outskirts, she waited for a vision to open up before her and step through.


Alyxander Quellchrist
 
Alyx waited at his door, watching her until she safely made it up the ladder without a nasty yet comical spill before he retreated into his room and slid the door shut. A smile too lingered on his mustachioed face, the lingering amusement of the conversation leaving him feeling far more lighthearted than he usually did after a bout of drinking.

Despite some of the heavier topics, that had gone well. Quellchrist felt less anxious and unsure about Aristeia's presence, or the eventual lack thereof. Would that ease last? Only time would tell, but he'd delayed washing himself long enough. Stripping his body of the rest of its covering, Alyxander eased himself into the warm water of the bath and allowed his muscles to unwind.

He hadn't realized how tense he was, how sore his bones were from the fiasco with the prisoners. Of course, he'd used his eye... something that Quellchrist had been trying to avoid resorting to. He still didn't understand the power it held or how to efficiently use it, and it always left him exhausted.

Quietly washing the soot and grime off of his body, he paid a thought to that last, brief moment he'd shared with Darke. How she'd knelt before him, resting her palms on his legs and looking up at him with that soft stare, seeking to comfort him, seeking to console him... And when he'd jokingly flirted with her, she seemed not entirely opposed to the idea. Maybe...

Alyx shook his head, his long soaked hair whipping around his neck as he shook the less-than-professional thoughts from his head. "Behave yourself now. She's a wee bit out of your league." He muttered to himself with a smirk, rising from the waters and drying himself before tumbling into his bed. He'd not even had time to find some manner of dress before sleep took him, pulling him into the darkness as soon as his head hit his pillow.

Aristeia Darke
 
As she stood in the plane of dreams, Aristeia took a quick glance around her. It appeared the same as it was days ago, before she was caught in someone's dream and pulled her to the Waking Realm. Here, she could feel the energies of a neverending war, could smell the fires burning as carnage was no subtle picture far off into the horizon. She could see the mountains, the very same that sheilded the castle, and then beyond that, just almost a day's ride east, was the front lines.

The pull towards it was strong, almost coaxing a boot to move in it's direction before a vision gave a gentle push of energy through her. Her head snapped round, hair still damp from her bath.

She recognised the energy, the presence it brought because she was a few rooms down from his own. Alyx's vision opened to her, slowly painting a picture of scenery as he slumbered.

It was not her usual to pick something familiar, to keep herself unrecognisable in the dream... but the words of the Commander played once more in her head.

His desire to see beyond his duty.

Aristeia came face to face with the rippling frame, reaching her hand in and pushed through until her arm was swallowed into the pools of swirling picture. When she pulled, she held the arm of Alyxander Quellchrist, guiding him to step into the Dreamlands.

She had not done this in a long, long time, but she remembered how the dreamer needed a few minutes before they became aware of their surroundings. Aristeia changed the scenery, taking them to somewhere no one would look and thus give her time to show Alyx a little about her history.

When he would waken himself in the Dreamlands, he would see a room almlst bare save for the necessities. The four poster bed, armoire, vanity, the few furniture in the bedroom was old and bland, and the room lacked personality and life save for the bookshelf that had collected a fair layer of dust.

Aristeia would be found standing at the window, her hand holding the heavy drapes to the side to peer out. It faced the east, showing the glowing on the horizon where war fought on tirelessly. She grew up seeing this view, sometimes able to smell the fires and hear the distant booms of whatever explosives they concocted. Only when she could feel him become aware, would she turn to look at him with her good eye.

"Welcome to the Dreamlands, Alyx."


Alyxander Quellchrist
 
Alyx tended to sleep restlessly but usually found solace after a night of heavy drinking. It was a small boon gifted to an otherwise less-than-ideal habit, one he'd been careful not to lean on too heavily, lest he fall into the same addiction as his father had. Those nights when he'd allowed himself to down a few spirits came easily and often dreamlessly.

So when he felt himself pulled from the black void of rest so shortly after he'd retired, he knew it was no ordinary occurrence. It was unlike any dream Alyx could ever recall having; he could feel floor beneath his bare feet, hear the echo against the walls of the barebones room as a woman's voice called out to him, a familiar, oddly comforting voice. Alyx pulled the curtain of dark hair hanging over his face away and looked up from where he'd landed, seated on the floor across from the window, flesh barely dry from the bath and eyes still heavy with sleep.

Of course, Quellchrist had an idea of who spoke to him even before he saw the long, white hair framing the scarred face with a pale, blind eye. Only one woman could have possibly willed him into dreams. No, not into dreams, into the Dreamlands, the ones he'd only heard tale of from her lips.

"A bit rude to drag me in here without asking, isn't it?" Alyx groaned, pressing a palm to his temple and looking himself over. Oh, there was a sense that went with his sight and hearing he'd forgotten about until just now: He could feel the draft in this room. Everywhere. He had appeared before her just as he'd fallen asleep, naked as the day he was born.

Positioning a hand to hide his modesty as best he was able, which wasn't much, Alyxander rose to his feet. He was shaky for a moment; he'd expected to still feel the effects of the alcohol in his system, but surprisingly his body moved as though he'd not had a drop. Turning around to get a full look of the room, he let out a perplexed sigh.

"And naked in your bedroom too. Lords, I certainly hope I wasn't about to dream something untoward."

Aristeia Darke
 
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Aristeia's stare fell to where his hand shielded, and her lips opened as if to say something witty, but ultimately closed it and dropping her gaze to the window she stood at.

"Sorry to drag you away from such dreams." She was not really... or maybe she was. Aristeia found it hard to decipher what this was between Commander and Soldier. The first hint of friendship and something less cordial as taking orders...

"You can dress yourself. This is technically your dream. Willing it to happen... unless you would like me to dress you." Now she turned back, leaning against the stone ofbthe exterior wall to her old bedroom. Her arms crossed as she watched him again, lifting a brow as in challenging him to try out the abilities of his own dream.

"I thought, while your body rests, I would show you a new land." She explained, now averting her gaze and dropping her head to stare at the stone flooring. The room was as bare as she had been allowed to keep it, with only a rug by her bed to keep her feet off the cold floor. "You wanted to see the world, and so I thought this could be a way... for you to technically not leave behind your men and duty." And she wouldn't leave him behind either. It bothered her that she felt something, but had no real thing to compare it with.

"You can just as easily leave and wake up by going through that door." Aristeia gestured to the door that led to her bathing chamber.
 
Alyxander scoffed at her apology, giving her a sidelong glance as she explained where he was and why she'd brought him here. Truthfully, he'd entertained the idea of asking her to show him these 'Dreamlands' she spoke so often of, but instead, they'd gotten drunk and fumbled about The Roost like a pair of dunces. Now that he felt as sober as ever once again, the unprofessionalism he'd displayed was hitting him like a punch to the gut.

"Well, it seems as though it'd be rude to leave after you've gone through the trouble of bringing me here." Alyx shrugs, casting another look down at his exposed form before willing up some coverage. It wasn't much to look at, the roughspun tunic and baggy cloth pants that appeared over his form, but it was perhaps indicative of how he saw himself, were somebody so inclined to psychoanalyze him.

The Commander in glimmering armor still felt he belonged in rags.

Finally bringing his hands away from his unmentionables, Quellchrist brings his hair back and deftly ties the unruly umber waves behind his head. This room didn't look like that of a Princess; If it weren't for the splendid window view, he'd have said it more resembled a dungeon cell.

"Earlier, you made it sound like you'd lost your ability to return here. I didn't realize you could have jumped back this easily. Makes my embarrassing show of emotion seem a bit pointless now, doesn't it?" There was a tinge of frustration in his tone as he stepped forward to the window, peering out curiously. He hadn't intended to open up to her like that, and yet there was no taking it back now. "If my body is resting, I'm not truly here, am I? As you said, this is but a dream, a figment of my imagination."

Aristeia Darke
 
Arsiteia watched him closely, like a cat watching a mouse take a look around without something to fret over.

"It was a gamble. I felt something return... and thought to try." She drifted to the old and dark wooden wardrobe, opening it to show the dresses in white. Each item of clothing was some shade of white or the lightest off white. The Princess Aristeia was paraded around as an Innocent. Untouched by war, untouched by fear. The people of these lands should look to her and be at peace, for war will not reach their door.

Until it was their loved ones never returning to the door.

The people were angered, and her father, the King, sold the idea that the Princess would no longer be in existence, no longer the figure of peace. He marked her, told her she was now like the people: touched by war.

"You are here in a dream. I am here in your dream, just... tugging some strings. We are not truly past the threshold into the Dreamlands... if we were, guards would have descended upon us already and that would be another trip to the cells." They had been her home once before, until her governess took pity and helped her leave. No guard had stopped her, and none came to collect her either.

Aristeia's fingers traced the lace of one dress, something she had worn at the first snow when she was ten. Aris got a new dress every year, and still, she insisted on keeping the ones that made her happy. "I wore this dress when I was a girl. It was the first time I got to be seen as Princess at an event and I got to celebrate my birthday. I remember being excited to play with other children, but the other lords and ladies had not thought to take their children with them. They said the King did not like children." But the first snow, she got to witness the first layer of powder settle on the garden party. That was special to a young girl.

"You may see your emotion as embarassing, Commander, but it was honest to me. Just as I hope to be with you, in opening up to you..." So that they could trust each other. That was their arrangement still, wasn't it?


Alyxander Quellchrist
 
The tinge of annoyance that had lingered in Alyxander's voice at being brought here without warning sank back into his throat as Aristeia explained further. The stories this girl told... they all slowly weaved a tale for him with each new memory she presented, but he still felt as though the central focus of the story was missing, like he wasn't seeing the entire picture.

It was likely by design, he supposed. Watching her as she sifted through the nearly identical dresses in her wardrobe, all pristine and unblemished, Quellchrist got the feeling that her story was one far darker and depressing than she let on with her voice. She didn't need to say it, it was made clear between the lines she spoke of her father, of her childhood.

"It's not professional of me to express dissatisfaction with my role and standing to a recruit..." He began, walking to look over her shoulder at the small dress she touched. It seemed for a moment as though he may merely repeat and reaffirm what he'd already said ad nauseam. "But obviously you're no ordinary recruit, and judging from the fact I was drunkenly staring at your ass while you climbed a ladder a while ago, I think maybe we've already crossed that bridge."

For a brief moment, Alyx wondered if she could punch him in this strange state.

"My point is..." Tentatively he reached out and placed a hand upon her shoulder. "I'm sorry. I'm about the worst person who could have ended up with you in Dornoch." There was a somberness behind the admission, but no drunken slur to his words this time. "Not much I can do to try and help you when I can't even figure out how to help myself, but I dragged you along anyways to satisfy my need for change, and that was selfish. Sincerely, I apologize."

Aristeia Darke
 
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Alyxander Quellchrist said:
"But obviously you're no ordinary recruit, and judging from the fact I was drunkenly staring at your ass while you climbed a ladder a while ago, I think maybe we've already crossed that bridge."
Click to expand...

This brought a small smirk to her pink lips. In their inebriated states, she was sure one of them was close to making a move, to forget the difference in ranks and worlds, and just simply give in. Yet, that was where Aristeia fell short many times. She was not a natural flirt like others, nor was she charismatic and demanded such attention by walking into the room.

Aristeia had already told him she would never ask, that action held more meaning to her, whether it was by his hand or her own.

And suddenly, his hand did warm her shoulder. The thin cloth of her Dreamlands attrire, a simple shirt tucked into dark trousers, belt fastening at her waist, barely separated the difference in their body temperatures. She always held a chill when in her childhood bedroom. Aristeia turned her head, grey gaze dropping to see his hand.

"I doubt I would respect and listen to anyone else if they had placed me a subordinate to another." Aristeia did not shrug him off, nor did she bring anymore attention to his touch as her hands and eyes focused back to the dresses. "Fate sounds too easy of an explanation, but we have much to learn of each other. You are not dragging me into anything, Alyxander. You merely found yourself someone that is new, and foreign. What world I have seen, that you have not?"

She turned, and his hand slipped from it's perch at her shoulder.

Aristeia looked at him, staring without falter. "I didn't ask you to apologise. As you have said, we have already crossed that bridge."

She had closed the door to one side of the wardrobe, and leaned back against it as she regarded the Commander. "And as I have said, I am not the type to ask. Perhaps I already made up my mind that I will stay in Dornoch. I don't have to be a soldier, do I?" Freedom. That was all Aristeia truly wanted wherever she would appoint herself.

Alyxander Quellchrist
 
At that, Alyxander's smile returned. For as foreign and out of place as she was in his world, so too was she the same as any other soldier worth their salt. The way she spoke was not like that of a higher being than him, so why, he asked himself, was he insisting on placing her on such a pedestal? If she wished to be a pristine princess or a tool of bloody war, she wouldn't have chosen to remain with him for the time being.

"No, I suppose you don't. But I have to be frank with you, Aris. I don't think you'll ever truly escape the soldier that's in your blood." Darke's words seemed to have snapped him out of his funk, and as he regarded the woman who now turned to him, his posture striaghtened and the puffed chest of a commanding officer seemed to pronounce itself once more. "You've been molded by those above you, but just because you're a handcrafted soldier doesn't mean you can't do what you like with it."

Truthfully, her staying in Dornoch would mean that she would be expected to serve, if only because the Matriarchy had already gotten their eyes on her. One didn't simply snub them and leave the military; It was a quick way to get the entire city turned against you. As much as Quellchrist wished to promise his new friend freedom in the realm she'd found herself swept into, he could do no such thing.

He had an idea of how to give her the next best thing, though.

"Tell you what. I've made a point of admitting I want you around, and you want to explore the new world you've found without restraint." A smirk grew beneath his facial hair, and he turned from Aristeia to look toward the empty space between them. Trying to focus in the same way he had when he'd clothed himself, Alyx summons up a mirror and sets about tidying his appearance a bit. It probably would make no difference when he woke up, but he hated looking like a drunkard. Like his father.

"I think I have a to satisfy both our needs. As long as you're willing to 'pretend' to be a soldier for me, that is." He flashes a grin her way.

Aristeia Darke
 
There had been a stray thought that crossed her mind, wondering what his hair would feel like to run her fingers through it as he fixed the state of his appearance before her. Aristeia lifted a brow as her head lowered slightly, eyes watching him with mild intrigue.

"Pretend? You said it would be difficult for me to forget that side of my life, so I am not sure how much you would want me to pretend, Commander Quellchrist." A small smirk tugged at her lips. She noticed the change in him, the newfound drive in him being such a stark contrast to his melancholy he expressed this night.

Aristeia snatched his handheld mirror from his grasp as soon as she thought he looked put together, tossing it to the side and letting it disappear in the mystery of a dream. "Enough primping, pretty boy. Tell me of your concocted plan before I put one of these dresses on you." She gave him a look that meant she knew the very magic to make such a thing happen in this plane of existence, in which she was more the master in comparison to him. "How much pretense are you thinking?"

Alyxander Quellchrist
 
Aris swiped away the mirror he used to tidy himself up, and Quellchrist pretended to be offended by the gesture before letting the facade melt away into an amused chortle. "You're awfully pushy, anybody ever tell you that Aristeia?" Even if he hadn't gotten over his gripes and continued to wallow in self-pity, he'd a sneaking suspicion she wouldn't have let him off very easily. "First you drag me in here and now you're rushing me under threats of disrobing me and fitting me into a dress." He tuts lightly, but his smile never leaves. "I think they would look much more ravishing on you."

Alyx wasn't about to start beating himself up over flirting in a dream. After all, did such things really count? Maybe he was just making excuses for himself, but it was beginning to seem as though Aristeia wasn't opposed to his advances.

"My idea is simple." Alyx strolls past her and seats himself on the foot of her bed, finding it far softer than he'd imagined, almost falling onto his back with how much give it had. "I'm going to talk to the Matriarchy, ask them to assign us to away duty." He could scarcely believe the words coming out of his own mouth, and he knew his men would have a conniption when they learned he was applying to leave the city. "Soldiers on away duty are assigned tasks, as the name implies, away from the city. Those tasks are usually dangerous, challenging, and can take months of travel to accomplish. As such, it's usually not a job one volunteers for. However..."

The Commander peers up at her with a smirk.

"Sounds rather up your alley, doesn't it?"

Aristeia Darke
 
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Aris managed an acutely amused expression at his comment of how the dresses would look on her as opposed to him. He certainly had some cheek to him when he was no longer worrying about his duty or the ethics of having to flirt with a subordinate. If he thought her pushy now, then he need only brace himself for the future working together. After all, it was just one day and night they had become acquainted.

Her singular gaze watched him sit on her bed, and silently, her eyes moved to glance over him.

As he mentioned the Matriarchy, Aristeia lifted her head and met his gaze with her pale one. Her ashen brows knitted together, one brow arching slightly with interest. "You would apply to leave the city you are bound to, by duty?" She could not help but smirk. "And is that your wish or mine you would satisfy with such an assignment?"

An away assignment. It sounded similar to the errands she was trained to take on, to operate alone and work between the lines. If she had been caught, she had no identity, no ties. But what of Alyxander? Of his anxieties of leaving Dornoch and his men behind.

She wandered over to him, standing before Alyx with her arms crossed. Aristeia looked down, head tilting with curiosity. "What confidence do you have in me to keep you alive and well on a dangerous errand, hm?"

Alyxander Quellchrist
 
This little trip Aristeia had forced upon him had been a sobering, but well-needed reminder that there was much, much more to the world than he and his woes. Being confined to Dornoch made it easy to feel as if he were in a self-contained bubble, unable to escape and free himself of the regrets and would have's that chained his spirit down in his weakest moments.

But Alyxander had not even seen all that Arethil had to offer, and now he'd been shown a realm even beyond that. Wallowing in self-pity without taking action was the same path that had condemned his cursed father, and he'd be damned if he was going to follow in those footsteps. Aristeia now offered him a chance to cross that meridian, to leap into the unknown and seize the freedom he'd been yearning for.

To listen to all that she said, to see all that she'd shown him, and then choose to stay in the place that was slowly killing the fire inside of him? He rejected such foolishness.

"As far as I see it, we both win." Alyx smiled, looking up at her. It was the same position they'd been in before he'd fallen asleep, except now they were in her world, not his. "You wish to see what else my realm has to offer besides Dornoch, and I wish to free myself of my duty and obligation, to experience life outside of work and monotony. That I get to do it with you would only be a bonus."

As strange as she was, she was far from boring company.

"And I think you'll find..." The Commander held back a chuckle as he reached out and prodded at her leg with a finger. "I'm entirely capable of taking care of myself. I'm not expecting you to babysit me." She may have been a bit distracted with the fight she'd been embroiled in earlier to notice that he was far from a slouch in combat himself. "Besides, I'm your Commander, 'rookie'. It's my job to keep an eye on you, not the other way around."

Aristeia Darke
 
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Aristeia chuckled as her hand went to snatch at his own after he had poked her above the knee. It brought her face down a few inches, but enough to stare into his eyes and search for any falsities. Finding none, she did not stand upright nor release his hand. "You know, I still believe we should spar. Allow me to see what skills a Commander has." Finally, she released his hand with a smile.

So he spoke truth. What he proposed was to happen, and they both get to leave burdens behind and venture forth into exploring the world offered to them.

Aristeia straightened up and walked over to the door, opening it and leaning on the frame. "I suppose I should show you more about myself." Her greyed eyes flick to him, watching him closely even from this distance. "The Portrait Room has every portrait I have ever sat for." And within a blink of an eye, Aris was no longer in light fighting gear.

She was now an image of a haunting princess, the very picture of what could of been. Her silver hair styled, kept loose like it used to be when she was young. A dress, not in white like those in her wardrobes, fitted to her frame in a shade of impressive emerald. Aristeia simply regarded Alyx with a sly smile, recalling his previous comment of her looking ravishing in a dress. "Every portrait of me until the year I left. Aren't you curious, Commander?"

Alyxander Quellchrist
 
Alyx pretended to scoff at the idea of fighting her, even in a sparring capacity. None of that brief nervousness that had reared its head the last time she'd brought her gaze even with his to search his eyes returned, and he stared back with only an amused smirk. "Be careful what you wish for. I'd hate to embarrass you, Aris." Unless she started using that magical weapon of hers to clobber him, then he might be in trouble.

The tension that had hung silently in the air was quickly dissipating, and Quellchrist was ever so thankful for that; Without realizing it, he'd been placing so much weight upon his mind that it had been distorting his perception. That was a trap he'd dare not fall for, lest he fall into the failings of those before him.

He let his eyes lazily follow Aristeia as she sauntered over to the door, her appearance changing in an instant, not unlike his had when he'd willed it only moments ago. Gone was the woman he'd come to know over the last day and a half, and in her place was some figure of unquestionable royalty. She was beautiful, just as he'd envisioned her in the dresses she'd shown him, but... it was a different kind of beauty, unlike the one that had drawn him to make the compliment in the first place.

In battlements, Aristeia was a warrior, a solider like him. In this pristine garb, she was unattainable, unreachable to any but the elite. A stark contrast.

"Tell a lass she looks good..." Alyx rises from the bed at her invitation. "Suddenly she wants to show you a gallery comprised entirely of her." The Commander teases, taking long strides to join her at the door. Glancing at her from the corner of his vision, his lip curls. "I was right."

Aristeia Darke
 
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Aristeia caught his gaze, the slight smile to his lips. She said nothing more, silently quickening her steps to lead down the barren hall. Her princess shoes made dulled clacks against the stone, the white satin of them visible every now and then as the hems of her emerald dress lifted.

"The Portrait Room contains all commissioned pieces of the Royal House of Kaerid. I only have six portraits, when my father nears sixty." Intentional. Her birth, her claim to life had been hidden until she was old enough to be noticed by the kingdom, demanding to see the princess fated to bring down the barrier that invited the Corrupted Realm.

Down a spiral staircase, and down another hall that was directly underneath the one they had just walked a storey above, Aristeia came to a pause by the door. Hand on the doorknob, she leaned back and fixed Alyxander with one of her empty stares. "You see the scars on my face? My eye?" She asked. Her long, silver hair did not obscure her face like she was prone to styling it. Aris no longer cared what it looked like, but seeing the faces of others seeing her for the first time hurt more.

Her father ruined himself by rendering her like this, turning away more of his people when they recognised the newest soldier looked very much like the princess in the portraits that hung in the dining hall of the barracks.

"I left they day I sat for my last portrait. He had it hung up... what do you think that means?"

Alyxander Quellchrist
 
Alyxander supposed that six portraits didn't seem like a lot next to sixty, but it was still far more than had ever been painted of him, standing at a comfortable zero. Then again, he hadn't grown up in a place like this, with halls wide enough for crowds, and staircases long and winding enough to leave you dizzy and disoriented. While their paths may have converged, this small tour through Aristeia's home was a sobering reminder that they came from two very different upbringings.

Or they had, until cruel twists of fate sent both of them on a parallel course to one another, separated only by the wall between realms. As Darke led him through the second long hallway, Quellchrist found himself wondering where she was, what she was doing when he'd been taken from the life of a whelp on the street and thrown into a suit of armor to serve his city. When Alyx had watched his father being carted away to spend the rest of his life in a dungeon somewhere, had hers been overseeing another depiction of her?

"You see the scars on my face? My eye?"

They stood before a door at the end of the hall. Aristeia stopped with her hand upon the knob, turning to look at him as she posed the question. Of course he'd noticed it-- but he'd never allowed his eyes to linger. Only now did he rake his gaze over her imperfection, permanently etched onto her skin, into her eye. Looking at her now, his answer was the same as it would have been even before this experience.

"I do, but I've never given them thought, Aristeia"

Quellchrist closed his eyes in thought for a moment, before turning and leaning back against the stone wall of the hallway and crossing his arms over his chest. With all that she'd told him, he found himself drawing the same conclusion over and over.

"There is so much about your life, about your world that I don't understand. Your scars, though? They tell a story. Not necessarily a happy one, or a sad one, but a linear tale of how you became the woman you are today. I'm thankful it's that woman I've met, because I like her the way she is, regardless of how she got here."

A bit melodramatic? Perhaps, but it was honesty. Alyx was in a dream, after all; if there was a chance he would wake up without any memory of this, then he wished to speak his mind.

"I can't speak on your relationship with your father. I never had a proper relationship with mine. I was just... an inconvenience. Something he had to spend his money on that wasn't booze. I'd like to think that your Father remembered you fondly, that he hung your pictures up out of love, but..." The Commander shrugs. "My mind is far from that of a King, Aris..."

Aristeia Darke
 
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