[plainly pleased to see that he's worn through khamu'wo's thin veneer of professionalism and fully pissed him off now, alfeoux leans back in his seat, petting the adorably round rump of his loyal carbuncle with uncharacteristic affection.]
Mmm? But it is so very hot, Master Zhwan. I am Ishgardian, you know — I was not made to abide this terrible Lominsan heat.
[again, carbuncles should not be able to express smugness, of all things, but alfeoux's carbuncle stretches out, resting its plush cheek against the fine curve of its master's pectoral muscles. it looks directly at khamu'wo with half-lidded eyes and an expression that — on a carbuncle — seems to pass for a smirk. jealous?]
[His jaw could cramp with how hard he's clenching it. A small miracle his teeth do not crack under the pressure. Khamu'wo tries not to give heed to stereotypes, but it is not as if his ears have not heard the tales of Ishgardians, and how they conduct themselves at times. Infidelity being rather high, some rumors would say, and Alfeoux is giving proof to such claims.]
Poor planning is what I would name that, but scant is that a fault of mine, nor those of this school.
[A brief glance towards the carbuncle only seems to rile him more—how can something so cute betray him so? While he attempts to keep his ears and tail in check—not wanting either to broadcast his emotions—the irritated flick of an ear gets through his guard.]
If you do not keep yourself presentable, I will be forced to ask you to leave.
[Khamu'wo is trying his utmost to stay professional here, but this damn Ishgardian is truly testing him.]
[well, isn't that little ear flick just adorable? this is fun, and since alfeoux really doesn't care whether or not someone asks him to leave, he has no real intention of keeping himself presentable — none at all.
what he can do, however, is present the pretense of presentability. smiling, alfeoux raises his arms and tucks them behind his head in a movement that only accentuates his slim, toned figure. he allows his carbuncle to attempt to do his robe up for him — rather adorably, it takes up a corner of the fabric in his mouth, struggling to hook the fabric closed. see, master zhwan? they're making an effort.]
Oh, very well, very well. I shall stay as modest as a man of my profession ought to be.
[Khamu'wo forces his eyes to his papers, trying to diligently ignore what display the carbuncle is assisting with. At least he's getting covered again, or rather attempting at least. Khamu'wo's anxieties can rest for a time knowing that.]
Is it because you are outside of your city-state? Is this why you feel safe to act not as a man of the cloth?
[He asks because Alfeoux felt the need to bring it up.
[Somehow that offends Khamu'wo more. A priest who wants to exercise a freedom he seldom can is understandable, at least. He doesn't condone it, of course, feeling those who have sworn themselves to an ideology should remain ever faithful to it—but he can understand momentary weaknesses.
But this... arsehole here, this incorrigible man who wishes to tease and tantalize with toned and tender flesh has not even that excuse—nay, there is nothing forgivable about this.
With ears folded back, his tail rigid, Khamu'wo slams his hands down on his desk as he raises from his seat. Staring down at the Ishgardian before him, he snarls in distaste.]
Not only are you a shameless lecher, but too a fraudulent Father? 'Tis one thing to act outside the norms of your society when you are far from its belly, but quite another to pretend you have a position you do not. Particularly to gain satisfaction that is ill owed to you. You are reprehensible and I condemn you for such tastelessness and treachery.
[With a swift and angry gesticulation of his hand, he points to the door. He nearly hisses the word out in his frustration:]
[with a laugh, alfeoux gathers his things — well, he doesn't have things to gather, really. his carbuncle finally manages to hook his shirt closed so that only his neck and collarbone is bared; its task complete, it squeaks and fades away in a flash of light. rising from his chair, alfeoux dusts off the hem of his robes. he's had enough fun, too.]
Ah, that is cute. That little tic with the ears and tail? Adorable. Those bared teeth of yours are charming, too — but then of course they are. I've always been partial to beasts.
[ready to take his leave after several minutes of needling khamu'wo, alfeoux begins casting a teleport spell, all elegant glow and purple flares of light at his ankles. as he disappears, he waves and smiles.]
[Khamu'wo couldn't even reply to what Alfeoux left him with. To swift was the exit, and too slow was his jumbled angry mind. Khamu'wo, a man who fashions himself an intellectual, a man of knowledge, resolve, logic... and yet he was reduced to this from a brief interaction with an attractive and infuriating man. Has he truly risen above his nature? Is he so different from those he had left behind.
As moments that feel like bells pass, he sinks in his chair, eyes falling to the papers that worked more as distractions than their original purpose, he decides that perhaps it's well past time he heads back to the Free Company estate. Today has been quite enough for his tired gay little heart.]
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valoirs
no subject
Mmm? But it is so very hot, Master Zhwan. I am Ishgardian, you know — I was not made to abide this terrible Lominsan heat.
[again, carbuncles should not be able to express smugness, of all things, but alfeoux's carbuncle stretches out, resting its plush cheek against the fine curve of its master's pectoral muscles. it looks directly at khamu'wo with half-lidded eyes and an expression that — on a carbuncle — seems to pass for a smirk. jealous?]
no subject
Poor planning is what I would name that, but scant is that a fault of mine, nor those of this school.
[A brief glance towards the carbuncle only seems to rile him more—how can something so cute betray him so? While he attempts to keep his ears and tail in check—not wanting either to broadcast his emotions—the irritated flick of an ear gets through his guard.]
If you do not keep yourself presentable, I will be forced to ask you to leave.
[Khamu'wo is trying his utmost to stay professional here, but this damn Ishgardian is truly testing him.]
no subject
what he can do, however, is present the pretense of presentability. smiling, alfeoux raises his arms and tucks them behind his head in a movement that only accentuates his slim, toned figure. he allows his carbuncle to attempt to do his robe up for him — rather adorably, it takes up a corner of the fabric in his mouth, struggling to hook the fabric closed. see, master zhwan? they're making an effort.]
Oh, very well, very well. I shall stay as modest as a man of my profession ought to be.
[he's not even a real priest!]
no subject
Is it because you are outside of your city-state? Is this why you feel safe to act not as a man of the cloth?
[He asks because Alfeoux felt the need to bring it up.
no subject
[...and he'll admit to it, too!]
But I love to hear strangers call me "Father."
no subject
But this... arsehole here, this incorrigible man who wishes to tease and tantalize with toned and tender flesh has not even that excuse—nay, there is nothing forgivable about this.
With ears folded back, his tail rigid, Khamu'wo slams his hands down on his desk as he raises from his seat. Staring down at the Ishgardian before him, he snarls in distaste.]
Not only are you a shameless lecher, but too a fraudulent Father? 'Tis one thing to act outside the norms of your society when you are far from its belly, but quite another to pretend you have a position you do not. Particularly to gain satisfaction that is ill owed to you. You are reprehensible and I condemn you for such tastelessness and treachery.
[With a swift and angry gesticulation of his hand, he points to the door. He nearly hisses the word out in his frustration:]
Leave.
no subject
Ah, that is cute. That little tic with the ears and tail? Adorable. Those bared teeth of yours are charming, too — but then of course they are. I've always been partial to beasts.
[ready to take his leave after several minutes of needling khamu'wo, alfeoux begins casting a teleport spell, all elegant glow and purple flares of light at his ankles. as he disappears, he waves and smiles.]
Bye-bye now, Master Zhwan. I had fun.
no subject
As moments that feel like bells pass, he sinks in his chair, eyes falling to the papers that worked more as distractions than their original purpose, he decides that perhaps it's well past time he heads back to the Free Company estate. Today has been quite enough for his tired
gaylittle heart.]