ishgardian kissing
The Blind Date meme. Pretty self-explanatory. No matter how awkward and unexpected they might be, there is always something exciting about them. Who is your company for the evening going to be? Will it be a person of your innermost dreams or someone you absolutely can't stand? Here's how it works:
i. Post with your character! They're now in the middle of a blind date set up by a friend or some other character.
ii. Comment to each other! When you do that...
iii. Go to Random.org and roll a single die!
iv. Play out the date. This meme can be fluffy, smutty, or comedic — just state your preferences if necessary.
v. Have fun!
1. FIRST DATE. — You've never been out on a date before, so a friend decided to give you a helping hand...
2. ON THE REBOUND. — You're still recovering from a painful breakup or some other loss, but a friend thinks they've found a great partner for you anyway...
3. NOT STRANGERS AT ALL. — So, someone thought your date would be a charming stranger. Turns out you already know them...
4. HIDEOUSLY AWKWARD. — Hey wait, that's your ex/boss/doctor/distant family member! Or, even worse, it's that person you absolutely despise. This will go well!
5. EXISTING PARTNER. — You're already dating — you two are just
acting like strangers to spice up your love life.
6. FUTURE SPOUSE. — Unfortunately, you have to have an arranged marriage. Fortunately, you get to meet that special someone for a date beforehand. How will the night go?
7. WILDCARD. — Come up with your own scenario!
This meme was gently lifted from bakerstreet. Enjoy!
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valoirs
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Well, you must admit he is an — an odd fellow! I — n-never mind.
[something of y'shtola's manner seems subdued. perhaps he should not inquire after urianger after all. who knows what secrets he might be stumbling into? francel stuffs his mouth with cake before it's too late.]
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[Her fork taps against the edge of the plate a bit indelicately, and the fingertips of her other hand trace the design painted upon her teacup.]
Immersing himself in such obscured depths has lent distinctive...coloring to his speech with the passage of time. 'Tis as much a part of him as his knowledge and fondnesses and follies, though. If one can manage to affront him thoroughly enough, one might snag a loose thread in the tapestry of his dignity, as with any among us.
[Another faint dip of her head and ears, ere she gathers her spirit to drive away melancholy.]
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[so mumbled, around a mouthful of cake. francel washes his words (and his tinge of embarrassment) down with a sip of milk. his eyes flick, as ever, towards the movement of y'shtola's ears.]
...Ishgard has not known many prophets of eld. It has known astrologers, though, and mathematicians — the subjects are closely related, did you know? I would have liked to pursue the astrologians' craft, myself, but my hand in arithmetic was too coarse for that curriculum. Thus, by the Fury's mercy, I was spared that dreadful hat.
[...and he wears a different dreadful hat in his place?]
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[Long ago she defended them both with a barrier made of the stuff of stars. As she has seen no dragon-star-readers attempt this, perhaps it has been lost to the specific focus of their...practices.]
Ishgard is rather young a nation for housing anything of eld. Perhaps in time they shall speak of the heroes of this war with such reverence. [It is gentle, and fast, lest she give him over to brooding as well. But since he seemed so reluctant to pass opinion on Urianger...]
I must agree, though, 'tis a dreadful hat. I hope I can count upon your discretion in this.
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You may, indeed. Do you know — the star pattern upon it is not so dreadful, but that conic shape...
[shaking his head with a dismissive sigh, as if to lament the unfashionable fates of ishgard's astrologers, francel uses the side of his fork to cut off another little triangle of cake, and lifts it to his mouth. chew. swallow.]
...Though I must say, you Scions do keep a rather fashionable group. I heard tell from Lord Emmanellain that Tataru made quite an impression upon the patrons of the Forgotten Knight.
[not that francel ever sets foot in the place...]
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There is a good deal more spark within our Tataru than that in many souls of greater strength and stature. I'm given to understand she searched far and wide for a discipline at which she might excel, somehow thinking her contributions less than impressive as they were. Would that she could understand it is not so.
[Perhaps they all suffer from a touch of mislaid confidence, but none more so than their bookkeeper and judge of character.]
Though 'tis to my fortune that Tataru found her hand for clothcraft after all. [With a gesture to indicate her fine coat.] I shall pass along your compliments readily upon my return to Mor Dhona.
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[francel wets his mouth with a sip of milk, then absently licks his lips — in some ways, he is more catlike than even y'shtola.]
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[Somehow, Thancred has escaped her ruler and thread, so far, as has Urianger. The latter can get away with it for his infrequent appearances, perhaps.]
If you asked, I think it likely she would craft something fitting.
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I could not ask such a thing...! Besides, I've no need for any more finery than what I already have.
[the cafe is beginning to fill up with other patrons. francel lifts the piece of cake to his mouth, but he pauses briefly when a man at another table catches his eye — he is too old, his eyes are red and not blue, but his mouth is the same, and his hooked nose is just like haurchefant's...
the man is with a woman — his wife from the looks of it — and in the end francel looks away, and puts the cake in his mouth.]
...What I have is enough.
[it has to be.]
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[She is teasing him a little, just before he starts to look distant and sad. Though she may not discern the cause of the sudden somber turn, she need not carry on the conversation that seems to have provoked it.
What I have is enough, he says. But what value, then, in the search? In finding new answers? In living?
Y'shtola takes another bite, too, rather than give voice to such melancholies.]
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I could use a pair of new boots, I suppose. Skyfire Locks has no chocobo stable, so I do an awful lot of walking.
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My boots were commissioned from the guild in Gridania. If you can convince Geva of your need and desire without incurring the wrath of her sharp tongue and sharper awl, then you have found favor with her indeed.
[Guildmaster Geva does not mistreat her students as such, and good customers are always treated with utmost respect...so long as they respect the goods and process in return. Y'shtola has been purchasing Fen-Yll handiwork for too long to be ignorant of the guildmaster's exacting standards and workplace temperament.]
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I have heard tell of Gridania's most legendary leatherworker. Fearsome, is she not? I rather doubt I would be able to find favor with her...
[the young lord sighs. after a moment, however, his eyes light upon y'shtola's half-finished plate of sauteed porcini; his expression twinkles with a kind of childish hope.]
...I say, Y'shtola, this is rather unbecoming of me, but — might I have a porcini?
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[Perhaps only to see their aghast faces when she turned them down...even highly favored customers oft must rebuff a scalding scolding or two ere the purchase is completed.]
Of course. [And she turns her plate so more of them are closer to his side of the table.] They come highly recommended.
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Ah, yes, of course. By none other than one of Ishgard's foremost gastronomic critics, no less. A man of great culture and taste.
[the young lord belittles himself, it seems, by lavishing himself with sarcastic praise. he pops the porcini in his mouth and chews thoughtfully.]
...What do people eat where you are from, Y'shtola? I confess, I am not well-versed in culinary... well, anything.
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[It's bland. It is nutritious and wholly unexciting, save for a few whose kitchens would sing with the adopted cultures of other lands...]
Lominsan delicacies are numerous and most flavorful. Their variety and complexity may well be peerless, particularly in the seafood realm.
[Y'shtola has a fondness for fish and for the memories of so many delightful meals in Limsa and wider La Noscea. For all they are pirates, they eat well.]
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[francel laughs, a touch embarrassed. yes, he does know of the bismarck, that jewel of lominsan culinary establishments; in fact, he is quite certain that count dzemael's equally legendary roegadyn kitchen staff hail from limsa lominsa. he has had little reason to think of such things in recent memory, though...
the asceticism of sharlayan's scholars sounds rather sad, though the young lord is loath to remark upon it. there are halonic friars who similarly abstain from luxurious food and drink, though ishgardian priests who gorge themselves upon rich cheeses and chocolates from the vault's kitchen are many in number.]
And are you fond at all of such culinary experimentation?
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['Both' is the proper answer, but a great many Sharlayan kitchen experiments are dangerous in addition to inedible. There are legends of a lost tome detailing the culinary applications of coblyn flesh...
...which are remarkably few, if you would like to sample any other dish in this life.]
My preference lies in the latter, if only for the likely guarantee I shall see another summer, not to mention another supper. [And things in La Noscea have flavor and soul in them. Figurative soul. It would not surprise her to hear some colony cooks experimenting with the idea of literal soul food.
She probably wouldn't try it.]
I prefer the savory to the sweet, but I'll not refuse an offered cake or tart.
[Experience has already taught her Francel's preferences.]
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Well, I meant — are you yourself fond of cooking?
[he smiles.]
I think myself a passable chef, though I'd never aspire to anything so lofty as the title of culinarian. I wonder if you have had cause to study the craft.
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I've not had the pleasure of any formal training in the kitchen, though I can certainly prepare a meal enough for myself and my colleagues.
[Since it is not in her nature to do anything by halves, it would taste as good as it looked. Fond of it is too strong a word for the occasional necessity of cooking.]
The occasion so rarely arises, I cannot speak to a particular fondness for culinary work. Perhaps I might, had I some better knowledge beyond fundamentals and mine own tastes.
[F'lhaminn, Higiri, even Tataru are far better and more enthusiastic in the kitchen than she.]
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[francel cooks for himself and only himself — the end result being that his meals are delicious but the presentation thereof is terrible. he doesn't have the time to worry about how it will look when it will be consumed in a matter of minutes.]
Perhaps someday, when we've the time, we could try to cook for each other. I would love to subject you to my attempts at Dzemael gratin.
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[The truth is she is going to love it, unless he manages to burn and over-salt the entire dish. Years ago she learned much and more of Lominsan delicacies and culinary creativity; her visits to Ishgard have opened again a world of distinctive tastes and combinations, tempered though they are by the tougher creatures for hunting that survived the Calamity and nigh endless winter to follow.
And she has grown a remarkable fondness for their tea.]
I've no specialty of my own, but you remain partial to sweets and pastries, do you not? For the chance at a challenge would I try my hand at something serviceable to follow your meal.
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I love sweets and pastries!
[of course he does. y'shtola already knows this. francel, please.]
And I am sure anything in your capable hands will be more than enough to sate my undying hunger for sugar. Oh, let us do this sometime, please! It would be such a delight.
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I've an open schedule for the next few days, barring some new catastrophe come calling. Perchance sooner rather than later?
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[whether or not y'shtola would in fact spot the dust on the mantel is quite another thing entirely.]
Of course, supposing the Ixal summon Garuda tomorrow, he will have another fortnight to clean everything...
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