#Renaux Iseterre

[thefreelanceangel]

[thefreelanceangel]

[thefreelanceangel]

He'd been patient enough. Waited long enough.

Every tactic he tried, she countered. Every indirect angle he attempted, failed.

She'd said once to Jagged Light, in a rare moment of unguarded drunken honesty, that she'd envied Meli for being the focus of Zenos viator Galvus' obsession. That she wished someone would look on her with that level of desire.

Very well then.

If that was all she understood, if that irrational type of possessive desire was the only thing she responded to...

He knew just what to do.

[thefreelanceangel]

She snored.

He couldn't be certain that she'd always do so. After all, a drugged slumber didn't necessarily reflect a person's usual sleeping habits. Renaux did, however, find the noises coming from her slack mouth to be remarkably charming.

Satisfaction enveloped him, warming him through, and Renaux watched her breast rise and fall with each breath.

Finally.

It'd taken moons to acquire the isolated property straddling the Coerthan-Gridanian border, further weeks to refurnish it properly, more gil than he should've reasonably spent. He'd argued with builders, plasterers, painters, carpenters, weavers, and culinarians for suns on end.

And now, with her sleeping peacefully in his bed, he felt completely at ease for the first time in years. Since he'd first seen her, standing in Meli's shadow, looking away from the plans that Temujin and Eva were holding out for everyone to see.

Years.

He'd tried courting. Tried befriending. He'd offered time and patience, gifts and company, given her what help he could, been first through the doors of Ala Mhigo's castle to reach her...

Every time, every time she turned away from him. Ignored his letters, took his gifts and discarded them, sneered at him, refused to so much as acknowledge how earnest the attempts he made were. For over five years, he'd watched her and waited, reached out to be rebuffed, listened intently when she spoke to others and finally took the only path open to him.

Only the weight of his body settling next to hers moved Capricia, dipping with the mattress slightly towards him. Her pale gold hair slid over his fingertip; the skin over her jaw felt like silk velvet.

Renaux smiled, rubbing a lock of her hair between his fingers. "When you wake up, my friend," he murmured, "we can begin anew."

[thefreelanceangel]

"I heard what you said to Light," he said when she pulled away from him. Renaux grabbed her arm and wrenched her back, an arm circling her waist as he abruptly hauled her off of her feet.

Capricia snarled, writhing in his grasp, and Renaux laughed as he lowered his head to whisper into her ear. "If that's what you want, that's what you have, my friend."

He felt it when she stilled, felt her breath moist against his palm, and he couldn't help laughing. Even when she flailed an arm, knocking his hat off.

Renaux glanced back over his shoulder, eyes narrowing at a pair of moving shadows, and he hauled Capricia up a bit higher against his body.

"Come along, my friend. I've taken accommodations for us elsewhere."

[thefreelanceangel]

FebHyurAry #19 - Memory

They'd left the others at Fortemps Manor, enjoying the end of the dinner that'd been so graciously thrown for Meli Iliakos and her adventuring friends. In a rare mood, Capricia took Renaux's arm and told him they should walk about to see if any of the atrocious city had changed.

For a blissfully quiet quarter of a bell, they walked together with her hands clasping his forearm. Capricia looked up at the stained glass windows, the lanterns, the stonework that hadn't changed since she'd left the city.

Renaux looked at her.

And even later when she idly turned the memory over, drinking her way through a bottle of white wine as her bedmate for the night turned over and snored, Capricia wondered just what he thought he would find by watching her.

[thefreelanceangel]

Tagged: What's At Your Core?

Tagged by: @otherworldseekers; @caerbannogs; @chadhunkler (Thanks y'all!)

Imayo Mikomori:

spun gossamer the easiest thing to do is stay quiet when something’s up. you’re not bothered, and you know what? you shouldn’t be! it’s none of your business, even when it’s entirely your business. it’s difficult (read: impossible) to tell if your cheery demeanor is a cover-up for something sadder, or if it’s simply your natural state of mind. you see a lot of things: people coming through town, people leaving the house and never coming back, lies and deceit of the highest degree. what happened to you? will you ever be that kid again? your presence smells like cotton candy, and your fingertips sparkle like stars. whatever white rabbit you’re chasing isn’t going to lead you to wonderland if you don’t start reaching out when you’re not feeling okay.

Renaux Iseterre:

acerbic wit you're a mentor — an old scarred wolf, an injured soldier, a disgraced paladin. your teachings read as shamelessly pretentious, speaking in rhymes and biting down hard into anyone stupid enough to make the wrong move. this isn't your first life, nor your second, nor your sixth — you'll make the most of your time shackled to this world, no matter how many loops it takes to get it right. with every defeat, you reincarnate; a little smarter, a little quicker, crueler and nastier. will you choose to be brutal, equalizing, that final strike in the face of your enemies? will you go soft, become tender and domesticated? the choice is yours. it's not like i can stop you.

Ilya Grey:

flightless bird the thought of your found family is what motivates you in your own little world. you touch the clouds, and the soil gives way under your footprints… this is utopia. if you were to erase one thing, it would be your memory. experience is important, but ignorance is bliss. identity, in heaven, should give way to happiness. you'd give anything just to sit by the swings and eat ice cream, but this isn't that kind of world. you have to get up and wash the dirt off of your scraped knees. i think you have an escapism problem.

Quiz HERE!

Tagging: I'm so late in doing this that I think EVERYONE has been tagged, but if you haven't? Do it!

[thefreelanceangel]

The Beautiful Orderliness of the House is what gives us Life.

~ Piranesi (Susanna Clarke)

[thefreelanceangel]

FFXIVWrite2023 (#26 - "Last")

"...that's all you're going to say to me?"

Aware that the glass clasped in his hands would shatter if he let his temper slip his control, Renaux drew a slow breath and looked over his shoulder at Capricia.

She paid him no heed.

She never truly did.

Even accepting his invitation to the small art gallery he'd stumbled across, even agreeing to spend an evening with him somehow came across dismissively. Pity would've been something, at least. He didn't even merit that from her.

Capricia rolled the stem of her glass between her fingertips, gaze focused on the geometric painting before her. She didn't tilt her head nor turn towards him, gave no sign of even having heard him speak. Renaux gritted his teeth, putting the glass down lest he snap it with a convulsive clench. "Capricia."

"Mm?"

She didn't turn. Still didn't turn. Renaux picked his glass up off the floor, considered draining it, held it instead to keep himself calm.

"Capricia, I did not invite you on an evening out to be ignored."

She sipped her champagne, still looking at the painting. And then glided on to the cold steel sculpture embedded in the wall, giving Renaux nothing more than her back.

His hand clenched on the glass again. "Capricia."

"This is why I rarely answer your letters, Renaux," she said, her back still to him. Despite the small plaques requesting patrons not touch the artwork, Capricia reached out to smooth a hand up and down one cold, flat metal plane. "You want something from me that I simply do not possess."

And still she did not look at him as she drained the champagne from her glass and carelessly dropped it at her feet. "I am not going to love you. I love no one. At all. And I never will. So let's just drop the foolish pretense, hm? Let this be the last it ever comes up."

"Who said I want your love?" He set his glass aside firmly, rising to his feet, and set his jaw. "What ignorant assumptions give you that impr- Wh- Capricia!"

His startled exclamation fell only on a closing door, as the woman he'd intended to verbally nail to the wall just... left.

He paced the small space with curt strides, hands flexing in and out of fists, and finally stopped to plant his hands on his hips. Exhaling slowly, Renaux looked through the art on the walls, seeing nothing of artistic intent or beauty.

"The last..." His teeth ground together as he drew a slow breath. "Let it be so then, this is the last polite attempt I make."

Now... he'd focus on the impolite methods.

[thefreelanceangel]

FFXIVWrite2023 (#5 - Barbarous)

He narrowed his eyes, head tilting back slightly, and pulled the strap a bit tighter. Satisfied that no writhing, struggling, or kicking would loosen the bonds, Renaux turned away from the table to the neat stack of parchment sitting on the sideboard.

As much as he abhorred turning his dining room into a makeshift laboratory, Renaux couldn't afford the chance of being discovered at this. Renting a room in some back alley hovel came with the benefits of anonymity--gil could pay for nearly anything--but too many security risks.

For this, for the possibilities it may afford, he would sacrifice the sanctity of his home.

Drawing a deep breath, he planted his hands on either side of the parchments and stood, head bowed and eyes closed. For this, he needed focus. Absolute and complete focus. Renaux certainly understood disappointment on a theoretical level, but these recent wranglings with it on a personal level...

Intolerable.

And so he stood, with a random woman tied to his dining room table, and waited the prescribed period of time for the alchemical tonic he'd forcibly dosed her with to take effect.

Exhaling slowly, he opened his eyes and reviewed the notes once more, running a fingertip lightly along the meticulously outlined ingredients, notations, batch notes. He would've applauded his colleague's precise testing if he'd not been so very aware of how he would've done it better.

While he'd been part and parcel of the events that'd led to Sharlayan now being far more open, Renaux didn't believe the 'commitment to change' to be anything more than lip service. The Studium, and the intractable blocks that ran it, would be slower to change than even she would.

Renaux looked for progress, and at times, one needed to be a bit... barbarous in order to enact real change.

He glanced over his shoulder, noted the woman's eyes remained closed, and turned to the page once more. A few additional notations mentioned a Garlean researcher to contact should something go 'awry' with the tonic--highly unspecific, that--and Renaux took careful note of the name and address before reaching for his pen to let ink soak into the page, blotting it out.

A few hitches in the breathing behind him straightened Renaux up. He moved the ink-sodden page onto a blotter and dropped the pen into the holder as he turned.

Where there's a will, there's a way, and his will could only be described as indomitable.

[thefreelanceangel]

Blood is...

...it's thicker than water.

Perhaps that is why it took so long for my heart to finally freeze.

Or perhaps that explains how yours froze so swiftly.

After all, we discovered that we didn't share the blood we'd thought.

Didn't we?

[thefreelanceangel]

12. Is your OC cynical or optimistic? Who or what shaped their outlook on life?

Renaux considers optimism a failing. And a step further, he considers it to be a failing of the stupid.

He particularly uses one example of a blonde Midlander woman he met when traveling to Gridania. Not only did she seem hopelessly inept at giving directions, she explained her lack of gil as someone having 'accidentally' taken her money.

Renaux felt absolutely no qualms about leaving her behind after he'd availed himself of what little she could offer. [Not much, in his opinion. About as exciting as a mud puddle.]

And yet... And yet.

He continues to issue invitations, select gifts, make repeated attempts to get Capricia's interest. No matter how badly each attempt fails, how hostile she is, how often he's staggered away to heal himself after she's lashed out with spells...

Renaux is convinced that one day, he'll get through to her.

When Eva attempted to point out that he was "bein' awful optimistic considerin' how she don't like anybody and uh... she is kinda crazy," Renaux came very close to backhanding the little miqo'te who is one of the only people who can actually stand him.

He doesn't consider it optimism. He considers it a very, very long siege.

[thefreelanceangel]

"No, I am not a tortured artist. That is ridiculous. And no, this has nothing to do with her. Or her interest in art."

"Even if I were to paint something, it wouldn't be for her. I may show it to her, yes, but it would not be for her."

[thefreelanceangel]

4, 20, 24, 32

does your muse find any specific features particularly attractive?

Renaux pursed his lips, turning a page in the book he held, and didn't look up as he answered. "The usual answer is always eyes, lips, voice. Shallow features easily noted or dismissed at a glance. I answer this way because when I'm asked what I find attractive, it's always by someone hoping I'll answer with one of their features. What I truly find attractive, what catches and holds my eye longer than anything else is fire. Passion. Ferocity. And I've found that. I simply haven't yet captured her."

how does your muse feel about public displays of affection? would they engage in them?

C'allie laughed, slapping a hand on her thigh. "Considering one of my kinks? Hah! I engage in more than just affection! And two of my husbands are just as bad as I am. So's my wife. And my boyfriend. I think the only one who isn't into risking being caught is Targur, but we're bringing him around!"

is your muse proactive in communication with their partner(s), or is this something they need to work on?

Esti opened her mouth, hesitated. She held up a finger, dropped it, and then huffed out a short breath. "I am trying. Actively trying. One of the worst mistakes I made in the past was not saying... something. Anything. And I don't wish to make that mistake again, especially not now. Not with Dayar."

does your muse have an ideal "type"?

Anna turned slightly, glancing down, and rolled her eyes before turning back to her glass of wine. "Seifer. When he's angry and jealous and possessive and murderous. That's my type. And I hear him coming up the stairs, so be a good boy and grab my ass when he comes in, hm?"

[thefreelanceangel]

16. How light of a sleeper is your OC?

If it'd been socially acceptable to hurl a potted plant out the window at someone, Renaux would've done it.

...he would've done it regardless of social acceptability if he'd not only recently acquired this new apartment. He needed to keep it. And he needed to keep the neighbors neutral to his presence, at the worst.

So he looked out at the man sitting with a lute in the courtyard and did not hurl something heavy down to shut him the hells up.

Renaux did, however, take careful note of the man's face. He anticipated a particularly wearying battle on his hands when he brought Capricia back to this place. Interrupted sleep was absolutely unacceptable. He couldn't succeed in this last, most dangerous gambit if he couldn't think clearly.

And right now, jolted out of a thin sleep by those discordant notes jangling against the window glass, all he could think about was breaking the man's lute, fingers, and neck.

Not necessarily in that order.

[thefreelanceangel]

🖊

Any at all, plz and ty

Renaux is highly intelligent, yes, but he's more convinced of his own intellect as opposed to having proof of it. And that, hand in hand with his pride, led to his expulsion from the Studium.

When faced with something he struggled to comprehend, Renaux didn't sit down and do the hard work of understanding it. Or humble himself to ask for help from people technically below him in academic status.

No, he actually cheated.

Taking the work of an undergrad who'd been doing the hard work of deciphering a few recovered Allagan records, Renaux passed it off as his own.

And got caught.

The Studium, of course, didn't want to make a public matter of catching one of their respected professors cheating. And so they quietly expelled Renaux and sealed the records, doling out his undergraduate classes and his grad students to other professors in his department. All of his clearances were revoked, his academic work pulled from the shelves available to the public (and students,) and his name blacklisted on any field work collaboration lists.

He, of course, refuses to explain any of this when his past employment with the Studium comes up in conversation. (Or would be something of particular help to the Scions of the Seventh Noon-ish.)