#geofferaut

[blackrose-ffxiv]

Test Runs / Brotherly Pranks 11/29

Lebeaux Desrosiers circled back around the desk. He slid the tea towards himself but still didn’t drink it. “Right. Of course I’ll have more projects going forwards, for as long as you’re willing to cooperate.” He noted in response to Luke’s insistence that they were nothing less than perfect professionals, smiling in his best approximation of ‘warmly’ at Luke. He was certainly in a good mood. “Costs allowing.” He looked to Geofferaut. “Luke’s most recent work for me has been something very interesting indeed. Demonstrate a bit of Arcanima for him, Geofferaut.”

Geofferaut Derosiers rested his fingers against his book and focused on the tulips to Lebeaux's left. One of the flowers quivered for a moment before suddenly an violently turning inside out. It held it's form for an instant longer before the displaced structures gave way and it fell apart in the vase. The rest of the flowers were untouched.

Luke Gravespast continued to lean on the back of the chair, giving Lebeaux a warm grin in return - he seemed to not read the approximation of the smile as anything but honest and true, though his attention shifted to Geofferaut at the mention of arcanima.  A slight flatness hit his face, turning to watch the flowers then and whistling softly, a shift of footing hinting the man was slightly uncomfortable. "...Cripes... tha's impressive."

Geofferaut turned his same attention briefly toward Lebeaux... then blinked once and let his hand fall back to his side.

Lebeaux glanced aside to watch, quirking a dark brow. “My. You’ve been practicing.” He wasn’t quite sure that was a good thing. Nonetheless. The Chirurgeon sank back down into his seat. “As I said, accomplished arcanist. Now, then.” He smiiiiled as he shifted slightly, his hands moving to rest on the edge of the desk and a moment later there was a quiet ‘click’ before the room’s environment changed drastically. All of the ambient aether seemed to be drained away as though in a vacuum, trying to use one’s own aether would result in it being drained away as well. An uncomfortable sort of situation for mages who were practically steeped in the stuff.

Geofferaut's eyes widened when the click sounded. His hand shot to his book. His mouth worked, but sounds seemed to struggle coming out. "W-- where is it," he finally managed.

Luke shifted to watch the caster - and the blacksmith himself looked largely unaffected, leaning comfortably against the chair itself, sipping his tea as if there were no worries, no issues across the whole star for him at this moment. "Stored... drained?  But stored.  It returns easy 'nough, aye?"

Geofferaut gripped his book like a man drowning. "Where is it." The monotone remained, but the words came faster, harsher air behind them.

Lebeaux giggled at that reaction. While it would have been barely registered coming from most other people, such a reaction from Geoff was nearly as good as howling and throwing oneself on the ground. He was pretty damn pleased with it. “Go on, Geofferaut. Demonstrate a bit of arcanima again.” He suggested cheerfully as he grinned broadly enough for a dimple to appear in his left cheek, leaving the device on despite the uncomfortable way it made his head ache and skin crawl. “Don’t answer him, Luke.” He noted carefully. "What's the fun if you reveal the secret."

Luke continued to sip his tea, his arm casually over the chair's back and watching the arcanist.

Geofferaut's wide, wild eyes swiveled to Luke Gravespast. Luke Gravespast knew where it went. A gleaming blade slid out of his sleeve into his right hand. "Where is it."

Luke had created the very system that was draining and storing the aether away from the caster.  At the blade he didn't shift, though he did lean down, setting the teacup aside. "Nau' tellin'..."

Geofferaut began to move toward Luke, but his right leg seemed disinclined to cooperate. He stumbled and swerved against the post between windows. Unwilling to release his grip on book or blade, he fitfully pushed himself upright between left leg and post. "Where is it."

Lebeaux rose to his feet at the slight flash of steel. His hands still rested on the desktop, fingers curling underneath to switch the device back off. Though he let his finger rest on it just in case the other elezen decided to ‘demonstrate’ again. “Alright, that’s quite enough.” He declared, still grinning broadly. “What’s the matter, Geofferaut. Only a bit of aether dampening.”

Luke remained with the chair between himself and the caster, his hand having fallen onto one of the tools slung from his belt, hand on the hammer there. "Hellfires, still ain't tell, knife 'r nau'!  Put tha' slim-blade 'way."

Geofferaut righted himself quickly when the aether returned, eyes rounding on Lebeaux, neither grip showing any sign of relenting. "You." The eyes were doing something more than merely taking in information and the single word carried more intonation than normally found in an entire interview with Geofferaut (not a high bar to reach, but still).

Lebeaux grinned with delight at the entire situation unfolding in front of him. The stagger, carefully noted to be marked down later. The feral look in the elezen’s eyes. As well as Luke’s calm demeanor under pressure. As though having a blade pointed at him by a potentially deranged scarecrow was an everyday occurrence. A few stray giggles slipped out, even as Geofferaut turned to… glare?... at him. “Yes? I what…” He coaxed.

The fact that the blacksmith was fairly used to threats of violence couldn't be all that unusual given the areas he worked for in the Golden Fox.  But it might've been odd that instead of ducking he went for a weapon, improvised or not.  In fact, his hand still rested on the hammer, drawing it slowly to hand so that if there was a dash he had a chance of action.

Geofferaut's glower intensified. "We should have killed you a hundred times over by now." He fairly spat out the words before he dropped to a lilting mutter. Lines of aether drew, redrew, and crossed in the air in front of him, a twisting mandala of geometry forming.

Luke remained silent.  Like good help.  But the aether lines worried him, the blacksmith stepping a little to the side so he had a better chance of heading to the doorway.  Even if it was... locked.  Sweet mercies, Lebeaux.

Lebeaux leaned forwards against the desk as the occasional giggles turned to outright laughter. “We?” He repeated. “Who is ‘we’, Geofferaut!” He cackled as the geometry began again. His finger curled, depressing the switch once again re-connecting the circuit now that device had likely had some time to ‘cool down’ after the previous demonstration. Though this time his free hand slid into his pocket to remove the palm-sized pistol which he leveled calmly at Geoff to discourage him for making a physical attempt with the aetherial options cut off. “Enough of that.” He ordered calmly. The laughter having subsided rather sharply.

The change was instant. Glower returned to wide, panicked eyes. Under-exercised facial muscles went lax. Geofferaut’s eyes rolled to the door and he began a frantic, limping, hop toward it, blade lashing out at the screen. Geofferaut whispered a frantic, monotone litany. "Where is it where is it where is it where is it where is it whereisitwhereisitwhereisitwhereisitwhereisit..."

Luke shot a look over to Lebeaux.  "Shut tha' off 'gain y' daf' fool," he hissed. This was, even for the elezen, a little much.  Just a little, from what he knew. "Y' should b' happy seein' tha' it worked well 'nough, aye?"

Lebeaux kept the pistol trained even as he considered that. It was already too late for one of the paper partitions, he would have to have it all replaced as the panels tore easily under the wickedly sharp sleeve steel. “If I turn it off, it’s possible he’ll turn us inside out.” He offered cheerfully. Finally with a small and petulant sigh, as though he had been scolded for picking on his brother, he released the switch to break the circuit and return the aether levels to normal. “There is a latch on the door, Geofferaut.” He suggested. “It locks from the inside…”

Luke shoved the hammer back onto his belt as Geofferaut seemed intent on the door, watching Lebeaux with a slight shift of positioning.  Sadly, sadly, his tea was not going to get drunk it seemed. "Show summat faith fer folks an' soddin' shut it off 'fore y' collapse yer - wha' are y' two t' each o'r?"

Geofferaut righted his posture instantly when the device shut off. The gaze he turned on Lebeaux flickered between blank and seething hatred. "I can go now," he monotoned. His right arm flashed in Luke's general direction and steel flew, but not toward Luke. It aimed directly for the burning candles placed tauntingly atop a stack of paper.

Lebeaux still kept the pistol and his attention on Geoff. Watching the elezen’s strange, jerky motions as he tried desperately to get out of the warded room. He suspected it would be a very, very long time before the arcanist willingly stepped into his office, if ever. Worth it. “Can’t you tell.” He asked Luke with a smug smile, still not looking away from Geoff. “The same surname, such wonderful rivalry, a bit of harmless teasing… oh. Put that out, won’t you.” Lebeaux suggested to Luke as the knife glittered against candelabra, knocking it neatly over into the nearby parchment piles. That would be problematic momentarily if not tended to.

Luke did move from the flash of steel - he dodged to the side just enough that he didn't get the motion and feel of steel too, too close - but at the - "Why tha' seven 'r nine dusty hells y' soddin' put candles on tha' flammable books," he shot back, grabbing the candles from the pile and patting the sparking flames before they left more than scorches on the covers.  Your fault, Lebeaux.  "Soddin' brothers," he said dryly, low under his breath as he righted the candelabra.

Geofferaut's now free hand found and released the lock, eyes still alternately warily and menacingly on Lebeaux.

Lebeaux wasn’t much of a reader to begin with. The important medical text were kept safely up on the shelves where he could reference them. But much of the stuff scattered along the floor and used for aesthetic were junk volumes. It was entirely his fault. “Very good, Luke. Well done with the candles.” He agreed brightly, still smiiiling at Geoff. “Come now, Geofferaut. Don’t look at me like that. It was all a bit of harmless fun now, wasn’t it. You may go.” He offered, fingers tightening on the handle of the pistol but not the trigger, keeping as still as possible under the uncomfortable stare of the other elezen.

Geofferaut backed out of the office, stare not consistently blank, and shut the intact door behind him. Shame about the other side of the wall....

Lebeaux waited until the door was closed before he sank back into his chair with a shuddering sigh. “Hells.” He muttered on the sigh. “Fury have mercy, that was good.” He declared as he grinned the sort of stupid, faraway grin that usually came on the heels of an entirely different sort of satisfaction. “I had never even imagined.” He set the pistol down on the desk top and grabbed his journal, pulling it closer to scribble notes furiously. “I am entirely satisfied with your work, Luke. The remainder of your payment is on the sideboard, in the jar labelled ‘chammomile tea’.” He suggested without looking up.

Geofferaut unlocked the outer door and pulled it open. Before leaving, he laid his hand against the book by his side and muttered a quick incantation. Wards and protections permitting, the overstuffed chair, couch, several plants, and the food on the table smoldered and began to burn.

Luke shifted, looking at Lebeaux and letting out a sigh as he studied the elezen, a twitch of his mouth as he watched Leb.  "I-" The crackle of fire in the rest of the office got a hissed exhale - this was why he hated casters.  "Gla' yer satisfied... werked as intended an' when tha' soddin' fire isn't ragin' imma get me payment."

Geofferaut pulled the door shut tight behind him against another blade wedged in between it and the jamb.

Lebeaux glanced up at the smell of fire. “Oh.” He said flatly as he rose up to his feet and hurried over to the partition. He slid it open to find a merry bonfire of his favored items. At least the combustible ones. Rather than rush out he moved to the Hingan-style windows, unhooking the latches and throwing them open. More air for the fire but it should help save them from smoke inhalation. “I’d suggest keeping low to the floor and leaving through the door or a window. I’ll be attempting conjury.” Which could be equally as dangerous as the fire. He tugged a handkerchief from his pocket and held it over his nose and mouth as he hurried past the burning furnishings to his clinic, throwing the door open and starting the water pump.

Luke looked at the door and the screws holding the doorframe together. "...y' c'n get me payment unmelted la'r on," he quipped glumly, the tone of his voice placing the blame for this squarely on the elezen responsible.  "An' I'll head out through-" The handily opened windows in the office.  "-those."

@cellardoor-ffxiv  @glowinggunmetal

[cellardoor-ffxiv]

Haunt, Part 3

Madeline Leblanc tidied her desk.

Her desk was never untidy, of course, but all the same, Madeline Leblanc tidied her desk. It was something to do when she didn’t wish to appear nervous, and she was almost always nervous. So Madeline Leblanc tidied her desk.

This time, in addition to the usual inkwell (rotate one quarter turn to the right), chronometer (slide two ilms to the left, then back one and a half ilms), and unassuming single-flower vase (lift and place in the same location), she tidied the thin stack of papers (move top sheet to bottom of stack and tap edged to make flush) regarding the matriculating seminarian seated before her. He seemed even more on edge than she was, a small blessing for which she silently thanked Halone. She chose to believe it was respect for her office and the gravity of the situation that set his eyes darting around the room and fingers twitching in his lap.

“Um,” he said again just as she was about to restate the question, “it doesn’t matter.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he repeated with the same concise monotone, slightly louder.

“Thank you, I heard you clearly the first time.” Perhaps his respect for her office and the gravity of the situation was not as overpowering as she had estimated. “Lord Derosiers, I assure you career placement matters very much. Very much indeed. Why, your entire life and service to Halone will be shaped by this decision.” She angled her face down to look meaningfully over the upper rims of her reading glasses, an action whose effect was diminished somewhat by the seminarian’s utter lack of eye contact.

(Slide pen along desktop to one-ilm parallel to the paper stack.)

“Oh. Okay.” He wasn’t exactly contrite, but then he hadn’t exactly been defiant to start. Madeline decided that he appeared suitably cowed, owing no doubt to a wisely measured application of her authority.

“Right, then.” She lifted the stack of papers firmly (reassuringly) to leaf through yet again while she spoke. “You have high marks in all areas. Or, hm, nearly all areas. Oratory seems a bit weak, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.”

No further explanation seemed forthcoming. “Well. Yes, it does.” Her chronometer must have been running slowly (tap lightly at the top of the casing, twice). She was becoming all too keenly aware of every second this session dragged on. “Plenty of ways to serve without, er, without giving sermons, I suppose. Administration is a, that is, it is an option.” She didn’t relish the thought of encountering this one at work every day. “Or! Or you’ve the marks for a chirurgeon? Oh. Oh, never mind that. Seems to be a note regarding... Oh, dear.”

He waited silently if not stilly while she read the professor’s recommendation and brief accounting of the student’s practicum in a house of healing. He noted that her lips moved when she read and that the skin tone of her face lightened several shades. He continued waiting while she set the paper aside and made no fewer than seven small adjustments to the items placed on her desk. Then they both waited a bit more, both silently, for she felt it wiser that he not hear the precise nature of her prayer. He noted that the knuckles of her right hand, which had somewhat clumsily found its way to her rosary, were several shades lighter still than her face.

“It’ll be the Inquisition then, won’t it?”

Madeline Leblanc pleaded the Fury’s mercy that she would never encounter this one at work.

[roses-and-grimoires]

Journal Entry #5

Nineteenth Sun of the Fourth Astral--

I think I have made a mistake.

So it turns out that Lebeaux does, indeed, have a brother. Moreover, the former seems to be using him as his own personal alchemist. The man is odd, and in some ways even worse than Lebeaux. At least he can carry on a normal conversation. This one though...

He kept calling me “Subject”. Who in the Seven Hells does that?

As if that is not bad enough, the two of them and Rin seem to be playing with the void, of all things. Lebeaux did not seem to appreciate Rin telling me that either; I think I may well have to approach the latter when he is alone, to try to get more information from him about what the three of them are working on. I am... concerned that it has something to do with me.

I cannot allow them to use whatever it is on me, if that is the case. I shudder to think what might happen. Even with Lebeaux’s... help, there is far too much that could go wrong.

I need to know more. And I need to stay away from Geofferaut. He asks too many questions...and he is deeply unpleasant to be around besides. Something about him makes the back of my neck crawl, and I suspect it only partially has to do with whom he is related to.

[guttergodsknife]

♠ Gotta ask for Geofferaut. Just gotta.

AW YEAH THE GEOFF.

ULTIMATE ANTI-SHIP MEME - Send my character a ♠ and I’ll fill in the form of what my character would do with yours.

BOLD YOUR CHOICES

Anti-affectionate; Chopping off hands | Passive-aggressive post-it notes | Petty oneupmanship [normally he’d do this but he doesn’t want to do geoffisms better than geoff does …] | Villainous boasts | Mailing swarms of wasps | Hatespooning | Dramatic monologues | Leaving horse heads in beds | Gossipmongering | Angry texts | Slap with glove | Identity theft | Regular theft | Frame for a crime | Ironic gifts | Poison | Improbable declarations of parenthood | Or siblinghood [long lost miqo sibling! no? aw, come on, you keep adopting siblings that aren’t yours] | No displays of anti-affection

Duels: Fisticuffs | Swords | Pistols at dawn | Rap battle | Wizards duel | Giant robots | Axes | Katanas | Bake-off [geoff would win, baking is chemistry] | Sniping [poorly. but he’s scared of Geoff and wouldn’t want to go near him in a fight so …] | Drinking contest | Pokemon | Insult fight | Hatesex | Naval engagement | Poker | Dance | Wrestling | Joust | Knife fight | Sports | Street race/car chase | Gruelling legal dispute [’and that is why, your honour, Geofferaut Derosiers broke my heart and owes me alimony’] | Mario Kart | Military skirmish | No duels

Arena:Rooftop of a burning building | Outside the saloon at high noon | Deck of a galleon | Colliseum | Mountaintop | Ancient ruins | Underwater | Museum | Palace | Bar | Beach | Moon | Quicksand | Treasure vault | Courtroom | Wilderness | Lounge [with chill lounge music of course] | Snow | Streets | Tropical island | Space | No arenas [where’s the dark basement though?]

Would my character…

Be archnemeses? Yes | No Have hatesex after the first duel? Yes | No [THE ONE CHARACTER SPARED FROM THIS]Confess their undying hatred first? Yes | No Drag accomplices into this mess? Yes | No Let bygones be bygones? Yes | No Swear terrible revenge? Yes | No Lie to them? Yes | No Hatecuddle after hatesex? Yes | No

@thejellomold

[blackrose-ffxiv]

Research Assistants 11/24

Atlan Lanning was getting his grubby little half-elezen hands all over all of them. He was very interested in what each of them had to say now that he was Lebeaux's student. "I like you. You're a lot more quiet than Lebeaux."

"Correct." Geofferaut Derosiers answered.

Lebeaux Desrosiers made his way down into the dark basement. He had fully intended to be there and waiting for Atlan’s arrival. Yet other matters had arisen that needed tending. Surely Geoff hadn’t taken him apart into too many pieces yet. His expression flattened as he heard his name. “Good evening.” He called out cheerfully.

"...Speaking of which," Atlan sighed and let the book snap shut when he saw Lebeaux approach. Now he was stuck between the two of them in this cramped space that smelled like a hospital and he didn't know how to feel about that.

The pile revealed tomes on alchemy, anatomy, healing, halonic law, and arcanima.

"Hello Lebeaux Desrosiers." Geofferaut had his eyes firmly fixed on Atlan's hands, which were on one of his books.

Lebeaux sidled over to plant himself on said stack of books. Making himself perfectly comfortable. He had already greeted them so he didn’t bother doing it over again. “And how is your question and answer session going. Have you offered him tea, Geofferaut.”

"I don't know. No."

"...Actually, we were trying to figure out why you sent me here." It wasn't so much a we as it was Atlan asking Geoff a thousand questions.

Lebeaux smirked smugly. “Atlan and I are your guests. Some tea would be in order.” He reminded Geoff before he smiiiiled over at Atlan. “Well, having you take a lesson from Geofferaut was mostly a way to kill a bit of time. Since I assume pulling teeth would actually be easier than extracting guidance from him.” He declared, rather proud of himself for that one. “It’s rather to do with the other half of our agreement. You gave me permission to have you studied, essentially.” Lebeaux waved a hand at Geoff. “He is the most thorough researcher I know.”

Geofferaut turned his attention back to the pile of papers in front of him, a blank sheet on top, now that Lebeaux was bearing the brunt of the socializing. His hands filled a crucible with clear liquid from one of the bottles and set it by Lebeaux's knee.

Atlan almost visibly shrunk back at that explanation. Of course, that would explain the nature of this place. The smells, the tools, the general chill of the place... If Atlan didn't know any better might think Lebeaux had chosen this particular place because of the information he'd let slip during their first lesson. Atlan set the book down upon the desk since Lebeaux was sitting on the pile now. "...I did agree to it," he muttered.

Lebeaux picked up the crucible and set it on the stove behind him without shifting his attention away from Atlan. “You did, indeed.” He agreed with a serene smile. “Geofferaut, Atlan is host to a specimen relevant to our recent research. There are marked similarities. Would you be willing to examine him.” He offered, picking up a pair of tongs to remove the crucible from the stove once it was heated to set it over by Geoff and the ingredients wall again.

Geofferaut placed the single mug next to the crucible and extracted a small scoop filled with small leaves from the bottom-most, right-most drawer on his wall. These were added to the mug, the scoop was returned to its place, and the drawer was closed snugly.

"Yes. I have questions."

"...Okay," Atlan pushed away from the wall and stood with his arms folded over his chest. He'd asked plenty of questions, after all. It was time to let Geoff have a turn.

"What percentage of the subject must remain intact."

"Wha...?" Atlan's head snapped from Geoff to Lebeaux, obviously not expecting questions of that nature. He could still run if he needed to, at least, with Lebeaux no longer blocking the exit.

Geofferaut repeated, a few decibels louder, but with no additional inflection. Or any at all. "What percentage of the subject must remain intact."

"It hasn't revealed anything else to me otherw—" Atlan Lanning stopped, eyes snapping to Geofferaut. "My... no, well yes. My mother's still alive. She still communicates with me sometimes, but Saerdha killed my father."

"Where is your mother." Geofferaut Derosiers asked.

Lebeaux Desrosiers casually set down the mug to make a few more notes at that. “How nice.” Look at these two. A mammet and a monster yet they still kept in touch with their mums. Wasn’t that sweet.

"I think still in the Shroud... the swamps to the south. It's easier for her to find subjects the Wailers won't look for there."

"Okay. What is your mother's name."

"Ofelia Lanning. Why?"

"I intend to communicate with it.” Geofferaut answered before continuing his own line of questioning. “You will describe Ofelia Lanning."

Lebeaux noted that down carefully. She certainly sounded a charming sort. “Has she been keeping track of your condition.”

"I... I really don't think that's a good idea. She does terrible things to people... horrible experiments, and if you're out... interrupting her," he warned, knowing it probably wouldn't do any good.

Lebeaux smiled primly as he looked around the clinic. “And just what do you suspect goes on here, Atlan.” He mused. “I think they’d have quite a bit to talk about.”

"You will describe Ofelia Lanning." Geofferaut ordered.

"She's... been watching me ever since Saerdha and Rin took me away," Atlan answered Lebeaux, then turned back to Geoff, sighing. "She's short, same eyes as mine... dark hair, and has a Hannish accent."

"Your father was an elezen. Probably a Gridanian Wildwood." Geofferaut hypothesized.

"...Ishgardian, but yes. The rest is right."

"Okay. How does Ofelia Lanning watch you."

"That's a good question. We've been trying to figure it out, too, but she's apparently recently spoken with Rinha'li. She got chased off before she could tell him what she wanted..."

"What chased Ofelia Lanning."

“Imagine she didn't want to be spotted by other people, or me... Others showed up after she got his attention, so she couldn't be alone with him. Geofferaut, I really don't think you should try communicating with her. She's dangerous..."

"How does Ofelia Lanning communicate with you." Geofferaut repeated flatly.

"...Recently? Often. She leaves some of her research and letters under a tree for me to take."

"Where is the tree."

"Um, do you have a map? I can mark it... A map of the Shroud, I mean."

"You will wait here."

"Lebeaux," Atlan frowned as Geofferaut walked off. "Really, you should talk him out of this."

Lebeaux returned with a fresh cup of tea, just barely missing getting it knocked out of his hands as Geoff strode by on a mission. He settled back into his seat, smiling cheerfully. “Out of what. Are we going on a field trip to find Ofelia? That sounds absolutely lovely. I’m sure she has all sorts of useful insights to share…”

Geofferaut unrolled a Shroud map on the table. It featured notations in the general vicinity of Amdapor in the south written in a tight, obsessively neat hand.

Atlan looked over the map as he plucked the pencil from the table and made several marks in the more remote parts of the swamp. "...This is where she kept me, in her lab, but... I don't know how much of it is left. This is where the tree is, but I think it moves. It's not... normal, and it smells like corpses. I guess that's how you might be able to tell it apart from the others."

"Okay." Geofferaut rolled up the map and tucked it and the pencil away among the collection of miscellany on and in his robe. 

@cellardoor-ffxiv  @sedatayuun

[blackrose-ffxiv]

Mandatory Social Excursions - Viper’s Nest 11/15

Lebeaux Desrosiers didn’t bother knocking but rather went straight for the handle. Unlocked essentially meant ‘welcome, come in’ after all. Or it just made it easier for lost souls to wander accidentally into the depths of the basement. Possibly never to be seen again. “Good afternoon Geofferaut.” He called out cheerfully as he descended down, checking the usual hiding spots for the other elezen.

Geofferaut Derosiers stood over a severed foot, several needles and instruments protruding from an open incision just above the ankle. "Hello Lebeaux Desrosiers."

Lebeaux found him standing over a strange project. It looked like some odd cross between modern art and mad science. “Ah, there you are. My, what an interesting piece you’re working on.” He noted as he settled himself onto a nearby perch. “Why don’t you wrap that up for the time being. You’ll need to change, we’re going out. You can tell me about this project while you dress.”

Geofferaut tapped a needle and watched the big toe curl and release. "Um." He blinked at the toe as if waiting for it to make him understand. "I am working."

Lebeaux smiled calmly all the while, watching as the other manipulated the severed foot into reacting. “Very good, look at that.  Now get another and you can teach the pair to tapdance. It will keep.” In cold storage, probably.  “On the other hand, mandatory social interactions have set timeframes. As well as dress codes. Best hurry.”

"I have no scheduled social activities today."

“Wrong, I’ve scheduled one for you.” Lebeaux explained cheerfully. He hopped down off of his perch and made light shooing motions with his hands.

"Oh. Um." Geofferaut's blinking intensified. In between blinks, his gaze darted between the various instruments, the foot, the guest intruder, and the exit. "Um."

Lebeaux stepped closer as the gesture continued, flicking fingers growing ever closer to Geofferaut. “Mandatory.” He repeated. “I will be bringing you as a guest to an establishment I frequent. It’s a vital component to continuing the charade of being siblings.”

Geofferaut leaned away, bare, scarred fingers grasping for one of the sharper tools on the table. "I have questions. What is the establishment. What are the parameters for dress."

Lebeaux paused in the shooing motion, but he didn’t move away. “I can answer your questions as you dress.” He explained calmly. “Dress code would be ‘I don’t want to be embarrassed to be seen with you’.” He suggested helpfully. “The coat you wore to the Tradehouse was rather dapper. That would suffice. Or something similar.”

"Okay."

Lebeaux nodded. “Very good. Go put it on. It’s a social club for gentlemen.” He explained, eyeing the foot still laying out on the table. “The earlier in the day we go the less likely it is that it will be crowded. I thought you would appreciate that.”

Lebeaux pushed the door open without bothering to knock, holding it open to ensure the other elezen would follow him in. “Good afternoon.” He called out cheerfully.

Geofferaut followed Lebeaux through the doors and immediately did his best to disappear into the plant.

Daijiro Satake hums. "Then, would you not be happier than you were having not explored this option?" he wonders. "It is one thing to accept that one is suffering. Another to live with suffering without knowing all that one has done to prevent it." He offers a light shrug. "Then, what is it that you wanted to talk about?" He cants his head slightly. "Ah. Mayhaps we ought to speak quietly of such things. There are curious personages upstairs, if I am not mistaken."

Perrin Solleux meanwhile had just managed to slink in behind the other two elezen. With one familiar white robed elezen, for now he remained quiet with his hands behind his back. Maybe the other duskwight considered him part of Lebeaux’s menagerie.

Michaux Vidal lowers his book at glances toward the door as it opens. When Lebeaux steps in, he smiles a little and sets the book aside. He rises. "Good afternoon, Lebeaux, and... friend?" Then he sees Perrin. "Friends?"

Lebeaux looked about the initial parlor, finding a familiar face there already. “Michaux, what a surprise to find you here.” He noted with a calm smile, he waved a hand towards the black-clad man behind him. “This is Geofferaut Derosiers.” He leaned hard on the same name for a moment. Then tilted his head. Michaux knew his real name, the ruse would be lost on him. “An associate of mine. I’ve decided to bring him to the club so he can enjoy a little company.”

Michaux lifts his brow and takes another look at the Elezen trying to hide behind the plant. "Desrosiers, hm? Kareem is preparing some tea. Should I go tell him to make some in the Ishgardian manner also?"

Rashk Geilt glances at Daijiro and narrows his eyes, his ears twitching. "Then perhaps we should go elsewhere to discuss what I wish to discuss," he says. "Though it can wait if you wish to perform your owner greeting rituals at any potential new visitors."

Lebeaux nodded in agreement to Michuax’s question. “Ishgardian tea would be divine.” He smiiiiled at Geofferaut. “You should go sit by Michaux. He is a friend of mine.” He suggested, indicating the couch before he looked back to Perrin. “I would expect nothing less. I suppose your own line of work would be more profitable than working for another anyways.” He strode across the room with a flick of his coat tails to settle himself onto the couch so he wouldn’t have to keep turning.

Geofferaut blinked. "Um. Okay." He sat ramrod straight and technically next to Michaux.

Michaux blinks once, slowly, at Lebeaux's unusual friend, and then a sparkle of amusement appears in his eyes. He nods at Lebeaux. "I'll be right back. Please make yourselves comfortable." He bows his head in greeting to Perrin too on his way out of the room.

Daijiro nods. "Very well. Let us go elsewhere then", he says. "Ah. But then, it would be rude to abandon new visitors. Would you not join me in offering companionship to such personages? Ah. If you are feeling well enough to do so, of course."

“Of course.” Lebeaux nodded when Michaux left the room, smiling smugly over at Geofferaut. “Oh, I haven’t introduced you. Perrin, this is Geofferaut Derosiers.” Lebeaux shifted over to plant himself obnoxiously in the center of the couch.

Rashk takes another drag off the pipe before tapping the fogweed out and abandoning the pipe for Kareem to clean later. "I feel perfectly fine." And even if he doesn't, well--he feels fine enough to pretend. He gets up and then waits for Daijiro, obviously intending to let the Hingan lead.

"Your associate, if I heard correctly." Perrin noted before giving said Derosiers a short nod of acknowledgement. Before simple planting himself onto the free chair.

Geofferaut updated the list accordingly.

Michaux returns after a few moments, still looking rather amused, and walks over to sit closely beside Geofferaut. Definitely not on purpose. To make him uncomfortable. No way. "Tea will be ready soon. Are you comfortable?" He smiles at Geofferaut. "You look rather as if you've just sat upon a stray needle. Can I make you more comfortable?"

Daijiro nods. "Of course", he remarks. He then tries to rest a reassuring hand on the Miqo'tes shoulder, though it is a fleeting gesture before he does indeed move up and ahead.

Rashk allows the touch and then trails along, tail flicking in his wake.

Geofferaut leaned away from Michaux. "It doesn't matter. No."

Lebeaux flashed his saintly smile at Perrin, patting the spot he had just vacated. While he had fully intended on sandwiching himself between the two Duskwights, Michaux had decided to go ‘make nice’ with Geofferaut. He wasn’t about to spoil that. The corner of his mouth quirked into a small smirk.

Daijiro can be seen moving past the bar, then pushing the curtain gently to the side, waiting for Rashk to pass as well before he enters and offers a deep bow in the eastern style. "Welcome to the Guzen Mizu Shobai Host Club~."

Perrin just pretended to sigh, as if standing up was a chore. Before Satake walked in of course. "Ah, lovely to see you again, why with Rashk as well in tow!" the duskwight even giving the keeper a small lazy wave, before, now actually placing himself next to Lebeaux.

Michaux is beginning to enjoy this way too much. "Doesn't matter? Good to know." He inches a little closer. "What brings you here today? Other than Lebeaux, I mean." Then he glances at Perrin. "Are you not part of their entourage? I'm sorry for not greeting you properly. I hope you like your tea either strong enough to fight an army, or drowned in milk and sugar."

Geofferaut spoke stiffly from a stiff angle. "It is a mandatory social occasion. Hello Daijiro Satake it is good to see you. Hello Rashk Geilt it is good to see you."

Rashk bows beside Daijiro and then lets his gaze travel the room, starting with Perrin, a smile already on his face. It doesn't falter at Lebeaux, but Geofferaut draws a pause from the Keeper ... before he smiles more brightly. "Ah, Geofferaut, what a pleasure to see you here! Lebeaux, you hide your delightful brother away entirely too much," he says in playful admonishment. "You should have brought him over sooner."

"No I'm afraid not. But I will say not no to a tea strong enough to fight an army with." Perrin replied.

Lebeaux smoothed his expression back to serene as Daijiro and Rashk emerged from the back room of the club. “Good afternoon. I was beginning to worry that there were no Hosts on duty. A shame, so many customers left to fend for themselves.” He sighed theatrically, then gestured to the man on the other couch. “I’ve brought another Derosiers to enjoy your services.” He tilted his head at Rashk’s comments, placing a hand on his chest as though he felt terrible about it taking so long. “It is ever so hard to tear him away from his work, at times.”

"Mandatory. Social. Occasion." Michaux bites his lower lip hard to keep from making his amusement too obvious. "What an excellent idea to bring you here, then."

Geofferaut's fingers twitch arrhythmically in his lap.

Daijiro smiles. "Of course, we have our hosts here to entertain whenever necessary", Daijiro tells Lebeaux. "And such a pleasure to see your brother again. He is looking quite well~". He inclines his head to Geofferaut with a little grin, then his gaze settles on Perrin. "And how pleasing to see you as well, Ser. What desires may we indulge? Tea and rice cakes, perhaps?"

"Kareem is making tea," Michaux tells Daijiro. "I did not think of food." He never does. "My apologies."

Geofferaut breathed shallowly and quickly.

Daijiro smiles. "It is fortunate then that we have rice cakes at the ready~", Daijiro tells Michaux, before his gaze returns to the long-necked guests.

Lebeaux smiled lightly at Daijiro’s offer, tilting his head without looking directly at the Hingan. Letting his gaze drift over the other elezen gathered on the couches instead. “I would certainly enjoy sweets with my tea.”

Rashk observes Geoff, maintaining a perfect, mildly curious smile. Though perhaps the corner of his mouth twitches a little at noting the man's discomfort. Somebody looks as if they might soon bolt for the door. "And how has your work been, Geofferaut? Your brother tells us so very little of you, we're left swooning for any morsel." He's absolutely ignoring Lebeaux completely now in favour of Geofferaut.

Some of Michaux's amusement fades when he hears Geofferaut's labored breathing. He looks back at the man with slightly furrowed brows. "Deeper breaths," he says for his ears alone. "You'll pass out like that."

Perrin waved his hand, the one on the other side of Lebeaux, lazily at the mention of indulging desires. "Tea will suffice, though your other employee over there has already called for it." Though the duskwight raised a brow at the other Derosiers breathing being anything but normal. Perrin leaning close to Lebeaux to speak to him instead, " Does your....brother-always seem to roll of fight or flight instincts?" Seems that a certain elezen here didn't bought the brother stick.

Geofferaut takes a single deep breath. "Fine how are you."

Daijiro smiles. "Then let me go and gather them", he remarks. He smiles. "Rashk, why don't you make yourself comfortable with one of our guests?" He then disappears towards the kitchen.

Rashk slooooowly shuffles over to the sofa Geoff is absolutely suffering on, smiiiling at him. "Mm, yes, you are fine."

Lebeaux leaned in closer as Perrin leaned to speak to him, resting his shoulder against the taller man as he peered past him at Geofferaut borderline hyperventilating. The corners of his smile quirked wickedly. “Generally, yes. In social situations, always. I’m helping him to adjust and adapt.” Wasn’t he charitable.

Michaux glances at Rashk with a lifted brow. Then he returns his attention to Geofferaut. He seems less amused and more watchful now. "This seems an odd way of helping him adapt. If you were afraid of vipers, I wouldn't toss you into a pit full of them," he says mildly to Lebeaux.

Rashk is either the biggest fan of awkward angles, or trying to get a rise out of a certain narcissist by ignoring them and staring at Geoff with doe eyes.

“Come now, Michaux. That’s nothing alike. I’m surrounding him with the kindest, most welcoming vipers I can find.” Lebeaux offered cheerfully.

@cellardoor-ffxiv  @rashkgeilt  @secrets-and-aetherlight  @theforestsquiet  @grey-lotus-ffxiv  

[blackrose-ffxiv]

Oh, Okay 11/05

Geofferaut Derosiers entered and clicked the door shut behind him, eyes already roving over the new surroundings. "Hello Lebeaux Desrosiers."

Lebeaux Desrosiers eased his finger back off of the pistol he had hidden in his pocket, ensuring the safety was back in place. “Good afternoon Geofferaut.” He greeted him, rising to his feet and setting the closed journal aside. “Ohh, that’s right. You haven’t had a chance to see my new office. I’ve been visiting you as of late. You haven’t come to serve me papers for culture abandonment, have you.” He mused as he waved a hand, inviting Geoff in to inspect the rest of the adjustments.

"No." Geoff took the few steps necessary to see the rest of the open area.

Lebeaux smiled and tilted his head. “Very good. Help yourself to tea or something to eat.” He suggested, suspecting he already knew what the answer to that would be. “And speaking of the cultures, how have they been since my last visit. You have been taking good care of them, I hope.”

"I'm not thirsty. I'm not hungry. They do not perform the desired function. Yes."

Lebeaux exhaled a small sigh, smiling all the while. “Keep them alive nonetheless. Surely there are other functions they may perform.” He suggested, gesturing for Geofferaut to follow along. “We may as well take the tour, then.” He suggested, sliding the nearest door open to show off his office area.

Geofferaut suspected, despite the plethora of books, that Lebeaux was something less than an avid reader. "Um. There are at least two."

Lebeaux waved a hand to gesture at the décor. While some of it may have been actual medical reference and such, there was a good chance most of the books would never be touched. Or weren’t even real. “Lovely, isn’t it.” He declared. “I’m having some interesting additions put in. A bit of experimental magitek, research into aether-nullification. For security, of course. Oh?” He smiled back at Geofferaut. “What are the two functions.”

"It doesn't matter. Eradication of a population and eradication of a collection of cadavers. A third is exposure to gangrenous limbs. Does the planned aether nullification interfere with the wards."

Lebeaux tilted his head slightly. “Those functions could prove useful in some situations. Keep them healthy. Does the culture cure the rot or rather remove the limb?” He slid the door closed and gestured for Geoff to follow him. “I suspect it may interfere, yet only when it’s on. I don’t intend to have it running constantly.”

Geofferaut's attention turned to the exit with increasing frequency. "The limb is consumed. The remainder of the subject is consumed as it dies."

Lebeaux quirked a dark brow as Geoff’s glances towards the door grew more frequent. “Hm, that’s not particularly useful. The infection would kill them eventually as well.” Arms folded across his chest as he tapped a finger thoughtfully against his lower lip. “Something the matter, Geofferaut?”

"The subjects report large amounts of pain during the course of treatment. Death is quicker under treatment than if left untreated. I am fine how are you. Subjects behave erratically shortly before and after death." Geofferaut kept one set of fingertips pressed against the cover of his book.

Lebeaux exhaled a quiet chuckle and slid the door open to reveal the clinic area set aside for actual work. If he ever did any. “A blade or a tonic would also make quick work, but I see. What were the behavior patterns.”

"Patterns varied probably depending on exposure site and path of infection and included involuntary movement and violence."

Lebeaux continued tapping his finger lightly against his own lip as he considered that. He lowered his hand to gesture at the clinic area. “Random movement and acts, or were you able to influence them.”

"Subjects responded less to commands over time. Involuntary actions were probably intended to transmit the infection. Subject six successfully infected subject sixteen when subject sixteen entered the room unsupervised."

Lebeaux tilted his head thoughtfully. “Still potentially useful. In the correct situation. Continue to keep them alive and looking into counter-measures. If one is aggressively infectious to the point of influencing the host for the sake of spreading, that would be the one to begin with. If it cannot be contained it may be for the best to dispose of it.” He reached out to pat the doorway of the clinic. “Have you spoken with Rinha’li regarding warding.”

"Oh. Okay. No."

“Do not show him the cultures’ progress but I recommend it. He has been reworking the wardings here that were previously destroyed… he seemed uncomfortable with the idea of aether disruption as well.” He smiled over at Geofferaut. “Considering the insubordination in Amdapor you’ll both understand if I don’t explain the finer workings.”

"I set my own wards. It doesn't matter."

“Do you now.” He mused as he slid the door closed again. “Perhaps I should have told you to do it, then. You’re less likely to work something nasty in, I suspect Rinha’li is still a little miffed over how that all went. Ah!” He smiled sweetly over at the other. “Did you bring me a copy of Ciceroix’s transcript, as I requested. Is that the purpose of the visit.”

"Yes. I don't know. No I do not have a transcript of the tome. No."

Lebeaux pouted briefly. “Ah. I see. Well, there was quite a bit going on during our last discussion. You can’t be blamed for it slipping your mind.” He moved to the other side of the hallway and slid the door open. Not to give the tour of his ‘living’ quarters but to fetch the borrowed shirt and overcoat. Washed, as promised, but never returned.

"I did not forget. I do not have a transcript of the tome."

“Are you unable to make one.” He mused as he folded the articles and held them out to Geofferaut.

Geofferaut took posession of a small bundle of clothing. "Yes."

Lebeaux sniffed in mild disappointment. “Why is that. Have you forgotten the changes you made."

Geofferaut held the clothes in his right arm, left hand still pressed against his book, eyes still drawn to the exit. "The copy is fundamentally altered. No."

Lebeaux inhaled slowly, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. “Why not give me a transcript of the version you have, then.”

"Um." The corner of one eye twitched and seemed to pull his head just a bit to the side. "That is unacceptable."

Lebeaux pouted again before the smile returned and he stepped slightly closer. “What is unacceptable was the destruction of my personal property. The last remaining memento of my mentor. How is it unacceptable that I should have a copy of his work.”

"It is no longer his work."

“No, you’ve bastardized it. Which would make it a collaboration, not entirely yours either.”

"Oh. Okay."

“Quite right, ‘okay’. And therefore.” He continued on. “You’ve no right to deny me a transcript. I’ll expect one within the sennight.”

"Okay. It will not exist."

Lebeaux shook his head and stepped closer. Just near enough to extend his hand as though about to jab his finger against the taller man’s chest. “Wrong. You will make a transcript, near as possible to the original, and it will be waiting for me.”

Geofferaut leaned away stiffly. "Oh. Okay."

Lebeaux followed him slowly with the extended finger, though he still didn’t make contact yet. Inching forwards and Geoff leaned back. “Will you have a transcript ready for me on my next visit, within the sennight.”

"No."

Lebeaux smiled sweetly for a moment. He didn’t poke Geofferaut, but rather reached up to grab the taller man’s chin and turn it to ensure he was looking at Lebeaux rather than the door. “Why not. Make sure it is a /very/ good reason.”

Geofferaut dropped his clothes as his right hand shot up to grip Lebeaux's wrist with unusually strong fingers. "Idonotliketobetouched.Itismine." He pressed the tip of his thumb against the pressure point.

"Idonotliketobetouched.Idonotliketobetouched.”

Lebeaux inhaled sharply, the smile vanishing immediately as his wrist was grabbed and a bony finger dug hard into delicate little bones and nerves. His own fingers immediately splayed wide, releasing Geofferaut’s chin. Dark brows furrowed as he was definitely debating if proving a point was really worth a broken wrist. Again. “I’m not touching you any longer, let go.” Perhaps not, after all.

"IdonotliketobetouchedIdonotliketobetouchedIdonotliketobetouched," Geofferaut repeated, eyes wide and wild. Gradually, his grip loosened enough to break free and his repetitions slowed to a final, "I do not like to be touched."

Lebeaux took a step back as soon as his wrist was freed, rubbing just below his hand and then smoothing his coat and sleeves back into order. Preening himself back to presentable as he watched with well-contained horror as the arcanist’s mantra slowed to be defined words again. “So I’ve noticed.” He sniped as he skulked past Geofferaut to head for the tea tray.

Geofferaut found a soothingly solid pillar to put his back to with a view of the subject and the exits. Geofferaut's chest rose and fell faster and farther than usual and his eyes were wider than usual and his fingers gripped his book harder than usual and he'd momentarily forgotten the clothes on the floor, but he was slowly moving toward equilibrium.

Lebeaux huffed as he poured himself a cup of tea, holding it tightly between both hands. Eyeing the other elezen with a mixture of wariness and petulantly sulking at him as the other still seemed to be in ‘alarm’ state. “If you didn’t drop by for a delivery or to fetch your things, why did you come here.”

"The samples do not perform the desired function. Also the last of the subjects will die within the sennight."

Lebeaux considered that as he took a small sip of the tea. Working on regaining his own equilibrium as he added a splash of brandy to the cup and took another sip. Perfect. “We’re preserving the cultures, even if they don’t perform the intended function. Are you asking me for more subjects.”

"Okay. No the trial has probably accomplished all it can."

“Will the cultures remain alive and active even without host subjects?”

"Um. Yes."

Lebeaux nodded primly. “Very good. Pack it up and preserve them. I’m sure a use will present itself before long. Are you able to store them safely without risk of contamination.”

"Yes."

Lebeaux took a long sip of the tea, still holding the cup tightly. “Alright.” He eyed the arcanist briefly. “You are aware that the project is ours and should I find use of it I will expect you to cooperate. Without the fussing.”

"Okay."

@cellardoor-ffxiv

[blackrose-ffxiv]

House Derosiers Part 2 09/26

Geofferaut Derosiers led his limping 'brother' to the family home by the arm, the perfect picture of fraternal support. The house wasn't exactly large, but it was well kept and glows warmly from the windows. Geofferaut knocked three times on the front door. A middle-aged woman in a crisp domestic uniform answered momentarily with a smile that turned into shock that turned back into a smile, albeit a strained one. "Hello, Lord Geofferaut. It is good to see you. So.. soon."

Geofferaut marched Lebeaux through the door while reciting, "Hello Maureen it is good to see you may I present Lebeaux DESROSIERS." He emphasized the last name with an uptick in volume but no change in tone and continued, "You will bring boiling water cold water towels and bandages to my room."

Lebeaux Desrosiers limped awkwardly along beside Geofferaut as they approached the family home. The Derosiers were under the banner of the Haillenartes but visiting the lesser nobility at their homes wasn’t generally the done thing. Rather the vassal houses were occasionally invited to the High house for social functions and what have you. As such it was his first time seeing House Derosiers. Nice enough, he supposed, down to polite enough Help answering the door. Despite what he already knew of his un-brother the title was still somewhat jarring. Lebeaux banished the small wince and pasted his standard serene smile back on his face. Make a good impression. Wait to be introduced. Don’t pass out. He tilted his head in greeting to ‘Maureen’ as they marched past. “Good evening.” He muttered, briefly amused by Geofferaut’s emphasis on the name. “What a cozy home. How nice.” He offered.

Maureen ducked a curtsy, "Yes, m'Lord, right away. Thank you, m'Lord," and she was off at a brisk walk, just shy of undignified hurry.

Lebeaux waited until she was gone to drop the smile and return to wallowing in self-pity and generally eyeing up the place as they walked through it. “And it’s only your parents and the help here? Must be quiet.” He mused, still leaning on the taller man every other step. They arrived at the staircase and a small wheeze of dismay escaped. Which he quickly swallowed down before he made his way up the stairs, giving Geoff a brief respite as he hung onto the railing. Once they were up the stairs he didn’t protest but allowed himself to sit hard on the bed. “I’ve left my kits and effects behind. I’ll take something for the pain.”

Geofferaut's room was the polar opposite of his more familiar cellar workspace. Cushions and carpets gave it an overall padded feel, and as everywhere in the house, light was already blooming.

Lebeaux’s pale gaze drifted over the room. It was soft and warm. He had assumed it was a guest room or some such. He expected Geofferaut’s room to be an above ground version of his basement. Hard angles, cold materials and flat surfaces. “I’ve already begun treatment on my own, I simply didn’t have the aether to finish it.” He explained. “Surely that counts. Do you keep medical materials in the guest rooms? How unusual.”

"No. No." The apparent scion of a plush-crazed noble house withdrew a tied bundle from his robes and unrolled his medical tools on the desk. He supplemented the collection with herbs and vials pulled various drawers. "You will uncover the wound."

The only visible injury the medic carried was a slice along his cheek. That one has been carefully tended to and sealed with aether to ensure that it would heal without a scar. Lebeaux huffed in annoyance then lifted the edge of the robe up into his lap. The fabric of his trousers had already been cut open where a large piece of debris had been removed from his thigh. This injury hadn’t received near the same attention as the one on his face, only enough to prevent it from bleeding when the item had been removed from his skin. Residual traces indicated rocks and dirt, likely conjury. 

“I’ll have the pain relief before.” Lebeaux insisted again. “I’ve seen your treatment style. And if you said ‘no’, then why are there supplies here.”

Geofferaut paid much more attention to Lebeaux's uncovered thigh than he did to anything else. "Pain response is required to assess the effectiveness of the treatment. I keep supplies in my room." He carefully removed his gloves, laid them folded together on the desk -just so-, and splashed something that reeked of disinfectant on his hands. 

A barely audible tap at the door, followed by an equally soft, "Enter," from Geofferaut brought Maureen back into their lives, this time carrying two pots of water and a stack of clean, white linens. "You will place the water on the floor beside the subject's feet. You will place the towels and bandages on the bed beside the subject. I require nothing else."

Lebeaux huffed indignantly once again and began patting down his robes. He hadn’t brought a flask nor pipe along in case Gilbert chose to search the combatants before the duel. A good idea since the Knight had emptied the rest of his pockets afterwards. Nothing. Not even a basic potion. “I would prefer something before.” He insisted as the gloves were removed. Concern was intensifying. “… Your room?” He repeated in disbelief as he took another look around. “Impossible.” 

It was at that moment that Maureen arrived with the requested items and set about doing as Geoff instructed. “I’ll have tea.” Lebeaux chimed in once Geoff had declared his own needs met.

Maureen did as she was told without a word. Lebeaux's request seemed to catch her off guard. She stood paralyzed for a long moment, wide eyes darting between Lebeaux and Lord Geofferaut's back. She made up her mind and offered Lebeaux a small smile and a duck of her head before bowing out of the room. The door swung shut on silent hinges and latched with hardly a swish of metal against metal.

Geofferaut, for his part, selected a few gleaming tools, several packets of herbs, and a small silver mug with his scarred fingers. These he brought to the subject and arranged himself on the floor next to the rent thigh.

Lebeaux smiled politely in return. He suspected when it came to Geofferaut this was probably one of the least strange things any of the domestic staff had seen. Not to mention the entire ‘sworn to secrecy’ thing that usually came standard in Ishgardian terms of employment. For what that was worth. “She isn’t going to bring tea, is she.” He muttered mostly to himself. “Who arranged your room for you?” He attempted ‘small talk’, as well as that ever worked with Geofferaut, as a bit of distraction as he looked at the items being prepared. As well as the scars on the other’s hands.

"No. Mother."

Lebeaux probably should have expected that. “Refusing me tea is likely considered a violation of basic spoken rights since you won’t allow me pain relief.” He explained in annoyance, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Are all of those scars unfinished geometries.” He finally asked, something he had been meaning to poke into after the trip into Amdapor, but he had been busy making his displeasure with the expedition crew clearly known.

"No." While he stared fixedly at Lebeaux's thigh, Geofferaut's hands busied themselves scooping hot water into the mug and sprinkling one of the herb packets into it. It did not take long for the smell of Coerthan tea to fill the air.

Lebeaux blinked a moment when the familiar scent rose, tilting his chin up slightly to ensure he wasn’t imagining it amongst the smell of disinfectants and herbs. Nope, that was definitely tea. “Some are, some are not.” He puzzled. “The ones that are, that you used in the Lost City, did you make them yourself?”

Geoff placed the tea on the bed with a folded towel underneath to provide support lest it sink into the downy cloud of softness. "Yes." Visual exam complete, Geofferaut began to implement the course of treatment. First, the same strong antiseptic was splashed and rubbed onto the affected area, the act of rubbing a bare thigh somehow drained of all intimacy. One of the towels wiped away any loose dirt. Armed with tweezers and scalpel, Geofferaut next set to the task of removing the more stubborn and partially healed debris from the wound.

Lebeaux immediately picked up the mug and the towel to keep from burning his hands as though concerned it would be taken away again. Holding it somewhat protectively up near his chest since his lap was otherwise occupied. Yet for once he didn’t feel the need to make the teasing ‘while you’re down there’ comments. “How thorough, to go so far as the carve spells into your own skin.” He mused, breathing in the smell of the steeping tea. “What were the rest caused by?” He glanced down now, watching with little interest. A furrow of his brows or twitch of an eye here or there as difficult bits of debris were removed, but otherwise calm.

"Blades."

Not an accident or a beast or something like that. “Oh? Who were they caused by, then.” He hissed quietly as a well-embedded shard of rock was removed from the injury then busied himself with a drink of the hot tea. ‘Thank you’ wasn’t really in his vocabulary but at least he had stopped whining in appreciation for the small comfort. Even if it could have used cream and sugar.

@cellardoor-ffxiv

[blackrose-ffxiv]

Book of Shadows 07/24

Lebeaux Desrosiers gestured for the others to follow him further along, passing over the office and the clinic to settle himself on his usual perch. He patted the cloth-and-rosary-wrapped book that was already waiting on the ledge.

“Um...if...if I m-may ask, what is the nature of the beaded cord you use t-to bind the book? Is it enchanted? Rinha'li Dhavha: It looks like...“ Rinha’li Dhavha trailed off, looking for a specific word.   

"You may. It's a Halonic Rosary. It's blessed, which I suppose is rather like enchanting it. It seemed a solid precaution." Lebeaux explained as he began unwrapping said protection.

“Oh, yes, um -- Rosary. That was the term.” Rinha'li leans forward, obviously wanting to touch the book but thinking better of it. For now.  

Geofferaut Derosiers followed Lebeaux, but came up short, eyes darting. There seemed to be some confusion about which location was best to stand, better view of the book or better view of the various exits.

Lebeaux didn’t seem particularly concerned about Geoff’s minor conflict of interests. He tucked the rosary into his pocket then slid the cloth-wrapped item towards Rinha’li. He instead picked up a cup and saucer, busying himself with tea without offering it to the others. Assuming Geoff wasn’t thirsty and Rin had other concerns.

Geofferaut's twitchy fingers found rest against the cover of his own book and settled on the appropriate vantage point.

Rinha'li unwraps the cloth delicately, and as fast as he can without risking damage to a potentially delicate object.

Geofferaut watched the book emerge like a lioness watches a gazelle limp to a watering hole.

The grimoire is old, but not ancient. Perhaps 10-15 years, mistreated for many of them. The leather is weathered and cracked, but not nearly as much so as an item that spent the last year or so at the bottom of a mud puddle should be. It seemed the muck hadn’t touched it at all. The lock latch no longer works. Standard issue for those in service to the Tribunal though someone had taken care to sand or dissolve away those distinguishing embellishments and embossing. There is definitely something -off- about it. The moment the enchanted cloth is unwrapped there’s a brief rippling. Or possibly a bit of dust floating across the eye, hard to tell as it was gone in a blink either way.

Rinha'li carefully opens it up to the first page to see what it contains -- if the previous owner had perhaps left an index, or introduction -- wincing slightly as the leather creaks in his grasp. But, books are sturdier things than many realize, and nothing breaks. "You s-say this was...lying at the bottom of a brackish pond or puddle?" he asks.

There is indeed an index of the standard issue geometries that came with the grimoire. Filling in the first quarter of the book with the same sort of spells one would find in any acanists’ text. The next quarter is home-made theories and accompanying geometries scattered with notes and observations in no discernable order. 

“That’s being generous as to the water content, to call it a puddle or pond. It was mud. A sinkhole, essentially.” Lebeaux glanced over, noting that Geoff had been staring at the tome for longer than he usually stared at anything. “Feel free to have a look as well, I’m sure Rin won’t mind. While you two are doing that, did you bring the contracts I told you to draw up?”

"No." Geofferaut addressed the book.

"Did you draw them up at all?"

"Yes." Geofferaut continued to address the book.

"... Lot of good they're doing sitting in your basement."

“O-oh, I mean, I have a copy of...of a standard client confidentiality agreement on hand at all times... “ Rinha'li offered, obviously distracted wtih the book. He scans the arcanima glyphs for interesting variants, but eagerly ends up flipping to the more experimental sections. Here, he traces his finger over some of the ink, feeling where the quill has dented the paper, leaning closer to see if he can discern the composition of the pigments.  

Geofferaut only breathed because it's an involuntary function of his body. Blinking seemed to have stopped.

“I asked him to draw up a non-disclosure agreement regarding our research. Essentially that no information will be shared with outside parties without the consent of all three of us.” Lebeaux noted. “Technically it should be my decision as I am the one who is organizing this project.” He took a moment to preen the cuffs of his sleeves and let that sink in. “Yet I thought it polite to share the credit since the two of you are doing most of the heavy lifting.”

The spells start in your standard inks, mixtures of heavy metals and a liquid but as they progress they begin to rely solely on blood mixtures from varying sources. Sometimes the same glyph written in several different variations. There was a heavy emphasis on the slow draining of health or vitality from the target in various forms. Restoratives or protective magicks abandoned within the last few chapters. The end of the book was upside down. The original owner had reversed the book to begin taking notes from back to front. It was a lot of nonsense to Lebeaux, punctuated with sketches of towers and walls and terrible attempts at poetry.

Rinha'li's hand rests on the sketches of a long, tall tower with haphazardly placed windows and thin catwalks issuing from it. The artist -- Lebeaux's mentor, presumably -- has attempted to indicate its immense height by surrounding it with dark charcoal scribblings, punctuated by a few hazy cloud shapes. No moon, no stars, and certainly no sun. "...did your mentor, um...c-complain of trouble sleeping? S...strange dreams?" he asks cautiously, not knowing what question will offend.

Lebeaux sniffed and took a sip of his tea. “We weren’t particularly close, you may just call him Ciceroix as I don’t suspect I learned enough from him to actually call him a mentor.” It was just easier than calling him the overzealous inquisitor he used to clean up after. “He seemed distracted, towards the end of our association. Possibly signs of exhaustion, could have been due to trouble sleeping.” Certainly not due to a guilty conscience.

“I know this tower.” Rinha'li says simply. “Have you ever seen it, Mister Lebeaux? Mister Geofferaut?”

"No." Geofferaut replied.

Lebeaux lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “I haven’t entered the City. I was outside of the gates but I didn’t go in, nor did I notice any towers. Assuming that it is, actually, Amdapori?”

Rinha'li nods. "W-well...it's...it's quite...it's in the center of the city. It...c-cannot be seen from the outside, even though it's so tall it nearly reaches the sky...I...I d-don't know why, exactly. The white tower. The Sanctum of Dreams."

Lebeaux wrinkled his nose slightly. He reached over, gloved fingers flipping through some of the earlier portions of the grimoire, before the Inquisitor had the clever idea of hiding the crazy in the last pages. Around the same time the arcanima started to get extremely experimental and were mostly marked as failures, there were images embedded in the geometries mirroring the general shapes of the tower. “Sanctum of Dreams. What a pretentious name.” He sniffed. “So you believe he began to dream of this place and that is what finally pushed him over the edge?”

Geofferaut leaned forward when the experimental arcanima began to feature once more.

Rinha'li turns the next page very slowly, to reveal several lines of metrically complex but imaginatively bankrupt attempts at religious poetry framing rough drawings of a series of doors, each marked with an arcanima glyph. Rinha'li closes his eyes, worrying his bottom lip with his fangs at this sight. "I am near convinced," he says. Rinha'li has taken on a hushed, excited tone. He's happy to see this mad scrawling.  

“Didn’t excuse him from running off, but I suspect there’s some merit to what you’re saying.” Lebeaux didn’t particularly care either way. Looking at the book and its images too long was giving him something of a headache. He pinched the bridge of his nose, sliding glasses up and closing his eyes. “He thought he was hearing the ghosts of Amdapor and went trotting off to the Shroud to find some secrets to divine power.”

The scribbled line of marked doors might have passed for some kind of allegory, but as Rin leafs through the next few pages of experimental calculations, it's clear that doors of some kind were on the man's mind. They appear in the margins, as though it was something his mind returned to when idle and flowed out of his pen as unthinking scribbles. "Divine power, yes. Hm. D-divine indeed. I...did he ever t-try any experiments with his arcanima in your presence? Rinha'li's tail sweeps back and forth in wide, quick arcs.

Lebeaux shook his head, still rubbing at his nose. He finally gave up on the glasses, folding them up and tucking them away into his coat. No point to them around these two anyways. “I generally waited outside.” His hands settled on the teacup once again as he smiled primly at the miqo’te. “I offered you a look at the book previously yet I’m no longer feeling particularly inclined to give you further information. Seeing as you seem unable to grasp the concept of keeping your mouth shut.”

Geofferaut speaks under apparent duress, teeth gritted shut, lips barely parted, voice strained. "An. swer..."

Rinha'li's ears tilt towards Geofferaut. "...I-- I b-beg your pardon?"

Lebeaux looked quickly over at Geofferaut, somewhat startled by the reaction. He blinked blankly, the smile stuck in place.

Geofferaut does not rip his eyes off the grimoire. There is still an apparent struggle to form and force out words. "answer. the question."

Lebeaux still looked as though he’d been struck, more than a little surprised and perhaps unsettled. “I…” He started before he straightened up. “You’re no better than him, acting as though you’d throw over our research if Idristan asked for it. If I’m going to speak plainly and truthfully to you two I expect assurances that my words will never be repeated to anyone else.” He set the teacup down and folded his arms across his chest, fingers brushing against the rosary he had tucked away into his jacket.

"speak. child. or move." Seemed to be Geofferaut’s final warning.

Rinha'li opens his mouth to say something -- anything that will get him more information here, most likely -- but is cut off by Geoff's strange outburst. He too looks unsettled. "W--what--" He looks at the book again. He hadn't thought Geoff THAT ravenous to get at it...

“Perhaps just show him the book.” Lebeaux suggested as he shifted slightly along his perch a little closer to Rinha’li and the book. He cleared his throat, assuming that was as good as agreement that this remained between them. “Once or twice, when it got a little messy I was called in while he was still working.” He explained, speaking a little more quickly now as fingers curled around the beads as though they would do much of anything in this situation.

Rinha'li's ears flatten against his head, nearly disappearing into his hair. He seems reluctant to have the book leave his immediate vicinity, but he picks it up with the cloth and holds it out to Geoff with his fingers trembling on the spine. "T...tell me more," he mutters to Lebeaux.

Lebeaux remains well away from the book as its held out in offering, clutching his pear- rosary beads lightly under his coat. The smile had long since disappeared as his gaze darted between the grimoire and the other elezen. “Ciceroix was testing his theories on the accused. He was supposed to be interrogating them but it often turned in to experiments. One of the times I was called in he’d… ah, managed to turn someone inside out. There was nothing to be done for them.”

Geofferaut began the motion toward the book with a few rapid, interrupted jerks that smoothed out by the time the tome was in his hands.  Once possessed, the move to the platform is rapid. His own book fluttered open to a blank page beside it - it happened quickly, possibly without much help from his hands - and a pencil, definitely held with fingers, began scratching copies and copies and copies. Geofferaut seemed unconcerned by the proximity or lack thereof to Lebeaux's seat.

“You are C-CERTAIN he accomplished this with arcanima? D-did you see the formulae he--ah--um!” Rinha’li asked hurriedly.

“I’m not sure. There was no one else in there and I didn’t see any tools he could have used for such a thorough-“ Lebeaux trailed off as the book exchanged hands a bit abruptly, with Geofferaut immediately beginning to copy down the books contents, page by page. “Wait, that may be poorly advised. If this drivel drove him to madness what’s to stop it from doing the same to you.” He noted as he reached for the grimoire.

“The--the g-glyphs within ought n-not t-to be aetherically active unless t-transcribed with--with--active inks--um--”  Rinha'li, notably, has not attempted to transcribe anything into HIS notebook, however.  

Geofferaut 's face smoothed as he transcribed. His eyes remained fixed on Ciceroix's book, drawings left to form unobserved - though few would be surprised to learn that they seemed to form just fine without supervision.

Lebeaux slid the book away from Geofferaut, intending to snap it shut again. “It’s the book itself I’m rather wary of. The Hearer I took it from seemed convinced it’s capable of doing some harm on its own.”

Geofferaut dropped his pencil and flicked the now-vacant hand up to intercept Lebeaux's hand's path. But by golly it wasn't so empty. A gleam of metal stopped just shy of touching the sleeve at Lebeaux's wrist. "I do not require the book. I require the geometries."

Rinha'li has also started forward, intending to take a closer look at the book's binding, but also stops short at the wrist flick. For a moment he just stands there stock still, almost afraid to move. “I...I say, is that really necessary?” Rinha'li says, after a moment.

"Yes." Direct questions should be answered.

Lebeaux froze, fingers splayed but not quite touching the book when he saw the flash of metal. Right, the sleeve steel. “Hm.” Fair enough. Slowly he brought his hands back to himself, settling them in his lap to adjust the cuffs and ruffles. “As you like, then.” Perhaps he’d just let them copy it then. “Feel free to make your own copies.” He suggested to Rin. Lebeaux managed to sound only slightly sulky about the entirely situation rather than outright pouting.

 As quickly as it was there, the metal was gone and the pencil was back in motion.

@black-omen-born  @cellardoor-ffxiv

[blackrose-ffxiv]

The Other Other Other Brother? 07/19

Geofferaut Derosiers enters the Tradehouse stiffly. He also closes the door behind him stiffly. And stands stiffly. "Hello Lebeaux Desrosiers." The only parts of him that were animated were his eyes, perpetually scanning the room, and his fingers, flickings and twitching at the ends of his sleeve arhythmically.

Lebeaux Desrosiers had been on his way out. At least until he almost ran squarely into Geofferaut. He cringed internally but smiled sweetly at the statuesque, in the sense of being stiff and unmoving, elezen blocking the door. Perhaps it had been a mistake to give him the work address after all. “Good evening Geofferaut. What a pleasant surprise. I assume you received my gifts?”

"Yes. Probably."  Geofferaut's words lilted as much as he danced in the doorway, which is to say they did not. To call it monotone would imply any tone at all was there.

Idristan Agache meanwhile, had arrived before Geofferaut. Which he was now starting to think was an unfortunate thing, for as he comes up the stairs he finds himself caught between Lebeaux on one side, and a strange elezen blocking the door on the other. He casts Lebeaux a glare out of general principle, then turns to look at Geofferaut, eyes narrowing as the two talked. Just what sort of person would Lebeaux be giving gifts...? "A friend of yours Lebeaux?" he asks, his voice a touch curt.

Lebeaux blinked twice as he tried to figure out what the ‘probably was in reference to. “Will they suffice…” He trailed off at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. To find Idristan of all people. “Ah, I didn’t even know you were around.” The medic declared with a smug smile. “I would have invited you for tea…” He trailed off and looked between the two. “Geofferaut, this is Idristan Agache. One of my assistants.” He explained as he gestured to the whitehaired main. “Idristan this is…” Something clicked and the smile grew larger. “Geofferaut Derosiers.”

"Hello Idristan Agache. It is nice to meet you." Geofferaut recited the line like a child in a play who had been drilled on just those nine words for hours on end.

Idristan gives Lebeaux a scornful look that silently suggested what exactly Lebeaux could do with his tea. He doesn't react at being called an assistant, having apparently decided not to fight that one awhile ago. The name, however, does do the trick. His eyes widen in surprise as he stares at Geofferaut for several moments. Then they narrow as he starts to study Geofferaut hard. His stance has widened slightly, muscles tensing ever so slightly. "A... pleasure, I'm sure," he says, the words sounding extremely forced.

Lebeaux quirked a brow as he waited for the response to that one. Ah, there it was. Idristan did pride himself on being clever didn’t he. Just connected those dots right away, hm. “I did mention that I was enlisting the aid of an expert in my alchemical efforts. Now you’ve met him.” He noted. “Which I suppose would make Geofferaut something of my assistant as well.” He mused cheerfully. “Now you’ve all met. How nice.”

Geofferaut noted the change in stance as well as the six most likely exit routes in case of emergency (ranked several different ways depending on the origin and nature of the threat) as well as the fit of the mens' shoes as well as the wares on display on the shelves. "Oh. Okay."

Idristan finally drags his gaze away from Geofferaut to look at Lebeaux, one brow arched at this. "And he's just fine with that?" he asks, before looking back to Geofferaut. Sizing him up once more. "So he's the one that's been helping you with what you've been working on for me then," he says, his voice a touch flat. "That must be convenient, not having to look hard for an alchemist."

Geofferaut noted Idristan again. Harder. Until he heard the door open and skirted to the side. "Hello Rinha'li Dhavha."

Lebeaux slid over closer to Geofferaut casually. Trying to set his face a little more seriously to make what few similarities there more apparent. It wasn’t working, though. The entire situation was far too amusing. “It’s incredibly convenient. And yes, as he said,” a hand waved lazily towards Idristan. “He suffers from the very condition we’re seeking to treat. He’ll be our subject once we’re ready for live trials.”

Rinha'li Dhavha pokes his head into the door, obviously eager to get started with something. He has a ream of paper bound together with twine in his hands, and a stump of lead tucked behind his ear. His ears swivel around as he sees more faces than he was expecting -- luckily, they are for the most part familiar. "Ah--um--er...hello--Just--just Rin will do, I...um. Other guests?"

"The current subjects are living." Geofferaut corrected flatly.

Idristan was really not sure that he liked how Geofferaut said that, or how he was looking at him. "How... nice for you," he says dryly. He seems rather relieved to find that it's Rin that enters when the door opens, instead of another of Lebeaux's long lost siblings. However, this doesn't last long as he looks sharply back to Geofferaut. "Other subjects?" he repeats, turning it into a question.

“I...is there some kind of...um...meeting?” Rinha’li stuttered.

"Yes. No." Geofferaut answered in order, always in order.

Rinha'li blinks, trying to piece these answers to questions.

Lebeaux lifted his hand to smooth the lapels of his jacket. Well, the gang was all here, huh. “I had some surprise visitors. I assume Geofferaut came by to discuss the gifts I had sent to him. You were invited and Idristan, well he just happened to be lucky enough to meet another Derosiers while passing through.” Yep really lean hard on that same-name.

Rinha'li looks a little surprised. "You sent Mister Geofferaut a gift?" He says this in a tone that suggests he is shocked to hear Lebeaux has given anything to anyone, ever.

Idristan tilts his head slightly to one side, apparently trying to do much the same as Rin. "I see," he says slowly. He seems on the verge of asking more, but is distracted by Lebeaux. "Lucky is perhaps not the word I would have used," he states dryly. From the look on his face, he seems to share Rin's opinion on gifts.

Geofferaut must be Lebeaux's favorite brother.

“I did indeed.” Lebeaux said cheerfully, folding arms across his chest as he all but beamed at the others gathered there. This was incredibly awkward and he was savoring every moment of it. “Rinha’li has been assisting as well, to an extent. Perhaps you’d like to tell them a little more of your condition. They’ve only heard it from me thus far. Surely it’d be worth more straight from the chocobo’s mouth, as it was.” He tilted his head towards the far hallway and his office beyond.

Idristan blinks slowly at that as he looks at Rin, then perhaps relaxes ever so slightly. If Rin was involved, then this couldn't be so bad, right? That didn't mean that he was eager to be trapped in a room with Lebeaux and family, however. He folds his arms, lips twisting downwards into a scowl. "I highly doubt that there's anything more I can tell you that I haven't already," he grumbles.

"I have questions." Geofferaut stated.

@cellardoor-ffxiv  @roses-and-grimoires @black-omen-born

[blackrose-ffxiv]

Project Funding 08/13

“Do you have subjects currently being used for the Samples’ research here? I’ll have a look.” Lebeaux Desrosiers suggested, taking a long sip of the tea before setting it down on the counter beside his hat.

"No." Geofferaut Derosiers answered flatly.

Lebeaux his head tilted somewhat. “Are you keeping them in a separate location? Where are you keeping them?” Lebeaux picked the tea back up, may as well finish it if a field trip was going to be necessary. 

"Several inn rooms have been hired and secured."

Lebeaux inhaled sharply between his teeth. “You’re keeping them in inns? That seems rather risky. Should a nosy maid go poking around in the room or one of them manage to get out that would have the infection set loose far too far ahead of schedule. What is your course of action if one of them does manage to get out or someone else gets in to the room?" 

"If a subject resists the chemical restraints and escapes the physical restraints and escapes the room then the inn staff is instructed to kill the subject on sight from range and contact me."

Lebeaux blinked slowly, the smile returning in full force. “You own the staff. Of course, how clever.” He mused slowly. “Chemical and physical restraints are well and good but it seems the truly unpredictable aspect has already been accounted for. And to ensure the staff’s loyalty to contact you and potentially dispose of stray subjects. Are you paying them.”  

"Yes."

Lebeaux sipped silently. The finer points of money management still eluded him but he was at least aware enough to know it would likely take a hefty sum to buy off that many people and to be entirely sure they would do as they were told. “That’s quite the research and development expense. Where does your funding come from.”

 "I receive an allowance and payment from the Long Climb company."

“The allowance is from Long Climb as well?”

"No."

Lebeaux took a moment to preen a few stray strands of hair back behind an ear. "Where does the allowance come from."

"My family's estate."

Lebeaux smiled vacantly for several moments. “Who is the head of House Derosiers? Are you currently?”

"My father. No."

Lebeaux tapped a gloved finger against the side of the cup, still smiling somewhat blankly. Perhaps bewildered by the entire thing. “Your father. I see.” He set the cup down and reached into his jacket, removing a small flask and adding a generous splash of its contents to the cup. “How nice. Are they aware what you use your allowance and payroll for?”

"I don't know."

Lebeaux took a small taste of the adjusted tea and nodded firmly. “Right, not something you’d likely discuss. But… he is aware of the position and title you held during your time with the Tribunal? As well as your shift to… mercenary work?”

"Yes. Yes."

Lebeaux was now the one having obvious difficulty processing as he simply smiled and blinked. “Are you in regular contact with your Father and the others of your house?”

"Yes."

Lebeaux curled fingers a little more tightly around the cup’s handle with a quiet creak of leather. “Ah. I see. How nice. Though it does make sense now that you’re still able to travel back and forth to Ishgard without issue. You’re in line to become Lord of the house after your Father? Or another sibling?”

"Yes. I have no siblings." Geofferaut pauses and corrects himself. "I have no actual siblings."

Lebeaux lifted his chin somewhat. That was fine. It was just some petty little lesser house technically under the banner of his own. Not that he could call on that or even lean on that leverage. He took another long drink of the fortified tea. “At least it’s a comfort to know you’re capable of bankrolling such grand endeavors when the need arises. Not as though you spend your incomes on food or fashions.” Not envious at all. Never him. He pushed that aside for another curious remark. “What sort of siblings do you have if not ‘actual’.”

"You."

Lebeaux allowed both brows to rise in surprise for a brief moment. The just-bit-a-lemon pinch that had settled into the middle of his mouth relaxed to allow a small chuckle to escape. The sound soon followed by a far louder laugh that wasn’t particularly pleasant, seeming more like a cackle. “Of course! How could I forget that. Imaginary siblings, quite right.”

"I don't know. Prolonged exposure to large amounts of alcohol can impair cognitive function. Traumatic experiences can hinder formation of long term memories. Head injuries can negatively impact memory and cognition." Geofferaut answered oh-so-helpfully.

Lebeaux waved a hand to cut off any further suggestions. “It was a lie of convenience and we’ve never actually come out and said we were siblings. I’ve only asked you not to correct them. I’ve simply had other matters on my mind I’ll thank you not to draw your own conclusions nor to nose into my habits or experiences.”

"Oh. Okay."

@cellardoor-ffxiv

[blackrose-ffxiv]

House Derosiers Part 1 09/24

Gabineaux Liautroix is all smiles, like he doesn't notice Florimond's stupid fat bird crapping on his nice coat in this beautiful cathedral. Internally, he is screaming. Lebeaux might know that look, it's a common Ishgardian look after all. "Yes, blessed be Her name. Gilbert knows exactly where I live, if you let him know you're looking for me perhaps he'll join us next time. He must have had pressing matters."

“A pleasure to meet you both.” Lebeaux Desrosiers tilted his head to Gabineaux and Florimond. Politely not bringing up the bird desecrating an otherwise very nice robe either. Ishgardian manners all around. “I’m sure he did.” Or a ‘damsel’ to distress. “Good day to you both.”

Florimond Rochedalaix nodded to Lebeaux and bowed courteously to Geofferaut. “I'll remember next time. No touching.”

“Farewell Father Liautroix. Farewell Florimond." Geofferaut Derosiers replied with all of his standard enthusiasm. Which was, none at all.

Lebeaux snickered slightly again behind his hand before he cleared his throat and lowered it, turning at serene smile towards Geofferaut. “I don’t want to stay here any longer than I have to but I’ve injuries that make it impossible to travel at the moment. Can I rely on you to treat them?” He explained quietly.

"Yes."

“Are you staying in the city. I’d prefer not to remain out in public longer than I must.” He smiled calmly as he glanced around the sanctuary.

"Um. No."

Lebeaux exhaled a small huff of annoyance and sank down onto the pew, glad for the few moments to take weight off of his leg. “Finish your prayers, then we’ll figure something out.”

"I am finished."

Lebeaux tilted his head slightly to the side. So much for that break. “Then let’s go. I suspect your ‘office’ is closer than mine. And I’ll expect you not to mention to anyone that you saw me here.”

"There are three suitable locations for treatment without travel. The Supreme Sacred Tribunal for Inquisitory Doctrine. The Derosiers house. The Forgotten Knight."

“All of those require remaining within the City limits.” Lebeaux corrected, plainly uncomfortable with the idea. Or maybe uncomfortable due to injuries. Either way he shifted slightly and exhaled a slow sigh. The Tribunal was out. For sure. The Forgotten Knight could be safe enough. But. He was curious. Pale eyes shifted aside thoughtfully before he smiiiled. “I suspect the Derosiers House would suffice. Do you have supplies there?”

"Yes. Also I have supplies here."

“We’re not going to perform minor chirurgery in the sanctuary.” Lebeaux noted. “Nor in the street. We’ll go to House Derosiers.” The medic pushed himself up to his feet, taking a moment to ensure he was properly balanced.

"Do you require walking assistance."

Lebeaux snorted quietly in amusement at that. “That rather depends how quickly you’d like to make it there. I don’t suppose you’re hiding a crutch under your robes, are you.”

"No."

Lebeaux lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “Then how are you going to assist me?”

"I will use my right arm to support a portion of your weight when you step on the injured leg."

Lebeaux smiled calmly as he blinked blankly for a few moments. “You are aware that would require contact, are you not?”

“Yes."

Lebeaux considered that further. Honestly, pride and stubbornness had gotten him up the stairs in the first place and they would carry him down just as well. Though slowly and painfully. Yet he was morbidly curious now. “Very well. You may assist me.” He finally agreed, complete with the haughty lift of his chin.

Geofferaut positioned himself at a healthy distance, reached out his right arm, and gripped Lebeaux's left arm from behind just below the armpit. He then applied upward pressure.

Lebeaux smirked somewhat, unsure what he had expected but this seemed appropriately awkward. Spindly fingers curled around his upper arm in an uncomfortable fashion, pulling on the limb. “I’m not sure this is quiet as effective as you think.” He noted calmly as he took a few limping steps to check.

Geofferaut adjusted the pressure to lift more on the injured foot's step. "I am aware of the maneuver's efficacy."

“Hmm, what would it be? Negligible?” Nonetheless it was amusing and allowed him to favor his uninjured leg as they went along step by hobbling step. Receiving only a few odd looks as they shuffled their way along the aisle to leave the cathedral and start the slow walk to House Derosiers.

"It is minimally effective for minimal effort and contact."

“Just so. It will have to do.”

@cellardoor-ffxiv

[blackrose-ffxiv]

Impractical Magic Part 4 05/16

After getting over the initial shock and revulsion of the extraordinarily unsanitary conditions of the summoning; Lebeaux Desrosiers regained the small step he had lost being taken aback. Shifting slightly over to the side to observe more intently as the bloodied circles were scrawled and unusual words muttered. Leaning in slightly as he strained to make out the strange language pale eyes blinking as little as possible in an effort to witness every last motion and gesture. It wasn’t until the language returned to Eorzean that he remembered that he wasn’t actually supposed to be watching this portion. For the sake of his everlasting soul he wasn’t supposed to be observing this sacrosanct mess. Lebeaux made a sacred gesture across his forehead and shoulders, turning away and lowering his gaze. Plausible deniability and all that.

The tear is visible now, like a bleeding wound in the middle of the air, and it is even possible for the perceptive to make out the form of distorted eyes and teeth, and an indistinct fluttering like black wings trapped under glass. Rinha’li Dhavha holds out his bleeding arm to the void tear. “N-now would b-be...an ideal time t-to--get out anything you...you n-need t-to be--b-be tainted --” Rinha'li says between gritted teeth, his eyes focused on something beyond the tear.

Geofferaut Derosiers extracted five petri dishes, knelt down, and slid the first toward the tear.

The bloody, filthy ichor oozes slooooooowly towards the dishes. The more void-educated might suspect the formation of a pudding to be imminent, as the squelching noises start to take on the characteristics of human whispering.

Lebeaux was being a good devout Believer and not looking. Keeping his gaze firmly towards the entrance of the cave. Though he did listen intently as Rinha’li spoke to whatever was beyond. Then came the wet sound of something decidedly unpleasant and wet bursting. Yet he didn’t look. Waiting patiently all the while until he was satisfied that the actual blaspheming portion was finished and the tear secured. He turned on his heel and folded arms across his chest. His smile quirked in curious amusement as the Geofferaut got to work and RInha’li stared transfixed into the darkness.

Rinha'li, meanwhile, is engaged in what appears to be some heated struggle with the tear, or something in it. Occasionally his eyes flutter as though he is in danger of falling unconscious, but does not. Actually, less of a struggle, perhaps, and more of...the manner of someone circling a tiger while holding out a steak.

Lebeaux Desrosiers supervised the ongoings, though he had no idea if this was going according to plan. It seemed the vile sound had been their sacrificial corpse immolating for some reason or another, yet mercifully the worst of the filth seemed to have scattered in other directions. Leaving his coat still perfectly pristine. Geoff was working with mechanical precision, of course, though Rin seemed to be up to something strange. Leaning towards the rift and staring intently into it as though speaking with something beyond. The medic moved slowly forwards, stepping quietly behind the enraptured arcanist.

Geofferaut Derosiers slid the last of his dishes toward the tear and took the last step over the barrier, careful to leave it intact. "The tear has probably been open long enough."

Lebeaux edging closer seems to kickstart something in the oozing aether. The muddy corpse run-off/blood/otherworldly ichor on the ground swirls into something roughly mound-shaped, a gap opening on its side like a crudely-drawn grinning mouth. It starts to jibber in a disturbingly accurate imitation of Rinha'li's voice -- "T-thought so! T-thought so!" over and over again -- as it lunges straight towards Rinha'li and Lebeaux. Geoff, on the other side of the salt barrier, seems safe for now. Parts of the creature even squelch nastily as they impact an invisible wall where the salt was laid.

Geofferaut amended his assessment in light of new data. "The barrier has been open long enough."

Lebeaux shook his head. “It should be left open to ensure that future batches may be exposed…” He trailed off as a pile of sludge congealed into something sentient enough to mimic Rin. Not that it was very difficult to make fun of the miqo’te. He managed to remain calm as he took several long steps backwards to cross over the salt line. Raising the staff at the ready as he began to cast, conjuring up a bit of wind aether in an effort to shred the oozing lumps.

"There is at least one conscious being present. The tear is too volatile to be useful a second time." Geofferaut corrected.

Rinha'li, entirely distracted, has no such luck. A formless pseudopod catches him in the shin and knocks him back against Lebeaux, snapping him out of whatever weird trance he was in prior. He yelps in frustration, gesticulating wildly. "P-puddings aren't CONSCIOUS!" he yelps, sounding almost offended that the first thing he hears when he focuses back on his two co-conspirators is a counter-factual statement. “It's j-just a side effect! D-d--just--splatter--“

"Oh. Okay." Geofferaut didn’t argue.

Lebeaux Desrosiers lowers a hand from the staff to catch the Arcanist as he crashes against him. Less out of concern for Rin ending up on his rump and more out of a desire to keep his white coat white, having a bleeding and flailing miqo’te wasn’t good for that. As such the spell was knocked off course, a swirling whirlwind doing little actual damage to the pudding though it had eroded the salt line in a few places with its reckless gusting. “Can it be contained or must it be closed.” Lebeaux demanded as he pushed Rin back onto his feet towards the rift.

Rinha'li falls into Lebeaux's arm in exactly the way that a fainting damsel in a stage play doesn't. "J-just--yes kill it, I'll--" The pudding is not moved by wind. "Kill it! Kill it! Kill it!" it shrieks. Rin dashes towards the rift and reaches for his grimoire to slam it closed.

Lebeaux exhaled a sigh of annoyance as he lifted his sleeve, a few spots of crimson bright against the otherwise pristine white fabric. “Geofferaut, help dispatch it. Rin, close your eyes a moment.” He instructed. The medic’s conjury was shaky at best, he didn’t bother giving it another try but rather summoned up unaspected aether from his own reserves as well as the surrounding air, combusting it in a searing white flash near the pudding.

Rinha'li slams the grimoire and his eyes shut at the right moment. Blood and filth splatters from between the pages as the rift SNAPS closed...although whispering can be heard indistinctly still, from...somewhere. And of course, there's the mess.

Geofferaut retrieved the jar of salt and brimstone with one hand. The other rested on his tome. That left none to cover his eyes. Momentarily blinded by the light, he became very still, sniffing and listening closely.

Aether detonated and the concentrated unaspected aether ate a generous bite out of the oozing pudding. Which was the intended result. Lebeaux hadn’t quite managed to position the spell correctly to destroy the entity entirely, yet if anyone asked he had done it on purpose to avoid splattering even more void filth around the cavern and inevitably on his coat. The pudding didn’t seem more than slightly slowed down by missing a good portion of itself. And the piece that had been explosively amputated began to shift on its own as well, echoing the whispers coming from the larger one.

Rinha'li snaps, "Don't SPLIT it!" and turns, clutching the bloody book protectively to his chest with his non-injured arm.

Lebeaux huffed somewhat indignantly. As though he had done it intentionally. “If cutting it to bits won’t work well and I don’t trust the cavern to remain intact if I loosen a few rocks, how would you suggest it’s taken care of.” He snapped back. Aether gathered as he made another attempt, the magic briefly through the cavern before concentrating on the smaller pudding to hopefully immolate it without the accompanying flash this time.

“F-fire--precisely aimed aetheric combustion -- c-cutting it t-to SMALL b-b-bits rather than BIG ones—” Rinha’li suggested hurriedly.

Geofferaut blindly stepped back over the barrier into the messy fray, ears cocked. His mouth twitched out some harsh hissing syllables and searing aether sizzled in the heart - er, center - er, approximate geographical center of the whispering mass, boiling outward.

Rinha'li sways on his feet, and gestures t-towards Geoff. "Or...or that." The pudding's primitive mouth keeps working, as it boils away, this time in Lebeaux's voice -- "Taken care of! Taken care of!" -- babbled over and over again, reducing the words to mere noises. As the pudding fizzles down to a slick, oily stain, Rin wobbles to his feet. Rinha'li holds up his injured hand weakly. "If you'll excuse me, I'm g-going to be sick," he says mildly, and hobbles off to a corner.

Geofferaut blinked, trying to clear the seared in after image of Lebeaux's first explosion. "Are the samples intact."

This is why Lebeaux hired assistants. The medic watched the miqo’te stagger away, wondering if it was the slime he was spattered with or the probably infected gashes on his arm that made him nauseous. But. Priorities. Lebeaux crouched down and picked up one of the glass dishes, pinching it between gloved fingers as he extracted it from a pile of goo, excess dripping off of the closed container. “Intact… but sticky.”

@black-omen-born @cellardoor-ffxiv

[blackrose-ffxiv]

Impractical Magic Part 1 05/09

Lebeaux Desrosiers pushed his way through to door to Quill, holding it only briefly for the other elezen so it wouldn’t detract to terribly from his grand entrance. With a flutter of white coattails he made his way into the ground-floor café, letting his bootheels click loudly against the floorboards to announce his presence. “Rinha’li, are you in.” He called out cheerfully. A message had been sent to request a meeting, though it was perfectly possible the miqo’te had opted not to attend it. Or was hiding.

Rinha'li Dhavha is not open for business at the moment. There's even a sign on the door stating so, but as he's sitting just inside, he neglected to lock the door. He has a book laid out on his lap, papers strewn about on the couch, and is clearly deeply engaged in work of some personal significance. He frowns studiously at the book every so often, pausing to make marks with charcoal on some of the papers. The message was one that he had strategically put off answering,  hoping Lebeaux might lose interest.

Geofferaut Derosiers entered the building and immediately began scanning the room for escape routes and ranking them from most to least efficient, separate rankings depending on which direction the threat originates.

“O-oh, um...Mister Lebeaux. Um...g...good of you t-to...drop by....um...” Rinha'li 's gaze settles on the other, unfamiliar elezen, who seems to be inspecting the place with a great deal of urgency. "...is something the matter...?"

"No." Geofferaut spoke in a bland monotone, like a body that performs all the functions of communicating without understanding why and how they really work.

Rinha'li is slightly taken aback by the brusqueness of this reply. "Um...oh. G...good?"

Lebeaux left Geofferaut to his assessments as he strode across the café area to where Rinha’li seemed entirely absorbed in whatever he was working on. Moving quietly once the carpet muffled his steps. He stopped short when the miqo’te finally looked up and smiled patiently. “Rinha’li Dhavha, Geofferaut Derosiers. No relation.” He explained, gesturing between the two arcanists by way of introduction. “Don’t mind that. Did you get my message?”

Geofferaut Derosiers murmured automatically, "It is nice to meet you."

“I...um...” Rinha'li visibly weighs lying about this for a moment, then decides against it. "...I did. I have b-been rather busy lately--um...I...I d-don't think I caught your name," he says, cocking his head. "Which means, um...r-really I d-don't think we've met at all, actually, except in the vaguest sense. Um."

Lebeaux settled his hands lightly behind his back as he awaited the answer, glancing back in mild amusement at the automated reply, then looking back to Rin. Out-etiquetted by Geofferaut. Now that was sad. His smile grew a little more amused. “I just introduced you two. My, you must be very busy to be so distracted.” Could also be nervous.

“ Oh...y-yes, of course. You even said...n-no relation.” Rinha’li corrected quickly.

Lebeaux nodded and took a step closer, leaning forwards slightly to peer down at the materials the miqo’te had strewn about. “Whatever it is, it can surely wait I’ve a matter in need of your immediate attention.”

Geofferaut Derosiers seemed to make a determination about where would be best to stand, and so moved to stand there. And then he stood there. In the place where it would be best to stand.

Rinha'li looks back and forth between the two elezen, his head seemingly spinning from the tandem assault of Lebeaux's oily politeness on one hand and this newcomer's bluntness. "Um...nice to meet you. As well. I...um. Yes, I was rather...working on...um, is there something I might assist you with...?"

Lebeaux took his hands from behind his back and set them instead to smoothing the lapels of his coat idly. “We find ourselves in need of access to the Void. A small rift will do, nothing terribly grand. I’m not entirely familiar with the sizes and severity this sort of thing comes in but I suspect a fray will suffice.” He explained calmly, opting not to circle round and round the issue today, though he had gone with the royal ‘we’ to make it sound more important.

Rinha'li blinks and is silent for a long time. "...I'm s-sorry, I...I'm n-not sure I understood you correctly. Did you say you needed a...a v-void gate?"

Lebeaux considered that for a moment. He could press on and expose that he really didn’t know much in the technical aspects of it. Possibly make himself look a bit silly. Instead he shifted that saintly smile from Rinha’li to Geofferaut. “Would you kindly tell Rinha’li what you’ll require for the research.” He gestured languidly between the two arcanists again.

"Okay. The research requires germ cultures exposed to void taint. It is better if there are at least three cultures exposed for varying lengths of time." Geofferaut told the air, the floor, and the three primary exits from the room. Geofferaut did not have to tell the two secondary exits, as windows are known to listen very closely.

Rinha'li narrows his eyes, weighing the possibility that this is some kind of entrapment. A sort of occult sting operation where he's supposed to vehemently rebuke the very idea or be branded a sorcerer. He does, however, listen to Geofferaut's explanation, his ears tilting forward almost unconsciously. "...germ cultures?" he asks, after a moment. "To what end?"

"Yes. To possibly create a void tainted infection." Geofferaut always answered questions in the order they were asked.

Rinha'li looks at Lebeaux, trying to see if he can glean any indication of his motives here from his expression, however vain the hope might be

Lebeaux didn’t seem to mind the unusual delivery, still busily ensuring the pristine fabric of his coat was laying just so. He glanced up long enough to look between the two. Seeming to be thoroughly amused by the entire conversation. “With the intent to then use the infection to create a restorative, for use in the treatment of aether ailments.” He added on as he smiled down at Rinha’li. The miqo’te never struck him as particularly benevolent but there was a chance even they drew the line at synthesizing void plagues.

Rinha'li thinks about this for a moment, weighing the possibility that Lebeaux might actually be telling the truth. Eventually his curiosity wins out, and he hesitantly asks, "...d-do you have, um...a c-corpse handy?"

@black-omen-born @cellardoor-ffxiv

[blackrose-ffxiv]

First Aid 05/30

Rinha'li Dhavha, hardly for the first time, stumbles back through the front door splattered in ichor and bleeding freely from self-inflicted wounds. He's shucked off his jacket and wrapped his arm with it to keep the wounds covered, but the hasty retreat back to home base has re-opened the ragged wound and blood is starting to seep into the fabric. He stays on his feet, but wobbles unsteadily from time to time -- prompting him to occasionally grab onto the nearest object for balance. Sometimes this ends up being Lebeaux's arm, much to his dislike

Lebeaux Desrosiers followed alongside Rinha’li through door to Quill. Holding it open with his free hand. The other occupied with a handful of the back of Rinha’li’s shirt. More or less holding him by the ‘scruff’ to help keep him upright without risking the flawless white of his jacket’s sleeves. Despite his best efforts the miqo’te still occasionally lurched over, seeming intent on passing out yet managed to right himself after catching the elezen’s arm. Leaving blood and dirt smudged fingerprints on those precious ruffles. More annoyed at the stains than the situation he glanced around. “Any place in particular we can use?”

“D-downstairs, there's a t-t-table-” Rinha'li doesn't like being dragged around, but unfortunately cannot really protest at the moment.

Geofferaut Derosiers immediately began scanning the room for escape routes and threats, in that order. "I require alcohol and a flame."

Rinha'li points to a corner cabinet in the thankfully empty coffeehouse. "C-clear spirits," he explains.

“Hot water and clean cloths, as well.” Lebeaux suggested, tacking onto the shopping list, turning the miqo’te to start him towards the way down the stairs.

Rinha'li staggers down the stairs and collapses gratefully into the chair at the end of of the hall. “Hot water, t-there's a kettle. Cloth too.”

Geofferaut spent a moment sniffing a few of the available spirits and chose the strongest to bring with him.

Lebeaux helped Rinha’li into the chair before taking a step back to inspect the damage to his sleeves. Frowning briefly at the smudges. “Geofferaut, would you begin cleaning the wounds. I’ll go put the kettle on.” He suggested almost cheerfully, turning on his heel to go find the items in the café area upstairs.

Atlan Lanning had been studying in the basement office when he heard multiple people coming down the stairs. He recognized Rinha'li's voice immediately, but he didn't like the distress in it. "Rin? Are you...?" His question was cut off when they came stumbling by and Rinha'li was placed in the chair at the end of the hall. "What happened!?"

Geofferaut sat and mechanically unpacked supplies from somewhere in his robes. A small assortment of needles. Two weights of thread. Small, wickedly sharp scissors. Two small vials of clear liquid that joined the purloined spirits. He turned dead eyes to the stranger. "You will bring a lit candle to the table."

Lebeaux paused in his departure, his smiling growing slightly when he noticed Atlan. “Oh, perfect. I was going to ask if your boy was in. Atlan, fetch hot water and clean cloths as well.” He turned his attention over to the items being laid out.

Geofferaut turned his gaze to the bleeding subject. "You will lay your arm on the table with the wound turned up." Geofferaut also had a task for the newly unoccupied Lebeaux Desrosiers. "You will aetherically cleanse the subject. If able."

"...I guess you both can answer me when I get back." Atlan didn't like leaving Rinha'li there, even if he did know Lebeaux. He quickly left them to fetch the items the man he assumed would be helping the miqo'te had asked for. "...I'll be close by, Rin. Yell if you need me, otherwise I'll be right back."

Lebeaux sniffed slightly at the order. Yet since he had passed off his last task to poor hapless Atlan it left him with nothing better to do. He settled primly onto the rug beside the table and took Rinha’li’s wrist. Extending the arm and laying it on the table so the forearm was turned upwards to display the full extent of the injuries, under a drying layer of blood, ichor and desert dirt.

Rinha'li winces as Atlan comes through the door, looking quite distressed. He was hoping he would avoid explanations. He lays his arm on the table, palm up, to expose the ragged furrows left by a corpse's unkempt nails. Carefully, he clenches and unclenches his hand, gritting his teeth. “ Atlan, I'm--I'm f-fine-” Rinha'li does not look fine

Atlan came rushing back as quickly as he could to avoid putting out the candle he held in one hand and the items Lebeaux had asked for in the other. He carefully set each one before Geoff, eyes locked on Rinha'li's wound. "...You don't have to say anything right now, Rin."

“ Um... R-really, I've...I've h-had worse.” Rinha’li insisted.

Geofferaut slides two of the cloths, layered, across the table with only a perfunctory command, "Lift," before sliding them under the injured limb.

"...Just because that's true doesn't mean the current situation isn't bad." Atlan suggested.

Rinha'li takes a moment to realize the "lift" is a command and is addressed to him. “It's...it's n-not as...as b-bad as--as-- it l-looks. Aether-sick.”

“You’re not doing him a favor by lying to him.” Lebeaux offered pleasantly enough as he leaned forwards to inspect the damage. There was quite a bit of physical dirt and grim to be cleaned away. “Keep your hand relaxed, flexing like that will only make the corruption travel further.” He took one of the clean clothes, dipping it into the warm water and squeezing it over the injury before dabbing lightly. Clearing away the dried filth so it could be sanitized with the alcohol after. The dirtied water being soaked up by the cloth Geoff had placed underneath.

Rinha'li hisses between his teeth as water hits open wound.

Geofferaut addresses the liquor bottle he was readying. "The subject will probably survive. The limb will probably remain functional. Lebeaux Desrosiers will not touch the wound. Lebeaux Desrosiers will aetherically cleanse the subject." 

Lebeaux glanced up, unsure whether to be impressed or annoyed by how chatty Geofferaut had become now that their subject was no longer a corpse but living being. Touching the wound was half the fun. Nonetheless he smiled primly and set the bloodied cloth aside. Now that he could see the edges of the cash a little more clearly he curled his fingers and then spread them out, channeling aether through his rings to sink the spell into the torn skin. Magic seeping through veins and bloodvessels to seek out the spreading ill humors and drag them back to the wounds to drain them away.

Geofferaut waited for the subject's arm to be released, frozen, staring. Once it was cleared of interfering hands, he upended the booze bottle, giving the open, ragged wound an extremely generous pour.

"Lebeaux, how did this happen?" Atlan asked.

Rinha'li keeps his eyes fixed on the magical process in grim fascination, his arm shaking. "I'm n-not...lyin--Atlan, really, it's--" And then he is taken entirely by surprise when Geoff upends a healthy dose of sanitizing alcohol all over his lacerated arm without warning. He YELPS loudly in surprise and pain.

Geofferaut set the newly empty bottle aside and plucked his gloves off and tucked them away. Long, lean hands criss-crossed in overlapping webs of finely lined new, old, older, and nearly gone scars selected a sinisterly sharp needle and threaded it. "The subject will remain still."

“Well, I took Rinha’li out into the field for a little investigative work to further research Geofferaut and myself are working on.” Lebeaux gestured with the hand not currently casting to the other elezen. “This didn’t go quite according to plan but here we all are.” He smiled sweetly. “If it helps at all, these wounds are self-inflicted.” He didn’t bat an eyelash as the yelping began.

[blackrose-ffxiv]

Sharing a Table Part 2 05/04

“I need a reagent that can be dissolved into a stable suspension when mixed with ether to store and enhance aether applied to it.” Lebeaux Desrosiers explained slowly, his gaze ceasing his drifting around the work area to settle once again on Geofferaut. “To multiply the effects, if possible, as well as transfer the aether directly. The issue I’m having is many of the reagents I’ve found thus far have been toxic. I intend to use it on a living subject and would prefer they remain living after.” 

Lebeaux held up a finger after that. He had been wrong. Well, not wrong. He was never wrong. Just misspoke. "I actually don't care if he should die along the way but I do rather enjoy my current position and intend to keep it. So despite my preferences I'll need him to remain alive." He corrected.

"Non-toxic injectible aether storage." Geofferaut Derosiers looked up at the uniform, unlabeled drawers on the wall, eyes ticking from one to the next, left to right, top to bottom. 

Lebeaux nodded. “Just so. With the intent of transferal. While limited side effects would be preferred, I understand it’s rather new territory. Transferal of aether from one subject to another."

"It is possible a collection of very small life forms in suspension could absorb aether in a living body. If so it is possible full transfusion can move the suspension and aether to another body." Geofferaut hypothesized.

Lebeaux blinked blankly for a moment, tilting his head somewhat. “I never even considered using live carriers…” He mused thoughtfully, still cuddling his tea rather than drinking it. “Do you have a life form in mind or is this still purely theoretical…”

"It is possible a second injection toxic to the possible lifeforms could release the absorbed aether. A germ invades a host body and reproduces exponentially. I don't know if a germ that absorbs aether exists yet."

Lebeaux lifted his icy gaze upwards as he considered that. Having the opportunity to wiggle the large-gauge needles he kept in his kit under the skin not once but twice in the process of treatment. The corners of his smile quirked in what may have been brief contentment. Which was quickly dispelled once revealed that it was all purely theoretical still. He looked back to Geofferaut. “It will surely require research, yet the theory seems sound.”

Geofferaut is not required to comment on stated facts, such as the soundness of his theories. "A germ culture exposed to the Void may begin to absorb aether. A germ culture exposed to the Void may alter in ways that make it more difficult to kill."

Lebeaux lowered dark brows, not quite into a frown. He was still pleased that he wasn’t simply talking nonsense and he may have well been on the right track to finding an appropriate solution, even if he wasn’t capable of mixing said solution himself. “That sounds a bit volatile. How do you propose to limit the exposure to the Void to ensure there are no additional side effects or undesired aberrations from the original culture?”

"Multiple cultures are required for testing. Vary length of exposure. Test on expendable subjects."

Lebeaux nodded his agreement. Satisfied with that, he took a sip of the slowly cooling tea. “And how are you going to locate a point to access the Void for the exposure, as well as find suitable subjects?” He nudged the other on a little further, likely out of curiosity at this point. Geofferaut had been almost… wordy. He suspected that was an excellent indication that he had taken on the case.

"It is most preferable to create a tear in a contained location. If a tear is not created here are measurable signs of an existing tear that can be tracked. Refugees or homeless or prostitutes are the easiest subjects to acquire. Their health and suitableness cannot be guaranteed." Geofferaut reached the bottom of his bowl of 'food' sometime during this latest stream of words. His hand fell motionless in his lap. By all appearances, he was having this entire conversation directly with a closed book.

Lebeaux waved a hand idly before settling it back around his teacup. That was the missing smell. There was no metallic tang of blood, at least not one that he could notice from where he sat atop the stack of tomes. The talk of subjects reminded him. “Hopefully not here.” He said slowly between slow sips. “Working, eating and digging around in the void all at the same table may be pushing it a bit.” He teased lightly. “That should be more than sufficient for the initial stages, things do tend to get messy during the first trials. I suppose we can worry about later trials when it comes to it.”

@cellardoor-ffxiv