#younger esredes

[crimsonfluidessence]

Prompt 20: Duel

If there was one thing most people could agree on about Esredes, it was that he didn't forget the past.

A long time ago, he was but a green little trainee, not even a squire. He was tasked to deliver a report letter to a Captain about their patrol details, and that was when he first met him.

Ser Astor Chevalier was towering and commanding, complete with a verdant cape. To say the little Elezen who had yet to hit his growth spurt was intimidated would at the least be accurate, and he barely knew how to even dare approach the man. "E-excuse me, Ser!" Was his best attempt, as he stiffened his body language and saluted him. "A-are you Ser Astor?"

The man turned around to fix him with an expectant stare, folding his arms behind his back as he took Esredes in. "And what's this? You're not one of mine." His voice was resonant, but it carried an unexpected softness to it underneath. "At ease, son. Indeed, you've got the right man. What is it you need?"

"I've a missive from Ser Bishop to deliver, Ser. Report of the most recent patrol. He said you would want to read it first."

"Ser Bishop, eh?" He took the missive from Esredes' hands and opened it with a letter opener, addressing Esredes as he read. "What's your name, son?"

"Esredes, Ser. Esredes Rosemond."

"Rosemond? Did I hear that right?" He nodded as his eyes snapped up to meet Esredes'. "Not oft one of yours comes our way."

"Ah, no, Ser, but I'm proud and happy to be here."

"And you're still green..." The man shifted his jaw and waved a hand out towards the training field. "Tell me, Rosemond. What made you so keen on joining the ranks?"

This was not the first time Esredes had been asked this question. He broke eye contact to look out at the field with the commander. They all said it in that same tone, like they expected a correct response. He simply needed to give that response. "I have wanted to since I was younger." He settled on with firm eye contact. "But I was not allowed. Not until I finished schooling, my parents said. However, I studied everything I could from books, and I watched a cousin train. I read all the stories, I listened to what knights had to say. I know deep in my soul this is what Halone wants for me. No other path forward has opened up to me but this. I want to protect and save others, Ser. I want to do right for the people of Ishgard."

"Your parents were wise in telling you this. A man-no matter his reasoning-should never wish to go to war. It is a harsh, cruel, unrelenting force, not unlike the chaos of nature itself. Only nature, however destructive, serves purpose in its discord. War bears no cause, sowing nothing but blood and loss." He turned. "Come with me, Rosemond." Oh no. Esredes had said the wrong thing, hadn't he? Esredes followed in silence, heart pounding a little as they climbed the steps that afforded them a better view of the entire camp. "What is it you think they all hold in common, regardless of their drive-their reason for wishing to enter knighthood? To face war head on?"

It was a riddle, Esredes reasoned. It was always a riddle with them. “They’re… human? Vulnerable? Willing to do it? Not ready?”

Astor's arms clasped behind him. "All good answers. And none of them wrong. But they have one other thing in common. One more aspect to their lives, true for any man or woman who steps out unto the fray." He turned his head to look at Esredes. "You, all of you, are someone's child. Perhaps to nobility, highborn of the purest bloodline. Perhaps not, born to little or nothing at all. Perhaps some have never met their own, while others know well their lineage, and can trace it back generations." He waved an arm out over the scene before them. "But you started somewhere, born of another. You have a family, a home, which awaits your return. This is why I have two goals in this war, Rosemond. The first is to stand and fight, and see to it that we are the impenetrable shield between the Dravanian threat and Her peoples." He raised his chin. "...The second, is to see all such soldiers returned to their families. Their homes. Their lives... where they ought to be. Where this war steals them from. Some for moons. Some for turns... Some... forever more."

The emotion of his words washed over Esredes like a tide retreating too quickly. It didn't settle in beneath the skin, and he felt lost. All he could do was frown. "I... I see, Ser. That is... very noble and good of you. I... hope to be like that, too."

"Tis not noble, son. But the wish of a husband, and a father." He said. "Forgive me my suddenness, but I do believe we have volunteers to aid in making supper. Oh-and give Captain Bishop my regards, yes?"

"I- yes, ser!" Esredes said as the Captain headed out with that. And so Esredes went back to his tasks.

But that would not be the last Esredes saw of that Captain. Not at all. It was when Esredes had become a squire that he returned in the winter, very suddenly, behind Esredes just as he was cleaning his armor with a simple "Rosemond." And it sounded like it was coated over with malice. "Full glad am I to see you taking so well to your duties. Got a headstart on cleaning your amor have you?"

Esredes' blood had already turned to ice as he hobbled up to stand at attention. “Yes, Ser, I have.” He bowed his head. “I would not want to put it off.”

"That's good to hear you say, son. Good to hear you say. You know, it can be difficult, getting the hang of cleaning your armor. But it's a task best perfected early I'd like to think." He nodded. "So why not let the your fellows help you out? Get you nice and familiar with scrubbing that metal."

He put his foot forward, pressing it into the snow and sliding it aside to make a clearing. A shrill whistle followed and he stepped to the side, and suddenly one after the other every squire in the camp came forward and piled their armor up in front of Esredes. Esredes could do nothing but watch in shock as the pile grew and grew. Over twenty people had added to it. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Well!" Astor said when the pile finally stopped growing. "Looks to me like you've got your work cut out for you. But I've got high expectations of you, Rosemond. And I look forward to making sure all of those pieces are gleaming by the time you're done... wouldn't want anyone here having points docked on inspection tomorrow morn, would you?" The smile he gave Esredes was horrible. Oh so horrible, it made his stomach turn inside out.

He was going to be out here the rest of the day. But he was given a challenge, and he wouldn't back down from it. “Yes, Ser.” Was all he offered in acknowledgement. And then he scrubbed away at the armor. He scrubbed harder and harder, and in the end managed to finish by dinner, even though he was late. That was enough of a victory for him.

But sure enough, the next morning, the Captains' sollerets clinked across, followed by that shout of "Rosemond!" And Esredes tensed up. "You did good work, son. I'm impressed. Got the whole of the outpost looking spick and span! I think you've earned yourself a real assignment. What do you say, son?"

"What... what sort of real assignment, Ser?"

"Come now, look alive! I'm not going to bite your head off." The Captain laughed, but Esredes wasn't so sure.  "I'm trusting you to sweep the perimeter of the wall, son, make sure all is in order. "And another thing, I want you to pay close attention to the roads leading in and out of here, yes? We need those clear of any possible debris. Last thing we need is a supply cart getting caught on anything. Broom'll be by the gate. I made sure the boys set aside one just for you."

Esredes resisted the urge to narrow his eyes. Broom duty. Really?   He was tempted to ask how far out on the roads, but decided it was best not to get specific. "Very well, Ser." He offered.  How hard could it be to use a broom for this. He'd had to clean up his own messes to hide from his parents before. He started to turn, then realize he hadn't been dismissed and stiffened right back up to correct his position.

"Come now, Rosemond, where's that spark? If you're going to be out there you'd better be alert, at attention, aware of your surroundings! Or am I to find you half asleep at your post when a wyvern comes crashing through a wall? Did I say you were dismissed, Rosemond!?" He snapped. "But if you're so eager to get started, then maybe I should reward you for taking the initiative! While you're out there you can go ahead and count clearing the balistraria of any ice, as well as double checking our fortifications to your list of duties!" He stepped forward, closing in on the space between them both. "I do not want to see so much as a single pebble out of place! A splinter splitting from those blockades! Do you understand me!?"

“Yes Ser!” Esredes did not drop eye contact.

"That's more like it! Now get your arse out then and dont let me catch you back within these walls until you've made damn sure you are done! Dismissed!"

Esredes had tried to complete this task just as the one before. He snuck in to get a shovel, he began shoveling snow out by the path- but soon a storm brewed, and he found himself faced with a palisade coming down right on top of him. In that split second between being crushed or retreating into a hole for safety, he rushed into the hole and was sealed inside, trapped out in the cold. He tried to hack away at the wood with his sword, with his shovel, to even try and use his forbidden powers, but none of it worked to give him an escape. And it wasn't long after he passed out, woke up in the infirmary, and laid in bed after finishing supper feeling completely drained, that he appeared again.

"...Rosemond." His voice was hoarse as he peered down at him and pulled up a seat by his cot. "How are you feeling?"

Esredes tensed and sat up straight. "Better, Ser!"

"Easy there, son. You're still in recovery."

"...I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough to get myself out, Ser. It- it will be different next time, I promise."

The Captain shook his head. "The only apologies here should be from myself, and the one responsible for distracting you and destabilizing the snow running about like that. My hope is that there won't be a next time. I'd hoped there wouldn't be a first time, frankly... But... what's happened has happened, and I can only thank Her and the staff here, along with your stubbornness, for keeping you with us..."

“I’m fine, Ser, really. Just… tired. I’m not here to fail, Ser. I handled it the best I could.”

"You might be, with time... but it isn't. Son, there's too much that could get a man killed out here... I should've never let one of those things be me." He bowed his head and took a breath. "And you've my humblest apologies for it." The man even made eye contact with Esredes, which he had started to grow to hate, even though his sharp gaze had softened considerably. "You handled yourself well out there. A lesser man would've panicked, stuck on the spot. Nobody can blame you for wanting some shuteye after it all." He pressed his hands to his knees and grunted as he stood. "You'd better get plenty of it. You aren't leaving here until those healers give you a clean bill of health, you hear?"

“Yes, Ser.” Esredes said. “I will rest. You have my word.” He was impressed. He was impressed! These last two horrible days had been worth something after all, and he wouldn’t be sent home.

He didn't see that Captain again until three years later, when he was a recently promoted Sergeant, when just as before, the clink of armor came up behind him. "Esredes Rosemond... Sergeant Esredes Rosemond from what I hear." The voice gave a deep, mirthful laugh. "Congratulations Ser, and might I say, impressive work, given the tales that've been told even in my neck of the woods."

"Captain." Esredes rose from his seat and gave him a much more practiced salute.

"At ease, son. My, it's been too long. You've come far since we last saw one another." Of course he had, Esredes thought as he clasped his hands behind himself and smiled. That was what rank got him, didn't it? To be look at instead of down upon by people like him? “I assure you, the tales are most likely exaggerated. It was others who did most of the work.”

"Oh please, no need to be so humble- unless my ears have finally begun to fail me and I've misheard how you took down a man before he could escape due justice?" Well yes, that had happened. But it wasn't so grand and dramatic, so he thought. "You ought to be proud, Sergeant. Your family must be, given how well you've taken to this. We could use more men liek you, frankly. Who aren't afraid to get the work that needs doing, done. Though if i may, I would like to steal you away from yours if but for a moment. As there is something I would discuss regarding a... another matter."

(more later!)

[crimsonfluidessence]

Prompt 4: Off the Hook

Content Warning: Drug and violence mentions, Endwalker spoilers

Esredes was in trouble again, and he knew it.

The teenager sat in a chair inside his manor, arms crossed and feet kicking in the air idly. "So," his mother said with a stern look, a look he was avoiding eye contact with. "Would you like to explain to me what happened, Esredes?" Esredes certainly knew what happened, that was for sure. He'd been out with friends and they had all gotten their hands on fogweed. Esredes tried one little inhale of it, and proceeded to cough his lungs out. But Mother didn't need to know any of that, no no. He had an idea, a plausible story forming in his head. "Ovoix really wanted to explore beyond our limits." He said. "I told him you would be mad, but he said if I didn't go he wouldn't talk to me again." "Then Ovoix isn't really your friend, Esredes." She remarked. "I always had a bad feeling about him. Listen, you." She pointed at him. "No spending time with him again. I will be having a talk with his parents." "Okay, Mother. I'm sorry." Esredes put on his best guilty face. "I really didn't mean for this to get out of hand..." She sighed, crossing her arms. "If I catch you going down there again, I will ground you. Understood?" "Understood." Wow. That had worked better than expected. For once, he could escape her punishments.

Of course, it was easier back then. People took more pity on a noble and a softer face, even if it was less than the others. Nowadays, his face had sharpened and now that he was pardoned, he hung in so many balances he might as well be declared a tightrope circus act. That meant whenever he messed up, he needed to be very precise, and very calculated.

The easiest way was to, of course, simply be clean about it. Use the Dark Knights, use the Inquisitors, stay in the shadows and watch. It wasn't as satisfying, but cleanliness far outweighed personal desires. But failing that, there were other ways to win.

Take the time that one of Esredes' own counseling clients was almost murdered by his own biological father.

It was not exactly a time Esredes wanted to talk about, as there are some things you can't forget hearing on linkpearl, but he'd done exactly as he should have. He ran to stop it, told the apartment desk women it was an emergency and the young man was in danger, then proceeded to burst in and kick the man's face into unconsciousness. Of course, did the Temple Knights who came up appreciate the effort? No. They immediately tried to arrest him, blaming him for all of it. Being a former Temple Knight had its perks, even in light of everything else working against him. Esredes held up his hands, obeyed the command to step away from the victim despite being in the middle of administering first aid, and stood by, calmly explaining the situation. The first time the Temple Knight tried to arrest him, the victim on the floor protested. But the asshole had the audacity to try again the moment it was them alone and the others had filed out. "I think you should put your hands together." He had said. "I think we'll take them off when we get into a nice Inquisition room." Esredes stared back at him. “You know I’ve been proven innocent of my original crime, do you not? My record is clean. ‘Tis not very ethical of your place in the order to lie to an attempted murder victim.” The Temple Knight's expression soured harshly at that. He ran his tongue along his teeth and smacked his lips. "Right. But it's for safety reasons. I think you might be a flight risk. I think you might be one literally." That was most definitely a hiss. “I’m not resisting detainment. I am standing here awaiting your escort, and that is that. To do so would only endanger myself unnecessarily.” "...Fine. You know the way? Walk." “Very well.” He said to this, and turned and began to walk out. Each time he looked back, the man was right there with a hand on his lance the whole way. Considering they never even confiscated his sword and he was allowed to walk out of the questioning room before he even finished his entire statement, Esredes declared that one a success. He was on a mission for both survival and pride reasons to never be arrested. Detainment was normal, but he really couldn't afford an arrest on his record.

Of course, he had done nothing wrong. He was entirely innocent of any negative involvement, why, he'd even held back from completely eviscerating the would-be murderer for legal defense purposes. Still, he counted his blessings. The last time he'd argue he did nothing wrong didn't work as well.

Argue was a bit of a strong word, of course, as both times he had to be talked to in that detainment, it was from people he knew, had a good relationship with, even, making things more awkward. It was especially awkward when he was being questioned by a client. You know, because sometimes you're the unluckiest man ever and you make a client out of a High Inquisitor not long before you get detained for an act of vigilantism.

It wasn't even bad enough to be qualified, he wanted to argue but didn't. He had done nothing but try to ensure an incredibly dangerous and wanted criminal didn't get away while he was being chased. He hadn't interfered or obstructed law enforcement from arresting the man. He was entirely wanting to see this arrest occur. And yet, he was the one in trouble for committing vigilantism? Fucking bullshit, he wanted to say. I've done way worse and not been caught. But it was an extremely unwise position to argue on this. So he didn't, and he took the charge with profuse apologies, and grumbled to himself about the community service charge. There went his clean record. But the community service ended up being to counsel prisoners and then be hired for it at the end, so it was barely a punishment to begin with. He was more pissed about the record by the end of it.

Perhaps he was lucky because of his connection. But he didn't need that to get himself out of trouble, either.

Enter Alvere Travanchet. Who the hells was Alvere Travanchet? The name was known to Esredes already, but not from the man himself. Instead it was from his deceased lover, a fellow harrier in his movement. And when Esredes first saw the way the man stared at him after he showed him a sketch of Alais, he knew he was in for danger. The stalking and monitoring that followed was a given, Inquisitors tried that first each time. But to even manage to follow him using a proxy to one of his recruitment meetings? That took something else. This one was more of a threat. Or would have been, anyhow, if not for his actions completely backfiring on him. Alvere was a shadow, secret Inquisitor. As far as the public knew, he wasn't one. Not until he had met with Esredes' boss and been instated as a public Inquisitor, causing the noblewoman he was a House Knight for to kick him out of her house. Esredes had been planning to cancel his follow up to that meeting. If Alvere somehow stalked him to it he might just arrest him and try to get his pardon undone for execution purposes he most definitely wanted to perform himself, after all. But he found the man staring off a thousand yards out on a bench in Empyreum, had him speak to him about how he just got kicked out of his house, and went on ahead with the meeting. Nothing more ever came of it.

Months later when the two were having an argument, though, he brought it back up in the middle of his anger. "You spied on me. I found you on a bench after I learned about it, and I was pissed. Yet I still picked up your flask for you, and put it aside. I don't think you would ever do that for another person unless they were soft and cute and didn't challenge you on the mountains of bullshit you entertain." "Of course I did. Did you really think I wouldn't?" Alvere leaned in and snarled at him. "But I did nothing. You are still holding meetings, secretive ones, yet I chose to trust you are up to no harm. I let it go, I stopped." He pulled back, his expression and voice turning icy. "Fool I am. Trusted. Hoped." Esredes crossed his arms. "Oh no, I knew you would. That's everyone's first instinct. You're not original in the slightest, Alvere.. And you're really going to frame it as a sign of trust. Is it really that, Alvere? Is it really?" "Name it. You don't believe my trust, so name it. What would make you believe. Nothing." Esredes sighed. "Perhaps not switching your personality off every time you talk to me would help? You know, as a start?" Alvere narrowed his eyes. "Then I am self centered, head up my ass, violating inquisitor." He gestured around. "So much trust here."

That had been perhaps their worst argument. They almost broke it all off entirely. But Alvere was certainly right about a few things. He had taken the bait perfectly. Esredes had leaned so hard into Alvere's emotional issues despite his hatred that he gave up on pursuing him.

And now he simply kept it that way, and let the Black Wolf curl around him protectively, as he continued about his work as usual. Some spy he was, weak at his foundation. But that was okay. Every Inquisitor was weak if you drove the needle in at the right vein, and the wolf was a great boon. It was a good thing that he could still get away with it without Alvere, then. Alvere once thought it was a brilliant idea to confront his father financing a gang with the child who the gang wanted to take back. Sure enough, it went exactly as Esredes anticipated it would, and it went awry. A mind mage tried to turn the two to the gang's side, and if it were not for Esredes following and hiding and sounding an alarm, it could've been catastrophic. Sure, in order to follow and hide, Esredes had to break into a minor noble house, sleeping powder a noble man, and break a chandelier and window in order to attack the mind mage and Alvere's father, but what was a little illegal home invasion when the suspect was guilty and attacked an Inquisitor? He absolutely got detained for that one. It was not a painless detainment. Once again he was cursed to be interrogated by someone he knew- in fact, in all three of these situations he was, weirdly enough- but it was not exactly a happy reunion. Still, he was not charged with a crime. He was free to go. And go home he did, to get ready for a ball while emotionally in the complete dumps.

But emotional turmoil was temporary, and record charges were forever.

Someone who Esredes went to Garlemald with came into his office without warning to search his office on a warrant of suspecting him to be harboring dragon's blood, because his fellow harriers never got it through their heads to be quiet about things. That time, Esredes was almost certain he would be arrested. Still, he sat there calmly in his office chair and didn't hinder the Dragoon's search. He evasively answered his questions. But of course, the Dragoon found nothing. He didn't keep dragon blood in his office. That was miles and miles away safely stored at camp. He wasn't sloppy. And so he left, and nothing more came of it.

He also thought nothing of his neighbor boarding up her upstairs window for a whole week soon after that, claiming she had a home invader while he was at work.

Being a former Temple Knight had its perks, even when you were legally at the very bottom. And if he strengthened his web of connections well enough, maybe he would eventually ascend his status entirely and become impossible to take out.

Oh, what a reality that would be. To finally be free of the crushing weight and more easily get down to business. Yes, this was the outcome he craved. And who cared how many wretched members of law and order would need to be bent to his will like a toothpick to achieve it?

He would take back the power he needed to change Ishgard to Shiva's Will, one way or another. And so the man continued his legal dance.

[crimsonfluidessence]

Prompt 2: Horizon

Content Warning: Heavy mental health themes, Endwalker spoilers

The green grass beneath Esredes' feet rested nice and soft on the legs as he sat down at the top of the hill and watched the sky. The sun had not yet come up, the sky still dark and littered with black stray clouds, but any minute now, the pigment would creep its way into the sky, and morning would begin anew. Up on top of this hill, Esredes was alone as he waited for the sunrise, just as he had been the last few days. But it wasn't long before the silence was interrupted by the audible plop of another sitting next to him. He turned his head to be met with a mess of black hair and curious, lively garnet eyes that guided the younger half Elezen. And she stared right at him while holding up a piece of meat.

"Raw meat for your thoughts?" Esredes blinked at her. "...I'm not hungry yet." He simply offers, looking back at the sky. "Tell me what's going on then." It was not a request. He could tell from the teenager's tone, the way someone might ask their sibling to hand over a toy. "Just my morning routine." Esredes offered. "I want to watch the sunrise." "New routine then. What changed." Once again, it was not a question. "...I thought it would be a good idea." He said. "The sunrise is... beautiful and exciting. Why not get up to see it. It starts the day off right." "It helps, then." "...Yes." Esredes said. Silence hung heavy a moment, before he decided to speak again. "I want to watch and wait for when the sun truly comes up," he said. "It wasn't yesterday, and it wasn't the day before, and I'm not sure it will be today, either. But I want to see it come up, even if it doesn't." "...Explain." Esredes hesitated. "...I don't know when it's going to come up." He said. "I haven't seen it come up since... that night." Only Witchdrop can judge your innocence now, the words echoed in his mind. "Though, maybe it didn't come up before then, either. I don't know- you still go there. Does it come up for you?" "You're going to have to explain this clearly, Tea Rose." Something in her slightly firm tone made him suspect she already knew. "When did you last see the sun rise, and you knew it truly rose." Esredes said. "That's what I want to see. What I want to remember." She stared at him intently and offered no words. "...I feel like you want to say something, but you're not going to." Esredes sighed. "And that's... fine. If you... want to keep sitting here, we can watch, but. I won't ask you to if you're busy."

She offers him no further words. Instead, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into a tight yet gentle hug, a hand raising up to pat his head gently and brush his hair with her fingers. To this, he puts an arm around the teenager in return, and leans his head into her shoulder slightly. "Thank you."

"All clear."

Esredes pushed his way through the old, rickety door into the cabin. The humble little wooden enclosure met him with little to nothing to offer- just a small bedroom, two-person dining room table, small kitchen, and a single couch. With this, a diluted kaleidoscope of noises greeted him- the creak of the wood, the rush of the wind outside, but most of all, a strange noise that he'd become all too familiar with. Music. Low and eerie, lifeless music played through the entirety of the little space, one he'd heard far more times than anyone should in their life. "Our Home on the Horizon..." The music echoed that same, repetitive lyric that filled Esredes with a sense of cold the outside couldn't produce, as he turned to stare at the radio on the dining table responsible.

With a sigh, after searching the entire house and the perimeter, Esredes reluctantly held a hand out and took the horrid device in one hand. He had decided since coming to Ilsabard he hated these things- if there was ever a box that could capture spirits, it would have to be this one. This repetitive, droning, creepy song felt as if it contained the trapped energy of so many dead, from the distorted and eerie singing to even the piano that played as if by a ghost. Did Garleans all seriously listen to this and think it was patriotic? And Esredes thought Ishgard was bad... As that lifeless, empty music droned on in its endless repetition, Esredes went outside the cabin and stared at the dark, snowy sky that greeted him and the rest of the rescue team.

"Our Home on the Horizon..."

Towards the sky, he started back on foot to camp, wondering to himself if these people had ever seen the sun rise like he had. Did they believe it rose every day as long as they killed everyone who wasn't them, or were they like Ishgardians, who killed in hopes of filling the empty void and still never saw the sun rise? His footsteps left print after print behind in the snow. Once another round of it came, they would be covered and erased, much like the ones of whoever lived there long ago. Esredes shut his eyes and muttered to himself quietly in Dragonspeak. "Scattered upon thy winds of love and comfort, thou shall find the way home," the prayer translated to. Given the nature of Garleans, they would more than likely hate that he even tried to pray for them. But that didn't matter. He simply wondered to himself as he walked when they would see the sun rise. Perhaps he too, could find a way to help...

"Our Home on the Horizon..."

[crimsonfluidessence]

Junelezen Day 15: Solar Cycle

You still remember clearly the best day of your life. In all this time, still untainted by all that came after it. As if the sun never shined brighter again, And everything came together as light filled the air. Why are you so convinced you'll never see anything like it again? You're not the ghost you think you are. You can still see light just fine.

[crimsonfluidessence]

Prompt 3: Temper

Everyone once in a while, the boy found himself out here, in the courtyard of the manor of one of the members of his extended family. All the other Rosemond cousins were gathered, with one aunt there to chaperone over them who sat on a bench and watched the proceedings.

They played a variety of games in the courtyard, but the current game up and running was tag. It was as simple as can be- the chaperone timed rounds on her pocket watch, and the children ran all about the yard until each round was up. A small break to change positions, and then a new person was selected for chasing.

Once again, it was Esredes' turn to be up. The eight year old gave everyone a determined little grin as he took his place in the center of the yard and crouched down with both his hands on one knee and surveyed everyone else. "Ready your positions!" She called from the bench, eyeing the watch. "And... start!" Esredes dashed off after the other kids, putting as much force into his legs as the boy could muster. He rushed after person after person, but each was just a bit too fast for him to make contact with.

"One minute left!" She shouted. Crap. If he went the whole round without passing it off at least once, that'd be embarrassing! He needed to focus a target, and really try to get them! His eyes landed on another mound of red hair, much messier than his own, and belonging to a cousin a couple years older than him. His eyes narrowed in. That was Morven- he didn't have the stamina to last in these games forever. By now, it had to be wearing off, surely, and that could give him a chance! Esredes made a big dash right for the other boy, but just when he swore he could reach out and touch him, Morven slipped right out of his range and kept running around the courtyard. "Thirty seconds!" Why was he so slippery this time? He certainly hadn't been earlier when it was Nadia's turn... But Esredes wasn't giving up on his chosen target! He ran at him again, but didn't manage to make much ground- he still kept a few feet ahead of him at all times. "Ten seconds!" How was the round already almost over?! No, this wouldn't do! Esredes took a moment to stop, see where Morven was running next, and made another great dash towards him, but he was still just out of range as he reached his hand out- No, no, no! Esredes made a daring leap for his quarry....! And fell right on to the ground beside where he thought Morven would run with a resounding "Oof!" Morven burst out laughing at him. Esredes glared up at him as he got up. "Oh my gods!" He said, still laughing. "You were so trying to get me, but you couldn't! That was amazing, Esrey!" "Shut up." Esredes said. "It wasn't my fault you suddenly have the speed of a falcon!" "I'm not even that fast!" He put his hands on his hips and grinned at Esredes. "You're just not the best at this game, Esrey. Admit it." "I'm just fine at this game!" He retorted. "I don't have anything to admit! You were just too fast!" "Nuh-uh," Morven said back. "I'm not fast! You just don't want to admit that you're just too slow!" Esredes' eyes widened. He grit his teeth. His hands curled into fists. That was it. "No one calls me slow!" He shouted, raising his fist and hurling it right at Morven's face.

It collided right on target, and a loud "Ow!" came out of Morven as he stumbled back and held his face with one hand. Esredes' expression turned to shock in an instant, and he stared down at his fist. Had that really just happened? Had he really just done that...? The chaperone stood up abruptly. "Esredes!" Oh no.

She came right over and stood between the two of them. "That's quite enough," she said as she knelt down in front of his cousin, speaking to him in hushed gentle tones as he started crying. In the meantime, Esredes found himself glued to the ground where he stood, holding the fist that had done it with his other hand, frozen in place and staring with wide eyes as a sinking feeling felt like it was going to drag him right into the ground. "And as for you," she turned to him after a minute, narrowing her eyes right on him. "Come with me. Now."

Her hand took his, quite forcefully, and pulled him off of the courtyard. And all Esredes could do is let himself be dragged away, helpless to his fate.

[crimsonfluidessence]

Prompt 8: Adroit

Content Warning: Mentions of Torture School sucked. That was the conclusion Esredes came to for most of his childhood. He was never the biggest fan of many aspects of it, of sitting indoors and listening to lectures when he could be out in the world. Writing in particular was never fun. So many rules had to be drilled into him, on how sentences and grammar worked and what the proper words to use were. So many hours collectively he must have spent, pouring over dictionaries and definitions, scolded and given a bad grade if his writing did not match the expected standards. He never did quite get the hang of it. Even as an adult, he found himself back in the same loop of dictionaries always being out on his desk when he had the brilliant idea to accept a House of Lords members’ offer of being an assistant and look over and write letters and speeches and proposals for the man. Some nobles he knew could write flourishing and beautiful things with ease, but he always had to stop and get fixated on words, if this or that was spelled right or flowed correctly, only for the end result to be something he always felt resembled a noble’s writing, but if one were to observe it more carefully and pick it apart, it would come undone at the seams. At least all those failed drafts were simply put in the trash. His war journal stayed locked away in his home nowadays, not only for the particular out of the ordinary pages like the time he wrote a full page of I’m sorry, but the few times in his life he tried to write poetry lines in it on a whim. It was awful, and he regretted it the moment after he finished trying. The page was almost intelligible with crossed out words, but it read like a madman’s disjointed ramblings trying to sound pretty. How the hell did poetry work? He had no idea, and it was an embarrassment to take to his grave, or else truly no worse fate would await him. He was mediocre at mathematics. No excuse of simply being a child of less artistic disciplines- he found nothing significant for himself in pretty much any part of schooling except history. He liked reading about the past, and it took to his memory much better than equations or the different forms of the same word. Seraphiaux always did better, even when he neglected studies. There he was, the little child prodigy learning alchemy and healing at age seven with all his books, and Esredes was trying to understand semicolons at fifteen. He was going to be a healer, Esredes would be a Temple Knight- and only one of them had any progress towards it at all. His parents did not allow him to play or practice with swords or weapons of any kind. “Not until you enter training,” they said. “It’s too dangerous.”Most noble children would probably be far better off coming from two parents who did not fight in the war, who did not try to push and train them to be soldiers from an early age. Esredes was an exception to that, as he thought. Instead, he was stuck in the increasing realization that he had little talent for anything. It only made sense to him later why- a soldier could not have other talents, or else they would be distracted from their purpose and not want to fight. But he did not know yet he was one, for sure, and all he could do to escape was funnel into his little wish. It wasn’t the easiest journey to finish schooling, but he managed it. Right into training he went… and there came a breakdown soon enough. The shield. That stupid goddamn shield. He hated carrying it and no matter what he did, he could not get the hang of using it. I’m going to fail, he thought for sure. He would have to go back to his parents and accept he had no passion to pursue, and then work extremely hard every day to be good enough to be head of house, when he knew in his heart he was not enough for it. Yet it all passed as he funneled himself solely into the sword at the instruction of a superior, and once more he had something. Combat. He was right all along. Combat was his answer to everything, his shining star of purpose and ability. Day after day after day, he threw his entire body and soul into training. Nothing could match that ecstasy of true purpose and being. The day he was knighted was the best of his life. Superiors took notice of him, sometimes for the bad but more often for the good, especially as time went on. The ecstasy eventually faded as the harsher realities of battle came to be, but still in those moments of promotion and praise from the higher ups, when people spoke of his accomplishments and even, increasingly as time went on, his bouts of strategy in battle, it surged back up in a lesser form. When he was twenty two, an opportunity came to him like no other. A captured heretic who had the blood of dragons in him which his squadron had apprehended. “Let me interrogate him alone before the Inquisitors come,” Esredes asked his superior. He had done just enough questioning people in the past that he was confident an answer for his curse could be found. Alas, as he carved into the captive repeatedly and shouted at him about his affliction, he ended up empty handed. His one shot at answers had been blown in a bout of overconfidence, and questions raged on in his head. It got easier when he returned to the art of interrogation after the law no longer held him down. As he realized how important it was to get into their heads, slithering up through their ear canals with a tongue increasingly coated in silver, and pull it apart from inside. Then came civilization again, and Esredes was left constantly wondering why people kept spilling their lives’ stories and turmoils to him when they barely knew each other. Why did people constantly look at him like he had just trudged up and told them something they never realized about themselves, when he had just stated the obvious anyone could figure out from dealing with people for thirty three years? Why did he seem to calm some people down so easily just by opening his mouth- that half when he wasn’t inciting them to anger as he always did? Well, being the Keeper of Secrets was not easy, but as he left for Dravania to maintain a fragile peace as a diplomat some days, and looked over his list of clients and his near perfect record others, he smiled about it to himself in the comfort of the blue walls. Yet it was never enough. He had climbed to a Temple Commander before he fell, climbed in much less time to the top of the Disciples and then their leader, managed to pull himself out of being a wanted criminal to multiple people offering him jobs in areas he never expected to take, and yet the same internal monologue repeated. I can’t do this, he said as he tried each new job far outside of his perceived, singular combat ability. So many others could do this better than me. There would be a shining and perfectly talented Ishgardian, one who hadn’t fought in the heretic’s side of the war, who was merely open minded and far more likable, and he would finally be fired from his diplomacy job and replaced by them. Ferrant would never replace him, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t still constantly stressing that he was not meant for the work and couldn’t be enough help. And while he was no longer at a risk of firing since going independent on his side job, and he did not expect all his clients to stop showing up, it never eased that anxiety every time that he could mess it up and do everything wrong in a heartbeat, and ruin everything. But if another counselor like him ever showed up in the same circles, and just proved to be so much better than him At least he still had combat, he told himself. As stupid incompetent children fought primals, ended the war, and got all the peoples’ admiration and praise, he still had combat. As he continued to make critical errors here and there in his ventures, and get in trouble with the Inquisition for vigilantism, forced only to stick to the law enforcement of the wilderness and the expeditions his friends would not take to the system, he still had combat. Not every day anymore as he stuck to his civilian tasks, but he had it. What would a talentless soldier be without the purpose of combat? Of dying, of sacrifice, or usefulness? The disgraced Temple Knight who would never officially and legally fight for anything ever again, only forced to emulate ability in areas he was never built for? The answer found itself in bars. Former Dragoons, it was almost always Dragoons. The ones who started fights just to feel anything, screamed at and insulted people because they truly felt they had no purpose in life anymore, and refused to move on to do anything productive. Esredes sighed to himself every time when he saw them. Perhaps he was not a man of talents, but he would continue to blend in and pretend. If not only for being above making an even bigger disgrace of himself. He always hated too much attention. ----- @heartofthefury​ Seraphiaux/Ferrant

[crimsonfluidessence]

Elftober Day 9: Game

You always had the worst luck, whenever we played that board game in my room.

If only you hadn't had such bad luck in all the games of life to come, maybe we would've stayed together.

[crimsonfluidessence]

Prompt 3: Muster

You’re out of control. We are here to teach you proper responsibility, and you’re going to learn it the easy or hard way. To the teenage boy who was still reeling in shame from the incident which had caused the two family friends to show up like this, these words were the worst to hear. Hell no, he wasn’t going to listen to a word they said. His parents’ rules were unreasonable, and he had been resisting them for years. What could these two do differently? A lot, he would soon learn. They had complete control over him. Each day, they got him up and were with him until nighttime, monitoring him while he did his studies, forcing him to sit through long lectures about the mind and behavior, and somehow managing to turn even the most trivial task into some kind of lesson on responsibility. He hated it. He wanted so desperately to go back to having time for himself, for escaping the manor and being free to do as he wanted no matter how much his parents disapproved of it. And he tried in the early days to resist as much as he could. He talked back, he refused to do tasks- at least, until it became painfully clear he could spend the entire day there if he didn’t. But resistance was exhausting. Each night when he was finally released, he could do little but go to his room and curl up onto his bed. He did it so much that his little brother eventually broke down crying in front of him over missing how his brother used to be. I can’t let them win, Esredes told himself. If he could just hold out, if he could just weather this newest attempt to change him, perhaps his parents would finally give up and listen to him. Perhaps he would finally have things more his way. This was his multi-year war. Always fighting, always talking back, always, inevitably, causing a scene that they did not approve of. But he wouldn’t bend to their stupid rules and regulations. He liked it all just as it was. That was worth fighting for… That was worth the accumulated months of time being grounded, that was worth all the words they flung at him, that was worth all the comments he heard behind his back from others about him being a ‘bad child’, that was worth the peers who now refused to talk to him, that was worth the deep pit in his stomach and the paralyzing feeling when he so much as thought of that girl… Why was he so tired every night? After his brother had finished crying about the change in him, he told him something Esredes had never expected. "Mom wants me to be the head of the house instead of you!” That seven year old exclaimed. "I- I don't want that though... I really don’t!” The child was so scared. So distressed. “Why... w-why would she tell me that? I-I can't see it either, I... I always saw... You. Why can't you make them see that? Make them see you're good to lead? I-I kinda had an idea on what to do. I don't think I can... Can do it if I have to do the leader-y thing.” He begged him to try. Seraphiaux, who had been his best supporter, his only ally when everyone turned away, the one who had rebelled with him- even he wanted this. And Esredes was tired. Maybe it will be easier to just go along, Esredes thought to himself after that night. Maybe at least until they leave. If they see what they want, they will leave, right? And Seraphiaux wouldn't have to cry. And he would feel like he had energy for things again. For as it was, the tiredness seeped into his bones and drained him of the will to do much of anything. Maybe all those feelings that coated his bones would lessen for once. Maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be as bad… By the time he fell asleep that night, he felt the last of his spirit drain away.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- @heartofthefury​ for Disaster Brother

[crimsonfluidessence]

Prompt 14: Scour

As much as the boy didn’t want to go back to his previous habits he had grown out of, today he had to make an exception.

When the family had gone to the cathedral, he had swiped a bottle of holy water and brought it back home. Perhaps it was a stupid idea? Perhaps it was a stupid idea. But the priests had talked so much about the importance and properties of holy water over the years. What better way to test if it was really holy? ...There were a million better ways. Sure. But yet he wanted to know. What would it do? Would it hurt? Burn? Make it go away, even? Probably not the last point, but he had to see if there was even a small chance. Five years had gone by, and he had somehow managed to completely hide his condition. But it made him anxious to think about, even if he could forget about it for long periods of time. What if someone ever did find out? What would happen to him? How could he explain himself...? He... he really didn’t know what to try, but he had to keep trying when these little moments came to him.

Despite his best efforts, his hand was still a bit shaky as he held the bottle out over it after taking the top off. Just one little drop, on the top of the skin. Just one little drop...

A few of them spilled out. Nothing. No sensation, not even a tingle. Just water. Hesitantly, he poured out a little more onto his hand. Still nothing. But he had to be sure. Slowly, he shifted his skin. The color turned red. It began to harden, right under the drops of water. He watched it harden all the way.... And then it was just wet, leathery skin.

It really was just water. He wasn’t getting burned. Or cleansed.

So it really was all talk after all. They were just using regular water and calling it holy. Then did holy water even exist? Did any sort of liquid that would affect this condition exist? Stuck. Once more, stuck. Stuck with this curse that wouldn’t go away. Stuck on how to find a cure. Stuck being an unholy monster below the surface...

The teenager turned to go throw away the bottle before anyone saw him with it. That had been his only idea for a while. How much longer he’d have to endure this lingering dread, he didn’t know, but there was still no end in sight...

[crimsonfluidessence]

Prompt 23: Parched

Someone kill him now.

These banquets were so boring. The twelve year old noble sat in his chair, staring down at his lap. Why did his parents always insist on taking him to these?! He had spent years enduring them, even finding out once that no, spilling his wine glass intentionally to get out of it was not worth getting yelled at, but still, they insisted he go. 

He took a sip of his wine. It gave his mind something to do for a few seconds. A few seconds of mental stimulation, and then it was back to staring down at the floor without anything more to do. All the adults ever talked about were boring things he had no interest in. And so he never talked, only tried not to fall asleep.

Ugh. He took another sip of wine. 

Elsewhere in the room, a man came out of the kitchen with a pitcher only partially full, looking over the guests as he approached. He took his pitcher and refilled selectively, always skipping a few people over each time. Planting the seeds for later harvest very carefully.

It didn’t take long before he stopped in front of the boy, staring down at his lap. He didn’t even think the kid noticed he was there. And his little wine glass was about halfway empty. Oh, these highborn families had such odd ways of showing off their children. Poor little thing looked bored to death. And when he was later found out, there was certain to be outrage… 

The man refilled his glass, and moved on.

The kid did not notice his glass was refilled until a few minutes later when he looked up again. He didn’t even think anything of it as he took the glass once more and took a long sip, then set it back down and continued staring down at the floor, the chatter of those around him only reaching his ears as noise.

He continued sipping on the wine periodically. Just as he always did. And thought nothing more of it except that he was incredibly tired. Must be from all the boredom. 

When they finally went home, he went to bed early. Tomorrow he wouldn’t have to get up and face another stupid banquet. He’d have a normal day. A normal day, in which he was not yet aware anything had changed.

[crimsonfluidessence]

You know what doesn’t get old? Kid photos.

[crimsonfluidessence]

Two kids at the marketplace... In a scene that never happened.

Bonus:

You’re welcome again.

@thecalmnessandthestorms

[crimsonfluidessence]

Guess what guys

This.

This right here.

You’re welcome.

[crimsonfluidessence]

Prompt 15: Ache

Content warning: Description of body injuries When Esredes woke up and tried to sit up, he immediately regretted it. Pain shot up through his abdomen and made him wince, forcing him to lie right back down and sink his head into the pillow. Nope, he told himself. Too ambitious of a move. It was absolutely not going to be gone on day three. He opted to lie there for a few minutes until the chirurgeon entered his room. “Good morning,” Mireille said, handing him a glass of water and setting a sack down on his bed. “Good morning,” Esredes responded, thanking her as he took a long sip of water. “I’ve only been up a few minutes. The pain hasn’t gone down much from yesterday.” “I’ll get your potion dose going after the food has set in your stomach.” She replied. “That should at least take the edge off of it. Here, I better change the bandages and inspect its progress.” Esredes set the glass down and obeyed her request without word, wincing as he moved himself into a more ideal position for taking off his shirt. On his skin, the bruises all around his midsection only seemed to look worse. Mireille removed the bandages wrapped around his lower back, and quickly replaced them with new ones. “How does it look?” He asked. “A little better. In another couple days it should finally scab over.” He sighed. “At least they didn’t hit the scar.” “It looks to me from the position they might have if someone hadn’t intervened. Consider yourself fortunate this time.” “It seems like you say that every time I have to be in here,” Esredes remarked. “Wonder which god or goddess of absolutely nothing it was this time, hm?” Mireille chuckled a little. “Oh, you don’t have to go that far, Esredes. You’re just good at getting yourself out of peril and you know it. Who was it again that covered for you?” “Ceila did. She shot a bolt through the Dragoon’s face.” “Good lord. The entirety of Ishgard should be afraid of what she can manage with that bow sometimes.” “It’s not the first time she’s had to save me from a back injury,” Esredes said. “In any case, I’ve had much worse. This will leave a minor scar at most. I’m not going to complain about it. Honestly, it’s a miracle I still have all of my body functionality retained.” “Do you ever enter this building without saying you’ve had worse at least once?” She responded. “You’re right, it could be much worse. But you say that even about the worst things I’ve seen you come in here with, I swear to Shiva.” “Look, it helps me get through recovery. At least I am not complaining like most of the younger ones do.” “Oh, gods, don’t even bring them up.” She squinted just at the thought. “Still, if the restless bug kicks in, I’ll get a needle and something from the weavers for you to occupy yourself with. But not until at least tomorrow, all right? Stick to the book for now.” “Don’t worry. I intentionally stopped at the action for today.” “Hopefully it won’t disappoint you.” She picked the glass up from the nightstand. “I’m going to go refill this for you, and then I’ll be back in half an hour. I trust you’ll eat and read until then, all right?” “Sure thing.” Esredes replied. “Thank you, though, as always.” Once Mireille left, Esredes did just as she asked and opened the bag. It was exactly as to expect- kaiser roll, pixie plum, and a small bowl of fish stew. After that had made its way down, he settled into reading his chosen book for this infirmary stay. Any stay where he was conscious and only limited by pain and movement in one part of the body was a luxurious one, and he was going to try and make the most of it.

[crimsonfluidessence]

Prompt 17: Obeisant

Always be respectful to your higher ups.

That was perhaps one of the most obvious creeds he lived by in the Temple Knights. Had he been a few years younger, it may have fallen on deaf ears, to all the severe consequences, but he had been fortunate to learn that lesson before he ever touched a sword.

There was nothing more to it. You addressed them correctly, you kept a stoic face, and you spoke with respect at all times. That way, he could keep focused, whether it was on training or later on some of his earlier missions, by keeping it impersonal.

Yet despite that, somehow he still caught a specific higher up’s attention. Not even by being impressive, but by struggling. It was early on in training when the recruits were paired against each other. He was with the blue haired hyur girl who had made his acquaintance, energetic little thing that she was. So much energy that he was not fast enough to counter any of her blows. That had been when the man- he must have been watching them from afar for who knows how long- had stepped in and invited Esredes to try his hand at him. As nervous as he was, he braced himself before he went in for his ass to be handed to him, but when it was, the man explained what he was doing wrong in such a way that it seemed to click with his next few tries. And he had been sure to give him his expression of gratitude for it, a nod of the head and a “Thank you so much, ser.”

Every once in a while since that moment, this higher up would appear to him and offer to train him individually for a session, measure his progress and what he still needed to work on. And while he knew not why he was singled out, each time he thanked him with the same polite tone and nod, each time a bit more involved than the last, each time his body less tense.

One day, he returned with the rest of his team to Ishgard, carrying a sword handle in one hand, but trying to cover the fact up as much as possible. It had been an exhausting day, and he was fortunate it was the only thing broken. And then he had appeared, before Esredes even had a chance to hide it. “Esredes!” The man exclaimed, walking towards the group. “Good to see you. ...Are you hurt? Did everything go well?” The soldier closed his eyes and gave the man a half bow. “It went well enough, ser. There were no casualties, and that is the best we could ask for.” He nodded. “I see. Excellent news. And what happened to your sword there?” “I... broke it today. Hit it too hard and at just the wrong angle. Don’t worry, I’ll be getting a new one immediately.” The man stared down at the handle a moment, then back at Esredes. “Happens to the best of us. But if you’ll follow me, I know just where to replace it.” Esredes appeared a little surprised at this, but nodded. “Very well, ser.” He took him then to a barracks that Esredes wasn’t familiar with. He waited with his hands clasped behind idly as the higher up told him to wait there and disappeared into another room. A few moments later, he returned, holding a sheath, and held it out to him. “There you are. I think this one should suit you quite well.” Esredes took the sheath in both hands and stared down at it a moment. Then he wrapped his hand around the handle and slowly drew it out, examining every little inch of the blade, the golden handle and the way it curved near the end. It looked fancy, pristine-- far too much so for a soldier of his rank. “Are... are you sure, ser?” He said, prying his eyes from the blade a moment to look up at him. “This seems like a rather... expensive blade.”

“I’ve been saving it for a day like this.” The man replied. “I know your style well. This blade should fit perfectly to it. And I think it quite suits you.” He added with a little smile. “Use it well, soldier.”

Esredes replied with his own smile, one that kept spreading as he processed the action. “Thank you... thank you so much, ser. I promise I will keep it in good condition.”

And keep it in good condition he did. For the man was right- it was perfect. It felt almost like an extension of his own arm, the way it flowed into his movements, wielded so effortlessly, smoothly. He had been the most fortunate man in the world to have been able to hold onto it as he fled Ishgard. The only possession of his he had gotten to keep. But he would not take the chance it was lost again, and so from the mounted rack on the wall in his room, replicas hung of the sword at all times. Each time he had to change to one allowing him to further separate himself from its origin. Fewer lingering thoughts of a connection that had long gone cold, that surely was replaced with nothing but a desire to eliminate.

Years later, the sword remained with him as he walked down the streets of Ishgard as usual. Never would he allow it to leave his side as long as he was in this city, not when someone could potentially jump him again.

And then he heard a sound. “Esredes!” As the familiarity of the voice hit him, he whirled around and stared in shock as the man approached him. No way. He knew not if he should be relieved or terrified, and any words to say died in his throat. He just stared at the man and mentally prepared for the worst. “I had heard you had come back, that you were working in the diplomatic field, but to see you with my own eyes again! I never thought a moment like this would happen!” And Esredes continued staring. Finally, he managed to get something out. “H-hello, ser, I... I didn’t think it would either.” No. Don’t cry. Not in front of him. You’re not tearing up. But the other man noticed, and quickly his expression dropped to one of concern. Without warning, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around him. “I’m sorry.” And then he didn’t bother to hold them back. As the weight of a situation he never thought could happen sunk in, he let the tears leak as he wrapped his own arms around the man.

“I’m sorry too.”

[crimsonfluidessence]

REALLY LONG CHARACTER SURVEY.

RULES. repost ,   don’t  reblog  !  good  luck  !

TAGGED. Found off @bloodsworn-marshal and I was like CHALLENGE ACCEPTED TAGGING. I will not be that cruel

BASICS.

FULL NAME: Esredes Rosemond

NICKNAME: Esrey

AGE: 33

BIRTHDAY: the fuck are birthdays

ETHNIC GROUP: Ishgardian Elezen

NATIONALITY: Ishgardian

LANGUAGE(S): Common Eorzean, Dragonspeak, does ishgard have its own language idefk

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Heterosexual

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Heteroromantic

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single as fuck

CLASS: Gladiator

HOMETOWN / AREA: Ishgard

CURRENT HOME: The Coerthan Wilderness

PROFESSION: Heretic Commander/Ishgard’s Most Wanted

PHYSICAL.

HAIR: Swept back and crimson. Noteworthy for the way it splits into tips at the ends.

EYES: Orange

NOSE: ....a fucking nose what do you expect me to say

FACE: Nasty looking

LIPS: Never anything but a black line in my art style so who fuckin knows

COMPLEXION: Light brown.

BLEMISHES: idk

SCARS: A lot in various places on the body.

TATTOOS: None

HEIGHT: 6′0

WEIGHT: idk how to do weights

BUILD: Sturdy

FEATURES: uh... he exists

ALLERGIES: None

USUAL HAIRSTYLE: As presented. He rarely combs down the tips.

USUAL FACE LOOK: Vaguely pissed off or emotionless.

USUAL CLOTHING: Either the Haubergeon outfit or his red tabard outfit.

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR(S): Drowning, Being Captured, Failure, Strangulation, Dying in an embarrassing manner

ASPIRATION(S): Taking over and fixing Ishgard.

POSITIVE TRAITS: Loyal, Brave, Confident, Ambitious, Unyielding

NEGATIVE TRAITS: Manipulative, Brutal, Reserved, Hate-filled

ZODIAC: Fuck the zodiac.

TEMPERAMENT: Choleric

SOUL TYPE(S): what

ANIMALS: Rabbits

VICE  HABIT(S): Over-exerting himself

FAITH: None.

GHOSTS?: Yes

AFTERLIFE?: Yes

REINCARNATION?: Maybe?

ALIENS?: Dragons already exist

POLITICAL ALIGNMENT: He’s like a conservative evil liberal its weird

ECONOMIC  PREFERENCE: what?

SOCIO POLITICAL POSITION: Anti Ishgard, pro heresy.

EDUCATION LEVEL: High School

FAMILY.

FATHER: Unnamed but he exists

MOTHER: ^

SIBLINGS: Seraphiaux Rosemond What siblings? I guess there’s Ysayle, it’s not like he has any biological ones who still love him...

EXTENDED FAMILY: Who knows?

NAME MEANING(S): Esredes doesn’t meant anything. I made it up. Ezredes means colonel in hungarian though, and that’s a neat coincidence.

HISTORICAL CONNECTION?: Not related to Durendaires.

FAVORITES.

BOOK: Probably that one epic heroic tale that’s actually realistic out there somewhere

MOVIE: If they existed, he likes action movies.

5 SONGS: Idk, but he sometimes likes humming them to himself.

DEITY: Fuck you.

HOLIDAY: eh... I guess All Saints Wake is pretty decent

MONTH: September

SEASON: Autumn

PLACE: Idyllshire

WEATHER: A slightly cloudy day with a nice, mild breeze.

SOUND: The soft ambience of a forest.

SCENT(S): uh

TASTE(S): Meats

FEEL(S): The hair of someone he cares about when he’s trying to comfort them.

ANIMAL(S): Rabbits

NUMBER: uh

COLORS: Red and Gold

EXTRA.

TALENTS: Swordfighting, Strategic Thinking, Manipulation, Flying

BAD AT: People, emotions, cooking, anything involving engineering

TURN ONS: Assertiveness, Confidence

TURN OFFS: Stupidity, Miqo’te

HOBBIES: Flying and hunting

TROPES: Dark Skinned Redhead, Frontline General, Ambiguously Brown, Magnificent Bastard

AESTHETIC TAGS: I can’t aesthetic but like, besides dragon and blood and swords, his aesthetic boils down to regal and elegant but tough

GPOY  QUOTES: ?

FC INFO.

MAIN  FC(S): Nope

ALT FC(S): Nope

OLDER FC(S): Nope

YOUNGER  FC(S): Nope

VOICE CLAIM(S): The voice he has in my head

GENDERBENT FC(S): Nope

MUN QUESTIONS.

Q1: IF YOU COULD WRITE YOUR CHARACTER YOUR WAY IN THEIR OWN MOVIE, WHAT WOULD IT BE CALLED, WHAT STYLE WOULD IT BE FILMED IN, AND WHAT WOULD IT BE ABOUT?:

Villain protagonist film where Esredes has to stop the Even Worse villain while still being unapologetically evil himself, teaming up with morally gray problematic good guys that don’t give a shit about his evil. General rule of thumb, if you want him to be the protagonist, make the villain the equivalent of Dolores Umbridge atrocious.

It has to be filmed in a way where the visual parallels clearly indicate nobody is in the right, that he is little less atrocious than the other villain. Give it enough of subtle intelligent cinema film style, not enough so that it’s confusing and prone to missing everything. Let the film have an element of pretty cinematography that can be contrasted with the more brutal scenes.

Call it “The Exception, The Guardian, and The Monster.”

Q2: WHAT WOULD THEIR SOUNDTRACK / SCORE SOUND LIKE?:

Esredes’ song aesthetic is somewhat orchestral, but intense in nature. It has to reflect the battle heavy lifestyle of his, all while making time for the more elegant and sophisticated parts.

Q3: WHY DID YOU START WRITING THIS CHARACTER?:

I wanted to make dragon characters for my friend’s roleplay group because generally no one gave a shit about all the human characters I came in with. His idea had the most inspirational energy and I went with a character representing everything I hate.

Q4: WHAT FIRST ATTRACTED YOU TO THIS CHARACTER?:

I first began to actually like him because of his dialogue. So much fun to write, like holy shit.

Q5: DESCRIBE THE BIGGEST THING YOU DISLIKE ABOUT YOUR MUSE:

I mean, I find a lot of his personality atrocious in general. I don’t like his abusive tendencies, even though I love writing them because of how it defies the idea of him being the local sad man you can just befriend with sunshine. Really, I don’t like that he has to default to murder as a solution and call it for the greater good. He could be genuinely heroic if he tried to find another solution. And that is why he should never stop doing that.

Q6: WHAT DO YOU HAVE IN COMMON WITH YOUR MUSE?:

Desire for quick and snappy change. Generally being the one who can think when no one else can. Thinking nobody likes us while blatantly ignoring all the people directly around us. And both of us have a desire to use our powerful presence, but only one of us can actually pull it off.

Q7: HOW DOES YOUR MUSE FEEL ABOUT YOU?:

He’d probably just call me out on all my weaknesses. Try me, Esrey. So has everyone else before you. You know what it feels like too, don’t you?

Q8: WHAT CHARACTERS DOES YOUR MUSE HAVE INTERESTING INTERACTIONS WITH?

All the kids are fun because each flavor of Esredes trying to work with a disaster is beautiful. I love the absolute purity of Clover, the therapy of Dione, the chill of Rev, snark of Bellona, constant anger of Alastor, etc. The parents are also adorable for their emotional support to the character. Agatha and Esrey are fun because of how awkward but friendly they’re trying to be. Oh, and B’ahm is hilarious because the man is just trying to exist and be friendly and is STILL getting all over Esrey’s nerves.

Q9: WHAT GIVES YOU INSPIRATION TO WRITE YOUR MUSE?:

It’s not hard to get inspired to write him in general, since I have a puppetmaster approach and not a muse approach to writing characters. I usually just have to put on epic sounding music and absorb myself into the mental imagery of him it produces.

Q10: HOW LONG DID THIS TAKE YOU TO COMPLETE?:

Like forty five minutes. Git gud.