07.17.3013: Foxxe in a Box
Summary: Nitrim returns to Ignis to inform Sir Flint that his squiring is on hold, and to inform Soleil that they are to be wed.
Date: 17 July 2013
Related: A Game is Afoot
Soleil Flint Nitrim 

Nitrim's Chambers — Ignis
A rather under-decorated room for the squire…
July 17, 3013

Nitrim has sent out messages to Flint and Soleil to meet him at his chambers at the Pit on Ignis, which is where he's returned to in a rather heated pace since returning from the Ways. Having been rather openly summoned by his father, High Lord Jevon Khournas, back to the Blackspyre, he's only been gone a few hours. Though, now, he's been hidden in his apartments ever since to the sound of rustling, as if moving furniture.

Since he was meeting with Odette Grantham, Flint was a bit late to the meeting, but he's here nonetheless. And he's pressing a finger on the touchpad next to Nitrim's door, signifying his arrival.

Soleil arrives with her knight and a box of some sort, held by the latter. She has on a 'leather' (because in this day and age, do they really make clothes out of cows?) jacket and a silk skirt that flares to the knees after a bit of hip hugging, incredibly tall brushed silver boots, silk bracers laced with thin silver chain. Skirting the edge of old habits apparently.

She comes in a little after Flint, looking a little like she had a canary for dinner, but it's very subtle. Any pleasure Soleil exhibits s always muted. Seeing Flint there, she cocks her head and looks at Nitrim, curious. The knight keeps the box in her arms, holding it carefully.

Nitrim moves over to the door and presses a thumb to the pad. The door opens with a hiss and he looks up to the faces of Soleil and Flint. His hair just a bit tousled from moving things around, the poor man seems…nervous? A little frown crosses his face as he looks over Soleil's attractive dress, a curious look to the box, and motions for them to join him in his chambers. His heavy boots thud against the floor as he steps over to a table, which he leans against and folds his arms.

"I…should probably thank you for meeting with me on such short notice." Nitrim gives a half smile, eyes swaying from Flint to Soleil and the box. "I hope I'm not about to interrupt a happy occasion?"

Flint looks more curious than anything. "It's alright, but you made it sound like someone was dying, Nitrim." he notes stepping inside. "No, I wasn't doing anything. Y'know, besides calling up your sister, seeing if she was free for the night." he chuckles. "Joking." he makes sure to add. Coming into the room proper, he finds a blank section of wall to lean again. "So. What's this all about?"

Soleil cocks her head at Nitrim, and stays on her feet. That penetration Nitrim will by now know so well— Soleil studying him like he's hiding something and she /will/ suss it out. Her manner shifts subtly, and she becomes wary.

She pauses on Nitrim, that look lasting a bit after Flint's done speaking, before she says, "What's going on?"

Nitrim knows the two of them, and they know him. There is his fun face and his business face, and he's currently wearing the business face. The long pause and shifting glances between the two of them, he seems to be trying to decide which one to start with. No, Soleil will not have to drag the truth out of him today. Something's important.

"Flint. Something's coming up and I've been asked by my father to head in to Landing. He's asked that my Squiring be on hold, not cancelled, but on hold while I gain some experience in the political sector. He's asked me as a personal favor." Nitrim starts, hand rising to rub at his goatee with no lack of tension. "I want to be reborn here with the Legion and receive my rites but…this is something I have to do and you know I wouldn't be saying this if I didn't mean it, brother."

Nitrim looks to Soleil, locking eyes with her for a second before turning them back to Flints. There's more. There's far much more to this…

Of course, Flint's initial response is a frown. "He wants to take you away?" Sighing, he pinches the bridge of his nose. "It's going to put your training behind, but be it for from me to say no to the High Lord Khournas." A shrug follows. "Alright, what can I say. I have to back you on what's going on. I don't like it, Nitrim, but I'm not going to fight it since this seems so damn important to you."

Soleil can read a look very well, and while she doesn't know what the news is, she can see it's making Nitrim nervous. Which makes her nervous. She takes a moment to look at Flint, and then quietly goes to take a seat, perching on the table with her toes barely touching to floor. She grips the edge of the surface, curling her fingertips under.

"They're sending you to Landing?" A beat. "And they're taking Janelle out of Landing. Your family's up to something."

"If it means anything, Flint, you're like a brother to me and this wasn't an easy decision to make. If there's a way I can manage it I'll make sure I'm there the day something kills you." Nitrim turns to Flint and claps a hand over his upper-arm, squeezing firmly. "And be careful about what rumors get out about you and Bethe. You'll understand what I mean."

Pulling his arm back from Flint's upper arm, he turns to face Soleil with one of those you should probably si—oh you're already sitting looks and spares a quick glance to her knight. His presence is going to alter his words, the look says as much. He glances to Flint for support and then back to Soleil before he drops the bomb.

"My Lord Father has been in negotiations with Prince Rennik. I just found out an hour ago." Nitrim says to Soleil, a concerned look on his brow.

"You better." Flint grunts, but smiles nonetheless. "Hey, you would love it if I was your brother-in-law, don't lie." he then muses about him and Anabethe. "Rumors are rumors. Never bothered me." Another look over at Soleil. "Uh oh…"

Soleil gazes at Nitrim, with her face not changing at all from before to after he makes the comment that would probably make the whole thing fairly clear. A few seconds tick by before the knight walks slowly to the table and sets the box down beside Soleil before wordlessly turning and heading for the door to let himself out. Hey, If anyone in this room is in danger, he knows it's not his girl.

And of course, Soleil being an only child and her father being a completely useless royal ass with nothing to do or say about anything, she knows she, his only child, must have been the subject of those negotiations.

The knight has been gone for several seconds before Soleil says, "And, daddy being the doting father he is," she says at last, "forgot to tell me."

"For the record. I would." Nitrim sidelongs to Flint as he instinctively folds his arms, as if to protect himself. Nervousness sets in…

"For the record. I would." Nitrim sidelongs to Flint as he instinctively folds his arms, as if to protect himself. Nervousness sets in and he chews his lip before Soleil responds…

Well that isn't a good sign, is it?

Nitrim frowns and out of pure reaction reaches up to scratch the side of his face with the edge of his thumbnail. Clearing his throat, he steps across the floor to Soleil and places a hand over her forearm, squeezing softly. "I only learned about this today, and I don't know how long the negotiations have been going on. He told me that I'm going to be a Sauveur, for better or for worse. I'm…sorry." He glances back to Flint and the door, taking an opportunity to make sure that they're alone.

"For whatever reason or if anything is going on, though, I've got to make sure that there isn't something worse happening here. All I know is that the betrothal of Lord Magnus and Princess Janelle wasn't his idea, as he can't stand her. While we're there I intend to try to make sense of this and submit to King Emund that I be allowed to continue my squiring…" He looks to Soleil, realizing that she has more of a say in this than she did before.

The almost imperceptible shift in attitude that takes place in Soleil has the affect of taking her from impassive to bemused. She doesn't look up at Nitrim, and looks as if she's still trying to process it. With a note of disbelief in her voice, she says, "So it's…all settled?"

Of course many years of living as a Sauveur should have prepared her for this moment. Being handed over in a marriage in which she has no say— that's how it goes.

It's the twist that makes everything so difficult. The fact that at one time not long ago Nitrim is someone she would have chosen, and then a 'no', and then things getting weird between them, and then, THEN they're told, 'Oh guess what kids?' All that weirdness compounds in her head to affect the look on her face now and the air of wtf that has her almost speechless.

She lifts her head and looks around the room.

"I feel…really fucking confused," she says at long last.

She has to, then, force herself to look at Nitrim, and when she's done so, she finds the words she really wants to say. "Is this your doing?" Doubt, confusion— even a shred of accusation maybe? because…it's too soon. And he knows that's what she's thinking. He must know.

Flint just looks between the two. "I can see that you didn't know about this." he glances at Soleil. "Neither did I." Now, Flint runs his hand over his face. "Is there any particular reason for this? I mean, are you intentionally trying to make my life harder than what it needs to be? Because I -really- don't want to drag Grantham into the political scope just because I'm training and potential Sauvuer."

"That's the thing, Flint, when I'm a Sauveur the issue of my squiring will be left for the house to decide and not my decision. We'll have to work togeter to get permission for it because gods willing I will have my rites. They're important to me but…" Nitrim trails off, dumping himself into a seat beside Soleil. Stretching back a bit, he keeps his eyes off of her for just a moment while he scrambles to choose the right words. "…we've been talking about this for weeks. There's something going on here with the war, the Chantry. I know it's not my father and that's all I really do know."

Pausing, he looks to Soleil and stretches his hand out on the table, palm up, as if asking for her hand. Swallowing, he lowers his voice just a little. "Flint's right. I didn't know. I swear upon everything I care and love about, Soleil, that it was always my intention to give you your space and for us to figure this thing out on our own, whether we wanted it or not. My father didn't give me the option, and if it means anything I wouldn't want it if you didn't want it, too." He sighs once more. "This won't force you into anything with me. I won't be that match-husband."

Well at least there are no devastated tears or cursing. At least the knight didn't stay and, on a nod from Soleil, punch him in the face. Or try to, anyway.

She still seems pretty bowled over. In the course of things, being told she had to marry a stranger might have been easier to process. No feelings involved there.

"I just…uh…" She fumbles for words before giving up, but at least, at last, she slowly lifts her hand and puts it on Nitrim's, palm to palm. She bites her lip, looking at the floor.

After a few moments, "So…Jevon wants you to spy on the Sauveur? On Janelle? No. I mean that doesn't make sense. None of it really does. Who has orchestrated /that/ match if not Emund, not Janelle, not your father? Janelle's been hamstringed. It's apparent by her own match and this one, she has no say in any of it. Who's pulling the strings and who's on whose side? And where the fuck am I in all of it."

"You see, this is -exactly- why Grantham or me for that matter doesn't get involved petty infantile slapfight that most politics bring." Flint grunts. "You want to do this, Nitrim, fine, do it. And I'll make sure you still training under as much as I'm able to. But if you and your old man got some kind political shit going on, I want -zero- part of it. Keep the schemes and double-dealing out of Ignis, is that understood?"

"Understood, Flint. Which is why it's important that when we train you don't know any of it. Politics will come and I'm one of the few politicals my father has in his bag of tricks." Nitrim replies to Flint, giving the man a stern, understanding nod. It's his way of at least admitting that he knows he's going into the lion's den. "I wouldn't be doing this if it wasn't to keep my brothers and sisters safe."

Hand in Soleil's, Nitrim brings the back of her knuckles to his lips for a soft, reassuring kiss. His eyes tilt to hers, green obs watching her closely as she speaks. As she starts to rattle through her theories, he starts to nod up and down, slowly, as she seems to be getting the right of it. "I'm going to be a Sauveur, Soleil. It would be suicide to ask someone to join a house that isn't theirs amidst all of this bullshit to spy on the only house that could protect him. Once we're—" He pauses, skipping over the word. "Once this is done, Soleil, I'm no longer my father's responsibility. My father did not arrange the match, which leaves the question to be answered." Another kiss, then he looks to Flint. "So now you understand, Flint? The only thing that could make me choose over my squiring is to take a chance at having it delayed long enough to do what I can do protect my family. I wasn't given a choice as to whether or not this wedding is happening, only when. Which means it'll be up to you to protect my sister from this side."

Soleil turns her bemused gaze to Nitrim as he speaks, her brow furrowing more and more. "Wait a second…I mean i don't know what's getting through the Proloft fog, but…why do the Khourni need protecting? If I step back and look at things objectively it looks like /someone/ in your family is pulling a lot of strings. Your father certainly is. I mean let's face facts— there's really only one person your father had to go to to get you married to me, and that's /my/ father, and considering all he probably had to do was send him a hooker and a bottle of expensive wine before he asked him…that's one string your father's pulled. I doubt Emund would say no when daddy asked for approval. So, secondly, someone not in /my/ family has staked Janelle to a man she clearly doesn't want to marry— by the way Flint that's top-fucking-secret, I don't need to be on her bad side because something she admitted to me got out— so, again, it has to be a Khourni pulling the strings. The hand? Are you being sent to the Sauveur to solidify their hold in my family? or are you saying the Khourni aren't all on one page with each other?"

Without a word, Nitrim reaches for the inside of his pocket and pulls out a case of cigarettes. Slipping one into his lip, he looks over to Soleil while she speaks and presses the cigarette to the palm of his hand. For a few seconds, his eyes turn white while the cigarette is sparked to life, eventually returning to normal as the first drag is taken.

Nitrim pinches the bridge of his nose and squeezes Soleil's hand, turning his gaze to an unremarkable part of the wall where there's nothing but…wall. He flares one nostril and sneers, then gives a bitter shake of his head.

"Well, it's done. I don't have all of the answers. I wish I did, but I don't. There's a political element to the marriage I haven't seen just yet, but like I told my father this afternoon that I'm at the least glad it's with someone I like spending time with." He looks up to Flint. "He also told me that I should have known that being seen with a woman more than once was enough to draw attention. That's a hint, Flint. He brought you and Bethe up."

"Clearly you don't know how few fucks Granthams give pretaining to whatever Janelle does or doesn't do." Flint states bluntly to Soleil. "But if it makes you feel any better, mum's the word, simply I don't care enough to go blabbing about it." Truly their reputation for being neutral in anything couldn't be any more clear." To Nitrim, he snorts. "Tell your old man not to get his fucking panties in a twist. Me and Bethe aren't fucking kids about this kinda thing. Next time, -if- there is a next time, won't be so open."

Oh for the sake of the fucking six," Soleil says, her tone exasperated. "If that's all it takes, lords and ladies of Haven take note. Ellinor and Niko never had to worry. Your father's got a stick up his ass." She Turns and looks at Nitrim beside her for a few long moments, and then at last lifts the hand he's not holding to rub her eyes. Slowly she draws her hand away from him and rises, pacing a little away, her back to both men.

"I'm just not ready for this. I mean it's half of why I told you no the first time, Nitrim. I— WE are nineteen yeah?" She slides her hands down from her narrow waist over her hips, almost like she's composing herself. "Alright..no it's fine. I just feel kind of used by your father. I mean it's not like he's doing this to make you happy, right? I resent being used like a pawn. I'd feel the same way even if things between you and I were perfectly great. Godsdamnit." She takes another breath and turns to face them, Nitrim specifically.

"Yeah well, Nitrim and I— I know you didn't ask, but we slept together once. No ok, I mean we literally slept together more than once but in the euphamistic sense? Once. Jevon's an ass."

"All I'm saying, Flint, is that he's paying attention. Just the other day you were gushing about fucking my sister and making jokes about how I'd want to be your brother in law, which I would." Nitrim levels a look to the man. "It's yours and Bethe's to do with the intel what you will, but if I drummed up to him and told him to piss off of you two, it'd probably move him the other direction."

Nitrim quiets, smoking his cigarette as he listens to Soleil, watching her move up and away from him. Planting one of his booted feet on the cross-beam of the table, he slouches on the chair and resumes eye contact. He ashes the cigarette and silently chews the corner of his lip. What Soleil is saying isn't unfair, it's rather true, but it's raw and difficult, and on Nitrim's face it shows.

"I told him that if he chose you rather than Soleil or Kiara or any of the Sauveur because he knew I liked you, then thanks. He told me in return that he's not fucking blind. The man gave two half-attempts to tell me that I was doing a good job and that my sisters put in a good word for me." Nitrim replies, eyebrows softening a tad. "I don't want to throw out theories but I think there's somewhere in there that he does want to make me happy, but the granite-ass bastard would never admit it."

Nitrim shakes his head and turns his eyes back to the center of the table. "Well, there you have it, folks. I'm sorry for the lot of bad news." He rises and looks back to his bedroom. "I think I'm going to finish packing now."

"Shit, I -know- that, Nitrim." Flint grunts. "But last I checked, it was jokes between me, Bethe, and two other people. I go bandying about how great it was that I fucked the heir of Khournas to anyone that would listen. I'm not an idiot, no matter what people might think about me." He shakes his head. "I don't like it. Not one fucking bit. Not because I care about what you do with your life. I do, but not to the point that I'm willing sacrafice my own fucking ideals but getting involved in one of the tennants that Gage Coram himself said to never get involved in. Because -nothing- good -ever- comes out of it. I'll still train you, but it'll be my way. And I'll be damned if anyone thinks that I'm going to swear to the Sauvuers over it." Pause with a glance to Soleil. "No offense."

Soleil seems to wince a little, remembering deep down through all the drama and angst of the past few weeks just how she really feels about Nitrim. Regret at some of the things she just said might show on her face, briefly, as she bites the corner of her lower lip. But his words bring things home.

"Packing?" It's not to be a long engagement, apparently. But then, with the reason behind it, how could it be? She sighs softly, and for a moment seems to not know what to say, until her eyes fall on the box that still sits unopened on the table.

"Oh…yeah, I forgot."

She shrugs to Flint over what he says, not offended. Soleil doesn't own a lot of Sauveur stock yet.

"Well, for what it's worth I told him I didn't know if the rumor was true, just that you were acquainted. I didn't want to open that bag of tricks with him. You're not an idiot and neither is Bethe, and I'd see you too happy on your own terms, with or without each other." Nitrim stops dead in his tracks and slowly turns to face the two of them. A little drained, he hooks his thumbs in his swordbelt as Soleil's question of packing seems to jar the side of his head. He blinks. "I guess…then yea, I don't have to leave Ignis just yet. I can continue to train here until it's time to go to my new home…" He pauses, hands coming up to rub his face as he steps over to the table where the box is. "You'll get some training out of me yet, Flint, which I'm actually really happy about."

Nitrim looks to Soleil, frowning quietly. He wasn't ready either, it seems. Keeping the little bits of tentative eye contact to a safe and non-invasive level, he glances to the box. "Was this for me? If it's a gift is it still a good time for it?"

"Well, at least there's that." Flint utters, sighing. "Keep in mind, it's not so much the issue between me and Bethe. I can handle that, it's whether or not my sister knows what the hell she's doing if I end up getting dragged into this shit." Pushing himself away from the wall, he makes for the door. "Then expect a lot of training, because we'll make every waking hour count, Nitrim. I'd say your prayers, because the next couple of days are going to -suck-." He hits the button to open the hatch. "Sleep tight."

Soelil gives Nitrim a sort of wry and helpless smile, with a faint shrug. "Not sue you're really going to need it any more," she admits. "Hey, no, it's not a prossie this time. But you said last night you were still sleeping alone and I know that's not something /you/ are used to so…" She glances at Flint, a faint grin breaking out on her lips. "Yeah…open it," she says, looking back o Nitrim.

Inside is what at first seems a pile of fur, a sleek white and silvery grey pile. But soon after the lid comes off, it stirs and uncurls, and a sharp pointed nose lifts to scent the air. It is something one might have seen long ago on a distant planet, but piles of centuries of selective breeding and slow genetic shifts have made it something else too.

"It's a fox," Soleil says. So he can curl up at night with a fox, instead of alone.

Soleil adds, "Get it?"

Soleil also offers Flint a nod of farewell.

"I'll see you first thing, Flint. Ready to die." Nitrim calls out towards the door as Flint makes his exit. Waiting until the hatch closes, he reaches his fingers out towards the creature to let it sniff at his hand. A tired, yet charmed, grin forms over the corner of his lip as he looks down to it, daring to brush his hand over its fur.

"Oh, I get it." Nitrim laughs quietly, brushing at the creature. For the moment, it gives him something to focus on that isn't the awkward horror of his relationship with Soleil. Eventually, though, the levity fades to something more honest.

Looking back to Soleil, Nitrim sighs quietly and gives her a flat what do we do now? look. Finally finding his words, he gives them to her quietly. "We've got time, you know, to me to prove to you that I meant what I said and that my apology wasn't some half-assed attempt. Until then…I guess it's me and this girl in thhe box, here." He pauses. "You look great, by the way."

Soleil has softened a little, maybe having seen some of the damage her careless, honest ranting had done. Plus, as weird as it is for the former party girl, she has a soft place for animals. Nitrim can only benefit from the proximity of the one in the box.

She nods a little. "It'll be alright. Marriage is a partnership yeah? And we're partners. We can…" She pauses and takes a breath. "I just take a while to warm up. You got lucky the first time." A small smile. "I know the rest will happen too. Just…at a pace." She walks over and slips her hand in the box to pet the little animal, which appears to be a kit, and is far enough from its fox ancestors to appear domesticated.

As she pets the little thing. "I'm having some food sent over. But you want me to keep her for now?" It's stuff that probably needs to be communicated, but she's avoiding something more important with it. At last she looks up at Nitrim and says, "Things just need to sink in. Come over in the next couple, if you can get away. We'll uhm…talk more sanely."

"If I know Flint, he's going to be beating me like a rented mule." Nitrim replies to Soleil, their hands briefly brushing over each other as they both pet the curious little fox in its gift wrapping on the table. Smiling to the creature, he traces a fingertip up the side of its jaw, over its temple, and down the back of its head once more. "So, yeah, it's probably best if you take her back to Landing until I can get there to visit it, or I move in, or whatever."

Nitrim's other hand moves from his belt to brush over the center of Soleil's back, tracing over the leather of the vest that she wears. Like he does, he can't help but take notice of it and lean back to glance over her once more before he finds her face. It's an attempt, and his self control and his willingness to their boundaries is something new for him.

"Yeah, we are a team. And look on the bright side, you'll now be legally allowed to beat me with things without diplomatic incident." He laughs softly, transitioning into one of those but really moods. "I got lucky that we started talking again, and I got lucky that your father wasn't dealing with someone else. Aside from those two things, Soleil, I don't think I deserve you yet. Maybe someday, though. Johana told me something the other day, said that if she gets angry or you hurt when she's mad, it means you care. Well…you've got all of the time in the world now without having to worry about getting married off to a stranger. Whatever we've got, we've got that." A beat. "I'll take it."

Soleil listens to him silently, aware as she stands there that he's looking her over and admiring, aware that it's not the worst thing in the world to be marrying a man who wants all the best parts of you despite knowing at least some of the worst. Like how dangerous she can be to someone's peace of mind when hurt. After a moment she looks up at him, and then she nods slowly, eyes on his. There are things she doesn't need to say, because saying them damage the delicate communication that passes between them, with her eyes saying 'yes, me too. We're good.'

"Well. Congratulations on your conquest, Nitrim," she says, ending it on a light note, with a crooked smile. She reaches into the box then, only breaking the gaze to do so, and lifts the fox out. "We'll be waiting for you." Settling the little animal into the crook of her arm, she heads out.

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