( neuvillette should have informed him of his arrival in advance, he knows. it is only polite, and no matter the amorous developments between them, such decorum must be upheld.
it is then his oversight that he arrives in meropide on such short notice; in no small part due to, perhaps, the iudex's subconscious desire to see him operate within the confines of meropide. the lord of the underwater fortress, who has cleaned up its messes significantly and installed a new order to things. sigewinne has been forthcoming in her letters to him, but nothing beats seeing it for himself.
this is where wriothesley is in his element, thriving, and the iudex finds himself extremely out of place in the spectators' space in the pankration ring, aware of the inmates' gaze on him, in varying degrees of hostility.
one commiserates. after all, to them, he might as well be the one who put them there.
but neuvillette's attention isn't on them, only wriothesley. his gaze, his thoughts are only duke himself, bare-chested and sweaty, fists up and engaged with his opponent. never in all of his calculations has he anticipated such a momentous shift in his own consciousness, the stirring of primeval heat and desire, far beyond what he himself understands.
seeing the broad span of his scarred back makes his mouth dry, the ripple of muscles with every sinuous, deadly movement keeping him enthralled, and oh, the heat. the heat must have been turned up in this space. his grip on his cane tightens; there is no other explanation for how his coat suddenly seems far too warm for his liking.
so fixated he is on wriothesley, that neuvillette doesn't notice one particular inmate gunning right for him. ]
how many tags can i send you in one day, stay tuned
[ his trips down to the pankration ring as a participant rather than an observer are infrequent these days, but they do still happen for twofold reasons. one: to work off a little steam in a fashion he finds enjoyable even now. and two: to keep an eye out on all those who wish to challenge the duke of the fortress of meropide, particularly those with less savoury motives up their sleeves.
it's been some time since anyone's truly managed to keep a secret from him down here in the depths and he's worked tirelessly to keep things that way.
even neuvillette's impromptu arrival isn't wholly a surprise. he hears the murmurs before he sees the cause, can feel the way the attention of the crowd ripples and shifts. a mistake, because his opponent almost catches him square in the jaw. but he wouldn't still be in control here if he let something like that pull him down, and its with practiced ease that he ducks and then lunges forward, knocking the man down despite his larger size.
just in time too. as the ref bellows out his win and he twists his head to search for neuvillette, his eyes land on a single body weaving through the crowd. whatever pleasantries he might have called out vanish in an instant as his body moves on instinct, calves and thighs propelling him up and forward out of the ring. it's a near thing; one hand manages to brush against the cuff of his robes before it's slammed into the ground.
two bodies go down and only one pops back up. wriothesley, mere inches away from neuvillette, uncaring of his unkempt state as he barks out orders. first for galvaryet to march the offender back to their cell and then for roussimoff to toss over his discarded clothes, all of which get thrown over one arm for later as he motions for neuvillette to follow him to his office. ]
Sorry about that. The older inmates know better than to try any funny business, but the newer ones...well. [ he grimaces before shaking his head. ] In any case, I would have arranged for a personal greeting if you'd given me a heads up you were coming.
[ it's not a criticism, merely an explanation. there's a reason they conduct most of their business up in the palais. even if neuvillette is more than capable of handling his own, there are still rules that need to be followed, even down here at the bottom of the sea. ]
( neuvillette doesn't need the intervention, much less protection, but that wriothesley does it all the same for him makes something warm curl in the pit of his stomach, rousing instincts that he had thought extinct, considering how dormant they had been all along.
a dragon's instincts, perhaps. he's never been a fan of physical violence and thus, up until now, had never turned up at these kinds of events. a choice that seems to be quite the mistake now that he's seen wriothesley in action. swift, deadly, efficient, with that remarkable, scarred body glistening in sweat, that chest heaving and those midnight blue eyes focused, and those fists, the power in them as they put men down (so many of them bigger than him), and the effortless way he commands the men in here...
neuvillette's barely paying attention to what he's saying, especially when he's still half-naked right beside him, and he can feel the heat of the duke's body, the rumbling of his words. power, wielded so beautifully, and that instinct to protect is all that he can think about. )
My most sincere apologies. ( he offers, even if his voice sounds distant to him, like someone else is speaking it. never has he been so intoxicatingly roused and wanting, every sense attuned to this man beside him. it is primal, this thing that coils in him, this recognition and admiration and desire, deeper than he's ever felt. )
You're... do you do this often?
and then you didn't see me for two whole weeks, thanks holidays
[ it's not a long trek back to his office, a boon granted by the particular design chosen by the original architect of meropide. being central to every part of the fortress means being able to run out and back at a moment's notice—and also being able to usher the chief justice to relative privacy during times like these. ]
What, walk around topless for everyone to see? Only on special occasions, and what could possibly be more special than a visit from Fontaine's very own Chief Justice.
[ there's a wolfish hint to his smile, a teasing lilt to his voice.
through the solid doors to the duke's office, and then up the metal stairs to his desk, and then it's a matter of gesturing for neuvillette to take a seat as he hunts for a towel to dry off with. ]
But if you mean Pankration, every now and then. It's a good way to work off some steam while getting a pulse check on things around here firsthand, instead of waiting for someone to deliver a report to my desk.
[ sigewinne might not approve, but they've long since come to a tacit understanding that he's allowed to get his punches in so long as he exercises some restraint. speaking of restraint—he really ought to put on a shirt, instead of walking around with nothing but trousers and a towel slung around his neck. confidence or no, personal relationship or no, this is a business meeting until proven otherwise. and neuvillette, standing there in his flawless robes looking almost otherworldly against the mechanical backdrop of his office, makes him even more keenly aware of his own state of undress.
so! off with the towel, and on with threading one arm through an empty shirtsleeve. though most of the sweat has since dried or been toweled off, there's still a healthy flush to his skin and a faint sheen under the dim light. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
instincts.
it is then his oversight that he arrives in meropide on such short notice; in no small part due to, perhaps, the iudex's subconscious desire to see him operate within the confines of meropide. the lord of the underwater fortress, who has cleaned up its messes significantly and installed a new order to things. sigewinne has been forthcoming in her letters to him, but nothing beats seeing it for himself.
this is where wriothesley is in his element, thriving, and the iudex finds himself extremely out of place in the spectators' space in the pankration ring, aware of the inmates' gaze on him, in varying degrees of hostility.
one commiserates. after all, to them, he might as well be the one who put them there.
but neuvillette's attention isn't on them, only wriothesley. his gaze, his thoughts are only duke himself, bare-chested and sweaty, fists up and engaged with his opponent. never in all of his calculations has he anticipated such a momentous shift in his own consciousness, the stirring of primeval heat and desire, far beyond what he himself understands.
seeing the broad span of his scarred back makes his mouth dry, the ripple of muscles with every sinuous, deadly movement keeping him enthralled, and oh, the heat. the heat must have been turned up in this space. his grip on his cane tightens; there is no other explanation for how his coat suddenly seems far too warm for his liking.
so fixated he is on wriothesley, that neuvillette doesn't notice one particular inmate gunning right for him. ]
how many tags can i send you in one day, stay tuned
it's been some time since anyone's truly managed to keep a secret from him down here in the depths and he's worked tirelessly to keep things that way.
even neuvillette's impromptu arrival isn't wholly a surprise. he hears the murmurs before he sees the cause, can feel the way the attention of the crowd ripples and shifts. a mistake, because his opponent almost catches him square in the jaw. but he wouldn't still be in control here if he let something like that pull him down, and its with practiced ease that he ducks and then lunges forward, knocking the man down despite his larger size.
just in time too. as the ref bellows out his win and he twists his head to search for neuvillette, his eyes land on a single body weaving through the crowd. whatever pleasantries he might have called out vanish in an instant as his body moves on instinct, calves and thighs propelling him up and forward out of the ring. it's a near thing; one hand manages to brush against the cuff of his robes before it's slammed into the ground.
two bodies go down and only one pops back up. wriothesley, mere inches away from neuvillette, uncaring of his unkempt state as he barks out orders. first for galvaryet to march the offender back to their cell and then for roussimoff to toss over his discarded clothes, all of which get thrown over one arm for later as he motions for neuvillette to follow him to his office. ]
Sorry about that. The older inmates know better than to try any funny business, but the newer ones...well. [ he grimaces before shaking his head. ] In any case, I would have arranged for a personal greeting if you'd given me a heads up you were coming.
[ it's not a criticism, merely an explanation. there's a reason they conduct most of their business up in the palais. even if neuvillette is more than capable of handling his own, there are still rules that need to be followed, even down here at the bottom of the sea. ]
i see you!
a dragon's instincts, perhaps. he's never been a fan of physical violence and thus, up until now, had never turned up at these kinds of events. a choice that seems to be quite the mistake now that he's seen wriothesley in action. swift, deadly, efficient, with that remarkable, scarred body glistening in sweat, that chest heaving and those midnight blue eyes focused, and those fists, the power in them as they put men down (so many of them bigger than him), and the effortless way he commands the men in here...
neuvillette's barely paying attention to what he's saying, especially when he's still half-naked right beside him, and he can feel the heat of the duke's body, the rumbling of his words. power, wielded so beautifully, and that instinct to protect is all that he can think about. )
My most sincere apologies. ( he offers, even if his voice sounds distant to him, like someone else is speaking it. never has he been so intoxicatingly roused and wanting, every sense attuned to this man beside him. it is primal, this thing that coils in him, this recognition and admiration and desire, deeper than he's ever felt. )
You're... do you do this often?
and then you didn't see me for two whole weeks, thanks holidays
What, walk around topless for everyone to see? Only on special occasions, and what could possibly be more special than a visit from Fontaine's very own Chief Justice.
[ there's a wolfish hint to his smile, a teasing lilt to his voice.
through the solid doors to the duke's office, and then up the metal stairs to his desk, and then it's a matter of gesturing for neuvillette to take a seat as he hunts for a towel to dry off with. ]
But if you mean Pankration, every now and then. It's a good way to work off some steam while getting a pulse check on things around here firsthand, instead of waiting for someone to deliver a report to my desk.
[ sigewinne might not approve, but they've long since come to a tacit understanding that he's allowed to get his punches in so long as he exercises some restraint. speaking of restraint—he really ought to put on a shirt, instead of walking around with nothing but trousers and a towel slung around his neck. confidence or no, personal relationship or no, this is a business meeting until proven otherwise. and neuvillette, standing there in his flawless robes looking almost otherworldly against the mechanical backdrop of his office, makes him even more keenly aware of his own state of undress.
so! off with the towel, and on with threading one arm through an empty shirtsleeve. though most of the sweat has since dried or been toweled off, there's still a healthy flush to his skin and a faint sheen under the dim light. ]
But what can I do for you, Monsieur Neuvillette?