Coming Home - 04/27/20


The sun had gone down and the lights of the frosty city of Ishgard had turned on, adding a dash of warmth to the streets of Foundation. The clack of boot on stone echoed lightly as passerby passed on by. The pair of Highlanders had arrived at a somewhat rundown building, home to the 'estate' of House Neaucant. A lone young Elezen squire stands vigil at the door, watching the pair. Luna had worn her cloth-covered armor, white and decorated, her blade strapped to her side as ever. She turned to her companion, sighing as they stood before the disgraced House.

“Thank you for accompanying me, Gair. I know not how this man will try to vex and convince me, and having you along eases my fears muchly.”


Gair definitely did not want to be here, it showed in the ever present scowl he wore as well as the slight shivering from beneath his arming coat. Beneath a couple layers of furs, he glares out from his fuzzy hood at the squire for a moment. His gaze sweeping toward Luna now for the barest of moments.

“Yeah, yeah…you're one of a handful of folk I'd suffer such an audience for,” Gair tells Luna and threads the cloth for his turban into the guard of his sabre, tying it tight to his scabbard, peacebinding his weapon as a precaution. “I promise not to burn the house down.”


The woman offers the man a smile. “That is much appreciated, surely it would not be proper for such an action to come from you and not I. Thank you.” she says, turning to the squire. “Good evening. I am Luna Neaucant, here to speak with Sir Lafont on his request.”

The squire looks at the two of them, staring at Gair in confusion for several seconds. At the woman's speech, he turns to Luna, clearly having his attention drawn. “Ah, yes Miss. Ah, um, I was informed to let in a Lady Neaucant, and I guess that would be you! But, umm, I don't know who he is!” he says, pointing to the male highlander.

“He is my companion for the night. Consider him my, ah, 'plus one'.”

The squire looks at the two of them for a solid moment, clearly thinking. “Umm… Alright, but I'm not sure Lord Lafont will like that. He doesn't like men around much.” he says, stepping to the side and pulling the doors open.


“No, he strikes me as the type who likes little boys,” Gair comments snidely, a contemptuous sneer bared toward the squire as he moves in step with Luna. With an audible hack, he spits on the cobbles on his way in, the saliva icing on the ground until it is inevitably covered with snow or scraped off. Alarmingly, he draws a dagger on his belt- showing the flat of the blade to the squire. It's clearly a badge of rank among the Immortal Flames.


The squire doesn't say much, intimidated by the giant man who is clearly hostile. He shuffles away a few inches while still holding open the door. “I.. No, just please enter Sirs. I mean Madams! I mean… Oh just go in!”

Luna glares at the highlander. “Gair, please.” she says simply, walking inside calmly. The interior was reminiscent more of a traditional home. No lobby or foyer, instead revealing a fireplace surrounded by a few empty chairs partnered with endtables. The room is relatively spacious for what is clearly a home given to a lowborn before the Final Chorus. Rugs are laid across the floor with little care or reasoning. Scanning the room further reveals an aged Elezen man sitting at a table, a plate of some roast bird in front of him half-devoured.

Luna locks her gaze on the man, the frosty visage she had adapted so long ago and subsequently begun to shed forming up once more. Her eyes begin to glaze over as she looks upon him. “Lord Lafont.”

The Elezen looks up from his meal, a chunk of meat impaled upon his fork held high. His face has begun to become gaunt and sickly, the skin pulled against his skull in a way that could be considered mildly off-putting. Dark hair falls from the back of his head to his shoulders as if it were a saving grace. Sunken eyes dart from the food to the woman now in his home, flicking to the man accompanying her briefly before returning to Luna. He is visibly salivating, hopefully from the food. “Ah…. The Lady of the House returns… And she brings a mare it seems.”


“What a grand house,” Gair notes dryly and lofts a brow at the rather humdrum appearance of the 'manor', he could scarcely hide the disappointment on his features. *What else should have I expected from such a slimy man…wait, did this dhalmmel just call me a fuckin' lady horse? Senile bastard.* An ever present sneer is offered toward the elderly Lafont, unable to hold back a disgusted, “Oh *fuck*,” at the sight.


The man shoves the food into his mouth, biting down and withdrawing the fork with a lightly audible scraping sound of teeth on metal. He begins to chew but seems to find no issue with speaking at the same time. “Oh splendid, so the *chew chew* man can talk.” he seethes. He snaps his attention to Luna with a frown. “So, is this the breeding stock you have selected over myself, *girl*?” There is a bite of venom infused into the man's words despite his calm manner. “Pitiful, what the South has to offer.”

Luna does not show signs of being affected by his speech, waiting patiently to speak. “I have no more desire to mate with this man than you, Lord Lafont. He is a close companion.”

The man swallows his portion for the moment, setting the fork down gently. “A companion, yes, that is what we call the seed donor these days is it? See what leaving these hallowed stone walls has done to you.”


Gair didn't know which was more insulting, that he was being looked at as breeding stock by Lafont, or that Luna had no clear preference between the two. Not that he would voice it. *Come on, really? Not that I give a shit, but he's a slimy walkin' corpse.* The level of discourse from Lafont was more disappointing than the state of his home. *Seeing as how he hurtled the first insult in the exchange, no need to hold back*. “It must be hard to settle for your little squire out front, boys just don't have the same feel, do they?”


The woman shoots Gair a look as one would expect a kid fearing punishment for someone else's actions. The man frowns again, turning his attention back to Gair.

“My, you Southerners truly are brutish. No manners nor prescience to hold one's tongue.” Lafont speaks slowly as he pushes himself up from the table, seeming to struggle ever so slightly. He grabs a cane with his right hand that had been resting against the table, using it to prop himself as he waddles around the table slowly. “I would not know of the pleasures of the boyish flesh.” he begins, hobbling over to the pair. As he speaks further, his tone is drenched in a subtle happiness. “No, I much prefer something sweeter.” he continues, now only a fulm away from Gair and Luna. His eyes trace the knightess up and down with no small amount of eagerness. “My, how she's grown…” he says slowly, enjoying his words.

Luna has turned from Gair to look at Lafont now, visibly nervous and shaking ever so slightly, in a way that only someone who knew her usual stance might notice.


“My only promise was to stay my blade, not my tongue, lucky you,” Gair's gaze passes over Lafont to Luna now, his gauntleted fist clenching as he closes in. *I wonder if I could squeak out on a technicality and break his nose…I wouldn't be using my sword.* An almost devilish grin graces his rough features at the thought. Opting to antagonize Lafont and prop Luna up at once, he wasn't about to let the man set the tone of the conversation. “Her sword arm's done most'a the growin', if you hadn't noticed. Pretty sure she could butcher you, me and your squire outside all at once.”


Luna's eyes widen at her companion's interruption, looking at him incredulously and fearfully.

Lafont however seems to let out a wheezing laugh. “Oh of that there is no doubt. That's what you Highlanders are good for, is it not? Killing? You fight amongst yourselves and proclaim dominion over that pitiful heap of dirt you call a homeland.” he scathes, hobbling back over to his table and re-seating himself.

Seeming to collect herself just enough for the moment, she turns to Lafont. “Lord Lafont, I come here not to trade barbs between you and my friend. Let us speak of this 'pressing' matter… Of the future of House Neaucant.”

The man seems to light up as much as his disheveled and somewhat decrepit form allows. “Yes. Lets.” he lets out, bowing his arms out as if to beckon them to the seats across the table. Luna obliges, robotically moving to a sitting position, armor and sword clanking in the emptied grandeur of the House 'manor'. “Let me make it clear and concise before we get into specifics, *girl*. The House can not fall to you alone, nor will I let it. Nor this… mentally bereft bitch you seem to have taken on.” he asserts. The woman immediately tenses her fists at his words, clearly about to speak in enraged protest before she catches herself.

“I would ask that you do not speak of the young Miss suchly, Lord Lafont.” She asks while repressing her fury, to which the man just smirks.


“Whether or not you like it, Luna's your heir,” Gair reminds Lafont sharply, deciding to set the stage of the conversation back to the topic of their house. *Not that I give two shits about what happens to your name and your home dhalmmel.* He crosses his arms over his broad chest and snorts at the elezen. “Unless you can find a noble bride willin' to lay on her back long enough for ya to defile her. But…” He trails off, scratching his chin thoughtfully. “You're no catch, good luck baggin' one without a dowry.”


The ends of Lafont's mouth curl downwards as Gair re-informs him. “I am fully aware that the Neaucant line falls to this… *outsider*, and I am none too pleased of it. That I would spend the twilight of my years unattached and dwindling in Foundation rather than celebrating in the Pillars… It is appalling. It is thanks to *her* that I must live in squalor.” his speech practically oozing out as he points an accusatory finger at Luna, who flinches a bit in her spot. “She had to go spouting off nonsense to her fanatical knight brethren about my treatment of her, during which I am sure she neglected to mention how I cared for her and kept her desires fulfilled. Ungrateful bitch.” he adds. He huffs not unlike a stereotypical dragon for a moment, working to contain his fury. “Amazing she could even speak with that pretty boy Aymeric's manhood resting in her mouth.” he adds, somewhat under his breath but still audible.

“I did not spread lies about you, I merely told my colleagues of my past so that we may function together more effectively! I have no desire to bring up my sordid formative years any more than necessary!” She says, losing her cool somewhat as her words come out more pained and frustrated. Lafont merely sneers again.


“Seven hells,” Gair comments almost appreciatively, this fossil has him utterly beat in being a vile piece of shit: which he didn't even know was hyuranly possible. *If only the Autumn War wasn't halted in the shroud.* “No wonder the Dravanians hated you lot, I'd raze your fuckin' homes too if I knew it was infested with *snakes*.” On the note of snakes, he advises Luna. “A sword would only do him the honor, in Thalanan, we use a spade for snakes.”


Lafont laughs, a phlegmy wheeze accompanying. “Ah yes, us snakes. Did I not grease the wheels of Ishgard by raising a fine specimen of a knight for them? What did I get for it? This ravaged estate, a squire, and now this *Connard* comes barging into my home, led on a leash by his *récipient de sperme*.” He scoffs.

Luna was still looking at Gair, about to respond as she hears the insult and gasps, highly offended. “Lord Lafont, please! I am not… what you speak! He is my friend! There is no need to call me such things!” she protests, once again to a slimy sneer from Lafont.


“First, bitte,” Gair comes to lean against the wall, evidently not wanting to be here. “You couldn't pay me'ta lay with this yeti.” The insult-turned-nickname came out more like a compliment than anything from him. “Second…you invited her here, so are ya gonna get to it? You're blowin' enough hot air'ta return Coerthas to it's former beauty.”


“Gair!” she protests, looking between the two men. Her face flushes as he speaks, turning to look away from them both now.

Lafont looks offended now, an expression of disgust washing over him. “You will silence your tongue, whelp. I will not have you disparaging the crowning achievement of House Neaucant!” he says, glancing at Luna for a moment.

“What!?” she gasps out, taken absolutely aback.

“Your 'friend' however has the right of it. I asked you here for important reasons, and we will address them. Against my wishes, when I pass from this world the House will fall to you. I see you have no wish to produce a proper heir for me, so I will give you options.” The man rises once more from his seat, hobbling back over to an uncomfortable closeness to Luna, looking at her. The woman freezes up, her eyes completely glazing over.
“Hrmm…. You wear this…” he raises his left hand and rubs a finger on her lips, pulling it away to reveal some dark material stained on his fingertip. “Cosmetics? For attracting men, no doubt. You wouldst wear it freely in the South I see, or perhaps you wear it for my sake? A part of you still yearns, does it not?” he asks, breathing upon the woman now.

“That is not…” she trails off, shaken by the man's proximity and words. Lafont begins to laugh at her response.


Gair lifts his chin, very intent on looking down on the lord from his obnoxiously large nose. “You're right, disparagin' you is more fun anyhow.” The sight of Lafont touching his friend makes him seethe with anger, barely reaching the senses would be the odd scent of forge-hot iron. *I'm going to break that finger.* Though he doesn't wear it outwardly, still bearing the mask of a snide onlooker for the moment. His right hand finding an iron wall-mounted candle holder for indoor lighting, he fiddles with it idly as he looks on. “Speak your peace then, oh *lord.*”


The man sneers with an audible *heh*. “Indeed. My first option is simple and, you will find, magnanimous. It will bring ample pride to the Neaucant name, as well as surely inject you with renewed vigor and passion. I wouldst offer you the chance to receive of me, my *blessing*. That I would…” he reaches down and grabs the woman's armored hand with no resistance, Luna looking uncomfortable but letting it happen. The man interlaces his bony fingers with the woman's metallic digits, clasping it together. “Implant within you my seed so that you may produce an heir.” He grins with an open maw, looking down at Luna's midsection.

The woman allows Lafont to speak and use her hand, seemingly drawn in while still visibly disgusted. “I… I would want no such thing! My body is not a tool for your ends, Lord Lafont!” She asserts, ripping her hand away after coming back to her senses.

The man claps the forsaken hand on her shoulder as if to comfort her, speaking softer. “Miss Neaucant, there is no need to play coy. Imagine, getting to relive our fondest memories together. As often as needed until you bear progeny as well. You so enjoyed it so long ago, did you not?”

Luna freezes up, barely able to speak. “Our fondest… memories? But…”


*Snap* goes the wall fixture, not the wood that held it, but the solid neck of iron with an audible 'plink!' as Lafont continues. “Oops.” Gair says, utterly without remorse, like a petulant child who isn't sorry for knocking over mother's expensive vase. He releases the metal fixture with a gauntleted hand and lets it clatter to the floor audibly. “If anyone's gettin' fucked, it's you.” The highlander threatens, pointing down at the ilm-wide length of broken iron.


Lafont turns to see the sound, scowling at the damage. “I would ask that you do not destroy my property while in *my* House, savage.” he says, ignoring the weirdly sexually aggressive threat.

Taking the pause in the man speaking to her to collect herself, she pushes the arm away and firm up her stance. “Lord Lafont, I will not be sleeping with you for any reason. You may strike that option from your list immediately, and never bring it back up.” she states, her cold aura returning a bit.

The man steps back, still scowling. “Fine, have it your way traitorous woman. Clearly I should have put a child in you when I had the chance. Hmph.” he looks towards Luna's gut which she instinctively covered with a hand. “I would not be surprised if you could not bear life anyway. You do not forget your forever wound, surely.” he says, leering and smiling at the thought of the damage he had dealt to her.


Gair's hand slips into the breast of his heavy arming coat, fishing out a handful of gil that he lets spill out onto the floor as payment. Never let it be said this man of Ul'dah doesn't balance the scales. “Oooh, savage.” He claps his hands together in mock applause. “Guess the third eye's hard to see in this light, triclops.” With the toe of his boot he toys with the broken bit of iron, he orients it to stand, it's jagged point pointed upward. Awash with ideas of his own as to the injuries he would relish to inflict with the wall fixture at his boot as the implement.


Lafont takes a moment and turns toward the gil and damaged iron, knocking it away with his cane. “I did not expect that you brought an invalid into my home, Miss Neaucant, that he might enjoy playing with debris. I do not wish to have to ask you to restrain him, though I am sure you would not mind, now would you? Who knows what sort of tools and implements you could fit in that armor. A whip or a gag easily, possibly even a lead. A pity I never got to show such things to you.”

Luna ignores the man's statement as best she can. “Lord Lafont, I would ask that you inform me of your second option for maintaining the House.”

“Ah, yes. If you are so unwilling to bear my blessing, we could always use some of your fellow knights. That would be a suitable heir. Why, you could even allow them to take turns under my supervision - We may even be able to find you that table you so dearly enjoyed, or one like it. For old time's sake.” The man is clearly enjoying his words.

“Do not bring that up to me! Even more so then your betrayal, I would never wish to relive those events!” she shouts, her tone almost pleading.


Unsure of how furious he should actually be in the moment, Gair looks to Luna. Having ignored comments about being an invalid up until this point. “Thal's balls, Luna, now I know why you make yourself scarce in this city.” A baleful look is levelled back toward Lafont, having taken on the role of negotiator in some way. Queries the most appealing result for all but one party involved. “I trust there's some worthwhile threat or promise of retribution if she just declines, waits for you to kick the bucket, then becomes the sole lady of your house?”


Luna turns to Gair silently, her eyes akin to a hurt child just wanting the fighting to stop. She is about to speak up finally, her mouth opening as Lafont begins to talk, causing her to turn to the man.

“She is no more a stranger in this city than I. I see her walking through Foundation, sword and shield held with a sense of wicked *pride*, believing she is blessed by The Fury. I see her stop to aid the children of the Brume or direct someone to the Crozier. Were it anyone else, I would almost believe them to be an upstanding citizen, but I know the truth of it.”

“What? The truth? I am a Temple Knight, serving my country is my job! I *do* pride myself on it!” she protests, looking especially cut deep.

“Shut up! You are a pretender, a veritable child playing in her father's armor! You have yourself a House to return to and a caretaker who would give you the world, and you turn your nose up at it like a smug *bitch* of the South! Instead you go and live outside of Ishgard, gallivanting around with this thug of a man and your imbecile of a pretend daughter! What sort of daughter of Halone would do such nonsense!” Lafont snaps back, his cool lost as if he were personally offended now.

Luna looks completely taken aback, practically ready to cry though no tears come forth yet. “I…. I… Th-that is not true! I am a true daughter of Halone, even if I am…” Tears finally begin to roll down her cheek as she loses her nerve, “An outsider…” she says weakly.


Gair's passions were becoming harder and harder to keep under control, now speaking Ishgardian in an accent that doesn't belong to him in the least. <“You will cease this vulgar slander at once. Or you will find that your house's heiress is the lady proper before night's end.”> His offhand lays atop the pommel cap of his falchion in clear suggestion. His boots clip on the hard wooden floor authoritatively as he intercedes himself between Lafont and Luna now. “But if that's all you've got, we're takin' our leave.”


Lafont turns to look at the man, caught off-guard by the sudden Ishgardian. < “Ah, so she taught you our language while whispering sweet nothings? You do not frighten me, boy. I have laid low dravanian whelps twice your size with a broken arm.” >. He takes a step back with a grin before looking to the two. “Very well. Before I extend my final option, one which I am loathe to go through with, I am required to inform you that your mother and father have come by recently, along with what would be your brother. They were quite concerned of your where-abouts and what became of you after so long, and I informed them to stay at the Forgotten Knight until you arrived.”

Luna moves to speak but finds herself at a loss. Her mouth agape and her cold air broken, she finally managed to speak after several seconds. “My… My parents? Are here? In Ishgard?”

Lafont nods in affirmation. “Indeed they are. Should you remain here, you wouldst receive the chance to meet them.”


“Lies wrought by a Twelvesdamned forked tongue, he's playin' you,” Gair lets his threat lie, ready to punch the man if he advances on Luna- consequences be damned. “You've *nothin'* left to waste your dwindling fortune on but white-wigged thespians so you can dip your wick!” His gauntleted fist snaps shut, the steel trembling in absolute livid fury. He was inconsolably angry right now. *I'm going to sodomize you with that dinner plate.*


“Gair, please!” the woman shouts, looking up at the man. There was desperation in her gaze, the hope that this vile man spoke true. “I have not seen any blood family in… two decades. I can scarce even remember how they appear.” she muses aloud, her gaze turning back to Lafont. “They… They are truly arrived then?” she asks, sounding like a little girl yearning for her father to return from war.

Lafont smiles widely. “Yes they are Miss Neaucant, and they have been so eager to finally see you again. They regret how they abandoned you in the Twelveswood all those years ago.” He says, unable to resist driving the knife further while pretending to hold out an olive branch.

“W-what!? They abandoned me? You mean…. they left me there intentionally…” she barely manages to let that out as she deflates, completely defeated. “No… You speak lies!” she finds some measure of her being to hold on to, her tone rolling into one more of anger. “I have come here, against my better judgement, to hear you out on how to continue the House line. In the hopes that mayhap there was an amicable way. I have lied to myself, and I have allowed you to wrap your insidious claws onto my heart much like you did decades ago!” Her voice is filling with fury as she finally comes to her full senses once more. “I will inform you, *Lord* Lafont. You were correct, I *did* enjoy my time with you and the love that we made.” she says, seething.

Lafont goes from twisted anger at her sudden resistance to a wide smile, clearly pleased. “Ah yes of course! To hear you say that makes my heart–” He finds himself cut off mid-sentence.

“And do you know why I enjoyed it? Because I was a child being courted by her own guardian, and I saw you a savior to me. Now I know what you are. You are lower than Nidhogg's Brood. You are no true son of Halone.” she says, practically heaving in her breath.


Not quite the “YAAS QUEEN” type as Luna makes her stand and tells Lafont like it is. Gair does sidestep and stop interceding between the two, instead lingering beside Luna as her peace is spoken. *About damn time, if only she'd bugger him with her sword…alas.* This asshole can't help but smugly grin and look down at his nose toward the slimy lord now. Visibly wincing in the timing with Luna denouncing him as no true son. Mouthing an, “Oof…” in his direction.


Lafont visibly infuriates, stepping toward the woman. “You know not how good you had it, Miss Neaucant! That you would stand here, availed of the work I so dutifully put into you is–” he begins to shout.

Luna steps forward now, taller than the man in his aged stature. “The only thing you put into me is your pathetic *cock*, *Lord* Lafont! For all your speak of duty and heirs, you did naught to produce one aside *rape* and *assault* a girl in the prime of her growth! You will receive no prodigy from me, and if I find that you intervene in my life or Miss Wright's, I will personally return and remove you of what you seem so fond of!” she shouts, causing the man to shrink from her. Her fist is balled to stop her from reaching for her sword by now, but soon does it raise to point an accusatory finger at the man. “When you pass, I will take over this accursed House, and I will raise it to a state worthy of Halone, bereft of *you* and your attached corruption!”


From atop the Neaucant family hearth, Gair's black-clad specter begins to slowly clap in appreciation of the paladin's defiance.

For once, Gair is the one cautioning against steel. Albeit nonverbally, his gauntleted hand extends out to rest on the pommel of her arming sword. *This is almost more satisfying than ripping a few fingernails out, almost.* By now he's merely watching on as Lafont is berated by the more imposing and dominant Luna, observing the complete role reversal and how it more than upsets the elderly elezen. Once more, ever-present amusement is alight on his countenance. He looks from Lafont to Luna, then back to the elderly man once more to just shrug at him. Like he's looking at a spoiled child who is finally being beaten for their insolence. Unhelpfully, he suggests a course of action for Lafon's manhood, “We could feed his manhood to Gust.”


Luna flashes a look at Gair, clearly still engulfed in her fury. “*Tentante*.” she snaps in Ishgardian, turning back to refocus her anger.

Lafont backs up, clearly afraid. “Think of what you have achieved thanks to my sacrifice! You have gone so far a-as a Temple Knight! Without my loving push, you wo–“

The man is cut off midsentence as the woman's hands surround his windpipe, Luna grabbing the man by the neck and having pressed him up against a wall, his feet dangling. There is an air about her so alien, tears rolling down her cheeks in her rage. “You bastard! You absolute trash! You took my youth from me! WHY!?” she practically screams at the man. Any semblance of refinement or elegance around the woman shed, now awash with unmitigated rage. “GIVE IT BACK!” she screams further at the man.

Lafont is only able to gurgle and pry feebly at the woman's hands as the hold tightens, clearly having trouble breathing at this point. His decayed digits struggling with animalistic desperation to remove the iron grip.

The knightess however has no plans to ease. Her teeth are bared and gritted, her eyes wide and full of unhinged fury. “DO YOU KNOW WHAT I WENT THROUGH!? THE PAIN!?” she screams, all control lost as she squeezes tighter.

Hearing the commotion, the squire from outside has peeked inside, catching sight of the scene wholesale but making no moves to act.


“You'd be robbing him of the satisfaction for the rest of his days,” Gair steps up behind Luna to stare daggers at the man as she is sicced upon him. He bares a lopsided grin toward Lafont. “A fitting punishment, no? Or would you rather fade here, at her hand?” His hand has since been removed from the pommel of Luna's arming sword, arms now crossed over his chest as he regards the waning life of the lord Lafont. Curious to see just how far her stranglehold will continue. Curious, but intent to intercede if it appears to take a turn for the deadly. *This would be too gentle an end for you.*


The woman shows no sign of ceasing her grip, huffing and heaving in pure anger.

Lafont meanwhile begins begins slapping at the woman's arm as if pleading with her to let go. He manages to choke out a pathetic, “*Please*.” as his eyes begin to flutter, there not being nearly enough oxygen at this point. His guttural sounds become more desperate and pained as he struggles.

The simple act of pleading seems to infuriate Luna, ripping him down from pushed against the wall and slamming him against the table with a clatter, sending the silverware and plate of bird flying. She lets one hand go as she grabs a knife, wielding it at the man. “*Please*!? You are pleading with ME!? AFTER ALL THE TIME I SPENT ASKING THAT YOU STOP!?” she screams at the man, reeling the knife-holding hand back and sending it forward, driving the knife directly into Lafont's right eye. The man begins to scream in pain as the knightess practically harmonizes with her own wordless scream of rage.

The squire recoils physically at the sight, fidgeting as he is torn between helping this disgusting man and just watching.


Gair watches on for a moment, letting Lafont's prior smug arrogance drain with the blood from the gaping wound that is his eye socket. He wasn't unaccustomed to brutal punishments, in truth *all* punishments were brutal. Information extraction is oft accompanied by broken digits or pulled fingernails, prisoners were torn in four quarters by running chocobos and beheadings, beheadings, beheadings abound. *As cathartic as this is for me, lets be certain if this is what she wants.* “Luna!” His gauntleted hand clasps her shoulder, giving it a harsh squeeze to get her attention. “He's earned this much, don't do anythin' you'll regret.”


The woman is gone now, consumed by decades of pent-up rage. The man screams and languishes before her, pawing at the knife in his eye. Luna is huffing, having let go of the man but still towering over him. The squire has now rushed over to assist Lafont, helping rip the knife out with a sickening sound and display of blood. The squeeze of her shoulder goes unanswered as she rips her sword out of her sheath, readying to turn it on Lafont and the innocent squire both.

At this point Lafont is covering his destroyed eye and socket as best he can, screaming and hyper-ventilating. The squire is considerably more present and awash in the moody lighting of the room, revealed to be a terrified young Elezen boy surely not a day older than 18. His face is contorted in absolute fear of Luna, crying. “Please Lady Neaucant! Don't kill me!”

There is a sudden silence and cessation to the woman's infernal screams of sorrow. Her eyes well up, realization beginning to hit her. Her sword drops out of her hands with a clatter to the floor as she brings her blood-drenched gauntlets in front of her face. Her entire being is trembling.


As steel is drawn to threaten the squire, Gair himself frees his sabre. *Not this boy, you wont.* Steel flashes out from it's scabbard and he holds it defiantly between her and the duo of men, shaking his head at her. One part feeling bad for the terrified squire, the other wondering if he would speak the truth of this meeting to anyone. His boot steps down on the hilt of Luna's sword to intercede it's further use. A twist of the blade and he presents his sabre from neutral to the duo of men to firmly assert a falsehood. “Get your lord to a healer, lad. He tripped and fell onto his cutlery, got it?”


The squire nods his head frantically at Gair. “Y-y-yeah! Fell on his table!” he says, swallowing the pit in his stomach farther down. He was not so attached to this vile man that he would risk dismemberment by this giant.
Lafont writhes, his screaming dying down for just a moment. He clutches the table, blood pouring from his covered socket.

Luna meanwhile is still shaking, gripping her face with her bloodied gauntlets. “Gair….” she says weakly, tremble in her tone. “Gair what have I… What did I almost…” She looks to Lafont, horrified with her actions. Slowly does she return to the plane they walk proper. It takes a while, half a minute or so before she re-adapts her cold demeanor forcefully. “You will receive no heir of me, *Lord* Lafont. You may look forward to the hallowed title of House Neaucant returning post mortem. Enjoy *what remains* of your life.” she says, bending down to grab her sword and sheathing it. Immediately does she turn and walk outside, clearly not wanting to take any more time than needed.


“That's a good lad,” Gair nods once toward the squire as he acquiesces to his threat, sheathing the sabre smoothly. Before Luna departs the house, he gives her a stern look. “You rightfully gouged that snake while not fully takin' leave of your senses, that's what you did.” He looks to the table and plucks up a glass carafe filled with red Ishgardian wine to drink deep from on his way outside. This manner-less bastard drains most of it as he makes way out onto the steps of the modest manor of house Lafont. Whirling around on heel, he hurtles the carafe and what remains inside against the door. Glass shatters and flies everywhere, staining the household with wine. *Fuck you, asshole!* He backpedals a few steps and gestures crudely to the house.


The woman scoffs as she's spoken to, not even turning around. “Do not lie on my account. I lost myself completely and utterly. I am a monster, exactly as that man.” she laments, thoughts racing on what she had almost done. “Had I not stopped…” she trails off as she walks, ignoring the college-level shenanigans behind her.

As the highlanders are leaving, the squire helps Lafont up, waiting for the pair to leave before exiting themselves to find a chirurgeon. The squire is in quite a panic, between the very real violence, the *threatened* violence, the *barely stopped* violence, and his general discomfort around the man he now seeks to aid. He considers a new job in the coming days.


Gair shakes his head at Luna, even if the gesture goes unseen. His countenance souring in the light of the cold of Coerthas greeting him once more, biting and horrible. “You'd have skewered the poor boy, aye.” Forearm draped over the ring guard of his sabre as he saunters off behind Luna with a cocksure gait to his step. “But you didn't, boys alive, and that fuckin' asshole has one less eye. Now the question is, do we go on down to the Knight?”

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