[color=goldenrod][i][h2][center]Gerard Segremors[/center][/h2][/i][/color]

[@VitaVitaAR][@Crimson Paladin]

Fleuri was tense. He could hear it, if only just, beneath the reassurances in his words. Gerard had heard the same tone out his own mouth many times— though he was having a little trouble divining why the man was still holding himself to caution. They had, for all practical purposes, beaten the mercenaries handily, hadn't they?

[color=goldenrod]"That's good, sir."[/color] he let out, a shaky breath that was halfway laughing hitching the words a little beneath a lopsided smirk. [color=goldenrod]"All the better to enjoy double pay, eh?"[/color]

His face then fell, as he noted the man's eyes affixing themselves to something beyond his back— in the direction of tight and raised voices both. No time for jokes— their duties were far from over.

Gerard, ever the faithful student of his betters, scanned the field as Fleuri had— looking for breath among the stricken bodies of gilded swine. Even if he couldn't quite read him, his esteem of the man told him that the Jodeau household's noble son did not rankle easily, nor without reason. Watching him march forward, towards the corpses, then to the congregation at the center, Gerard drew in a breath through his teeth, deep and slow. Talking was necessary, and he'd muscled through worse— but damn if moving his mouth hadn't made the scratch on his cheek—

[i]My, does it hurt?[/i]

He blinked once, then twice. Well, yeah, it definitely did, but... was that somebody? It didn't [i]sound[/i] like Dame Runa, as sparingly as he'd heard her voice, nor was it any of the Captain, Tyaethe, or Maritza—

His eyes darted to and fro, searching the erstwhile battleground for the source of the words, yet finding nothing. Nobody but him... at least nobody but him close enough to hear that clearly. ...What the hell? He didn't recognize the feminine tones. He didn't think he did. Did he? [color=goldenrod][i]No, that's getting ahead of the point.[/i][/color]

His self concept?

He... didn't remember his thoughts sounding so girlish.

[color=goldenrod]"Hmph."[/color] He grunted, feeling himself begin to think in circles. He had better uses for the energy. [color=goldenrod]"I'll live. Nothing some rest can't get me through."[/color]

Might as well reassure whomever the hell it was, and move on. 

Of all the lies a man could tell, this came by leagues the most easily and naturally.

[i][color=goldenrod]Hell, maybe that's what had Sir Fleuri all terse. I probably look pretty bad.[/color][/i]

His brow furrowed, mouth drawing into a tight-lipped line, as he stalked forwards, opposite the sounds of continued standoff with the young scion of the disgraced house of Cal. He was no interrogator, and he'd already pushed his luck once in trading words with young ladies of the upper crust at the ball. The last thing the Knights needed was him cutting in with the wrong approach. He hardly trusted himself to speak gently.

Nah. He'd be better served with work that was silent until it needed not to be. Sword still in hand, his march arrived at one of the fallen Boars, scalded flesh and blood burnt black wafting up to his nose in an acrid stench. Runa's kill. That bastard sword of hers, cloaked in crackling blaze, had certainly done a number on mortal men— and yet.

The tip, a point of umbra-streaked silver in the blueing light of the full moon, sunk into still flesh. He looked the fallen man over. Young guy. No older than Gerard himself. Could well have been a man much like him, really...

Nothing interesting on him, though, Least of all movement. Dead for sure. He moved on a half-step to the next of the fallen. Especially with the magics and unrelenting force so manyt of his compatriots commanded, this much was a formality—

But, a glance down his gambeson revealed similar stains blossoming out onto the cotton, points of darkness that matched sting, burning Mistakes all along his frame.

He continued down the line with a chuff.

You never really knew.