Upon the realization of loss

[averygoodshot]

There is little that will keep Aramis away from his son. Even trips to exotic beach locales only serve as temporary diversions from what he considers his family. He has not gone back to Paris to appease the Queen, he has been diligent and loyal and good (love, he tells himself, is a powerful force).

Then comes the day when he knocks on the right door and no one answers. When he's told that Anne, Queen of France, no longer resides in the Nexus at all. How, he wonders, his heart clattering in his chest, can he keep the Queen safe now? How can he protect his son?

After a thorough and emotional search, resulting in nothing, not even a door back to Paris, Aramis does the only thing he can think to do. He drinks (and yes, he does let the others know of his findings, or lack thereof) and he wallows. This is how he finds himself in the tavern, a wine bottle and goblet in front of him, and his head in his hands.

Comments

[praiseandglory]

"I don't think there can be a nicer place than one with half naked women," Porthos points out with a grin, and stands, before he pauses with a frown. "There are women, right?" He'd only mentioned braies, after all.

[averygoodshot]

The question is enough to surprise a laugh from Aramis as he stands, clapping Porthos on his shoulder. "Many women, my friend. Come. I'll show you."

He leads the way out of the tavern and looks both ways, working to remember where he'd seen the door. This way - down the hall to the left.

[praiseandglory]

"Are they human women?" came Porthos's next question, one he's learned to ask here, as he follows his friend down the hall.

[averygoodshot]

"Most of them," Aramis admits. "There was one woman, from here - her skin was blue." He raises his eyebrows to Porthos. That is interesting, isn't it?

[praiseandglory]

"With the white hair and the corsets?" Porthos checks, and nods. He's seen her around; she's difficult not to notice, after all.

[averygoodshot]

"That's the one. She's ... friendly," Aramis tells Porthos with a wry grin. He thinks he could have taken advantage of her friendliness had he been not thinking of the Queen.

[praiseandglory]

"How friendly?" Porthos asks, lips curving into his usual rakish smile. He would rather see Aramis in the arms of a blue-skinned girl than longing for the Queen, by far.

[averygoodshot]

"Very generous-seeming," Aramis tells him. But no, he did nothing.

That was before the Queen left, though.

"I fear," he realizes, looking over to Porthos side-long, "that I have been a fool."

Even here, the Queen did not seem interested in having a chance to be with Aramis, truly.

[praiseandglory]

Generous seeming hardly sounded as if Aramis had made the most of the girl's generosity, which seemed a shame to Porthos. At his words, though, the taller man stopped and put a hand on his friend's shoulder, holding his gaze. "You often are."

The look in Porthos's eyes made it clear how greatly he hoped that Aramis would take the obvious bait and banter with him, rather than get mired in anguish and self-recrimination.

Besides, there was a door somewhere nearby leading to a beach full of scantily clad women. Porthos would rather see his friend smile again.

[averygoodshot]

The teasing does draw a smile to Aramis's face, as well as gratitude; Porthos can always be counted to lighten Aramis's mood. He pats at his friend's side and leads him to the door that he had before gone through.

With a glance again, he pushes through and they are indeed back on the beach he was at before.

[praiseandglory]

A smile is not banter, but it is better than many of the alternatives. Porthos can take a partial victory when he is offered one - at least, in one such instance. He follows after his friend, and smiles as the wave of heat that engulfs him as he steps through the door. He's glad he wasn't in full Musketeer attire, on account of the warmth of the weather in the Nexus, it means he doesn't have to take off his pauldron and jacket and fear losing them.

He looks around and indeed, everyone here seems to be wearing very little. That puts his rakish smile back on his face, and he grins over at his friend. "This is a gem." This door he's found, this place he's found. Like the door to the Caribbean, but without the danger. Sometimes, even Porthos welcomes a situation where he might not have to use his sword.

[averygoodshot]

Most times, and certainly in times like these, Porthos's spirits are all that are needed to bolster Aramis's. Once again, he claps his hand on his friend's shoulder and he says, "beware the drinks which taste like candy. They are not harmless."

His boots sink into the sand as he walks forward toward the chaise chairs that await them, looking out upon the surf. "I have a hunch," he adds. "That you'll fit right in."

[praiseandglory]

"I know just the drinks you mean," Porthos confirms, following Aramis towards the chaises and already pulling his shirt up over his head. There's no reason not to blend in, after all, and it is that hot. "Madame Bonacieux's introduced me to them." He still prefers wine as an everyday drink, but he also loves new flavours and experiences so.

And yes, he'll call her Constance to her face, but it's still instinct to be more formal when talking about her to other people.

[averygoodshot]

When in Rome, as the saying goes ...

Aramis sits first, then pulls off his boots, wiggling his toes in the sun. Then off comes his shirt. "Ah, here they come," he says of such drinks, in such bright colors and always so chilled and delicious, borne by a woman wearing precious little.

He is beginning to think this was a very good idea indeed.

[praiseandglory]

It isn't long before Porthos is barefooted as well, shirt dropped on top of his boots, and he arranges his sword so he can sit comfortably on the lounge chair. He gives the woman bringing them drinks an appreciative smile along with his thanks, and watches her walk away before turning back to his friend. "I like this place."

[averygoodshot]

"I would imagine you do," Aramis chuckles. He leans back, closing his eyes, letting the sun warm him. "And do you like the view, my friend?"

Which makes him curious. Has there been anyone Porthos has felt for, since Alice?

[praiseandglory]

"I like the view," Porthos confirms, and grins. "And the landscape. And the drink," he adds after taking a sip of the brightly coloured, iced cocktail.

[averygoodshot]

Aramis chuckles at that. "It may not be the kind of adventure involving violence, but perhaps it will do for a while."

[praiseandglory]

"You know," Porthos tells him, reclining in his chaise and pillowing a hand under his head, "sometimes a lack of violence is acceptable. For a little while, anyway," he adds, casting a grin at his friend.

[averygoodshot]

That makes Aramis laugh even as he tilts his face toward the sun. "Perhaps if we continue exploring, we shall find something worth fighting for," he tells his friend. Though he had that and she left.

"Have you been back?" he asks, shading his eyes as he looks toward Porthos. "To Paris?"

[praiseandglory]

Porthos shakes his head, a shadow sweeping over his brow. "Not since I last told you."

[averygoodshot]

Porthos's father. Aramis nods, taking a sip of his frothy drink.

With a noticeable effort, he changes the subject, looking back out over the surf: "last time I was here, I heard tell of beasts in the water. Monstrous things which would swallow a man whole."

Whether he's kidding or not might be hard to tell.

[praiseandglory]

"Are you saying a man shouldn't go for a swim without his sword?" Or a woman, for that matter, if she were the sort to carry one.

[averygoodshot]

"I went in," Aramis says with a shrug. "And came out unscathed." He does not tell Porthos if trying to flee the water like a scared child at news of such beasts. "I suppose it's every man for himself."

[praiseandglory]

"Well, I'm not leaving it behind," to be stolen by anyone, "or risking it in the water," Porthos states, fingers skilling along the elaborate guard of his broadsword. Swimming would have to wait until he came back without it.