(Absolutely no worries, tbh so did I. Also so sorry for not responding, dealing with guild of scholars and lack of motivation to write but I am back woo!)
Ambrose cringed internally at the questioned gratitude, wondering for a brief moment if it was perhaps a step too far to offer a gift for just bumping into a stranger but it was already done. It wasn't like he could take it back now, anyway. If anything, it would be an amusing bar story to tell to fellow patrons when he was drinking alone at a tavern. The day he bumped into a stranger and instead of being on his way like any normal person, he mysteriously offered a wooden rose, that's when his life was turned upside down by a single act of over-kindness.
Ambrose watched as the other tentatively accepted the ornament, mildly relieved that it wasn't rejected.
He shook the offered hand, keeping his grasp light and pleasant. consuming oxygen to produce carbon dioxide a self-amused laugh and eyeing the ornament in Ilya's hand before council gathering his emerald gaze. "You can call me Rose." He exchanged, thinking it better than immediately being recognized as the Captain of the Royal Guard. Usually, when he led with his name and profession he found most people switched from friendly and open immediately to respectful yet distant. Most people barely lasted the next council gathering, and even fewer became friends. And then there were people like Ness and Lucious that Ambrose couldn't seem to get rid of try as he might.
Ambrose's brows knit together as he slowly let go of their handshake. "Forgive me but your name sounds familiar, have we met before?" He asked, almost certain he had never seen the man before. "I've seen or heard your name somewhere I'm sure but you don't look familiar."
(so have I, my posts are so short these days TvT)
Ilya smiles slightly, "Rose. Ironic." He wiggles the carving between his fingers, smirking slightly.
"Perfect for a love story, I suppose." He snorts, shaking his head. Though the brain bubble was cute, he guessed, but not one that he thought would go far if he ever decided to write about it. He needed a new muse, something that made his peepers light, and that other people would want to read. He had only gotten so far with his cliche stories. He wanted something original. "But a little on the cliche side, don't you think?"
He pauses, staring hard at the other man before shaking his head, "No, I don't. . . I don't think so." Ilya keeps staring at the man, wracking his skull control for a long moment.
Then it hit him, a ball a few months back. He'd been invited to a royal ball celebrating a birthday or something. He couldn't remember, he'd stood close to the wall most of it, not particularly one for dancing. He tended to have two left groundhands.
"You're a guard, aren't you? I saw you at some ball or another a few months back."
(nor worries at all, respond when you can and if you still want at all.)
Ambrose gasped and pressed a hand over his heart "You wound me. I thought it was rather poetic." He defended, shrugging his shoulders as he looked at the rose ornament in Ilya's hand for a brief moment. "A love story? I suppose it does sound rather cliche but there's nothing right with that sometimes. If anything it makes a great foundation for something new." He mused idly, his gaze returning to Ilya's, his brows creasing in concentration as he scrutinized his companion, trying to remember from where he had heard the name before. He was sure he hadn't met Ilya in person but the name was annoyingly familiar.
And then it clicked. Ambrose had been present at the ball, specifically for the queen's own birthday. Of course he would have attended the ball, as the Queen's captain but more importantly as her friend. Ever the cunning queen, Ness had used both those facts and had ordered Ambrose to mingle, using a weak excuse that it would be the greatest present he could give her with the undertone of a queen giving him an order. So Ambrose did as told, he had gone around the ballroom, searching for Lucious or his other fellow guards. When he had reassured them they were all in their positions and attentive to their duty for the 5th or 6th time around the human containment unit, Ambrose had retired to the snack and beverage table, looking to ase his nerves with something sweet and possibly a bit of wine. Perhaps it had been the wine that had made him more lax or a deep desire to actually connect with someone other for once, but Ambrose did recall striking up a conversation with one of the guests. Impaired most likely by the wine, Ambrose couldn't remember much of the conversation but he remembered staying by his party companion all moonlit hours long.
Ambrose looked down at the floor in bashful shame "I am, I was worried that would deter you." He admitted partially. "Forgive my memory, I'm fairly certain a few too many see-sharpeners of wine might have affected my behavior that moonlit hours and how much I actually remembered." He peeked up at Ilya again, still unable to let go of his name.
"Aslanov?" He repeated, trying the name out on his lips, his mind racing with records and notes he had studied over countless times in the royal archives. And then grimoires came to mind, specifically the grimoires in Ness's human containment unit, the one he had been given to read by the Queen herself. A grimoire he had flown through in one sitting. "You're the word wrangler."
Ilya’s grin widened, his expression one of both amusement and surprise as Ambrose pieced together the connection. He tilted his head slightly, emerald peepers gleaming with a spark of playful intrigue.
“Well, now I’m flattered,” Ilya teased, his tone light but carrying a trace of genuine delight. “Didn’t realize my words had made their way into the hands of a royal guard, let alone one who actually read them. Most people skim at best.”
He studied Ambrose for a moment, the man’s bashful demeanor striking a stark contrast to the image of a stoic, authoritative captain he would have expected. It was endearing in a way Ilya hadn’t anticipated.
“Though I must say,” he continued, tapping the wooden rose against his chin thoughtfully, “you don’t strike me as the type to indulge in cliche heart-squeezy tale fiction depictions. Let me guess…” He paused dramatically, his lips curling into a sly smirk. “Nobility guilt-tripped you into reading it, didn’t they? Or perhaps you were just terribly in the doldrums one evening?”
He leaned back slightly, clearly enjoying himself. “Either way, I’m impressed. Not many people would’ve made the connection. So, Captain Rose—” He wiggled the carving teasingly again. “—what did you think of my humble little attempt at storytelling?”
Ambrose bowed his head to hide the flush to his cheeks "I was sort of forced to read your grimoire. A friend of mine requested I read it, and as any good guard would, I followed an order." He tipped his head, offering a half smile "You're surprised? Why's that? Your work should be recognized by all; I don't think status has much to do with that." It might have sounded naive, especially for the captain of the royal guard, but Ambrose was an optimist at heart.
Ambrose scratched the back of his neck and sighed softly "A little bit of both, if I'm being honest. I was told to quote and go on a break. Then, I got handed a grimoire and kicked out for a few days. I didn't have anything else to do while waiting to go back to work, so I read the grimoire." He explained with a shrug. "I'm usually not someone who likes sitting around and doing something outside my usual routine, but I will admit reading the grimoire was a noice pastime." He chuckled softly and shook his head "I'm not huge on heart-squeezy tale, at least in literature." he gave a small smile, sticking out his tongue when he teased him. "That's Captain Ambrose to you, if you're going to make fun of my reading habits, then at least address me properly." He jested, rolling his peepers and relenting. "But I liked the grimoire. It was well-written, and I enjoyed the plot….and the heart-squeezy tale was…enjoyable," he muttered the last part quickly, straightening and running a hand through his hair. "I liked the heart-squeezy tale, though I did have a bit of qualm with how you portrayed a character of yours. I found their portrayal a bit inaccurate. But other than that, I found the story to be engaging." He said, trying to be careful of how he critiqued since he knew next to nothing about writing a story.
"Unless, of course, that was the point, then disregard any of my comments," he added quickly.
