[he's always thought life has a... funny way of moving itself along. a lifetime of being part of his Family, torn down in an instant and converted to life beneath cold waters; even were he more talkative, he'd likely never dare to speak on it. Michon would never speak poorly about anything that happened, in fact—the circumstances that arose were, as one might say, good and just. even early on, he'd known that there was always a risk, playing at the edges of the law, skirting onto the wrong side.
even so, he'd never raised a voice in protest, accepted his place on the side of protection, loyalty, and propriety. he'd grown—taller, mostly, and less in notoriety; in spite of his fearsome look, most of the whispers about him had always been of his uncanny politeness or his willingness to bow down to help anyone in need. what the Family did was not his business, but it still stung when it was gone. everything he'd had was wiped away in an instant by Fontaine and its Justice, each individual's sentence bearing the weight of his or her crimes. perhaps that, or his diligence inside the Fortress, or some combination thereof, saw him facing the sun before most of the others who remained. it was so easy to get along, to just move forward when your days were scheduled out in advance.
the surface... was not nearly so easy. he'd wandered, wraith-like, from wilds to villages and beyond, taking up small jobs with pitiful salaries to provide the funds he needed to keep going. he doesn't even remember who referred him to the path of a bodyguard again, but if he did, he would have to thank them. it's less worrisome now, since he no longer has to worry about the fighting of Families and business partners, but it's also earned him a strange sort of reputation.
amicable, but distant. that's the most common agreement on the subject of his personality, and he isn't bothered by it. in truth, not much really bothers him—not counting the sense of being an outsider here. that, too, is something of a facsimile of circumstance—but his ability to connect with people feels limited by his lack of experience, the distance he keeps on instinct now. there is no Family to disappoint, and still he can feel the weight of their rules.
but all that seems distant in the moment. guard the Iudex against any and all threats during these turbulent times is a vague sort of order, but it's one he takes to easily enough. the Gardes don't even have much to offer him for expectations, but he finds that fine, especially with the promise that the man will explain in greater detail later. the less he needs to know, the better to do his job. if anything is a potential threat, he will evaluate it seriously, without question. now... he just has to reintroduce himself to the man who, years prior, had been the crux of his life's turning point. the blond is largely the same as he always was—a truly boring spectacle in court, proud but agreeable.
deft fingers fix his vest, brushing over the Vision still buried within its inside pocket, then move upward to adjust thin-framed glasses. though he doesn't know what his future holds, he doubts there will be any difficulty; if one were to ask him, a man who's survived five hundred years without much obvious incident hardly needs his assistance. the day is a grey one, soaked in a sort of tension, but that changes nothing. Michon has a job to do, and it begins here at this very door. he's already checked in at the desk, taken the time to proceed, with the echo of his shoes the only accompaniment to his thoughts. is it... daunting? no, he doesn't think that's the right feeling. even so, the door seems... secretive, perhaps. as though it and the sky know something he yet should, but the time for any consideration has long passed.
so, there's nothing to do but knock, firm and controlled, eyes closing briefly just to listen. no threats will appear, and that's to be expected, but old habits surely die hard.]
[ But even as Michon enters, he'll find the Iudex stood by one of his bookshelves, brows furrowed as he pores through a file. He lifts his head enough to glance at him at the sound of his footsteps-- as is the polite thing to do, anyway-- but then he's quick to gesture to the settee off to the side. ]
I'll only be a moment. Feel free to make yourself comfortable, Monsieur.
[ The next few minutes consist of him taking the file in his hand (and several others) to his desk, where notes are written into paper and he inevitably calls in one of his Marechaussee stoodby outdoors. After being given gentle instructions to disseminate the information he'd collected, the little Melusine salutes with an upward smile, and only once she's left-- and once Neuvillette has come forward to lock his doors to keep from interruption-- does he finally turn on his heel to afford Michon his full attention.
Truthfully, he finds the whole exercise incredibly unnecessary. But in the same way Furina, as the Hydro Archon, required gardes to protect her at all times, so too does the Court's Iudex as its new leader require some form of security. A whole band of humans behind him would have been unbecoming at best, and so the decision to have a single bodyguard had been Neuvillette's own. According to Sedene, Michon had seemed the best man for the job.
He doesn't bother with niceties. If Michon is to be by his side, he'll learn swiftly that Neuvillette isn't one to waste time.
The first thing he asks is: ] Are you aware of the unrest in the Court brought about by all these recent changes?
[ The slander towards Furina, the hatred that Neuvillette had let her go so easy, the way a small group of people declaring he take the execution meant for the Hydro Archon for his leniency-- these are all common sentiment so long as one knew where to look. ]
I understand you were discharged from the Fortress only a few weeks prior, at most. Has it been long enough for you to form an opinion on this topic, yourself?
[he doesn't bother to say anything about being called monsieur, a title he had neither ever fit nor ever cared for. it's only natural, given the man's position and his habits. similarly, there's little hesitation in following the gesture to the settee and stepping over to it with little more than a murmur of thanks.
all things considered, he doesn't seem particularly bothered by the wait, expression plain, a little blank even. after all, he isn't sure just yet what to expect of Neuvillette outside of the last time he'd seen him—an utterly different circumstance from this one, to be sure.
hands resting in his lap, Michon listens silently to the conversation, taking in what seems important—that is to say, practically none of it. the work of the Marechaussee is hardly his business. it's the sound of elegant footsteps, the click of a door lock that barely registers, that pull his attention properly back to Neuvillette before he speaks.]
I am aware. [a simple response, to begin, the scrunch of his nose showing distaste. he is no Duke, and he holds little and less knowledge of the goings-on of most people... but on the subject of small insurgent groups? those have most certainly come across his radar in the past few weeks.
it's probably no surprise, then, that he does respond in kind, back straightening and legs shifting to a more comfortable, upright position. furniture is... not made for people his size, really.]
My opinion is that they are the desperate—but dangerous—opinions of people scrabbling for the slightest chance of power. I have understood that this is how some humans think for far longer than my sentence; that leniency is weak, and justice can only be fulfilled in steel and iron.
[he speaks softly, but not meekly; though his opinion is given without significant emphasis, it's still clearly his own. his morality may be skewed based on those he cares about enough to follow, but it is nonetheless deeply rooted.]
I don't believe the numbers are too significant, though, nor that popular opinion will swing significantly down their path.
[it's just... the fanatics that are the potential problem, he thinks. many more are likely to think like him—aware that the changes will leave some of Fontaine's structure in rocky territory, but ultimately... it's not that big a deal. Neuvillette has been the backbone of Fontaine for as long as she had, in as many ways as she had. once the issue of Indemnitium is solved, is there anything the man hadn't overseen at least in part?]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
action | we pretend I know what I'm doing, as always
even so, he'd never raised a voice in protest, accepted his place on the side of protection, loyalty, and propriety. he'd grown—taller, mostly, and less in notoriety; in spite of his fearsome look, most of the whispers about him had always been of his uncanny politeness or his willingness to bow down to help anyone in need. what the Family did was not his business, but it still stung when it was gone. everything he'd had was wiped away in an instant by Fontaine and its Justice, each individual's sentence bearing the weight of his or her crimes. perhaps that, or his diligence inside the Fortress, or some combination thereof, saw him facing the sun before most of the others who remained. it was so easy to get along, to just move forward when your days were scheduled out in advance.
the surface... was not nearly so easy. he'd wandered, wraith-like, from wilds to villages and beyond, taking up small jobs with pitiful salaries to provide the funds he needed to keep going. he doesn't even remember who referred him to the path of a bodyguard again, but if he did, he would have to thank them. it's less worrisome now, since he no longer has to worry about the fighting of Families and business partners, but it's also earned him a strange sort of reputation.
amicable, but distant. that's the most common agreement on the subject of his personality, and he isn't bothered by it. in truth, not much really bothers him—not counting the sense of being an outsider here. that, too, is something of a facsimile of circumstance—but his ability to connect with people feels limited by his lack of experience, the distance he keeps on instinct now. there is no Family to disappoint, and still he can feel the weight of their rules.
but all that seems distant in the moment. guard the Iudex against any and all threats during these turbulent times is a vague sort of order, but it's one he takes to easily enough. the Gardes don't even have much to offer him for expectations, but he finds that fine, especially with the promise that the man will explain in greater detail later. the less he needs to know, the better to do his job. if anything is a potential threat, he will evaluate it seriously, without question. now... he just has to reintroduce himself to the man who, years prior, had been the crux of his life's turning point. the blond is largely the same as he always was—a truly boring spectacle in court, proud but agreeable.
deft fingers fix his vest, brushing over the Vision still buried within its inside pocket, then move upward to adjust thin-framed glasses. though he doesn't know what his future holds, he doubts there will be any difficulty; if one were to ask him, a man who's survived five hundred years without much obvious incident hardly needs his assistance. the day is a grey one, soaked in a sort of tension, but that changes nothing. Michon has a job to do, and it begins here at this very door. he's already checked in at the desk, taken the time to proceed, with the echo of his shoes the only accompaniment to his thoughts. is it... daunting? no, he doesn't think that's the right feeling. even so, the door seems... secretive, perhaps. as though it and the sky know something he yet should, but the time for any consideration has long passed.
so, there's nothing to do but knock, firm and controlled, eyes closing briefly just to listen. no threats will appear, and that's to be expected, but old habits surely die hard.]
no subject
[ But even as Michon enters, he'll find the Iudex stood by one of his bookshelves, brows furrowed as he pores through a file. He lifts his head enough to glance at him at the sound of his footsteps-- as is the polite thing to do, anyway-- but then he's quick to gesture to the settee off to the side. ]
I'll only be a moment. Feel free to make yourself comfortable, Monsieur.
[ The next few minutes consist of him taking the file in his hand (and several others) to his desk, where notes are written into paper and he inevitably calls in one of his Marechaussee stoodby outdoors. After being given gentle instructions to disseminate the information he'd collected, the little Melusine salutes with an upward smile, and only once she's left-- and once Neuvillette has come forward to lock his doors to keep from interruption-- does he finally turn on his heel to afford Michon his full attention.
Truthfully, he finds the whole exercise incredibly unnecessary. But in the same way Furina, as the Hydro Archon, required gardes to protect her at all times, so too does the Court's Iudex as its new leader require some form of security. A whole band of humans behind him would have been unbecoming at best, and so the decision to have a single bodyguard had been Neuvillette's own. According to Sedene, Michon had seemed the best man for the job.
He doesn't bother with niceties. If Michon is to be by his side, he'll learn swiftly that Neuvillette isn't one to waste time.
The first thing he asks is: ] Are you aware of the unrest in the Court brought about by all these recent changes?
[ The slander towards Furina, the hatred that Neuvillette had let her go so easy, the way a small group of people declaring he take the execution meant for the Hydro Archon for his leniency-- these are all common sentiment so long as one knew where to look. ]
I understand you were discharged from the Fortress only a few weeks prior, at most. Has it been long enough for you to form an opinion on this topic, yourself?
no subject
all things considered, he doesn't seem particularly bothered by the wait, expression plain, a little blank even. after all, he isn't sure just yet what to expect of Neuvillette outside of the last time he'd seen him—an utterly different circumstance from this one, to be sure.
hands resting in his lap, Michon listens silently to the conversation, taking in what seems important—that is to say, practically none of it. the work of the Marechaussee is hardly his business. it's the sound of elegant footsteps, the click of a door lock that barely registers, that pull his attention properly back to Neuvillette before he speaks.]
I am aware. [a simple response, to begin, the scrunch of his nose showing distaste. he is no Duke, and he holds little and less knowledge of the goings-on of most people... but on the subject of small insurgent groups? those have most certainly come across his radar in the past few weeks.
it's probably no surprise, then, that he does respond in kind, back straightening and legs shifting to a more comfortable, upright position. furniture is... not made for people his size, really.]
My opinion is that they are the desperate—but dangerous—opinions of people scrabbling for the slightest chance of power. I have understood that this is how some humans think for far longer than my sentence; that leniency is weak, and justice can only be fulfilled in steel and iron.
[he speaks softly, but not meekly; though his opinion is given without significant emphasis, it's still clearly his own. his morality may be skewed based on those he cares about enough to follow, but it is nonetheless deeply rooted.]
I don't believe the numbers are too significant, though, nor that popular opinion will swing significantly down their path.
[it's just... the fanatics that are the potential problem, he thinks. many more are likely to think like him—aware that the changes will leave some of Fontaine's structure in rocky territory, but ultimately... it's not that big a deal. Neuvillette has been the backbone of Fontaine for as long as she had, in as many ways as she had. once the issue of Indemnitium is solved, is there anything the man hadn't overseen at least in part?]