[action - Oilvert.]

[scarletgriffon]

[Perhaps half a day after Excenmille has set off to retrieve Rahal, he's managed to battle the obvious nausea which is part and parcel of travelling via airship. He enters Oilvert without much circumstance -- the monsters within not even putting up much of a fight. Magic has never been his forte, so going without means absolutely nothing to him. He

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[knightlygriffin]

[Rahal had just finished with a couple of Garuda fiends when he heard the familiar footsteps of his friend, his ears picking up on the sound. He was down to one potion, and he was tired, but that did nothing to dull the smile that broke out on his lips when he caught sight of his friend.]

Took you long enough, Excenmille!

[scarletgriffon]

Ha! I should have left you a little longer to have made you more grateful.

[The response is easy, assured, and showing that he means nothing of the sort. In fact, his own smile, the smile that Rahal dubbed "that arrogant mug of his" is surfacing -- thanks to the fact that he finally knows that the other is okay. He clears the space between the pair of them after dispatching a garuda with a deft blow -- scratching his head a little. His smile falls.

...Odd. The other doesn't seem injured enough to warrant the nonsense he spewed earlier about the war being over...]

Come. This place is tiresome already.

[And there's a pair of chocobo chicks he's tethered outside...
He's not worried. Really, he's not.
...Okay, he is.]

[knightlygriffin]

Perhaps so. I've been enjoying the chance to work on my sword arm.

[He claps a hand on Excenmille's shoulder and nods.]

Aye, I agree. It's a somber place to begin with, not one for reunions. Bistillot would love it, though. Would that all of the Swiftwing joined me here... We've all been worried for you for a time.

[scarletgriffon]

What, on these? If you truly are speaking the truth regarding joining the royal knights, they must have made you soft.

[It's jest more than anything. Excenmille, for one, knows that Rahal has strength far beyond his years and more aptitude with a blade than perhaps any of the iron rams. His face darkens though as the other speaks of the griffins -- eyes narrowing. The other seems in a state that's sound enough to not spout nonsense, but... ]

What? It was but a few days past you and the Swiftwing aided us locating my fath-- that accursed mannequin in the northlands.