Juliette Coulombe (clearyourmind) wrote in emillion, @ 2013-10-04 17:57:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !log, amos luscini, juliette coulombe |
Who: Juliette & Amos
What: Confession (?)
Where: The Cathedral
When: Today!
Rating: G
Status: Complete
Juliette had attended confession weekly for many years now. She found the experience somewhat uncomfortable even now -- the idea of discussing her misdeeds, even with a priest, was hardly enjoyable -- but she pushed herself through it every week for the pleasantly light feeling she experienced upon exiting the confessional. In some ways religion was something of a habit she had been raised into, but these were the moments she felt its truth most keenly: she may be woefully inadequate in so many ways, but Faram, she was told, loved her unconditionally, forgave her her mistakes, and did not look upon her with disdain. In the moments after exiting the confessional, she generally felt as though, for this brief time, she was exactly as she ought to be. Outside of confession, such feelings were very rare, for her. Which did not mean she did not feel trepidation, especially today. In fact, she felt rather terrible (and a few days of mulling it over had, if anything, shaken her peace of mind further), but that, she supposed, was her due. Oh, she was such a fool. Fortunately, the cathedral was open for confession daily, and at lunchtime, few of the faithful were congregated. She did not have to wait to enter the confessional, to sit down and smooth her hands over her training clothing as if to shake off her discomfort and guilt. The priest on the other side of the wall waited, of course. Faram counseled patience in His devotees (and how often had she admitted to her own lack thereof in this very room?). Finally, she found her voice to speak: “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been four days since my last confession.” She could have waited until the weekend, she supposed, but that sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach had not abated, and the sooner she was rid of it, the better. Behind the screen, the priest shifted in his seat. Juliette’s was a familiar voice, and so Amos already had an inkling of what to expect. The young squire would require some gentle coaxing, but it would not be a taxing confession. “Go on.” “I…” How to begin? She understood that such things were supposed to be easier if one simply got them over with but… “I… misled someone whom I respect a great deal,” she managed at last. That was the easiest part of this (and that this was the easy part did not bode well in the least). “Over the course of several weeks,” she added, “and again when confronted about it recently.” She hadn’t lied, exactly, but she had made sure to be misunderstood, and wasn’t that nearly the same thing? “In what way did you mislead them?” Amos said. “Were your actions harmful to them?” “No,” she said, shaking her head, even though he couldn’t see her. “At least, I do not think so.” Her lunches hadn’t made the councilor ill, after all, and what harm had she done, really, except to herself? “I sought to do something kind for this person, at first. But I…. my intentions,” she closed her hands into tight fists on her lap, looking down at her hands and feeling miserable, “were not as altruistic as I had tried to make myself believe.” How humiliating, to realize Morgayne had been right all along. “I think I… may perhaps be… somewhat… fond of this individual.” There, she had said it. “And I would rather have lied than told the truth, so that he might not know. It is… highly inappropriate.” A teacher, a guild leader, and quite outside her realm of possibility. Not that he would ever consider her in such a light, of course -- why would he? -- but even so. Even the thought of it all was embarrassing. Really, what was she thinking? There was a beat before the priest responded, “It is natural to have such inclinations. You are certainly under no obligation to vocalise them, especially if you feel uncomfortable doing so. Moreover, while your intentions may not have been so altruistic as you first surmised,” here Amos paused emphatically, “I highly doubt your intentions were of a malicious bent.” “No,” she said, perhaps more emphatically than strictly necessary. “Never malicious. But… I would rather not…” Oh, there were no words for any of this! “He would not welcome my attentions, if he knew. And I should not… develop a fondness… for unsuitable… gentlemen.” The more abstract, the better, but she could not help but thinking that Alys might be somewhat horrified if she knew about this. “It is not proper in my… situation.” And perhaps she was hoping that he would simply tell her what to do (no one had been telling her what to do for a few weeks now; it was disconcerting), because she had no idea how to approach this situation. “It is not a matter you can help,” Amos said. “However, you do have control over your own actions. Should you like nothing to come of these feelings, it can be so.” “All right.” She fidgeted in her seat, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. The priest seemed perfectly understanding, but she still felt as though she deserved… a reprimand? Something. “If… that is the case,” and it was the case, “what should I do, to remain above reproach?” Perhaps he would be kind enough to offer guidance, at least. “Shall I stop… in my efforts to do kind things for him? Or…” she trailed off, at a loss. It was good to offer kindness to people, wasn’t it? And what should she say if he asked her why suddenly, there were no more lunches? To remain above reproach. For a moment, the priest thought to warn her against making untoward advances. The thought perished immediately—the suggestion might have been apt, in another confession box, but even Amos was not so jaded as to think it was necessary in this one. “If they come from the goodness of your heart and without expectation, then I do not see why such kindnesses should cease.” A thoughtful pause. Delicately, “And, of course, no more than you would afford most acquaintances.” “Of course.” She did not feel as relieved as she’d hoped, but at least she had a course of action, more or less. “Thank you.” “You are welcome,” the priest said. “Have you any more to confess?” She thought about it for a few more moments before shaking her head again. “No, father.” She had been too worried about all of… this to do much more than train, sleep, and fret these last few days. “Then I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening.” There was the rustle of fabric as Amos settled back into his seat. “If it is any comfort, these feelings often pass. Faram bless.” She waited for a few moments longer before she realized that there would be no absolution. After all of that… but…… She could not simply ask, of course, and his words were obviously a dismissal. So after a few more moments of sitting in silence, she stood and left the confessional with another murmured, “Thank you.” Perhaps she did not feel all that much better after all, but at least the priest seemed to believe she had not been quite as terrible as she feared. Still confused, she made her way out of the cathedral and turned back towards Bahamut Hall. There was still work to be done this afternoon. |