theo. (escutcheon) wrote in emillion, @ 2013-12-07 04:42:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !log, juliette coulombe, theodore finch |
What I really meant to say is I'm sorry for the way I am.
Who: Theodore Finch & Juliette Coulombe.
What: Theo isn't himself; training is put on hiatus.
Where: Ashwyrm Hall.
When: Backdated to this past Wednesday.
Rating: G.
Status: Complete!
Theo (for he had already been properly instructed on his true identity, once lost, and his station in society--even if the details of his own history remained as yet unknown, unreachable) had planted himself where he was told was the proper place. Ashwyrm Hall, training grounds. He leaned against the wall at the far corner, inspecting each detail, frustrating himself over the desire to remember. Something useful, even if it was just a little. Arms crossed, brow furrowed, Theo had lost himself in thought. Divina had instructed him on whom he was to meet here prior to the day--and for all the preparation and effort given beforehand, the man could only feel a steadily growing anxiety building in his gut. This may have been a bad idea, but something had compelled him to accept the meeting, and it was that unknown feeling that kept him rooted on the spot, waiting to meet with this Juliette Coulombe (for a strange, second first time). Juliette had never been the type of girl to arrive anywhere late; at worst, she was promptly on time, but normally, she tended to come early. Meditation time was easier to come by at home now, but even so, the habit was well ingrained, and she found that extra preparation helped to steady her before she worked. But today, she was not as early as she might have been; not only was it too cold to sit on the ground to meditate now, but she had been dragging her feet for other reasons, too. She felt apprehensive, and more than a little guilty. He had been missing. Shouldn’t she, his squire, have made it her business to know about it, to help look for him, to… something? She was no doctor; staying home with Alys had netted her sister no particular benefit. Would her mentor think -- incorrectly -- that she hadn’t cared? She saw him leaning against the wall, looking thoughtful, and shrunk further into herself. But she approached him without further hesitation, and though she wished only to say, I am sorry and perhaps also, I am sincerely glad you are well, all she managed was, “Good afternoon. I hope I did not keep you waiting.” Theo looked down at her, his face blank from its usual expression. Recognition was not afforded to the young woman, nor even his usual frown, and he stood still there for a moment simply looking her over. Hoping, perhaps, for a sudden recognition to aid him. Unfortunately, he was not to be so lucky. “Juliette,” he said, testing the name on his tongue. “We must speak.” He had gone through several speeches prior to this meeting, simple ways to turn her down--training was not a wise option at this point in time, and as for (of all the things he had learned and reasoned thus far) any sort of mentorship, well, how helpful could a man be who barely knew himself as yet? Though the healers hired by the Finch estate were working tirelessly to examine his condition, he knew these efforts would take time. Looking down at this young woman however, something had stirred within him. Just as when he had spoken with Kira, the healer’s young daughter at the clinic, a peculiar, unknown feeling warred in his gut, compelling him to--well, he couldn’t exactly know as yet, but turning this young girl down now seemed far more difficult than he had planned the hour prior. Faram preserve, he thought to himself. This was going to prove a challenge. It was an exercise in self-control not to wince at his words. He did not look upset -- but when, he so often looked upset when he wasn’t, really, that perhaps this was actually a bad sign -- but they did not spend large quantities of time speaking most of the time. Theodore Finch was a man of action, not words. What could be dire enough? Still, she was ever obedient; bowing her head so he wouldn’t see the distress that was likely in her eyes, she said, “Yes, sir.” After a pause, she prompted, “Here?” It was growing colder these last few weeks. Physical exertion distracted from the sting of cold, so the training yards were never deserted, but for conversation, it seemed a strange place to select. “Won’t take long,” he said, shrugging into his own cloak for warmth. No weapons would be brought around this day, no lessons had he to offer her. Only disappointment, he realized, the obedient tone of her voice struck at him like painful blows to the stomach. He did manage a frown then, but it was an effort not to wince. “Recovering from wounds,” he said. “I cannot train you as yet.” He growled out something similar to a cough, grinding out the words as best he could. “Return is pending.” Likely as not, Theo assumed, the girl deserved more truth than that--deserved more than the broken man before her (was it failure that haunted him so?), but he knew not how he could offer such a thing when trying to look her in the eyes. “Oh.” Could he not have told her this on the network, she wondered? If he was really so ill-off, why had he ventured out at all? She would have much preferred to know he was tucked into bed if injuries still pained him. “Do you…. perhaps… have assignments for me, while you recover?” That would be a simple explanation as to why he had chosen to meet her anyway, and he had given her tasks before -- a strength training regimen, endurance exercises, drills of various sorts. Before she could stop herself, she blurted out, “It is good to see you. I am sorry I was…. unaware of your troubles. I…” thought I might lose my family, again; surely you can understand, “am very sorry you are not well.” “No,” he said, turned away. Theo pushed himself off the wall he had been leaning against and moved around the training area, his back to the squire. He knew then, with certainty, that burdening her with the knowledge of his predicament was not something he could abide. A cold wind snapped in his direction and the tall man shrugged his shoulders, pushing off the sudden chill. “Nothing to concern yourself with,” he replied on the comment aimed toward his current state. He looked over his shoulder briefly. “Once I am healed…” He looked away again and up to the sky, now a bitter, brilliant blue. “We will resume.” "Very well." He must be very upset with her indeed, that he would not even give her anything to do until his recovery was complete. She could not blame him; she had been dreadfully thoughtless. "In which case... I will pray for your swift recovery, sir," she said. "Until that time, I will... manage on my own." She was probably out of shape, at any rate; how long had it been since her last morning run? Perhaps she would join Alys in some of the strengthening exercises the mage had recommended... She barely held back the next apology -- he had said not to concern herself, which had been a dismissal of any such gesture -- and instead said, "Ought you not rest? I would not wish to be a cause of any additional inconvenience." How strange, to speak with him in such a stilted manner, as she might speak to a stranger. She found she did not care for it, but what could she do? Theo listened and continued to look up until the brightness of the sky began to make his eyes hurt. He shrugged his shoulders in reply. “Soon enough.” After a moment of further hesitation and uncertainty, as if he could find something more to say to her (aside from the truth he was now loathe to reveal), Theo began to move away. “Keep well,” he said to Juliette, the farewell hanging stilted in the air between them. "You as well," she said, similarly formal and awkward and inadequate. Like him, she had a great many thoughts; like him, she voiced none of them. |