sir rictor cassul, korporal. (templars) wrote in emillion, @ 2013-12-27 21:02:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !log, arielle chiaro, aspel cassul, rictor cassul |
and i don't want to break the rules 'cause i've broken them all before.
Who: Rictor, Ari, and Aspel
What: Ric walks in on something he'd rather not have. Awkward brunch 2.0?
Where: Aspel’s apartment.
When: The day following this.
Rating: PG-13-ish
Status: Complete!
The Armoury had its own small bell over the door, but the store was obviously closed today (as it often was, as Aspel herself had reminded him). So Rictor hit the other buzzer button with a sharp jab of his thumb – it was wired to the building, ringing through the empty store and his sister’s home. The holy knight waited on her doorstep, arms crossed and watching passersby on the streets. There weren’t as many as there usually was. The plague had sent most everyone indoors for care or quarantine, shuttering their windows and closing their doors against contagion. Only a few days after the mission into the mountains, however, and the difference was noticeable: the oppressive weight that seemed to consume their city had lifted slightly, the fear and tension leeching away more and more each day. The strain and worry of the city wasn’t gone entirely, of course – people were still sick – but hope was starting to inch its way back. People were seeing improvement, so it was time to check and see if his own sister had as well. Still no response. Rictor frowned, a small spear of concern lurching in his chest. He rang the doorbell again. A muffled, “Coming, coming,” sounded from the other side before the door was, at last, opened by a disheveled, barefoot bard clad in an oversized tunic and nothing else. She sighed and held back a comment about how it was early (the sun was up; past that she hadn’t really been watching the clock); instead, she said, “I suppose the quiet couldn’t last forever. Good morning, Ric. Come in before I freeze.” Which was actually not dissimilar to what Aspel had said when she had shown up on the doorstep; the thought had her smiling slightly even as she moved out of the way to usher the holy knight in. Rictor paused on the doorstep, blinking at the half-naked bard. His eyes instinctively darted down across loose-hanging fabric, bare thighs, the curve of her calves, and bare feet. Then the templar’s gaze immediately snapped back up, lodging on Ari’s eyes and staying quite firmly fixed there, his throat swallowing. “Uh,” he said. “Sorry. Didn’t—didn’t expect to find you here. I was… looking for Aspel.” He didn’t make a move to enter the building, motionless as if he’d sprouted roots and trapped himself here. “Well, you’ve nearly found her,” Ari said with an amused look at his obvious shock, “but as she’s in the shower, you will have to settle for me right now. I’ll let you up.” As much as she might have preferred having Aspel to herself for the afternoon -- that week was looking unlikely, but surely another day wasn’t too much to ask -- she was fairly certain that turning away the other woman’s brother would not be the wisest decision. “Really,” she added, “do come in before I have to shut the door in your face to prevent hypothermia.” “It’s not that cold outside.” It was a strange detail to quibble over, but Rictor couldn’t think of anything better to do or say, grasping wildly. “If you’re busy, I can come back later.” "You're being silly," Ari told him with a roll of her eyes. She grabbed his wrist and tugged, moving into the shop and towards the stairs. "I haven't seen you since the aerodrome. You're feeling all right, I take it?" She hadn't paid much attention to injuries on the way home from the mountains. “Well enough.” It was more Cassul evasiveness, dodging the matter of his injuries (beneath the long sleeves and tunic Rictor’s body was still swaddled in bandages, shoulder still healing from a Tyranorox’s serrated teeth). He was getting dragged along like a recalcitrant dog, his leash (her hand) tugging him firmly up the stairs even as he considered sinking through the floor and disappearing. This was not a part of his sister’s life he wanted any fucking insight into. Don’t look at her legs, he thought, but it was hard to avoid the inadvertent glimpses of bare skin right at eye-level as Ari ascended the stairs in front of him. As they entered the apartment proper, his eyes immediately flicked to the mantlepiece and its family photographs: there was evidence of a tow-headed and cherubic Seloria and a much younger Rictor, ungainly as a fresh teenager. (The last time they’d lived under the same roof, or spent much time together at all.) He winced. “I won’t be long.” He lingered in front of the fireplace, staring at the photos. There were none from the Cassuls over the past decade. “Hopefully you haven’t heard any embarrassing stories,” he said weakly, killing time while Aspel finished off her shower. "Dozens," Ari said with an amused look, even if it wasn't true. The tease was irresistible, though. "Don't worry," she added, "I think no less of you." Pitching her voice to be heard through the door -- she no longer heard the water -- she called out, "Aspel, your brother is here." That done, she settled into the corner of the couch and tucked her legs under her. "I'm sure she'll be right out." Rictor gave a wordless noise of assent, distracting himself with perusing Aspel’s considerable trove of books—anything to avoid the bard on the sofa, at the moment. It wouldn't take long for Aspel to emerge from the shower after Ari's call... Even if she hadn't heard precisely what had been said. Though, something about a visitor or another had been registered and with that, Aspel had dressed enough to be considered decent by most standards. One hand still held a towel against her head, using it to tussle hair briefly in an attempt to assure her hair would dry faster. Or at least, that was until she saw Rictor staring at the pictures on the mantle. The smith's insides ran cold for a moment, she'd always tried to keep him out of the apartment, some terrible fear of him finding her dirty little secrets had pushed for them to meet outside of these walls. Regardless of herself, Aspel's voice finally found its way back, and a smile crossed her lips. "I had not expected to see you today." Her voice was as light as Aspel could make it, because even with all her fears, the sight of Rictor - with the regularity it had started to occur - was a welcome one nonetheless. "Is everything well?" “You tell me.” Turning around at the sound of her voice, Ric was still studiously avoiding the sight of a far-too-undressed Chiaro (for an innumerable amount of reasons). “Just stopped by to check in on you, see how’re you doing. I’m assuming better, since you’ve got… uh, a visitor.” Get in, confirm that older sister was still alive and functional and back on her feet after a Faram-damned plague, then escape immediately. Those were now the mission parameters. (And as hopelessly strained as things were about Aspel back home, surely Eriks would prefer his eldest alive, if disobedient and prodigal.) The knight was too rigid and too straight, hands clasped behind his back as if he were standing at attention for a superior—which, technically he was. Entering this living room was an insight into her home and life that he’d never had before. Accordingly, Rictor looked hopelessly tense, his jaw held high. Ari looked between the two of them, resisting the urge to sigh. Somehow, she doubted the sudden tension in the room could be attributed solely to her presence, though she could imagine, with Rictor’s strange perceptions of what was proper and what wasn’t, her sitting between them probably wasn’t helping, either. “I think I’d like some coffee,” she announced. “Would either of you like some?” She was up and out of her seat before they could answer -- the apartment wasn’t so big that she wouldn’t hear a request even as she moved towards the kitchen, and this bit of privacy was really all she could offer at the moment, considering she wasn’t about to leave (even if she knew where the majority of her clothing was, which at the moment was a chancy thing to bet on). A faint smile appeared, one that would likely simply look a bit tired to Rictor, but one that also would convey a strain to Ari if she stuck around long enough to witness such. "Well, thank you." The smile lightened a bit with the inquiry. "I have been," taking pleasure in "recuperating steadily with Ari's assistance." However, with said assistance exiting Aspel spoke up quickly. "No thank you." A beat fell before her eyes turned to Rictor. "There is more than coffee if you would prefer something else?" A thought of offering food was next but there was little that... Was available for easy service at this time. "I was about to make muffins shortly if you would like to stay a bit," the faint smile remained. "Or perhaps if you would prefer you could tell me your favorite type, and I can have a some ready for you to pick up later or tomorrow?" It seemed a strange gamble, a sort of desperation welling up within her from the circumstances they'd just faced but... Maybe she was just making it out to be worse than it all really was. But unfortunately, Rictor seized on that option like a drowning man reaching for a lifeline, something with which to yank himself out of this mire. There was a time and a place to bond with his newly-recuperated older sister—but this afternoon when she already had company (half-naked bardic company) flouncing about in the kitchen plainly wasn’t it, as far as he was concerned. “I don’t want to intrude,” he said stiffly. “So thank you for the offer, Aspel. That sounds great. I could stop by tomorrow, when you’re less… inconvenienced.” After a beat, Ric added, “My favourite’s apple cinnamon.” The man looked ready to bolt, like a wild animal that had been roped into captivity but tenuously. “Of course.” Aspel attempted to mask the sadness in her tone. The success of such words would be questionable as they were obvious to her ear. A hesitation was taken, a slight smile rose - forced again as emotionally she scrambled inside - before she spoke. “Please, consider yourself always welcome to stop by. You are no burden, I assure.” A slight nod of her head would be offered at the information presented. “Apple cinnamon tomorrow it is.” He’d never taken a seat, all throughout this conversation. He’d been fidgeting and fidgeting, and with those final words it was as if she’d finally set him free, unshackling the leash that let Rictor start moving towards the door. “Tomorrow, then,” he said with a gun-shy smile, voice rising loud enough for Ari to hear as well. And just like that, he was gone, quick strides carrying him down the hall and stairs and out of the Armory. Tunnel vision crept in to avoid noticing the discarded clothing littering the floor, Rictor stubbornly walking right through that haze of mortification as he left. As soon as Rictor exited, Aspel’s expression changed as it felt like her heart was breaking. The quickness with which he exited felt an assured doom to their relations, and perhaps if it was, it would be better this way. Shortly after, Ari emerged from the kitchen with a tray and a slightly sheepish expression. She didn’t want to feel bad, but for the first time since she’d arrived the night prior, she felt a little like an interloper. The carefully shuttered expression on the other woman’s face spoke volumes. “Kiernan’s birthday is tomorrow,” she said, keeping her tone carefully light. “I’ll make myself scarce.” Her presence hadn’t done their already strained relationship any favors. “As you wish.” The words were passive as the smith’s eyes lingered on the door that had closed just moments before. With a sigh, Ari set the tray down on the coffee table. Really, Rictor had chosen the worst possible moment to get all proper on them. She wanted to point out to Aspel that the fact that he’d come up anyway, despite his obvious discomfort, was probably a good sign, but she didn’t think the other woman would want to hear it, so instead she said, “I made tea anyway, in case you changed your mind.” She’d had the time to spare, as she’d been attempting to remain out of the way. “Why don’t you have a cup?” Getting Aspel out of her obvious mood was really not the way she’d hoped to spend this afternoon, but she felt equal to the challenge. |