Ari ♫ ♪ ♬ (gracenotes) wrote in emillion, @ 2013-12-30 15:40:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !log, arielle chiaro, rené beau |
Some people think I'm crazy but you say it's okay...
Who: Ari & René
What: a talk
Where: Baker’s Dozen
When: This afternoon!
Rating: PG
Status: complete
It had taken her longer to do this than it should have, but between her injuries, the gala, and the holiday, she had found herself too occupied with other concerns. But that, she determined, had to change. What had happened in the battle against that giant green oozing creature had been… abnormal. Nothing she had read -- and nothing she had experienced, or seen, or heard about -- quite matched what she had seen. She almost had to wonder if René didn’t know what he had done. He had been dazed and pale upon regaining consciousness, not to mention glassy-eyed and clearly on the verge of panic; she hadn’t pressed the issue then, but… Well, there was only one way to find out, wasn’t there? Hopefully he wouldn’t run off into the wilderness, never to be heard from again the way that strange mage boy had done. She walked into the bakery, cheeks rosy from the cold, easy smile on her face. “Something certainly smells good.” Behind her the door closed with jingle. Winter was the only time of the year when the bakery didn’t keep the entrance open, and so warmth and the smell of freshly baked goods filled the store. Further inside René was at a far shelf, refilling it with bags of cookies, and he called over his shoulder with a laugh, “Wouldn’t be a proper bakery if something didn’t.” Finishing moments later, he dusted his hands off on his apron and turned to greet the new customer. Except it was Ari. Unease flickered across his face, and for a second it seemed as though he was going to clamber over the counter and retreat to the back. He didn’t, but the option was sorely tempting. They hadn’t talked since the attack on the Mages’ Tower, nor did he talk to anyone else from the scene since. No one had confronted him about the second beast that appeared that day though—he thought he was safe. “Hey, Ari,” he said eventually, mustering up a smile as he walked over to her. Maybe she was just here to satisfy a craving. “Is there anything I can help you with? There’s gonna be a fresh batch of banana muffins in a sec, if you wanna wait for them.” He seemed nervous. Which was, she thought with a tiny sigh, really too bad. She’d hoped to ease into the conversation. “Any coffee macarons today?” she asked anyway. At the very least, selling her dessert ought to relax him a little, and possibly remind him that she was, for all intents and purposes, fairly harmless in most of the traditional ways. “Coffee macarons? For you, always.” He left her side and traveled to another one of the shelves, grabbing a small box on the way. “How many would you like?” “Half a dozen.” As he reached for the box, she said, “And while you ring those up, I think we need to talk.” And hopefully, if he took it into his head to bolt with box in hand, scattering macarons everywhere, she’d manage to catch him. She was fairly certain she was faster. René didn’t run, but he did flinch at her last statement—a small jerk of his shoulders that fortunately didn’t jostle the box of macarons too much. His shoulders lowered as he sighed, and he walked over to stand behind the counter and ring up the order. “That’ll be eight gil,” he said, placing the box in a bag and setting it aside on the counter. With his hands free, he began wringing them together. “And,” he mumbled, turning his head to look away, “if this is about...the other day, I’d really rather not.” She handed him a 10 gil coin from her pocket, then grasped his hand, her hold light enough that he could pull away, though she really hoped he might hear her out. “I can’t believe I’m saying this -- I sound like my mother, Faram preserve me -- but sometimes we ought to do things we don’t want to do. Just tell me, do you even know what you did? How long have you been carrying him around?” She couldn’t exactly work out how a baker -- who seemed to have no combat skill whatsoever -- had impressed something Ifrit’s size, though she supposed she didn’t know the summon’s temperament. Still, she somehow doubted the giant simply liked éclairs. His breath was already starting to come fast. Flashes of a giant swallowing up the sky, blood on his hands, and overturned earth interjected his thoughts. René clenched his eyes shut. “No,” he answered, pushing the word through his teeth like it was acrid bile. He clutched onto her hand and forced himself to breathe deeply, slowly. Around him were the smells of the bakery and, even closer still, coffee. Her hand was small and warm in his, and when he opened his eyes he saw how tightly he was holding onto it. René let go. “Sorry,” he apologized, suddenly feeling flustered and embarrassed. The coin fell onto the counter. “I’m sorry.” After standing with his arms flat at his sides, he finally raised them to his neck, pulling the pendant out from underneath his shirt. René met her gaze. “Two years, but I won’t—” he swallowed and promised, “—I won’t do it again.” She squeezed his hand, watching him struggle with the words. She had to wonder -- would she have ended up so conflicted had it not been for Aspel’s timely intervention? “Why are you apologizing?” she asked, bewildered. “And why not? I mean…” She shrugged, made a face and admitted, “It is somewhat inconvenient to explain, I suppose, but I’ve no doubt he’ll be terribly upset with you if you don’t let him out once in awhile, and he was helpful.” “Your hand,” he clarified, gesturing over said appendage. But at her reply he felt a scalding anger well up from his stomach, and he snapped, “How can you say that?” The brutal death of his brother, an inconvenience? “You’ve seen what these monsters have done to Emillion. You’ve seen how many people have died because of them, and I...” Just as quickly as he was to scald, he had lost his steam. “I’m tired of living with that.” “Well, but how many people can be saved by him now that he’ll do what you say?” she asked. “He saved us, most likely. Thank you for that, by the way.” In her mind, it was a matter of balance. How could he guarantee that Titan could be controlled once released? He simply shook his head, and handed Ari two gil. "Your change," he said tersely. She sighed. Well, he hadn’t taken off like a dreamhare, so she supposed that this had gone better than the last such talk she’d had, but clearly, not by much. “Keep the change,” she told him. A moment of thought before she decided -- why not? He wasn’t going to get any angrier with her, anyway. Reaching under her sweater’s collar, she withdrew a small, velvet pouch on a thin, braided cord. It was warm to the touch -- warmer still when the red stone contained therein rolled into her palm. She held it out to him, knowing he wouldn’t be able to help but note the similarities. “If you would ever like to talk about it...” she offered. He stared at the stone in her hand, a fiery red version of the one hanging from his neck. The realization dawned on him. If there had been other beasts attacking the city, then maybe they also were sealed within others. His fingers went up to brush against his pendant, a deep brown, and he asked in a hushed whisper, “You too?” Well, at least he seemed willing to listen now. “That’s why I said we needed to talk,” she said with a small shrug. “I wasn’t sure if you had the… information you needed.” No one, as far as she was concerned, should live in fear of his or her own sanity, though she had a notion that that might not be René’s exact issue. “It looked rather like an accident, when it happened.” “It--” René wasn't sure what it had looked like. He couldn't remember anything from the battle, only everyone's concerned faces hovering over him when he finally regained consciousness, but the bitemark on his hand had been telling enough. Ari had told him that Titan had saved them, but she wasn't there to witness what happened years ago. “Do you know how to get rid of it?” he asked, sounding desperate and hopeful. She gave him a curious look. “Well, everything I’ve read indicates throwing the stone away will do. Personally, when I leave mine somewhere, the headache I get is not worth the trouble; I’ve found living with it to be the better option, in the end. It does prove rather convenient at times.” She opened the box of macarons and selected one, taking a bite. This could very well take awhile, and though dessert had been a pretense for coming in here, she preferred not to let it go to waste. “I don’t think they like letting go of the people who impress them. I suppose it doesn’t happen very often.” "Oh." His shoulders sagged in disappointment. He should've known. He'd already tried destroying and getting rid of the stone, but nothing had worked. "Then there's nothing I can do." He looked so sad. Ari didn’t think -- having finished her macaron, she simply reached out to take his hand again. “You know,” she said, her tone gentler than previously, “it’s not all bad.” They stood like that for a while. René let himself be comforted; it was easier to dwell on the feeling of her hand on his rather than the implications of her words. Every turn of the conversation only reminded him of why the pendant hung around his neck like a noose ready to tighten, of his weaknesses, of his failures. There was no getting rid of this. He deserved his fate. “No,” he finally replied, managing a defeated smile, “I guess not.” She watched him struggling with it, then squeezed his hand before withdrawing hers and once again taking up her box. “If you decide you have more to say about it, you know how to find me,” she told him. “Drake probably knows what happened, too -- more or less -- so if you feel more comfortable with him…” She gave him a little smile and said, “Well, anyway. If you want some… reading materials, let me know. There are a few things at the Mages’ Guild library and a few more at the University. Otherwise,” she held up the box, let her smile widen, “keep making the best macarons in Emillion, and try to stay out from under falling buildings, all right?” René nodded absentmindedly as she spoke, lifting his hand in a feeble wave. “Alright,” he replied, gathering his best smile for her, which, at the moment, almost looked like a grimace. “You too, Ari.” When the door shut with another jingle, he dropped his face in his hands and sighed. |