pyr min solemnly swears he is up to no good (twinclaws) wrote in emillion, @ 2014-04-28 23:04:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !log, juliette coulombe, pyr min |
Who: Pyr Min & Juliette Coulombe
What: Taking a break (kinda)
Where: Bahamut Hall
When: Today (4/28)
Rating: PG (mentions of the attack)
Status: Complete!
Not much of Juliette’s first few weeks as a full-fledged member of the Fighters’ Guild had gone as she had expected, to put it mildly. It did not occur to her to complain, of course, despite that -- she had willingly taken on what work was handed to her, trusting that her superiors required every pair of able hands in this chaos. This had made for an odd schedule indeed -- she spent mornings at the clinics and afternoons at various guild halls, as called. The basic hand-to-hand class for first year squires had been foisted upon her (just temporarily, they said, and you’ve aided instructors in the past; just make sure they don’t break anything and keep them out of the way) and although she felt hardly qualified to teach them much of anything, she could at least set them to running laps and doing kata, which fulfilled the requirement to keep them occupied. She was tired, though she thought it wrong to complain -- many others were doing far worse. She still had her health (if not, after a few hours with squires, all of her sanity) and at least she felt she was earning her salary and then some. Still, she moved slowly as she left the showers at Bahamut Hall that afternoon, one hand with the telltale green glow of Cure pressed to her temple. She appeared as though summoned by his thoughts, but for a moment he almost didn't recognise her. He had never seen her this tired, as though willpower was the only thing keeping her on her feet. It was the first time he had seen since before the attack, since she had made class. He walked up to her after a moment's hesitation--she was probably busy, with the situation in the guildhalls being such a mess, but he could not leave her be when she looked that way. "Hey," he greeted, his usual cheer replaced by badly-concealed concern. "Long time no see. Are you okay?" “Hmm?” she said, too distracted with the headache to think that she might be perceived as dismissive, realizing an instant later who was addressing her. A smile was summoned up then, mostly genuine if a bit tired around the edges. “Apologies, my mind was elsewhere.” On rambunctious twelve-year-olds, mostly (Faram, she hoped she hadn’t been that bad at the same age). She hadn’t seen him since before the battle, she realized, looking him over quickly, content to see that he seemed to be standing and walking normally. Good; too many were injured. “It has been some time. Are you and your… siblings well?” She had heard whispers about the mages since everything had happened, but in her house (or rather, in the Coutness’ breakfast room) the proclamation had been final: responsibility belongs with the individual in power. Juliette didn’t know enough about what had happened to say one way or the other, so she had to trust that the countess knew best. Still, she could not imagine that Pyr’s sister was having an easy time of it right now. Pyr’s first instinct was to tell her not to apologize. She apologized too much, and he never saw any fault in most of the things she apologized for; but this time, he let it go. “We’re fine. Sky got hurt but his injuries aren’t so bad.” Not when compared to what other guild members were sporting. “My sister is… I don’t know. We haven’t really talked since the fight.” He had spent half of the fighting holed up inside Lindwyrm, but he knew enough of what had happened to know Peony could not be all right. Even in the guildhalls, there were the occasional angry mutterings about the mages, quelled only when somebody―Pyr, if nobody else got to it before he did―spoke up in the other guild’s defense. “Oh,” she said, feeling suddenly self-conscious, as though, perhaps, she oughtn’t have asked, even if he’d offered the situation. “Perhaps she is busy,” she offered at last. Then, a sort of peace offering: “My sister is… busy, too.” She had not been speaking to Juliette much, aside from daily, superficial things. It worried her, but she knew Alys had important things to do. “Are you here to train, or work?” she asked. At this point, she thought even the squires were doing both. “My mentor gave me the week off training.” He shrugged. “I’ve been trying to help out wherever I can, but aside from chores around the guildhall there isn’t much I can do.” He was about to ask Juliette about Audrey, but thought better of it. Talking about Audrey would lead to talking about the wedding, and talking about the wedding may well lead to another argument he didn’t want, that neither of them needed. So instead, he said, “I could help you with your tasks, if you want to rest a little?” She thought to ask if he had been called to help in and around the Tower, but dismissed the question as too personal. As often seemed the case, family appeared to be better left off the table. So instead, she said, “I am free for a little while, actually.” Those who had set her schedule clearly realized that after two hours with squires, her usefulness would diminish greatly. “But if you like,” she suggested, “you can come with me to the kitchen. I would like” or rather, desperately need “a cup of tea.” Given a clear goal, it was easier to relax, to fight off the fluctuating anxiety at seeing other guildmembers running up and down hallways, always another task to be completed. "Then off to the kitchen we go," he said, shooting her a grin. "You can sit down and rest and I'll make you tea. I've become pretty good at not letting the leaves oversteep!" It was not a long walk to the kitchen, a good thing considering how tired Juliette seemed, but still Pyr tried not to look too concerned as they made their way down the hallway. Once they had arrived, Juliette decided, after only a moment of consideration, to take him at his word. Choosing a chair, she settled into it, leaning against the back. As he went hunting for tea leaves -- she bit her tongue before she could start directing him while he was trying to do her a favor -- she asked, “I suppose your mentor is busy right now? Crime always seems to follow such happenings… and the Knights of the Peace are likely understaffed, as well.” Her own former mentor, after all, was only now recovering from what she suspected had been a near-death experience, even if no one had told her exactly as much. “Or… has he given you the time off because he, too, is convalescing?” Extracting a canister of tea (which had been buried behind a wall of coffee packages) and two mismatching cups, Pyr said, "Well, I think Jareth's fine. He wasn't hurt bad, but there's a lot of work." He set everything on the counter and went about filling the kettle and setting it on the stove, careful to get everything right. "I've been helping with paperwork in the morning, and the offices seemed really busy." It was only once he was rummaging through the cupboard for a cup that would match either of the ones he'd already taken that Juliette's words sunk in. "You just said injured, too." Cress' laughing face came to mind, and he swallowed. "Who else is hurt?" She looked down at her folded hands on the table, saying, “Lord Finch was quite badly hurt, although he is improving. Lord Vaux, also -- I am uncertain if you know him. He aided me on the second day of the battle and was hospitalized after. There were,” she said softly, “so many people hurt in the place I spent the night. There were not enough healers, so I assisted as best I could, but in the end, there is not much that I can do. The countess is well, however, and Alys, so I am lucky.” Another pause before she added, “Lord Norwood was injured, also, though he seems well now.” Forgetting about the kettle on the stove for a moment, Pyr leaned against the counter and watched Juliette's expression. "Is that why they cancelled the wedding?" he asked. Juliette considered a moment before answering. “No, I believe he would have been well enough but… Alys preferred that the money she might have spent on the reception go somewhere more urgently needed.” It had seemed wrong, her sister had explained, to celebrate and feast when so many were struggling or homeless. The Countess had seemed in accord, also. Strange nobles, both of them -- but Juliette could not help thinking she liked them better than the sort she had known as a child. “It is as Father Luscini preaches at mass, I think,” she said at last. “It falls to the fortunate to help those who are not.” What Lord Norwood had thought of it was a mystery but Juliette thought well of him for agreeing. “They visited the courthouse, a judge officiated, and we dined at the countess’ home after -- that was all.” She hoped Alys would not regret it, though Juliette personally thought skipping the pomp had to be something of a relief. Then again, she was atypical among young women this way. Pyr stared, going over the story in his head. "Wait, wait," he said, "so she already got married?" “On Saturday, as intended,” Juliette said with a nod. “You seem surprised.” He blinked at her, then as he was about to speak the kettle demanded his attention. He turned to take it off the stove and said, “Well, I don’t know, nobility has this image of always being over the top.” He went about the motions of preparing their tea, taking such good care not to mess up he slipped up with his words. “But I guess your sister’s not exactly a typical noble.” “I… we aren’t…” It wasn’t wrong, exactly, which made it somehow worse. Was that what he thought of her? “I suppose she isn’t,” Juliette said at last. “Well, in any case, it is done now.” At the tone of her voice he turned, unsure of what he had done wrong but certain that it must have been something. He took both teacups and carried them to the table, placing one in front of Juliette, giving himself time to figure out what he had done wrong, to no avail. Giving it up as a bad job, he said, "It was a compliment. I think you and your sister are awesome." Even if she can be scary sometimes, he didn't say. "I'm sorry if I said something wrong, Juli." “You didn’t say anything wrong,” Juliette said. She wrapped her hands around the cup, enjoying the warmth. “Never mind,” she said after a moment, taking her first sip. “This is good,” she said. “Thank you.” The subject of Alys was quite clearly closed. “Is Lindwyrm Hall all right?” she asked after a moment. “I haven’t been down to the Docks in weeks.” Pyr let the subject drop, tucked it away for later consideration of his misstep (he had sure he had made one, even if she denied it), and nodded. "Yeah, Lindwyrm Hall was mostly undamaged. There's lots of refugees there now. Sky was there for a while too." He frowned and took a sip of his tea--it was pretty good, he realised. "The docks took a big hit. The shop where Sky used to work is rubble now, he said." “That’s too bad,” she said, brow furrowing in concern. “There has been so much damage.” And so many losses. She heard new names all the time. “I… suppose they will rebuild again?” she said. “As they always do.” Even if things seemed much worse this last year than it had been in her childhood recollections. "I'm not sure," Pyr said. "He hasn't heard from his boss at all. And the whole area was destroyed." That was enough to draw a conclusion. Then: “I… don’t suppose your parents will try to take you back to Ordalia again? Or…” she trailed off, realization coming only then, “would you rather go?” At once, he said: "No. I'm not going back. And Sky will find another job." He looked as though he might speak again, but instead he let out a frustrated sigh and rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish. "I mean, I don't want to go. I don't think our parents have heard yet, it takes a while to get messages there." Mist, she thought. So many places were remote that way, though she had never been to any -- but always the diligent student, she had read about them. She had to wonder, though, what it was like. Safer than here? Quieter? “I am certain he will. Many business owners are surely looking for additional aid.” A bit sadly, she added, “Perhaps because others are leaving.” Her favorite greengrocer had packed his bags and gone home to Northern Valendia, she had been told. She had seen as many closed storefronts as ‘help wanted’ signs. Some things, she still felt too young to fully understand or discuss. And somehow, without realizing it, her cup was already empty. “Thank you,” she said, “for the tea. I should go.” She held back a sigh. “I should spend some time at the clinic before dinner.” She stood, taking the cup to the sink to be quickly washed and rinsed. Her headache was better now, entirely manageable. She could get in an hour of volunteering and a visit with the injured before she was due back at the estate. He stared at her, shocked by the suddenness of her statement, already halfway out the door by the time he realised she wasn't just getting up to rinse her cup. "Wait, you're going already?" he called after her. "Shouldn't you rest a little?" But she was already gone. "Fine. Whatever." Pyr scowled and rested his chin on his fist, glared at his teacup as though it had committed unspeakable offense against him, as though he could hold it accountable for his ruined mood and every tragedy that had befallen the city. It was a long time before he moved again. |