Juliette Coulombe (clearyourmind) wrote in emillion, @ 2014-07-24 09:10:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !log, juliette coulombe, pyr min |
Who: Juliette & Pyr
What: Ice cream and awkward
Where: Commoners’ District
When: Backdated: June 29th, right after this.
Rating: Tame
Status: Complete
In retrospect, she should have let sleeping ghosts lie, but no, of course once she’d been alone the day after her return, curiosity had won the battle and she’d visited the empty hall, with its pristine paneling and floors and windows open to the garden but not exposed to the glaring afternoon sun. She’d wandered in and out of the rooms on tiptoe, as though any sound might wake the memories dormant in the walls. (Did she wish to wake them? Did she want to know? She couldn’t say, so she tread softly.) She remembered nothing, but she’d found herself eventually sitting on the floor of what had been her parents spacious closet, knees pulled up to her chest and back against the wall, thinking, was it here? She had thought so hard that she had almost imagined she could smell the creep of smoke under the door. No, no, of course she didn’t remember — she had been too young to remember — it was a blessing from Faram that she was spared remembering that night — She’d left the room the way she’d come, heartbeat drumming rapid in her ears and disquiet in her mind. Alys was almost too cheerful and Lord Norwood was his usual distant self and the dogs ran around the unfinished grounds with joyful abandon, but where she had felt a stranger in the Countess’ home, Juliette felt even more out of place here, in this house she didn’t remember (though Alys wanted her to, it was clear — her love for every cornice and bit of molding was so obvious that it made Juliette wish she could remember just to please her). Sunday after mass she had returned to her sunny room and realized that anything — anywhere — would be better than here. Fortunately, Pyr had taken up her abrupt invitation, and despite the scorching sun (the ‘pleasant weather’ she had referenced was in fact a broil so hot that one could likely fry eggs on the cobblestones), she was breathing easier by the time she got to the agreed-upon meeting place. Seeing her friend there, looking for the moment like he might endeavor to behave normally today, had her relaxing enough to smile as she lifted her hand in a wave. Pyr waved back, grinning. He had been telling himself, on the way to the waystone, that he would not be awkward this time, but now he felt he need not have worried so much. He was too happy Juliette was back from her trip (and that she had invited him to hang out) to devote any energy to awkwardness. "Hi, Juli," he greeted when she drew level with him. "Wanna go? It's not far from here." More importantly, they were likely to be unencumbered by crowds; they were among the few who had dared venture outside in the heat. As if on cue, she withdrew her handkerchief to dab at her forehead. Breathing easier or not, she was not immune to the heat, either. “That sounds pleasant,” she agreed readily. “It is perhaps… a bit warm.” An understatement, clearly, for as they ventured in the direction Pyr chose, the streets were all but deserted. Pyr smiled, but did not comment on her wording. "How was your trip?" he asked, unable to rein in his curiosity. “Productive,” she answered immediately. Then, “Tiring. I learned a great deal, however. I would not mind going back sometime, perhaps.” Though the hours had been quite long and the work had been very hard and the altitude had stolen her breath and challenged her stamina, she had to admit that as a crash course in chi manipulation, it had been ideal. Councilor Liu had not steered her wrong. “I think you might have found it… an interesting experience,” she said after a moment of thought; these days, she was no longer certain of his inherent laziness. In his own way, he seemed to have become very dedicated, too. “I have developed a new appreciation for the work of the Rangers, as well, though I do not think I will ever join them.” Camping was not her preferred means of sleeping, unsurprising for someone whose life had been lived in relative luxury thus far. No such preference existed for Pyr. He had never been much bothered by the thought of sleeping outdoors, and the few times he had been camping, back in Ordalia, it had been in areas safer than the Outlands, and the idea of having to fend off monsters every once in a while appeared, if anything, an entertaining prospect. "I bet you had tons of fun," he said wistfully. "Did Chuckles behave?" She wouldn't have called it fun, necessarily, but she supposed they approached these things from different angles. It had been rewarding, and she was glad she had gone; to him, perhaps that was what ‘fun’ was about. She thus let the statement go, saying instead, “Aside from attempting to eat everything in sight, she was perfectly well-behaved.” She smiled faintly as she added, “The squires at the stables there nicknamed her Lady Tubbington, which may have been a bit unfair, but was certainly amusing nonetheless. One of them was quite sore as his favorite hat suffered at her mercy.” Pyr started laughing. "That's what they get for the weird nicknames. She totally understands hume language, you know, even more if someone's being mean to her." This was a completely unproven, yet unshakeable truth in Pyr's mind; he spoke it with conviction and was afterward promptly distracted by the sight of the ice cream parlor. He led the way with a grin and a wave, already composing the perfect ice cream creation inside his head. “I believe the hat incident preceded the nickname,” Juliette pointed out. “Be that as it may,” she added as they approached the ice cream parlor (he jogged around her at the last moment to hold open the door, and while she was accustomed to such small niceties, she didn’t recall him doing it in the past), “the chocobo rides were the least eventful portions of the trip.” Indoors, it was slightly cooler — magic or machinery, it didn’t particularly matter — and she dabbed at her face with her handkerchief once again. She considered, for a moment, thanking him when it was fairly clear that this outing was not necessarily convenient, but he’d jumped at the opportunity (so it seemed to her) and… she did feel better. Distracted, anyway. It was difficult to think of heavy topics when faced with a plethora of ice cream flavor choices. Selecting a raspberry sherbert, she waited for him to make his order, which he did at once — a large helping of cookies and cream ice cream. “A table inside, perhaps?” The ones outside were all deserted, naturally, and though the interior of the ice cream parlor boasted more humes than they had seen on their entire walk over, there were a few small tables left. At once, Pyr moved to take one of those tables. Had she requested a table out in the sweltering heat, he would have gone along with it, but he was certainly glad for her choice. He hovered awkwardly beside a chair for a moment, torn between pulling it out for her and the knowledge of how strange that might seem, when he could not recall ever having done it before. In the time it took him to decide, his choice was rendered pointless as Juliette slid into the chair opposite. Trying not to feel unreasonably disappointed, he too sat down. "It was kind of boring around here," he said after a moment. "You didn't miss much. I mean, maybe you would have had interesting stuff to do since you're class." It sounded like complaining to his own ears, which was not how he meant it — but what he meant he did not dare say straight out. He tried again. "I was mostly bored and waiting to hear all about your training in the mountains. It just sounded so cool." That was still not it—but at the moment, he found his courage was not with him. I missed you was too hard to say. “It was not something out of an adventure tale; I meditated and sparred quite a lot,” she said, sensing that he likely had questions, though she didn’t really think her own training was so very different from his at its core. Becoming a monk had not completely changed her life as he seemed to think, but… “I do have one story that you may find amusing.” She had found it infuriating at the time, though she had to admit it had proven effective. “In one particular spar, I fought with my hands tied together in front of me.” It had proven a very painful lesson, though she had eventually begun compensating with chi blasts to keep her opponent at a distance, which had certainly been the intention of the somewhat unorthodox instructor. “Otherwise, there was little of note.” Another pause before she admitted thoughtfully, “The local mead was very good. I say this as a person not particularly fond of drink.” She took a spoonful of ice cream before venturing, “Bored or not, you seem to be doing… well.” Better. Less distracted, anyway. At least today he was acting almost normal. "I'm okay. I'm having fun." It was true — while the past weeks had been full of training that got more and more challenging, he was finding he enjoyed the feeling of knowing he had done his best, and that his best was better every day. (Perhaps that was a new perspective brought on by the upswing in his mood, now that Juliette was back.) The icecream he'd ordered was just as good as he had hoped, but he listened to the voice in his head (the remnant of a lifetime of shoveling icecream down his gullet in front of his mother) and ate as he had always been told a nice young man should, scooping out smaller-than-usual spoonfuls and never speaking with his mouth full. He was about to ask Juliette for further details about the spar when he heard the door of the parlor swing open and a familiar voice shout his name. Pyr turned to see Rolan, a fellow squire, wave and make his way over. A few feet from Pyr and Juliette's table, however, he stopped in his tracks; then, breaking out into a grin, he walked over to Pyr and ruffled his hair (a habit Pyr had never particularly minded, but one he suddenly found embarrassing). "Way to go, Pyr," Rolan said, grinning down at his two fellow squires like an artist contemplating a masterpiece. "Nice spot for a date." Had Pyr's mouth been full, he would have choked. He wished, right then, that his mouth had been full, so that he could have choked and escaped the situation through a swift and somewhat dignified death by icecream. Juliette did choke; when she had finished coughing, she gave Rolan an incredulous look and said, “Do not be ridiculous, Rolan.” Honestly! Could two people not have ice cream and conversation and enjoy each other’s company without -- that nonsense? (That her cheeks were scarlet probably didn’t lend much weight to her words, however.) Rolan's smile widened. "That's a little harsh, don't you think?" (Privately, Pyr couldn't help but agree.) "Pyr here's not that bad. He's actually a pretty cool guy, you know." Cheeks burning, Pyr stared at the icecream bowl in front of him (easier than looking at the other squire or, heaven forbid, Juliette) and thought at it: Rolan, I have been a good friend to you. Why must you repay me this way? Out loud, he said, "Thanks. But if you thought we were on a date, why did you come over?" “I didn’t see Juli at first, and I wanted ice cream,” Rolan said with a good-natured shrug. “My name is Juliette,” Juliette replied primly. From Pyr, she would accept the shortening of her name. From Rolan, absolutely not. “And I never said anything negative about Pyr at all,” she went on to point out. “I think we are not discussing the same subject, Rolan — yet somehow, they accuse girls of thinking of nothing but nonsense,” she finished with a sigh. She might not have done it, had she not been flustered and irritated (and though she might have wanted to ignore it, she couldn’t help but realize that Pyr’s reaction to the situation had been unlike hers, and what did that mean, exactly? How and in what way did this look like a date, and did he think she had asked him to meet her for…. Faram). And there was Rolan, looking not chastised but amused. “If you want ice cream, perhaps you should get some,” she suggested, hoping he might go and order and leave them alone. "Yeah, you should go do that," Pyr agreed at once; then, feeling somewhat guilty, added, "I'll see you tomorrow at training." Far from looking offended by this abrupt dismissal, Rolan shrugged and gave a lackadaisical wave of his hand before heading toward the counter, smile still firmly in place. "Sorry about that," Pyr told Juliette once the other squire was gone. He still wanted nothing more than to melt into the furniture, but he had to at least make an effort to act like everything was normal and he had not been in any way affected by any (thoroughly rebutted) mentions of dating Juliette. "He can be a tease, but he doesn't mean anything by it. He's not trying to offend anyone." “He’s… silly, not offensive,” Juliette responded, looking down into her cup, still half full of ice cream. Faram, why was this so uncomfortable all of a sudden? She had gotten past her discomfort with Pyr in the last months, surely. “And why are you sorry? You haven’t done anything.” Indeed, Rolan would shoulder the full blame for suddenly ruining her appetite for her remaining ice cream. Pyr took a spoonful and shrugged. He had not, to date, encountered anything that could make ice cream uninviting to him, and eating gave him time to think. "Well, I probably should have told him it's not a date. I'll tell him later. That we're just friends." Hearing himself say it made it real. He knew, of course, that that was all there was to it. But putting it into words was like engraving it in stone, making it a solid fact that could never be changed. He looked down and ate another spoonful. Suddenly, he wasn't sure if he wanted to be there anymore. But he put on a smile and said, "You should eat. It'll melt." “I…” She considered saying, I already clarified the situation, but Pyr was looking strangely subdued and blank-faced, as though he was trying to school his expression, too, so what came out in the end was, “Never mind. It isn’t any of his business.” A departure for certain from her fears of what others thought of her, but it seemed the best thing to say in the situation somehow. She ate another spoonful of the ice cream she didn’t want anymore and tried to change the subject, though she suspected the attempt was futile: “What… were we discussing?” A crease appeared between Pyr's eyebrows as he tried to remember. "Your trip," he said finally. "You were going to tell me about that time you sparred with your hands tied. How did you do that?" “Ah,” she said, “yes.” Fortunately, talking about training was far easier than their previous discussion; as she began to explain the specifics of the spar, she pushed more worrisome thoughts away. They would certainly resurface later, but for now, it was far more comfortable to ignore them altogether. Judging by the eagerness with which Pyr took to the change of subject, she couldn’t help but think that he agreed. |