Peony Min (blackmagicks) wrote in emillion, @ 2013-10-20 15:17:00 |
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It was not Peony’s place to raise her brothers, and certainly not to discipline them -- while she knew her father and stepmother were not particularly happy about Pyr and Sky’s refusal to attend mass, she did not intend to force them. Faram was not meant to be an obligation to be suffered but rather something to be celebrated; she thought her father realized this too, for he had issued no edicts forcing the boys to darken the doorway of the cathedral. They would come to a real, adult faith in time, the better for having chosen it for themselves. And so she prayed for their safety and wellness daily, believing that the lessons they had been taught in childhood would weather the storms of adolescence and bring them back to the fold. But though she said little, she thought much, and could not deny that she had experienced a particular joy when they had, at last, inquired whether they might join her this Sunday. She had arranged to meet them at the Tower, which was centrally located and not far from the cathedral, and had made her way downstairs a full ten minutes early in anticipation. It was a chilly day, by her standards, and her dress was topped with a wool shawl and a cloak, as well as a scarf wound thrice about her throat. She carried a bag with freshly baked apple and pear turnovers -- it was the season for them -- still warm. She thought the boys might appreciate a snack before having to sit still for an hour. With a soft, content smile on her face, she waited for them to arrive. They reached the Tower together, two identical figures walking side by side; only the color of the scarves around their necks differentiated Pyr from Sky. Whether the break from training would be worth sitting through the monotony of the priest’s sermon was still up for debate, but this was a tactic he’d never adopted before, and at least Sky had agreed to tag along and keep Pyr company. Without his brother, Pyr would not have come, but with him perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad. “Hi.” Pyr greeted his sister with a smile, plunging through the sudden awkwardness he felt remembering their last meeting. He’d plunged up his courage and held her hand then, and she hadn’t seemed to mind, but… would she expect him to do it again? Or would it be weird? If he held her hand, wouldn’t he be making Sky look bad if he didn’t do the same? He suppressed a sigh—he was never this awkward around anyone else, so why did it happen with Peony?—and his eyes traveled to the bag she carried then. All his previous worries flew straight out of his mind. “Did you bring breakfast?” Sky sniffed the air near the bag and grinned. “Sure smells like it! Smells like some kind of pastry! Did you make it yourself?” His agreement to go to Church was in part solidarity with Pyr, and another part a surefire way to stay away and hidden from Audrey. He was already spending his time off from working with Arwel in Storm’s room, with or without the squire, and while he didn’t fancy spending more time in the cathedral, it seemed the safest place to be. Even if Audrey found him there, she wouldn’t actually kill him if he was in there. That was a bad thing, and Faram would definitely smite her or something, right? And at the very least, if she saw him here and now, she wouldn’t kill him. First, even if Sky and Pyr wore different scarves, she wouldn’t know, and besides, Peony was here! She was a big deal with the Mages Guild. Though Sky noted Pyr’s discomfort, he couldn’t help but to relax himself; for a few long, agonizing hours, he would be safe. “Good morning.” She thought, for a brief moment, of the small, awkward overture Pyr had made the last time they had met. He kept his distance and she kept hers, falling into the slightly distant role which was most comfortable for her. It was fortunate, Peony thought, that she could cook and bake. How much more difficult would this be if she could not precede each new interaction with food? It was a screen of sorts, she supposed, but she did not feel ready to set it aside. Besides, growing boys needed to eat, didn’t they? With that in mind, they were each given a large turnover and with a “Shall we?” the three of them began to walk. There were people in the streets, and even at this early hour and away from the festivities in the Commoners’ District, several of those they passed seemed, to put it mildly, not to be in command of their faculties. “An exciting day in the city, today,” Peony said as they walked by another such individual. Light conversation seemed best, and she did not wish to call attention in any way to the fact that the boys had volunteered their company to her for mass for the first time. “May I counsel caution, as the afternoon wears on? Kerwonian beer is a matter of grave importance for many, it seems.” Bierfest. Pyr wondered if he was really avoiding training by going to church—had he stayed at Lindwyrm, would there have been anyone sober enough to teach? It seemed that today, everyone had other things to think about than training squires. He suppressed a sigh, realising the futility of his plan. “We’ll be okay.” At least Sky was with him. He took a big bite from the turnover—delicious, just like everything else that came out of Peony’s kitchen—and shrugged as a group of inebriated men ambled by. “They’re too busy figuring out how to put one foot in front of the other.” Yet though he dismissed the festivities that easily, he couldn’t help being a little bit curious; he’d never tried beer before, and wasn’t this his chance to see what it’d taste like? He looked at Sky with a small smile; perhaps after church, they could stage an experiment. Sky munched on his turnover, thankful that the pastry was enough to keep him from blurting out his thoughts from I want to go to the Bierfest to I guess I’ll be good. He did want to go, and the fact that he was underage didn’t deter him from the desire; once Mass was over, surely enough people would be too drunk to notice him filching a cup or bottle or two. What did deter him, however, as his train of thought led him toward, was Audrey’s rage, the gun pointed at his head and at Pyr’s, and Ari’s words from the first time they met: don’t steal from Guild. And really, how was Sky to know who was Guild and who wasn’t anymore? Was tattoo guy Guild? Ugh, in the end, it probably just wasn’t worth it. He swallowed his bite and instead agreed with Pyr. “Yep, we’ll be fine. We know more about what’s going on than they do, it looks like!” “I would be unsurprised to learn this was, in fact, the case,” Peony said with some amusement. She had no doubt that a sober fifteen-year-old boy -- even one with poor judgment -- had a better idea of what to do with himself and how to behave than the drunken revelers already out in the streets at this early hour. “If you will take care all the same, I will be grateful.” Most people took to drink with a cheerful abandon, and while she had never chosen to join them, she hardly faulted them for it as long as they hurt no one; but drinking to excess brought out violence in some otherwise peaceful citizens, and though the likelihood of the boys running afoul of one such was perhaps not high, she thought it would be wrong not to warn them at all. Even if, as she suspected, they intended not to listen. Adolescence was all about making poor choices for most children she had met. “Is your training progressing well?” she asked of Pyr -- he looked less tired now than he had recently, so she had to assume that at the very least he had grown more accustomed to the new load. “And your apprenticeship?” this to Sky. “It’s okay. I’m getting used to the abu-- workload.” Pyr cleared his throat. “On top of Councilor Cassul’s regime, I train with Felicity pretty often, since she’s my mentor now. Sometimes she treats me to dinner after. The training’s really interesting, too.” He had made good progress on his turnover, and now he popped the last bit into his mouth. “I still hate early mornings, though,” he muttered. She was unsurprised when Pyr took the lead in answering -- in her experience with the boys thus far, he often did. “I have heard as much from Felicity.” Did Pyr realize that they were friends? “She will teach you a great deal, I am certain. And you, Sky?” Sky cringed. It was better to talk about Arwel here, he knew; the other stuff would just open the door to questions that not only did he not want to answer, but he knew he shouldn’t be answering, at least truthfully, and it had to be some sort of bad karma to lie just before going to Mass, right? “It su--” No, that level of honesty with Peony wouldn’t be good, either. “It’s boring. Just a bunch of stupid paperwork and numbers I can do in my sleep. At least I’m getting paid.” “I see.” That was quite unfortunate. She thought of suggesting that he petition the Bards’ Guild to request another post -- or, in fact, that she do so for him, as a request from her was unlikely to be ignored -- but held back. This, too, was not her place, though she did hope the boy realized he had choices if he was malcontent. “I will hope that the situation improves for you, then.” They approached the cathedral then, in all of its intricate majesty. The autumn sun glinted off the stained glass windows, and Peony felt herself smiling. It always made her feel at peace, coming here, and today’s company was especially welcome. And because that was the case, she thought she might take the risk to say, quietly, “I am glad to have you with me today.” No judgment, no demands for continued attendance, simply her heartfelt gratitude to have them at her side this morning. “Shall we go?” Pyr turned to look at Peony when she spoke. He heard the smile in her voice, and saw it in her face, and couldn’t help smiling a little, too. Perhaps coming to church hadn’t been such a terrible idea. Of course, he still hated going to services, but Peony seemed happy. And perhaps that was enough. No visit to church was complete without a complaint, though, and so he rolled his eyes and groaned. “Let’s go, I guess.” He grinned at Sky behind Peony’s back and, after a moment’s hesitation, reached out to grasp Peony’s hand. Sky blinked twice, taken aback by Pyr grabbing their sister’s hand. For a brief moment, he considered following suit, but with a sigh and a shake of his head he instead stuffed his hands, now devoid of the devoured pastry, into his pockets as he followed his older siblings inside the church. “Yeah, let’s go,” he agreed, noting the cheerfulness of both Pyr and Peony and trying to feign some for himself. This was, somehow, better than the alternative. |