Juliette Coulombe (clearyourmind) wrote in emillion, @ 2013-11-11 17:04:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !log, divina marcos, juliette coulombe |
Who: Divina & Juliette
What: Teatime and honesty
Where: Vivi’s guesthouse
When: Late Monday afternoon
Rating: G?
Status: Complete!
The cold weather had left Divina’s cheeks pink by the time she arrived at the doorstep. One gloved hand set to unlacing her fur-trimmed coat; the other rose to ring the bell. She listened as the chimes lilted throughout the house. A quaint noise, she thought, befitting the building itself. Looking up, the woman let her eyes trail over the brick facade and latticed windows. The guesthouse was small, perhaps, but a tasteful extension of the Albrecht estate. Her architectural musings were cut short by the opening of the door. Divina lowered her gaze. “Good afternoon, Lady Marcos.” If she had once found answering the door odd, Juliette was well accustomed to it now. Their housekeeper was all the staff a house this small needed, but she had absented herself with the laundry a quarter hour ago, and in any case, she was not a proper butler. “Please do come in. I believe Alys should be home any minute.” In truth, she had known of Lady Marcos’ visit but had not expected her for another half hour, by which time her sister was bound to be home. Had they miscommunicated somewhere? It was a worry she suppressed; at least someone was here to open the door, even if she felt ill-at-ease playing hostess to someone like Divina Marcos all alone. That it had been Juliette to answer the door earned a moment of furrowed-brow regard, but Divina otherwise made no comment. “Juliette,” she returned. While the transition from ‘Coulombe’ to ‘Juliette’ was slow in the coming, the knight hoped the effort would please Alys, among others, nonetheless. Stepping in as the girl bade, Divina shrugged off her coat. Unsure of how to proceed—and certainly the idea of having the squire wait upon her in such a manner was unpalatable—she left the garment folded over her arm. “My prior appointment ended earlier than intended,” the knight continued by way of explanation, following Juliette down the unfamiliar halls. A beat. “You are not home alone, are you?” It was a few moments too late to offer to take the coat; Alys would have done it without thought, but Juliette had not yet grown accustomed to all aspects of this strange limbo in which they were living. So she led the way down the hall into the sitting room, hoping the coat would find its way over the back of a chair, and that would be that. “The housekeeper stepped out,” she said, by way of explanation. “Please… take a seat.” She gestured at the prettily appointed sitting room, then after a moment of awkward silence -- nothing new; her silences were always awkward -- she offered, “Would you like some tea… perhaps?” Fortunately, Ms. Han had assembled a tray for her prior to her departure, and getting a second cup would be no trouble. “I would,” Divina said. As Juliette had hoped, the coat went over a chair with no fanfare. Its owner, however, did not immediately sit. Posed with the confidence of a woman well-accustomed to such preparations: “Do you require assistance?” “Oh,” Juliette said, “no, everything is ready. I will return shortly.” She scurried away to the kitchen without another word, returning minutes later with a tray laden with teapot, cups, honey, and a plate of prettily arranged cookies. She set it down on the coffee table before perching on the edge of a chair, tension evident in her posture. Boris was snoring by the fire in the corner; she wished she could be so comfortable. Still, she would do her best; she poured the tea into the delicate china cups, gilded around the rims, painted with bunches of berries, and fine enough to be nearly translucent in the light. After a few moments of silence, she offered, hesitantly, “It is good to see you.” And almost surreal to be greeting someone in her home with whom she had been forbidden to associate by her previous guardians. How strange life was. Divina responded with a low hum, tilting her head forward as if to say and you. By contrast, the knight was unguarded. Although her posture did not err from that expected of a noblewoman, there was a notably relaxed air to her, like a tiger that had sheathed its claws (or, perhaps, something not dissimilar to the hound resting by the fireplace). She was not the woman, however, to offer a broad smile and saccharine gestures, and a small part of her ventured to guess that the squire might have been even more unsettled by the artifices so common to their class. So after a sip of tea was asked with genuine interest, “Your training proceeds well?” Juliette helped herself to a cookie for something to do with her hands -- she had become quite good at eating a single cookie for half an hour at a time -- before she responded. “I feel as though I am improving. My mentor has been quite adept at... assisting to shore up my weaknesses. And of course, the other sessions I attend have been invaluable.” The woman sitting across from her now was one of her many teachers; those sessions, she found particularly valuable, though she did not know of a way to say so without stumbling over her words. “It has also helped tremendously,” she said after a pause, “that my social obligations are… less.” Her suitors had almost entirely vanished with the return of Alys, and in general she was not being dragged along to nearly as many tedious teas and endless balls. “Less Weybridges, you mean.” The woman’s tone made obvious her approval. While the new situation did mean that the untoward advances would be shifted onto Alys, a twenty five year old woman was far better equipped to handle such things than a young girl. “You and Finch are well-suited,” she then concurred, taking a cookie for herself. “You aspire to be a monk, correct? Alys was the same.” Divina as well, at that age. How mutable even the most significant things could be. “Your reasons?” she prompted. “Yes, far fewer.” She looked down into her cup as she admitted, “I do not miss their attentions.” She, too, felt rather bad for Alys -- and guilty, at times, when she allowed herself to think of it -- but it could not be helped. Her sister seemed to have few problems speaking her mind to her would-be suitors, and there was that white mage, besides, even if Juliette was uncertain exactly what their relationship might be… “I did not know that,” she said quietly. Sometimes she thought the list of things she did not know about Alys would take the rest of her life to learn. And her own answer was one she was not entirely willing to give; I was sent to the guild with behavioral problems was not an admission for a young lady to make, surely, even a young lady in her unique situation. So instead, she said, “There was a monk who trained me when I was only starting as a squire. He taught me much of value, and I thought his philosophy... applicable. I have been set in my course since.” “Philosophy?” “Mastery of one’s mind and clarity of thought.” Divina nodded. Her father had attempted to teach her such things in preparation for monkhood, before she had promptly forsaken them in her last year of squirehood. As a berserker, she did not think she would have reason to revisit those tenets. It turned out, however, that her training in the Dark would cause her to come full circle. But that was neither here nor there. “Not long now, then.” Considering the squire for a frank moment, she added, “Well on your way.” “No, not very long,” she agreed. “I will test in mid-Aries, after my birthday, provided my mentor and teachers deem me ready.” She could hardly fathom it was a scant five months away now. Where before the thought had filled her with some dread -- it had been hinted that she had only until she made class to make her peace with marriage -- now that the dread had lifted, she could be hesitantly excited, even if she was uncertain exactly how she would progress from there… Somehow, the cookie had already disappeared. She considered only a moment before taking another. It did not seem like much, perhaps, but a few months ago, she never would have done it. She was changing in more ways than one, allowing herself small departures from what she had always been taught should be done and said. And with that in mind, she admitted: “I am grateful to you.” The words had been on the tip of her tongue for months, and if she did not say them now, she did not think she ever would. “You have been of great assistance to me.” And not only with claws, she did not add; even this bit of bravery only went so far. A comment about their shared birth month died on Divina’s lips. Her hand, also extended to partake of another cookie, stilled. Knight regarded squire quietly. Unbidden, the woman’s features softened into an expression that was almost gentle (or vulnerable). It took some time before, dark eyes not leaving Juliette’s, Divina offered the words she had once wished to hear herself. “You are worth it.” Perhaps it was fortunate that the housekeeper swung the door open in the ensuing silence, for Divina’s voice had been thick with equal parts honesty and discomfort (to bare her feelings in such a way was no easy task). Unwittingly defusing the moment, the woman from Sako Island said her apologies, but did not delay in informing the pair of Alys’s return. As Ms. Han finished, Divina turned to the squire with something of a half-smile on her lips. “Perhaps your sister would like to join us?” Juliette had been trying to formulate something -- anything -- to say. Another thank you seemed so paltry in response to words she had spent all of her life longing to hear. Even worse would be the demure and proper, you are too kind, a dismissal of the sentiment. What could possibly be said to those words, especially coming from this woman? She struggled still to reconcile Lady Divina Marcos, who had always been so good to her, with her class, which was meant to be anathema to all that was good and right. She wondered sometimes if she ought not like her, or what it said about her that she felt most understood by someone upon whom society cast nothing but scorn. Her gaze dipped down once more as though the golden liquid in her cup was the most fascinating thing in the world. The advent of the housekeeper was almost a relief, considering all; she looked up and nodded, attempting to return her guest’s smile. “I am certain she would.” She stood, thinking to fetch Alys and bring her here, but stopped at the doorway and said softly, “I will… attempt never to disappoint your expectations, then.” Before she could say something foolish (or perhaps, she thought, something else foolish), she slipped out of the room. |