Violet Black (feldwebels) wrote in emillion, @ 2013-12-03 18:52:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !log, vera thornton, violet black |
Who: Vera Thornton and Violet Black
What: Catching up with tea
Where: Hellwyrm Hall
When: Backdated! To early Nov.
Rating: PG
Status: Complete!
On Sunday mornings, a hush fell over Hellwyrm Hall as the majority of its residents fled to the Cathedral for services. Violet didn’t care to spend her Sunday mornings in such a way. Often, she went to mass on Saturday evening for a quieter service that lacked the whining children and half-asleep priests. And so it was as good a time as any to meet up with Vera Thornton. Violet had asked Vera to find her in one of the cafeterias. She’d arrived early, as she was a light sleeper who tended to wake with the sun’s rise, poured herself a mug of herbal tea, and found a quiet corner for them to converse privately.
Violet didn’t often feel guilty, but she couldn’t help but feel a small bubble of the emotion after realizing that it’d been too long since the two had a real conversation. Since Vera’s return from her absence, Violet had been busy dealing with her charges and then the mess in the sewers had occurred. She made mental note to apologize for having put off their talk as she leaned back in her chair, crossed her legs, and sipped her tea.
Until recently, Vera, too, had often avoided Sunday morning services. Now, she found the whispering of fellow church-goers and the anonymity of the crowded pews almost comforting—far more comforting than the silence that dominated less popular sessions, leaving her alone with her thoughts as the priest’s sermon reverberated within her skull.
Of course, the fact that the things she’d once loved most about going to the Cathedral were now reversing with her usual annoyances was not something that had escaped Vera’s attention. In fact, the thought made her extremely uneasy, but she shrugged off the feeling as she walked to meet Violet in the cafeteria.
She needn't burden her friend with this issue, Vera was sure. She was determined it would resolve itself in due time, after all, and she never failed at something she put her mind to.
Walking in to find Violet already settled in a quiet corner, Vera gave her a soft smile before heading straight for the coffee pot. Usually, she preferred tea, but this morning she needed the boost. She’d slept poorly the night before.
Her mug of hot coffee in hand (no cream, two sugars), Vera made her way to the table Violet had chosen, settling down in a chair opposite her friend.
“It’s been far too long,” she said warmly.
It had been too long. In fact, the pair hadn’t really sat down together since before her son’s funeral. Too much had gone on. Between giving Vera space to mourn, the holidays, and the odd activities going on under the city, Violet hadn’t had much time to really sit and relax. This seemed to be new routine for her, constantly busy with brief periods to breathe. If it didn’t make her neglect her few friends, she might not have minded so much.
“My apologies,” Violet said sincerely, watching Vera take the seat across from her. “Since taking the position of Feldwebel, free time has been hard to come by. My personal life suffers for work.” She gave Vera a small smile. “You must catch me up on everything I have missed. The latest gossip. Any new developments in your life?”
Since the death of their son, Violet imagined that the Thorntons found themselves on the end of casual glances of pity and weak platitudes. When she’d lost her own daughter, it’d been similar; people had handed her gently, as though expecting her to break at any moment. If they didn’t say something bothersome, they’d just look at her with wide, sad eyes. It had been annoying on good days, infuriating on the bad. She didn’t want to do this to Vera and figured that the woman would speak in her own time or that the moment for something more serious would come up in later conversation.
“I feel I’m still catching up, in all honesty” Vera began, taking a sip of her coffee. The mug was hot as an ember, but she kept it clutched between her hands as she continued speaking. Its presence was a comfort, in an odd way—the heat and weight of it an anchor. “It was a relief to come back to my duties,” Vera admitted, “but I’ve...delayed, with some tasks.”
She sighed, then continued. “I’ve yet to resume training with my old pupils.”
“Would you rather not?” Violet’s cool blue eyes glanced over Vera momentarily before falling back to focus on her cup. She tried with difficulty to remember the days she’d gone back to work just after losing Blue, but it seemed, Violet quickly realized, silly to compare the two. Each loss was an entirely different beast. And each mourner suffered in their own way.
Silence descended over the two women.
Vera stared into the inky depths of her coffee cup, as if contemplating her answer. Though she’d thought over the situation endlessly in the past few weeks, the truth was difficult to speak.
With a sigh, she set down her mug, lacing her fingers together as her hands rested on the table. “It feels a disservice to his memory,” she said, eventually. “Although—I’m well aware there’s little sense to that argument.”
The silence, on Violet’s part at least, was far from uncomfortable. At the other woman’s response, Violet noted that Vera hadn’t really clarified what he feelings were on the subject. What she thought might disrespect her dead son said little of her personal preferences. “You can take a break and continue when you’ve had more time,” Violet said, ever logical. She wouldn’t dare tell Vera whether something she felt did or didn’t make sense, that seemed terribly rude. “Unless you’d rather jump right back into it.”
Oh, she was tempted to wait. But to Vera, that path seemed the coward’s way out. And she was not someone who defaulted to the easy route—of that, at least, she was still sure. Though Jonah’s death had cast a long shadow over her life, Vera still remembered her first priority: to do what was right by the guild. It would be easy to continue to let the weeks stretch on and on. To turn her return as a mentor and teacher from inevitable, to eventual, and finally—to unlikely. It would be easy. But she couldn’t.
“I think it would be simpler to jump right back in,” Vera said. “Just bite the bullet.”
“A fair course of action,” Violet said with a small nod. Not one she would have taken, but then Violet felt that Vera put her to shame when it came to commitment toward work. Both women were strong and certainly looked up to by peers, but Vera had a certain way about her. Violet was stubborn and liked to work whereas Vera treated her work as though it were an extension of herself. Perhaps keeping busy would be helpful.
“And how’s Bram?” Violet asked, changing the subject in an effort to ease the quiet tension that wove itself around their conversation.
Vera stared down at her (now empty) coffee cup.
“Bram is—” she realized, abruptly, that she didn’t quite know the answer herself. “—fine.” She cleared her throat. “Doing well. Or well enough.”
“As expected, I suppose.” Violet didn’t quite believe Vera, but didn’t really let it show. She managed to keep from casting a long, curious glance at the woman and instead turned her attention to the empty room in which they sat. There was a window in the distance, through which a leafless tree branch bobbed in a cold breeze.
“Vera…” Violet began with some hesitation, training her eyes on her friend’s face. “If there’s anything you need…” She stopped suddenly, feeling that the words were empty. Years ago, people had shared similar, well intentioned words with her and they had always fallen short. “Is there any way in which I might help you with your transition back?”
Vera smiled, the tilt of her lips small, but genuine. “You’ve done more than enough,” she said. “An ear to listen is all I require.” And indeed, though she she’d said little, Vera had found herself confessing far more to Violet than she had to others. Knowing that the other woman had experienced a loss so similar to her own was comforting, in a way. Violet knew. Violet understood (or at least, came the closest to understanding).
“If more is needed in time, all you’ve to do is ask.” It was a difficult thing to watch a friend go through something so difficult. Vera had things that Violet hadn’t to get through the roughest patch; she had work to distract her and a husband to carry her when at her lowest. Maybe that and supportive friends would be enough. Violet certainly hoped so.
Pushing the dregs of her tea aside, Violet brushed a hand through her hair. The tension seemed, somehow, to have melted slightly and for that she was appreciative. Brightening, Violet said, “I am glad to have you back. I must tell you of these charges of mine. My second in command quite loathes me…”