Peony Min (blackmagicks) wrote in emillion, @ 2013-12-24 09:27:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !log, !plot: faram's mass, lavitz fon amell, peony min |
Who: Peony and Lavitz
What: Unexpected commonalities
Where: The cathedral
When: Tonight, about half an hour before midnight mass
Rating: PG?
Status: Complete!
“I wonder if you could walk any slower,” his sister’s voice came from behind, icier than the cold air that bit through his scarf. Her voice was all tiredness, as if this was a game they’d played before: annoyed elder sister nagging at the younger brother for every little thing. Lavitz held back a sigh, picking up the pace so that she didn’t need to lag behind and provide anymore commentary. It was the eve of Faram’s Mass, prompting them to visit the cathedral for yearly mass, something his family insisted on dragging him to even though it meant spending more time with them than was comfortable. Decades later, and he still couldn’t swallow the anxiety of his sister in close proximity, let alone his mother and father. Thank Faram, he thought, he had only one sibling. Not even the warmth and security of the cathedral’s foyer could appease his nerves as he sought out familiar faces, hoping to distract himself, if even for a moment. One particular face caught his attention, and as soon as the crowd parted enough, he made his way for her. While it seemed her family was with her, her attention, for the time being, appeared elsewhere. “Good evening, Councilor Min,” he greeted over the din of the moving crowd. “We’ll go on without you.” Her stepmother’s voice was, of course, perfectly polite, her tone soft and pleasant, but Peony thought she could sense exasperation. She had been greeted by endless individuals since their arrival on the cathedral steps -- she was well-known here -- and no doubt this was a tedious distraction for her visiting relatives. She had managed to stay out of the way until tonight, but it would have been rude for them not to all make an effort this evening, and so here they were. And so she nodded her head and said, “Of course,” and thought for a moment that perhaps, if the sanctuary was very crowded, she might find herself a seat in one of the galleries instead. The thought was quickly discarded as she greeted the man who had approached her, though her tranquility was, perhaps, just a touch shaken. “Good evening, Lord Amell.” There was a comment on the tip of his tongue, something to the effect of family, but considering how his relationship with Peony Min was mostly polite, it would’ve been too inappropriate. Instead, he settled for: “Have you recovered since Friday’s events?” While she appeared to be all in one piece, he felt it necessary to ask. She smiled faintly, nodding her head. “I have had healing,” she said. The truth was, she was extremely tired and worn down, not to mention sore; healing only added to exhaustion, and she had been badly injured, even with the restoratives she had ingested. Fortunately, her high-necked woolen dress and fringed shawl covered her bandages easily. “And yourself?” she asked. She had seen many members of the Fighters’ Guild enter the fray. “I trust you and your family are well? It is good to see you well also, Sir Amell.” The holy knight -- who she knew only in passing, through the church -- also seemed no worse for wear. She might have realized they were related by the family name, though she could not help but notice that there was no more warmth between them than between her and her estranged family. The small talk was the easiest recourse in this situation. Before Lavitz could muster up a response, his sister made herself more present at his side, falling some inches shorter than him but standing taller, prouder than he ever dared to. “Councilor Min,” she nodded. “Most of our family is well, but it seems my brother was less fortunate than I. His wounds were quite grievous, weren’t they?” Though the question was directed at him, not a moment was spared for a response. “I must greet the rest of my comrades, but I’m pleased to see you’re well, Councilor.” As she turned her eyes upon said brother, they cooled several degrees; this was the Eris that he knew, not the false, overly polite woman who appeared in public. “In your own time, Lavitz,” she offered breezily, dark hair sliding off her shoulder as she left the two alone. To anyone else, the words might’ve seemed kind, but he knew her too well: they meant Don’t take too long in Eris speak. His jaw tensed, but otherwise he made no indication that it’d bothered him as much as it had. “They weren’t fatal injuries,” he assured somewhat helplessly. “So I see,” Peony responded, her thoughts carefully masked behind a pleasant expression. “We are both blessed this eve, it seems.” After a pause, she offered, “It is a good night to give thanks.” As conversation went, it was likely the most personal thing she had ever said to him; she had never seen him here before, but she trusted in the power of Faram to heal wounds that could never be touched by magic. In some ways, she suspected they might share some of these sorts of wounds. But some of them weren’t shared. Some ran so deep that the dragoon had lost hope for anything ever healing them, and his thoughts fell to the loved ones buried deep in the Necrohol, to Jozlyn and the memory of her death nineteen years from the upcoming Tuesday. He did have to wonder how few things he had to give thanks for when still being alive after all that had happened over the years was a constant weight on his mind, yet still he put on a smile, not looking to burden her with any such thoughts. “I agree. Shall I leave you to join your family?” He’d spotted squire Min somewhere; it was impossible not to assume the rest of her family was present. “I imagine they will have found seats by now,” Peony said, wishing again for the gallery. It was only one night, she reminded herself. Very soon, this unexpected source of discomfort would vanish from her life. “I imagine you should do the same,” she said. “I pray you recover swiftly. A blessed Faram’s Mass to you, my lord.” His smile softened around the edges as he dipped his head in thanks. “And the same to you, Councilor Min,” he offered kindly, stepping back before moving toward the aisle, heart caught in his throat all over again at the thought of being within close proximity to his family. But it was only one night, after all. |