toku matsudaira, geezermancer (giri) wrote in emillion, @ 2013-12-28 07:51:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | !complete, !log, peony min, toku matsudaira |
Who: Toku & Peony
What: Birthday tea
Where: Toku’s quarters in the Tower
When: Backdated: Saturday 12/21
Rating: G
Status: Complete!
The cast iron teapot Masuyo had given him as a present joined the other tea sets Toku owned inside a kitchen cabinet. The second parcel was placed in a box inside the closet, unopened. Out of sight, not out of mind. His awareness of its existence was a ghost of the past hanging in the air, an echo of the what-ifs that haunted him at every turn. He spent the afternoon attempting to concentrate on the reports on his desk. The recent battle had reaped too many innocent lives, not to mention the damage the beast's rampage had done to the city's infrastructures. The only silver lining he could see in the reports was the knowledge that it could have been much worse. Lost as he was in the dark thoughts swirling around in his head, the unexpected knock on his door early in the evening was a welcome distraction. "Come in," he called. There would be the sound of something being set down before the door opened on Peony, who was leaning over to fetch the tray she had set temporarily on the floor. Her movements were slow and careful, for she, too, had taken considerable damage the day prior. But there were certain things in life that could not be passed over, even in times of trouble -- and for her, this was one. And what did it say that she was more comfortable with the occupant of this room than with her own father? “Pardon the intrusion,” she said softly, entering the room at last. The tray contained her best teapot and two delicate matching cups, as well as a selection of homemade snacks to complement the robust flavor of the green tea she had brewed. She offered a small bow in greeting. “I wanted to come by and wish you a happy birthday. Might you have a half hour to spare for tea?” Toku smiled and rose from the chair, relying on the crutches for support. He returned her bow, dismissing the pain that flared across his back as he did so. “You are always welcome here, Peony. Thank you for the birthday wishes.” He hobbled out from behind the desk and opened the door leading into the living quarters. The office was not suited for celebrations, and though he was not expecting any visits, he would prefer to avoid interruptions. It had been clear to him, for days, that Peony was not feeling at her best; whether this was related to her father and stepmother’s visit to the city, he had not yet found cause to ask her. It was a difficult subject to approach, but if nothing else, he hoped keeping her company for a while might take her mind off her troubles. “Excuse me for not helping with the tray,” he apologized. The crutches made it impossible to balance a tray and walk at the same time, but he could at least hold the door to the living quarters open for her. “It is no trouble,” she said. She, too, had been badly damaged the day before, but she was walking unaided, so naturally the tray would be hers to carry, especially considering it had been she who had initiated the visit. If her back -- and the newly knitted flesh over her ribs -- protested a bit, it was only natural after the healing she had required. Once in his living quarters, she set the tray carefully on the table, waiting for him to join her. “Your leg pains you?” she asked, her voice concerned. Toku did not wish to worry her, but there was little point in attempting to dodge the issue. “At times,” he admitted. “It will heal. I assume it will simply make its displeasure known until such a time.” He let the door close behind him and made his way over to the table, lowering himself onto a chair with some difficulty. As Peony settled in the other, he asked, “Your injuries are also healing well, I hope?” “The same as yours, I think,” she said with a small smile. It was a danger of their work, she supposed -- and a mark of the fact that they did not sit behind tall walls and direct others. In some ways, the fact that they both found themselves in such a state with some regularity was perhaps telling of the sorts of leaders they both strove to be. She could not resent the wounds when she considered them that way. She took up the teapot, pouring steaming liquid into both cups. “It is fortunate that all matters slow somewhat before Faram’s Mass,” she said. “I hope you will be able to find the time for repost, especially today.” “Perhaps I will be so fortunate,” he agreed easily. “I must admit I have made little progress today. It was not easy to concentrate on the casualty reports. Perhaps it is a sign I should take it easy for the rest of the day.” “I feel that you could not be blamed for doing so.” She smiled as she offered, “If you like, I can take additional reports. My injuries do not pain me so greatly and I’ve the time to spare.” Her quest for distraction recently had ensured an almost surreal efficiency in her work. The offer was one that barely needed to be spoken between them anymore, as they would always try to support the other when they could. Yet it was the fact that it came at such a time that surprised Toku. “Thank you, Peony,” he said. “I do not mind the work, however. I shall get through it soon enough. In fact, I believe I could take some of your workload. I do not anticipate I will be moving around much in the coming days, and surely you might like to take this time to celebrate and spend time with your father.” The two of them had always found comfort in their mutual, companionable silences; this silence, however, stretched out too long for such comfort as Peony sipped thoughtfully at her tea and wondered how to express her complex feelings on the subject. With anyone else -- perhaps even with Merrion -- she might have simply smiled and let the subject drop; with Toku, she felt an overwhelming urge to explain. “I would prefer… not to,” she finally said, her voice low as she examined the contents of her cup as though answers to her dilemma might be found there. “I believe he would prefer the same.” The discomfort when they were all assembled and attempted to play the roles of family was not hers alone. He remained silent for a few moments, considering her words. He was no stranger to the feeling of walking on thin ice around family, yet this was precisely why he found it difficult to decide on the right thing to say. For years, he had been aware her situation at home had not been ideal, and she knew about all the complexities that plagued his own personal life. It pained him to see her now, but he was hardly the right person to advise on such matters where he had failed so utterly. “Perhaps you might take the twins out for an evening, if nothing else?” he inquired. “It is a shame the weather is not right for a chocobo ride, but perhaps there might be a different activity they may be interested in?” What such could be, he had no idea. Toku had been an atypical teenager, more interested in books and magical theory than the mechanics of social interaction. “Perhaps,” she said, a little sadly. “If their mother relinquishes them to my care, I would like to do so before their departure.” She did not think that such a request would be accepted, however. He picked up the teacup in front of him. The warmth of it lent reassurance. “When are they to depart?” he asked after a moment. “Thursday,” she answered. “We will attend mass together on Tuesday night, and I have offered to host a dinner on Wednesday; my quarters are more comfortable than an inn’s taproom.” And this, she thought, was likely the main reason her offer had been accepted. “I see.” He sipped his tea as he gathered his thoughts. “Have you spoken to the children at all since their departure was decided?” In truth, he could not blame the twins’ parents for wishing their children back home with them. And it was undeniable that Emillion had been quite dangerous of late—not the sort of place a parent might wish his children to remain. Yet he could not help but feel sorry that things were turning out so. Perhaps, had the twins stayed, the relationship with their sister could have been fixed. Then again, perhaps not. As usual, the what-ifs were too numerous to count. “Only briefly,” she said. They had not seemed to be particularly desirous of conversation. “I hope they are not too displeased, but perhaps it is in their best interest.” And that, she decided, was enough about that. To complain about the situation would be unseemly. “I hope you will try the cookies,” she said, signaling an end to the heart-to-heart. “I feel they came out rather well.” The change of subject was welcome. Already the day had held too many moments of heavy silence and dark thoughts. Their problems would not disappear as if by magic, that much was clear, but perhaps in this way they may be able to enjoy what remained of the day, and take some solace in each other’s company. “I am sure they are delicious,” Toku said with a smile. He took one of the cookies and bit into it, finding, to his satisfaction, that he was correct. |