Violet Black (feldwebels) wrote in emillion, @ 2014-01-30 20:30:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !log, rictor cassul, violet black |
Who: Rictor Cassul, Violet Black and Filip Auvray
What: Evil plans interrupted by an innocent gardist
Where: Violet’s office
When: Backdated to last week
Rating: G
Status: Complete
Rictor Cassul wasn’t one for neat and organised calendars, meticulously marked and tracked (no, those habits were a better fit for certain others at the Cathedral he could name). And he was notoriously atrocious with dates, forgetting birthdays left, right, and centre. But the Silver Blades were an exception to the rule. And so it was one winter morning, that he cracked his eyes open and realised: Well, shit. So after his sparring session with Millie (the girl bouncing around on her heels like an enthusiastic grasshopper, absorbing his damage unfazed) and after a ravenous breakfast, Rictor made his way through the Cathedral and towards the office allocated to the Feldwebel. He paused at the threshold, his hand up, mulling over whether to draw back and retreat after all. And had it been a couple months ago, he very well might have. But this winter had changed more than just the season, adjusting the very climate between the Feldwebel and her Korporal, thawing some of that flinty tension and anger between them. “Ma’am?” Rictor asked after knocking on the slightly-ajar door, his voice pitched into the distant politeness drummed into him since birth as a nobleman (but which he’d spent subsequent decades bucking against). There’d been a time that Violet hadn’t enjoyed paperwork quite so much. As detail-oriented as she was, it got tedious to write report after report, to compare and contrast the same scenes as written by two different gardists. But the illness that had nearly taken Violet’s life had reminded her to be grateful for the small, daily routines that kept the Blades in order. She didn’t much look forward to the day when such work would grow dull again. It was nearly ten in the morning when Violet finished with the latest daily report. Deciding against a short break, she instead turned to other tasks that needed recording. At the knock on her door, there was a moment of shuffling. Violet had been writing in a small grey leather bound book that she promptly shut. Inside of it were details most intimate, the sort simply not allowed to be seen by anyone other than, perhaps, Athos Hauville. Violet glanced up, not quite brightening at the sound of her Korporal. Things certainly had taken a turn between the two, but Violet didn’t want to start showing preferential treatment to the young man. And, if anything, he still had a ways to go before truly sliding his way past her favorites. “Yes, Korporal?” she canted her head, catching his eye, and motioned for him to sit in the empty chair on the other side of her desk. He nodded, making his way in and pulling up the seat, not closing the door behind him. There was something slightly different about his bearing today; Rictor was relaxed and at ease, less the straight-angled, obedient soldier perched at attention. Perhaps it had something to do with the topic of discussion this morning: “It occurred to me,” he said, “that Capricorn is over and there’s a certain gardist in our squad whose birthday’s coming up soon.” He was choosing his words with uncharacteristic delicacy – where was the usual blustering bull that was Rictor Cassul? – but he owed Filip Auvray this much, at least. “Filip never likes to make a huge fucking deal out of it, but he needs something done in his honour. If only because he hates mentioning it, so we should probably see fit to spoil and pamper and embarrass him horribly.” Some of Rictor’s humour was creeping back as he leaned against the arms of the chair, subconsciously appealing to the mischievous streak he knew Black possessed. He’d seen hints and glimmers of it over the past year, whether it exhibited itself in punishing the fuck out of him or evading Amos’ mother henning. Violet considered his words quietly, face betraying no thoughts of mischief. It was surprisingly thoughtful of Rictor to think of someone besides himself, Violet thought briefly before silently correcting herself. Rictor was many things. Pig-headed, arrogant, frustrating, certainly, but not entirely selfish. If he showed care anywhere it was for his fellow Blades. Filip’s birthday hadn’t approached without consideration from Violet. She’d wanted to do something, assumed the rest of the Blades would want to partake, as well, but she’d been uncertain how best to proceed. It seemed dull to simply interrupt dinner with a cake. They could do better than that for their youngest. “Am I mistaken in thinking you’ve some sort of…” Violet paused, considering her words, “plot?” A small smile didn’t quite tug at her lips, but her gaze held humor and a warmth that spoke to the friendliness they’d been harnessing between them. This new truce – if not full affection – between Feldwebel and Korporal was evident in their lack of bristling and snapping, the man having laid down arms for now. And plot was a good word; it was one of Rictor’s favourites, conjuring up old childhood memories of schemes played on the Cassul quartermaster (perhaps he and Squire Deirgard were not so dissimilar after all). “An absurd amount of balloons,” Ric said. “And he likes the outdoors, but the weather’s always shitty this time of year, if not outright beset by, like, Wendices. Maybe we could get mages to heat up an area out in the woods, make it appropriate for a party? Filip wouldn’t suspect it out in the middle of nowhere—” a thought was occurring to him, “and if you’re in on it, you could even pretend it’s an official assignment. Maybe some sort of punishment you’ve given him for some bullshit reason but it’s really a party.” “If you’re sharing the details, I suppose I’m already in on it,” Violet said, a sparkle of humor in her eyes. It would be difficult to find a way to punish Filip, though. He was a young man who obeyed rules, not pulling a toe out of line when Violet was around. She considered for a moment how she might unfairly punish him, and figured, if it came to it, that she could always have Rictor push him to do something stupid. “I can speak with some friends in the Mage’s Guild if you can decide upon the appropriate venue.” A pause. “Are the other Blades to know of this, or will they be kept in ignorance as to prevent Filip from catching on?” “Hm. Good question.” Rictor was falling comfortably into this role now, the two party planners putting their heads together for this task (and, hopefully, continue dispelling some of that tension haunting their squad). “They should probably know. I mean, Millie has a tendency to blab, but I think she could—” As if on cue, Filip Auvray peeked his head into Violet’s office, his friendly smile turning into a confused one as he noted the very relaxed presence of his Korporal. Wide, brown eyes darted between Rictor and Violet, but there was no trace of suspicion in his expression—if anything, the gardist seemed pleased the two were (finally!) sharing a casual conversation. “What’s going on?” he asked innocently. Rictor jerked as if he’d been slapped, a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Violet’s reaction, on the other hand, was far more smooth and impassive. “Nothing,” the Korporal said, a bit too brightly for comfort (the Blades knew well how the man could never keep a straight face and was, in fact, terrible at lying). “Just, uh, checking in with the Feldwebel.” It took everything in her to keep Violet from rolling her eyes at Rictor’s reaction. He would certainly need some work on his poker face if he ever wanted to move beyond his current position. Part of being a leader meant that one sometimes had to keep things under wraps. Being so painfully obvious would have been suspect to anyone else in the Blades. It was just dumb luck that Filip was so trusting. Where the Korporal stumbled, Violet straightened. “Is that,” she asked, “the way we enter my office now?” There was steel in her voice, low and sharp, and it made Filip shrink back a step. “Of course not, Feldwebel. Sorry.” “If you’ll excuse us,” Violet said, staring at Filip until he apologized once more and was gone. When they were alone again, Violet raised a brow in Rictor’s direction. “You’re going to need to work on your face,” she said, small smirk on her face. “But first, if you’d please, close the door.” Once he did as told, they continued on with their plans, somewhat quieter than before. |