theo. (escutcheon) wrote in emillion, @ 2014-03-14 11:54:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !log, siri d'albis, theodore finch |
Fate holds her firm in its cradle, and then rolls her for a tender pause to savor.
Who: Theodore Finch & Siri D'Albis.
What: A chance meeting or fate?
Where: The Grande Cathedral.
When: Recently.
Rating: Tame.
Status: Complete!
The intention had been to visit the Grande Cathedral in hopes of spotting Rictor going about his business; Siri had planned to ambush him with a hug and propose that during his next break they should get something warm to drink. Seldom do things go according to plan, and halfway down the line of her plan she had faltered, changed her mind and headed into the Cathedral instead. Most people would kneel dutifully in prayer, heads bowed, lips moving — she slumped on the pew, head tilted upwards and following the ceiling as if she could see the heavens move beyond the architecture obscuring the view. Damp makes it last longer. Prayers she could recite were unspoken, unthought — Siri just wanted silence. She had not come here to ask Faram answers or expect inspiration; a moment or two and she frowned muttering incoherently, a one sided conversation apparently. He never listened. Enough was enough, a marionette pulled to her feet by something other than her will, she stepped down the aisle and to the exit. Do you know the taste of burnt flesh? Theo stopped in his tracks, an unavoidable obstruction in the path between the pews. Dressed in civilian clothing this time, he himself had come for prayer and guidance--he had not expected to run across Siri again, here, but then, that seemed to be her very particular and growing habit. He frowned, wondering again at all the changes in his current life, and how the woman before him might fit in with all the rest. “Good day,” he said, in that same curt manner he always did (and even so, attempting some vague manner of courtesy for the woman). “On your way out?” Collision narrowly avoided, Siri was so used to seeing him in his armour that the civilian clothing caused her to pause for a moment or two while she placed him (double check, triple check that you’re not dreaming, not seeing things, that this is real). To verify she touched his arm lightly in greeting as was slowly but surely becoming a habit. Real. Solid. Wolf. Siri smiled, “Hello, wolf — yes, He and I are finished. Have you come here for guidance? For silence or solitude? I will not detain you if so.” Theo’s lack of social graces would bother some, but since Siri had a non-traditional approach, she barely even noticed or cared. Theo didn’t so much as shrug at Siri’s touch, standing in place as solid as an anchor. He sniffed at the nickname however (natural confusion, but he let the moment pass), trying to discern all that she had said--regardless of results. “Near enough,” he conceded, looking from Siri to their current surroundings. The Grande Cathedral earned its title, and hardly was there a greater place in all of the city in Theo’s own opinion. Had he perhaps chosen another class (and had fate not intervened in its own foul way, pressing him to aspire to a different choice--one that seemed, at the time, to suit him far better), he might have envisioned himself spending hours here, amidst the statues of Saints, the great painted glass windows shining light upon the pews of worshippers, the solemn priests and dutiful acolytes and all manner of monastic peoples, praying to soothe his anger and searching himself for a higher purpose. As it was, the peacekeeper barely found time to appear at the usual services, let alone sneak in between them as he did now. However much he could regret such a thing, it was difficult to say. Theo brushed the thoughts aside, no holy knight but simply a beast barging himself in the Cathedral doors. “How’ve you been?” Couldn’t help asking, especially if she was committed to sneaking her way out behind him. Now it made sense why she had not seen Rictor yet, she had been mistaken, her true path was right here. Younger Finch wolf, contained his own madness in a ring. Siri could trace its path around his chest with a finger, centered inside the ribs, below the heart and to the left. Reaching inside and tightening her fist, pulling it all out (stubborn weeds grow roots twined so deeply underground). “Mad.” Because broken things draw broken things, but madness was like gravity and all it needed was a little push. Insanity reigned but seldom came alone. “You?” The clipped low tone, trying to conceal their conversation from some(one)thing, despite the fact that they were well out of earshot from any of the other visitors. Nothing peculiar about a mage and berserker talking (and yet, yet her neck prickled as if watched). Mad, Theo thought to himself, he knew well enough about that--or at least, he had cause at times to suspect as much. One hand clenched to a fist, remembering the mark on his forearm and all the madness that he himself had endured (that the city had endured as well), a topic he was likely not to broach with Siri at all. The only one who he suspected to understand his particular madness was long gone, left to find answers elsewhere. Now, there was only a man and a woman standing there together, underneath the view of Faram. “Well enough,” he said, watching her and frowning as he usually did. Wondering if she was troubled, and if so, for what reasons. Theo was polite enough not to speculate to himself overmuch about Siri’s peculiar habits, but he spared a look or two around, just in case someone did attempt to approach (briefly, he thought of Rictor, and Siri’s mention of his name on the network--ought to ask about that sometime too, he thought). “Birthday soon,” he said, steering the conversation with good intent if not any sort of subtle grace. “Fifth of Aries. Going to be thirty this year.” Saying it aloud almost made him feel old. Content to navigate this conversation as Theo guided, subtle or not, the clenched fist did not go unnoticed but Siri couldn’t piece enough in her mind right now to connect dots. Instead she found his upcoming birthday to be a delightful piece of information and something to look forward to. Slim fingers clasped one of his hands, and she gave a quick squeeze - held onto him for now. “Den Dweller, you’re not a young wolf pup anymore. Do you think He will bind you?” Wolves couldn’t be allowed to run free. Mad wolves even less. “Maybe soon, yes, He will. Before all of that we should celebrate, for your special day. I think we can dance inside rings of fire and turn water into wine.” Which was Siri speak for fun, entertaining things to do. “Don’t know,” he said, perplexed, and determined to answer her questions seemingly regardless. Words that all seemed riddles to Theo, puzzles made for the solving--women were strange creatures he had learned, especially of late. But for all of his usual gloom and fumbling, Siri seemed not to mind at all, and perhaps this was why he humored her peculiarities and affections. Theo didn’t give it too much thought, but he continued to remain as he was, clearly interested in what she had to say. “Not much for parties,” he replied. Though as a noble, he was oftentimes expected to make appearances to them anyway. At least he thought he ought to have some say about celebrations of his own (whether or not his older brother agreed with this, of course, was likely a different matter). And that effort to answer made Siri warm to his company and seek it out. It reminded her of Rictor and Caspar in so many ways, that was the first hook — now she didn’t see other faces, she saw the younger Finch on his own. The Den Dweller was unique, like the World Serpent, and the madness of his profession was something Siri could understand. Something she wanted to wrap herself under and stay, better his madness than her own. “If not for parties then you must do as you like for that day, don’t let things bind you.” Entangling himself in so many things the prophet didn’t quite understand, but she was quietly intent on taking out those knots and letting him loose. “Our paths keep crossing, despite your busy obligation and my duties, so may I ask something and speak as plainly as I can?” Which was perhaps asking a lot of Theo and a lot of a mad girl. A hand reached up to scratch at the back of Theo’s neck, the berserker’s face remaining resolute in its continued mystification. He was not known to hesitate often, or to shy away from peculiar women and their peculiar questions--though he had not an inkling of what she might want to ask. Or whether or not he could provide suitable answer. Theo shrugged ultimately, giving in to whatever fate Faram would instill on him in that moment. He had faced down great beasts and fell creatures, darkness and damnation--Siri’s questions couldn’t do him any more harm than all of that. “Aye, what is it?” Pressing her lips together she tried to grasp at what she wanted to say, Theo attempted to understand her (or so the prophet felt) but she wanted to say things like normal people would. Perhaps she ought to have poised the why to Him because a simple ‘why’ was unhelpful and Humes were seldom aware of the machinations of Faram. “Nothing happens by chance. Everything is connected, though we don’t always see the strings from one to the other and I enjoy your company, but —” It was not fear of wolves nor fate; come back from fire and ash. “— do you need something from me?” Silence stretched out as Theo struggled to catch her meaning, filling itself in the great cavernous space of the Cathedral’s ceiling above them. Moving his arms across his chest, he looked down to Siri and wondered just what he might have need of her for. Then, like a hammer striking metal, the insinuation reverberated through his head in a thunderous bang, threatening to knock the man right off his feet. Instead, he merely shifted his stance and grumbled. “No,” he said firmly, sinking into the private recesses of his own sombre and murky thoughts. “Do you?” Had Siri understood how her question sounded, she would’ve refrained from asking or found another way to get the meaning across. This? This was why she didn’t even try to make sense on some days, however for now she was unaware that the meaning of her words had been lost among social conventions that were of little significance to her. Well, if he said he didn’t need her, then the only other option was that she needed him. Siri believed in fate, and that was why her answer came easily. “Yes.” Theo frowned even deeper, entirely at a loss now as how to approach this discussion. It was almost as if he was attempting to wade through quicksand, sinking further down with every step. Perhaps, he thought, he was reading too much into this, or reading it incorrectly, or that even if he wasn’t there was a chance to battle this out to some semblance of a victory. “Thought this over?” He asked seriously, as if he had any idea what “this” might be. “Time to reconsider,” he added, a suggestion posed in a way that he thought was nearing the edges of politeness. Certainly one of them needed time to think, whether it was or wasn’t the woman before him. “Discuss again at another time, aye?” The obvious markings of a desperate man. Siri took note of his frown, his movements (she was missing something here, was she not? It was difficult to tell) with one hand she lifted to encircle his wrist in her fingers — not bruising, not clinging, just steadying (him, her — the madness they shared). “Your madness encircles mine, a steady beat between both. You can’t hear it?” Disappointment flickered for that second and she dropped her hand. Dismissal was felt (assumed, at least) and Siri frowned, unsure as to what was wrong with the entire conversation. Was she wrong? Faram led her to those who needed her, to those she needed — could this really just be coincidence? “No, I cannot be wrong.” This last muttered to herself, shaking her head two conversations going on at once — in her head and with Theo. Watching Siri’s expression fall, feeling her hand drop away, Theo realized that he had said the wrong thing. Not surprising, as clumsy as he often was in conversations and lacking his brother’s easy way with people. Angry at himself, he let out a low grumble of agitation. While she mumbled over this and that, things he couldn’t begin to understand, he fumbled over how he might attempt to soothe the situation. “Not wrong,” he assented finally, “don’t worry over it.” He raised up a hand to gently rest on her shoulder, a gesture meant to comfort instead of distress (Theo could try, at the least). “Here for you as a friend, whenever you need it.” Theo was speaking but Siri was distracted; falling was so easy still, easily spiralling downwards into herself as she often did — in Kerwon it had been the normal state of her in the years without Rictor and Caspar. Breaking from that to something a bit more stable was difficult, and gravity, gravity traced the route down. Falling didn’t come. Siri blinked twice, a steady hand on her shoulder catching her (his words a steady line that silenced everything briefly and warmed her — hope for normalcy). Without permission or hesitation, Siri rose on tip toes to slip her arms around Theo and hug him firmly, tucking herself as his second shadow. There. Another anchor. Theo couldn’t have done much more than to stand steady and take the full force of the woman’s sudden embrace. Frowning down at her out of plain confusion (he couldn’t help himself), eventually the berserker moved to gently pat Siri’s back, an awkward but well-meaning reciprocation of--well, whatever the fuck was now transpiring (he still hadn’t a clue). But whatever it was or wasn’t, she seemed now content with his response and that, it seemed, was all that truly mattered. |