Juliette Coulombe (clearyourmind) wrote in emillion, @ 2014-03-19 12:08:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !log, juliette coulombe, rivalen beau |
Who: Juliette & Riv
What: Riv is a hideous troll; Juliette is mortified (aka business as usual)
Where: Ashwyrm Hall
When: This afternoon
Rating: PG-13 for Riv’s interior monologue, otherwise, just tamely teasing the bb.
Status: Complete!
Today’s session with her mentor had been particularly brutal. Juliette felt grateful -- she knew that he was only attempting to impart as much knowledge as possible before her exam -- but also very, very sore and utterly unfit for hume company, dripping sweat as she was. Although she did not often make use of the facilities in the guildhall, preferring the privacy of home, she made an exception today, letting the hot water of the barrack showers soothe away some of her muscle aches. With a fresh set of clothing and still-wet hair braided over one shoulder, she made her way out into the training at last, glancing around to see if she spotted any of her friends or teachers before making her way home. Most of the faces here were familiar to an extent -- they did train in the same location, after all -- but none of the people she worked with personally seemed to be about… She paled as she noticed one person in particular taking advantage of the sunny weather on the bench set against the side of the building right near the door. He wasn’t looking her way now (thank Faram), but she could safely say that he was one of the last people she wanted to encounter. (She had had to try to explain the flowers to her sister. It had not gone well.) Trying to move both quickly and silently, she attempted to walk past him before he turned and saw her -- hopefully, she would be on the street before he thought to turn around. Rivalen -unfortunately- thought to turn around, however he was too lazy to come chasing after Juliette (he had limits) and this afternoon he was not as bored as the last time they had met. In other words, bothering her was amusing, but not bothering her would not dampen his day. Instead he called out her name and waved cheerfully as if he were genuinely pleased to see her. “Juliette!” Unfortunately, Juliette was a very well-mannered young woman (sometimes, to her own detriment). Although she would have loved dearly to pretend she hadn’t heard him, that would be rude -- and a Young Lady of Quality (this phrase still came to her mind in Lady Demiel’s stern, displeased voice) was never rude. She tried not to wince as she put on a polite expression that could perhaps be called a smile if one squinted and turned back to greet the man who had hailed her. “Good afternoon, sir.” The sir -- a greeting for a guild superior and not… whatever he had been playing at with those flowers -- was very deliberate. This girl’s barely hidden wince had him flashing the brightest smile he could possibly muster in return. She was so easy to unsettle, it was almost too boring but he couldn’t help but poke (putting salt in a raw wound then digging fingers within, pulling apart at the seams) “How lovely to see you again, you’re finished for the day?” He noted her damp hair and made his own conclusions, not particularly bothered on whether she came or went. It was official, the likelihood of Theo punching him was steadily increasing. “Lovely,” she echoed. At the very least, he was making no insinuations thus far; perhaps the festival had been… some sort of misunderstanding. The pleasant expression came more easily now as she attempted to convince herself of this. “Yes,” she said, “I have. It is a very pleasant day. I see you are enjoying the weather.” As she intended to do while she walked (no sprinting today) towards the Countess’ estate. “I hope you continue to enjoy it.” And that ought to be enough, oughtn’t it, to excuse herself with minimum fuss? The last thing Rivalen wanted was to be playing with Juliette for a long while this afternoon, like a cat with a mouse he got bored easily and had to pretend to release said mouse (only to draw it in again). The squire was only interesting while she paled and shifted, looking like she had the overwhelming need to run away from him. “You’ll be going soon then, I assume you have much to do — a lady of your noble status.” This was his way of dangling an out for her, reeling her in with hope before he stomped all over that when he reached over and took her hand. Rivalen was delicate in his touch, nothing behind it (because in the end this was a game he did not intend to take far). He squeezed it before releasing it with cat-like ease, moving to rise from the bench. His eyes were fixed on her, her expressions carefully categorized for his benefit. Why was he touching her? He got his flash of distress, though she continued in her attempts to school her features. She was accustomed to this sort of thing at balls, from gentlemen -- somehow the venue was what made it so very disconcerting. Why were there always people around? She’d already had to explain to Alys once. The last thing she wanted was to have to do it again, but if she heard, then -- He released her hand. She breathed. “I have… some things to do today, yes,” she said, a little weakly. “I should probably be on my way.” Please, she begged internally (maybe she ought to address the request to Faram; perhaps then it might do a little good), just let me leave. Juliette’s distress was so satisfying, made him hate the world a little less for a brief moment and Rivalen cut the line. There would be more for another day, it was best to savour each little thing. Besides, he really did not want to give her cause to go to Theo (yet). There was no doubt that if he pushed too much he could find himself in a great deal of trouble and this girl was not worth that. To start with, she was a woman and not even an interesting one. “Then off you go, dear Juliette, don’t be late.” He punctuated his term of endearment with a playful tone, bordering on mocking but falling in the end on the side of playful teasing. The only thing she really knew about the tone at all was that it was distressing. She had spoken the truth to her sister on multiple occasions -- the men whose company she liked best were those who seemed to forget she was female at all. Whatever was going on here (whyever he had singled her out), that was not the case. She would have liked to convince herself that the ‘dear’ was an indulgent appellation to be addressed to a child, but she was not stupid, even if she was occasionally foolish. “Thank you,” she said, nodding her head somewhat woodenly (she wasn’t at all feeling thankful). She pulled her hand back, toying with the end of her braid, hoping that would be the end of him reaching out for her. “Have a pleasant day.” And that was polite enough by anyone’s standards for her to take a relieved step back, then another, then turn towards the gate, which was beckoning her with promises of freedom. Rivalen watched her go, a mask of politeness as she wished him a pleasant day and left. Part of him was certain that if she could have run, she would’ve done so, trying to get away from him. The thought made him smirk and now in the solitude of this courtyard, Rivalen chose to laugh, making his way to the training rooms. People might stare as he passed them by but he really, truly, gave no fucks. |