Juliette Coulombe (clearyourmind) wrote in emillion, @ 2014-04-25 19:11:00 |
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Lunchtime, whenever Ridley’s fell, was often a time spent scurrying out of the clinic to fetch or deliver things, leaving her roughly ten minutes to eat her own lunch before returning to work-- but she didn’t mind it. Being busy left her feeling useful, particularly to Cormac who needed more assistance in the clinic. Her alone often wasn’t enough, but fortunately he’d seen that without her needing to vocalize her thoughts. The basket of lunch wrapped up in her arms had been carried from The Roast for Cormac, who’d been working too hard and not eating or sleeping enough. Unfortunate that someone would have to disturb her delivery as they stopped directly in front of her, forcing her to slam into them while her attention had been elsewhere. He was tall, she noted, as she craned her neck to look up to a grin. “Hiya, kiddo. Where’re you goin’ with that?” Ridley, on instinct, backed up, only to bump into another much taller man behind her. They were visibly unarmed, and this was a public place, but it didn’t mean they wouldn’t have words or violence for her. Who was she but a measly little scholar? She gripped the basket tighter. “I know her,” said the man behind her, his tone less than friendly. “She works with that mage down the street. Didn’t I see you casting too, girlie?” Before an answer could be provided by the scholar, however, another voice joined the conversation: “Pardon me, but does it matter?” It was surely a matter of providence that had led Juliette to this exact street at this exact time as she sprinted between Shieldwyrm and Bahamut Halls, but she had recognized the head of blonde hair -- not seen since before the troubles at the tower -- and had realized as she passed that trouble might be afoot. She was certainly shorter than both men, but when one turned to look at her and gave her a dismissive sneer, saying, “None of your business, girl, move along,” she felt her jaw jutting out with stubbornness as she told him, “No.” He was portly around the middle, a merchant of some sort, maybe, but, as she stood and looked up at him, not someone who inspired fear. She had fought magical walking towers; what was one balding bully and his skinny friend? There came a snide laugh from the skinny one, who crossed his arms and leaned in. “You know who you’re saying no to?” he sneered, as though implying the other man was someone important, someone more worthy-- though by the looks of him, of either of them, it was obviously a bold statement. Caught between them, Ridley could only move her gaze from face to face, unsure of what to say. What was there to say? Yes, she worked for Cormac, but the way that he’d said the word ‘mage’ surprised her. What was happening? And Juliette, who was shy but ultimately, in the end, too much a proponent of justice to back down in this sort of situation -- who had heard the whispers in the guildhalls, those that said the councilors were addled or too soft or otherwise wrong -- stepped in, took Ridley’s arm, and met the man’s eyes as she said, “I do not think it matters, in this instance, who you are. Let’s go.” She tugged as she said it, hoping still that the situation could be diffused without a fight but watching, from the corners of her eyes, in case one was unavoidable. (Sometime later, perhaps, she would recall this and wonder when she had become strong; in that moment, she didn’t think about anything but pulling a friend out of trouble, because it was necessary.) Neither of them were much for fighting, it seemed; they were more inclined to use their words, bullies without a lick of courage and only bravado, and the more portly one called out, “Are you going somewhere?” In seconds they were on the girls’ heels, lingering but not approaching too close, content to follow and call out from behind. “We could run,” Ridley suggested in a whisper, not once turning to look over her shoulder at the other two. Could they outrun them? The balding one, maybe. “No,” Juliette said again, still stubborn (and in this instance, perhaps, a bit foolish). “You -- we have done nothing wrong.” Over her shoulder, she called, “Leave us alone.” “And why would we do that, huh?” The skinny one, who’d come up much too close to them, laughed. “We just wanna talk to blondie. Don’t you wanna talk to us, sweetheart?” His hands came out to plant on both of their shoulders, coming much too close to Ridley’s face and forcing her to turn it away. How useless she was when it came to being confronted. If Juliette hadn’t appeared, who knew what could’ve happened? “Please stop,” was all she managed to force out, her soft voice louder than usual. In retrospect, a solid punch to the jaw was, perhaps, a bit of an overreaction. But Juliette didn’t think -- when the man’s hands came down on their shoulders and Ridley spoke, clearly distressed, she just did it, lightning quick and as hard as she could. Considering the weight training she had put in diligently under her former mentor’s instruction, perhaps it was not so surprising that the man stumbled back, cartwheeling his arms (and smacking his friend in the face in the process) so as not to land on the cobbles. “What the fu --” “Leave. Us. Alone,” Juliette said again, interrupting the profanity she had no desire to hear. She felt her anger bubbling just under the surface, and punching the man again was really starting to gain appeal. Her hand had not unclenched from its fist. The portly one seemed to think twice before stepping in, though, giving a worried look at Juliette, who was not quite the easy target she had appeared to be earlier. “Right,” he said, then spat on the ground as if to show how little he cared even as his eyes remained on Juliette’s clenched hand. “Wasn’t worth it anyway. You watch yourself, girlie; won’t always have someone around to protect you and your ilk.” He spat again before turning and walking away, his friend diving them a dirty look (his jaw already beginning to swell) before he followed. Only when they had moved a safe distance away from them did Ridley shuffle over to Juliette’s side, resting a hand on her arm as she watched the two retreating backs. The entire confrontation left her feeling jarred and confused, but she’d dwell on it later. Fortunately, it hadn’t escalated to anything worth visiting a clinic for. She returned her attention to her friend quickly enough. “Are you alright? How is your hand?” Juliette’s stance did not relax until it was clear the men did not intend to turn back; even then, she released the tension slowly, through great resistance. She breathed, in, out, one, two, three, searching for elusive and necessary calm. The hand on her arm was like a magic of its own; she dropped out of the rage and back into the moment, meeting Ridley’s concerned gaze and answering her questions with a, “My… oh.” She looked down at her hand, which looked as it always did. “No, I am well. I… probably… should not have done that.” The younger girl shook her head. “You were protecting a friend from someone who was very toward and unfriendly. No one should fault you for that,” she pointed out, dropping her hand to Juliette’s elbow. “Thank you. For helping me.” “You're welcome.” You should not have needed help at all. What sort of person saw a small, helpless girl with a basket of food and blamed her for the death and destruction wrought by a powerful person she had perhaps met once? No, surely that was nonsense. And now, Juliette thought forlornly, she would have to report herself to the guild. Not the the men had realized what she was, but it was still frowned upon to attack civilians. “I think you should go back to the clinic,” Juliette suggested, a bit despondently. “I can accompany you.” Pressing her lips together, Ridley slipped her arm through her friend’s, leaning into her a little. “If you’re certain.” She couldn’t say with any certainty that the two would make another appearance, but she was more concerned about Juliette than her owns safety at present. She smiled, softly. “Shall we?” “Yes,” Juliette said. She did not mention that she had things that needed doing -- it was clear that Ridley was best not left in the street alone at this time. Perhaps she ought to mention it, but all she could manage once they began moving in the direction of the clinic was, “I hope that was the last such incident but… I do hope you will be careful. And your employer, also.” The man’s earlier disdainful tone returned to the blonde, who pondered on why he’d been so forward with his distaste for mages. It had been her first encounter with someone against mages, and briefly, she wondered if it had anything to do with the attack from the Tower. Could the events be tied to one another? She’d think on it later. “I will speak to him, and to Emily,” she assured Juliette, squeezing their linked arms. I’m pleased to see you’re safe and alright, she meant to say, but it went unvocalized. “And I will be careful. Have you eaten? I purchased an extra sandwich.” “Good,” Juliette said. That would have to be enough. Then, glancing at the communicator she’d pulled from her pocket, she said, “I must return to Bahamut Hall within the next hour, but…” she smiled a little, deciding, “I can take the time for a sandwich.” She’d just run the rest of the way -- not so much of a hardship. And visiting with Ridley a bit before the inevitable reporting of her own breach of conduct seemed a soothing idea. At least, as the girls proceeded to the clinic, both bullies and resulting anger were nowhere to be seen. |