miles baines: riff-raff! street rat! (mimicks) wrote in emillion, @ 2014-08-26 11:53:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !log, audrey leradine, miles baines |
the string of repossessions, his wife's expensive heels.
Who: Alys Coulombe & husband.
What: Visiting hours
Where: Holding cells of the Knights of the Peace
When: Early today
Rating: Some swearing
Status: Complete.
The city gaol was a familiar place—he’d spent Faram knew how many nights here, as a teen and older—but this time the experience was vastly different. Miles had been cocky before, knowing he only had to wait out temporary custody before being set loose on the streets again. Now, anticipation and fear shivered its way up his spine as the day of his sentencing came closer (and he knew they were deliberating his fate even now, those foul white wigs in the Royal Courts of Justice). He’d pored over the one terse message he’d received, then paced the confines of the cell (three steps from wall to wall), and checked the lock several dozen times, but it was beyond his abilities to pick. And besides, the watchful eye of the EKP was on him. As a child, there’d only been one sleepy guard, prime opportunity to break himself out of the gaol. Today, however, there was more security than ever—evidently, the Crown didn’t like its coffers being robbed. A bleak laugh rippled out of him, but he kept pacing. The list of allowed visitors was short; Lionel hadn’t come by, which led to the creeping wondering if the next time he’d see his brother would be at the hearing. Who else could he ask for? Cole? Elayne? Even more laughable of an idea. None of them were in on his thieves’ life, and the Merry Women weren’t allowed for visitation. He was off-limits, this scoundrel who’d dared to thumb his nose at the king. One, two, three. One, two— On the second day, another guard appeared and rapped at the door down the hall. “Baines has a visitor.” “Oh?” Miles sat bolt upright on his cot, straining to listen in on the guards. “His wife.” I don’t have a— Realisation dawned, however, as the other grumbled “Oh, all right then,” and unlocked the door. The bars slid open, granting a brief glimmer of freedom down the corridor of the guildhall, before the sight was blocked out by a familiar figure. A sort of bitter happiness leapt in Miles’ chest; the imposed isolation had been shaking its way up and down his skull, an animal going ragged in confinement, and the face of any recognisable friend was a relief. Yes, even hers. Perhaps especially hers. With a shove of her shoulder, she managed to shrug off the guard’s hand as she rushed through the door and up against the bars that separated them. Her lithe fingers wrapped themselves around as she pressed herself close to the cell, seemingly out of breath. “They searched the house,” she spoke exasperated, “they even questioned me. Why? Why would you do something like this?!” Tears in her eyes began to well up. “I tried to pay your bail, but they told me I couldn’t. You have to wait until the trial. I can’t help you.” The statement alone was enough for the tears to pour over, her chest out of breath. “Calm down, Audrey, you don’t need to make a bloody scene out of it,” Miles chided, but he did it the way an automaton did, acting old ancient scripts and following the paths they’d always followed. Old habit made a smile ghost around his mouth. Bickering made some of this situation seem normal, at least. But his hand snaked through the bars regardless, gripping her wrist. (He was surprised how comforting that simple touch was.) “It seems they haven’t decided whether or not to allow bail at all. They’re a bit, um. Upset with me.” There was no point dancing around the bush or avoiding saying anything incriminating, either—the Knights had literally caught him mid-theft. It had to happen to someone. “You’re such a little shit,” she tried to sound vicious, but falling in between sobs it sounded more as a pathetic plea to return to what was normal for them. Despite her emotions, she tried to keep her voice down, to be careful with her choice of words as the guards weren’t but an earshot away. “What possessed you to think you could steal from the king?,” A whisper, “Why couldn’t you listen?” “Dare to dream big.” He shrugged, trying to make it look lackadaisical. It didn’t work much. That same question had been haunting Miles for the past two days, following him up and down the length of this room, all three steps of it. “There’s always a bigger score, Aud.” Voice lowering even further: “And I wanted it.” Taking a deep breath, she rested her forehead against the metal bars in an attempt to calm down her breathing. “Is it worth it at the cost of this?” She had tried the night before to survey the building, to see if there might even be a chance to break him out—there was nothing. “I asked about the trial,” this is the last I’ll be able to talk to you. Audrey’s voice dropped down to a barely audible whisper, “And I don’t know if Evan will be able to help you anymore.” Garnering the courage to raise her gaze to meet his, her brows raised. “What will happen?” “I don’t know,” Miles said. And that alone was cause for alarm: Miles Baines was the man who always knew everything, who always had a ready answer on the tip of his tongue, a backup plan in the back of his mind, contingencies layered upon contingencies. But the crumpled piece of paper in his pocket spoke otherwise, this time. He was shit out of luck, the Guild had finally given up on him (reached too bloody far this time, old friend, and overstepped your bounds—) and he did not know what to do. Casing the cell over and over hadn’t led to any last-minute insights. If anyone could break him out of this gaol, he’d be impressed: it would have to be explosives ripping the whole side of the guildhall open, from the looks of it. So his shoulders slumped, and he looked, for once, like a man without a plan. “I’ve served time before, though. It’s not the end of the fucking world. A year in, out on good behaviour, it’ll be fine.” (A credit to Miles’ training: he kept his voice firm, not quavering. He’d served sime before, aye, but not for trying to rob the Royal Bank.) “You tried to rob the king’s fucking bank,” she almost yelled, hands holding so tightly to the bars they were turning white. There had always been a way out of their troubles, either through their mentors or their guild. At most, they paid with injuries which seemed less of a price to pay than prison time. “I don’t understand how you’re so nonchalant about this. It’s like you don’t even care you’ll rot a year or even more of your life away. Do you not care? What about the rest of us?” She was being selfish and she knew it. Her gaze dropped down and she pressed her head against the bars again, the strain on her shoulders dropping. Miles’ own hand tightened on hers; the guards had put on bored expressions, trying not to listen in, but she was making it easy for them. “I seem nonchalant,” Miles hissed through now-gritted teeth, his eyes glancing over her shoulder to the knights in their badges, “because I don’t see a way out of this. If I could’ve escaped this cell, I would have already. If I could have gotten someone else to break me out, I would have already. If the guild were going to do anything to help me…” The piece of paper. Nothing. “Sometimes, you just need to bide your time and wait for the shoe to drop, the next move, the next opportunity.” And sometimes exhaustion laced itself into your bones, dragging you down towards the stone floor, leaving you foundering. Sometimes you felt your brother’s anger prickling at the back of your neck, knowing and understanding the reason he hasn’t shown up, and you wondered if you’ve fucking broken everything. “Can’t the guild do anything?” her voice rung out in a whisper. “I imagine they could,” he said wearily. “But from the sounds of it, I’ve rather overused my get-out-of-jail-free cards—bit suspicious, isn’t it, if not a single criminal charge will stick to a bard? I’m out of the nine lives, I think.” She hadn’t looked up. She couldn’t look up. Her voice dropped down to a mutter again. The truth was she had gotten so comfortable and routine would once again be shattered. “I’m just so fucking mad,” she whispered again. “I’m so fucking mad,” she slowly peeked up at him, “that I’m going to miss you and that you won’t be there anymore.” Looking away again, she shook her head again. “Go ahead, laugh,” she choked. “Mock me because that’s all you’ve ever done.” Again, he tried, but then nothing came out but a dry, gravelly noise. Like two rocks sliding alongside each other, caught in his throat. “I still hate this melodrama—” a pause, “but I will. Miss you, I mean. I’ve gotten dreadfully comfortable in that big, sprawling manor.” She let out a laugh, wiping whatever tears fell from her face with the inside of her elbow. “You’re such a dick, I can’t,” but that had always been Miles, hadn’t it? With Miles gone, the merry women would fall apart, the mime having been the glue that kept them together. “What was I thinking, anyway. You’ll be out of there in no time, bad mouthing and annoying the shit out of me.” “Exactly. That’s the spirit.” And a smile bloomed on his face, grim and faint, but there nonetheless. “We’ll hope for a… a short conviction, right, and then you’ll keep those shrill women in line for me, will you? Make sure you all don’t get bloody rusty. Because as soon as my time limit’s up, I’ll be back on your doorstep, needing a sofa to sleep on.” He supposed she was going to have to do something about Basil—but no matter, that was Audrey’s problem now. And it had been the plan all along. She nodded, using her free hand to continue wiping away at her face. His smile had been contagious as her own smile began to squirm and grow. Audrey had opened her mouth to say something when one of the guards cleared his throat, entering the room. “Wrap it up, please,” but he continued to get closer. Anxiety settled in and she turned to Miles, embracing him through the bars she held him close. “Hey!” “I know it’s not much, but it’s always kept me safe. Don’t you dare fucking sell it. I’m loaning it to you, you piece of shit.” She slid something into his pocket. Miles folded his hand discreetly over it, admiring her sleight-of-hand even as the knight bore down on them. “Get away from there!” The guard’s hands pulled her shoulders, trying to rip her off as her hands slipped away from Miles and transferred their grip to the bars. “Don’t touch me!” she struggled for a bit before her hands slipped and he was carrying Lady Coulombe away, legs kicking and screaming. The grin she flashed Miles was the last thing he saw before the door came to a close. The mime stood there for a moment, listening to the dull thud of his heartbeat in his ears—because there was nothing else, the cell block had now fallen back into dead silence, empty and lonely. His fingers dipped into his pocket and curled around what he recognised as Alys’ mother’s necklace. He exhaled. |