Juliette Coulombe (clearyourmind) wrote in emillion, @ 2013-08-12 22:18:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !log, juliette coulombe, morgayne falk |
Who: Juliette & Morgayne
What: Training and a chat
Where: Bahamut Hall and surrounding area
When: Today
Rating: G
Status: Complete!
The bout was nearing its end. Under Sister Felicity’s tutelage, Juliette had become more skilled at gauging younger or less experienced opponents, and even pulling her hits to some degree. Today’s opponent, while her same age, had only been training for two years. At full strength, there was little doubt that she could have claimed victory at least twice by now, but that was not the point. In this case, training her reflexes was the point - and for her opponent, the point was simply learning. They used swords, at least partially because Juliette still did not feel fully comfortable with them, so it gave the other squire a bit of an advantage. She was looking toward one of the knight classes, Juliette thought, though she had some years yet to make up her mind. They attended Sister Felicity’s instructional sessions together, along with certain other classes, and outside of them were... Juliette supposed, as she blocked a strike, launched a counterattack, that they were friends, of a sort. She certainly spoke more openly with the other girl than she did with most others. That sort of relationship was worth working on her control in an uneven spar, wasn’t it? Her sword arced down at an angle, aimed at the other girl’s shoulder, hard enough to be a threat, slow enough to be parried, if the other squire moved quickly. Morgayne moved, but not in time -- her own sword came up awkwardly, in a desperate last ditch attempt to block Juliette’s. And though she succeeded on that front, the force necessary to parry the blow pulled the hilt of the sword right from her hands; the metal gave a loud clang as it met the cobblestone. Morgayne didn’t bother diving to pick it up. “All right,” she said, raising her hands up in a gesture of defeat, and breathing heavily, “You win! Again. Faram, you’re beating the ego out of me.” Of course, they both knew that Juli had won quite some time ago, before their spar had even begun. Morgayne had watched the other girl disarm too many squires (with far more training, in about half the time) to be under the illusion that they were equals in this arena. The bout was a courtesy, and one Morgayne was happy to accept with open hands. Every defeat was a learning experience, after all, and she had long ago pinpointed Juliette as the best squire to learn from -- every movement of hers was executed with clean, startling precision. When Juli fought, it was with an odd grace that somehow made all the moves look easy. It always surprised Morgayne that the girl who was so smooth on the battlefield was the same as the one who spoke and operated with such stiff, polite distance. The image just seemed so incongruous, and that was part of Juli’s appeal; while some of their peers had simply written Juliette off as snobbish, to Morgayne, the other squire’s behavior seemed more like polished awkwardness. To her, it was more honest, somehow, than the practiced charm that most nobles oozed from their pores, as easy as breathing. Juliette nodded and lowered her practice sword, an acceptance of the surrender. She said nothing about Morgayne’s comment - what was there to say, really, about beating egos? - and instead commented, “Good match.” It had been; Morgayne seemed to have improved since the last time they had faced each other. Juliette found herself glad of the other girl’s progress. “Another bout?” she asked, though she doubted Morgayne would agree. She was growing rather weary herself, and the day was growing quite hot. She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped her forehead, which was covered with a light sheen of sweat. “If not, perhaps a short break? A drink might be pleasant.” One of the benefits of training at Bahamut Hall, to Juliette, was a particular drink vendor just across from the grounds. The chilled mango tea was particularly enjoyable. She would not be adverse to a walk, she thought, to let her muscles cool and with a sweet and icy reward at the end. Still, she waited for confirmation before putting her practice weapon away, just in case the other squire wanted that bout, after all. It would not do to make assumptions, even if the other girl was often quite easygoing in a manner that Juliette herself could only envy, but never emulate. “Oh, definitely a break,” Morgayne agreed readily, as she unspooled her hair from its messy knot atop her head and tied it into a ponytail instead. “My dreams are made of lemonade, right now.” She bent down to retrieve her practice sword, quickly wiping down the hilt before stuffing it into its battered leather sheath. She stacked it neatly on the wooden rack with all its brethren, and waited for Juliette to follow suit. Gratefully, Juliette put away her own sword, then offered, only a bit shyly, “Shall we pay a visit to Grandmother?” The elderly lady who managed the drink stand had never offered any other name, but she was unerringly kind and rather grandmotherly indeed, if grandmothers were anything like the stories. Juliette didn’t really know, but she hoped so; it was nice to imagine that such a thing as storybook grandparents existed for someone. “I am certain she can provide lemonade.” Smiling, Morgayne responded with a brief nod. “I’m so ready to turn this gil into a cold beverage,” she replied cheerfully. She had half a mind to link arms with Juli, the way she would have with Quen, or Lille, but thought better of it. Juliette seemed to -- if not enjoy her distance, at least be more comfortable with it, and Morgayne could respect that. She settled for just walking beside the other girl instead, enjoying the soft breeze that whipped gently through her hair. It was a relief, considering the heat of the blazing sun, and the sticky humidity that often lingered during Leo. With barely concealed enthusiasm, Juliette headed for the gate, glad when Morgayne fell into step beside her. She appreciated that the other girl didn’t mind her long stretches of silence - and was occasionally willing to be companionably silent with her - but, she reminded herself, this was not how friendship was supposed to work. She didn’t know it well, but she thought it was in the unwritten rules somewhere that one was required to speak. So she did, after a moment, but because she was Juliette, the topic she chose was hardly intimate. “Were you able to make it to the beach, the day the Mages’ Guild invited the city?” she asked. She had had an unexpectedly good time. She did not think she had ever spent so much leisure time around so many carefree, common people. “I did not see you there.” “Yes! I ended up spending the day with Quen and Storm. It was nice of the Mages Guild to set it up -- and to not to have to worry about, I don’t know, a kraken emerging from the deep while I was mid-swim.” Morgayne supposed the Mages Guild had done it to boost morale in the city, which seemed to be experiencing some new monster attack every other week. Off-putting, to say the least. She was actually quite surprised Juli had gone too. It didn’t really seem like the other squire’s ‘scene,’ so to speak. “Who did you go with?” she asked her, curious. “Lord Finch took me,” Juliette replied. In truth, she was surprised to have attended, too. “He - we - volunteered at the food tents. I... made a salad.” It sounded extraordinarily pathetic and stilted, not at all a proper expression of her pride in her own work of the afternoon. “I was able to go swimming in the ocean. It was... quite pleasant.” And that was quite enough about her, really. Fortunately, they had approached the drink stall, so a few moments were spent greeting Grandmother and ordering their beverages. It gave her time to collect her thoughts. “It seems you were in pleasant company,” she said once they had paid for their respective drinks and settled on a bench in the shade, attempting to steer the conversation in a direction which would allow the other girl to talk and her to listen. “How did you spend your day?” The lemonade was heavenly, just as Morgayne had predicted -- she had to resist gulping the whole thing down at once. She shrugged in reply to Juliette’s query, taking a sip of her drink before she answered. “Oh, we all just hung out, really. Did some eating, did some swimming, did a lot of relaxing. Nothing too out of the ordinary!” While her own day at the beach had been fun but not notable in any other way, Morgayne was quite interested in what Juli had done. Her friend’s relationship with Lord Finch still beguiled her; as far as Morgayne knew, the berserker was gruff and seemed perpetually irritated (not that she had ever interacted with him -- it was simply conjecture, on her part), which contrasted oddly with Juli’s demeanor. But Juliette seemed to admire him -- even be fond of him -- so there had to be something there. “Does Lord Finch enjoy cooking, then?” Morgayne asked, pressing for details. Juliette took a few moments to sip at her chilled tea before she answered. “He says it holds utility for... settling one’s mind,” she finally settled on; it was the best way she could think of to describe it. “He is quite skilled.” It was no secret, after all. The periodic invitations for the Fighters’ Guild at large to partake of dinner at her mentor’s expense would not have escaped Morgayne’s notice. The occurrences were sporadic but every few months, the invitations - tersely worded - still came. “I...” she said, then stopped. Was she really going to admit something so personal? But she felt she should explain; everyone was always so surprised at her ability to get on with her mentor, and yet... “I prefer that he is not... polished, as noblemen tend to be,” she murmured, looking down at her lap, her knuckles white where she gripped her but rightly. “He is.... not too old, for my guardians to... consider. If he treated me as other noblemen do, I do not believe I could... work comfortably... with him.” In a strange way, his gruffness put her at her ease. He never made her feel scrutinized, except when he was correcting her form, and in his company, she tended to forget she was a girl at all most times. “That makes sense,” Morgayne said, as soon as Juli had finished. And it truly did -- it seemed Juliette liked Lord Finch for the same reason Morgayne liked Juli. There was something about the lack of that smooth, practiced artifice most nobles carried with them that made the pair seem more real. “Anyway, the most important thing is that you like him, and he treats you well.” And with that, Morgayne switched to what she hoped would be an easier topic -- one that might alleviate the obvious tension thrumming through Juli’s frame. “Is he teaching you to cook?” Juliette was grateful when Morgayne did not prod. She did not think she could answer any questions about her admission - she was surprised enough that she had made it at all. Amazing, that a hobby she knew should be considered shameful for one of her class was the easier topic of conversation. “He is. It came about in error shortly before I was assigned to squire for him.” She had wondered, going around in her mind, how that interaction could have acted as a catalyst, for surely it must have, but she had not yet mustered up the nerve to ask. “I am not very good, yet,” she admitted, “but I also find some... utility in the process.” “Oh, I’m sure you’re better at it than I’d be!” Morgayne had never had much occasion to cook for herself, but the few times she’d attempted it hadn’t been successful. She could make things that were edible, at least, but not necessarily appetizing. Somehow, her dishes never ended up looking nearly as good as the pictures. Juli seemed like she’d be good at cooking, though. Her friend had such a good memory for rules and lessons that Morgayne felt she must have taken to recipes naturally. “And it’s a useful hobby too,” she added, although Juliette no doubt had people who cooked for her. “Yes,” Juliette agreed gladly, “it is quite useful.” The cooks had not minded her taking a corner of their workspace nearly as much as she had feared. Her efforts were still imperfect, but when she followed directions to the letter, the results tended to be tasty, if not as beautiful as the illustrations in the book she had bought. “I prefer it to dancing,” at least with the people at balls. She had rather liked dancing when she was learning it as a child, but less so now when improper gentlemen allowed their hands to wander. And aside from dancing and training - with running firmly listed in the ‘training’ column in her mental tally - she had few things one could consider a hobby. “Do you... that is,” she fumbled, realizing that her original question had been far too direct. One did not simply ask someone whom one had known for months if they had any hobbies. It seemed equal parts too intimate and a sign of having been far too distant. So instead, she finished, lamely, “Do you dance? I seem to recall you mentioning it, on the network.” It had been a conversation about Storm, if she recalled correctly, which topic she hoped would not make a reappearance in today’s conversation. Or, Faram help her, at this sleepover she had agreed to attend, with girls she did not even know. “Well,” Morgayne began, trying to think of a way to phrase her answer. Had it been Quen who asked, she would have nodded the affirmative eagerly, but Juliette’s idea of dancing was almost certainly at odds with her own. “I like music, and I like to dance along to it, but I’ve never had lessons, or anything. I don’t know any real dances. I’d be lost at a ball.” Not that Morgayne would ever be invited to any (at least, as a “Falk”), so it was a moot point. “Oh.” The idea of dancing just because seemed exceedingly odd. She enjoyed music as much as the next person but... generally just to listen. The symphony was nice. So was the opera. “I go to quite a number of balls.” Unfortunately. “It seems the most common form of entertainment considered... appropriate. They are not very exciting.” To put it mildly. On the contrary, Morgayne had always found the idea of balls to be quite interesting, perhaps because she had never experienced one herself. The idea of dressing up so formally still seemed glamorous to her, although she supposed Juli had to do so often enough that it had become old-hat by now. Morgayne did wonder what nobles talked about at balls, though. Sometimes it seemed as if they just chattered absently in circles, one around the other. “Is it a lot of small talk?” she asked. “A ball seems like it’d be an odd locale for serious discussion.” Juliette wondered what Morgayne would say if she admitted that her entire life was small talk. “One may discuss the music, the food, what other guests are wearing, previous balls, and the weather,” she said flatly, trying to keep her expression as neutral as possible. “The weather is preferable as it is offensive to no one.” “Oh...” Morgayne replied, disappointed. She wondered whether balls were actually so dull, or Juli just loathed them enough to make them seem unbearable. Surely there was some appeal, since nobles kept hosting them. Perhaps balls were a good conduit for gossip -- a topic her friend found similarly distasteful. Morgayne attempted to take a contemplative sip of her drink while she thought of another topic (with Juli, one typically had to keep prompting, lest the conversation drift into silence), only to find that nothing came up the straw but air. She had finished her beverage, and Juli was nearing the end of her tea as well. Morgayne glanced up at the sky, trying to gauge the time that had passed by the movement of the sun; she had an afternoon of tedious -- and no doubt time-consuming -- errands to run. One final sip later Juliette’s drink was gone, too. She found she was sorry for it. It meant the brief break was over, and it was time to get back to work. There was training yet to do today, and perhaps a bit of shopping, if she had the time. There was a new recipe she intended to try, if she could get an hour or two to herself this evening, as well as a small project to complete. “Thank you,” she said, “for your company. I always enjoy speaking with you.” It was, to her, worth far more than the practice spar had been. She was not much of a talker, but she couldn’t deny it was nice when people listened. “Perhaps... we can meet again, next week?” Juliette used words sparingly, and often wound them in such an intricate way that you had to pry the sentence apart to see the meaning behind it. Such an outright declaration from her was rare, and Morgayne beamed in response. Though she spoke with Juli far less than she did with Quen, or Storm, Morgayne had always secretly considered the other girl her ‘best’ friend. It was nice to hear the sentiment somewhat returned. “Of course,” she answered, still smiling, and gave Juli a cheerful parting wave. |