Ciara Byrne (nightingale__) wrote in theunboundic, @ 2019-09-03 20:35:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! time: june 19 - june 25, ciara byrne, henri danior |
You were gettin' crazy, reckless, and wild
Who: Henri & Ciara
What: Welfare check
When: Wednesday, June 22nd, late morning.
Where: Henri's room at the Palace
Turnings were never a dull affair, but Heuris’ had been the most eventful in recent memory. Ciara woke the following morning all at once, instead of with the reluctant effort she normally did after a big night. She had no memory of dreaming about the fight between Henri and the Marshal, but the thought was there in her mind right from the start so maybe she had done. Given the bloody violence the pair had unleashed upon each other, Ciara thought she could be forgiven for not forgetting it in a hurry, conscious or not.
With everything that had happened after, she hadn’t had a chance to speak to Henri to see if his injuries really were as bad as they looked. The Marshal sure seemed to know what he was doing during the fight, so perhaps Henri was in an even worse state than she suspected. With any luck that would not be the case though, and if he was going to be alright, maybe she could find out what on earth had been going through his mind. Ciara rather suspected that the answer was not much, given how little she considered things before she lashed out at someone who had wronged her. Calculated revenge was better, but sometimes the hurt was too great for rational decision making and a decade’s worth of suffering was more than enough to explain why Henri might not have thought out what he was doing. But the Marshal had put him into prison in the first place, and could very easily have done so again. Heuris had granted small mercy in that Ciara only had to walk down the hall to Henri’s room to see him, when a trip down to the village’s holding cells had not been out of the realms of possibility.
First priority had been a quick detour to the kitchens. A couple of the girls were chattering away in there but Ciara offered only minimal input, having little interest in their lives and even less in their conversation. She filled a breakfast tray (a heaping plate of scrambled eggs, a mug each of tea and coffee, ice cubes in a washcloth) with the efficiency of someone who had better places to be, and left the shared space not long after first walking in. Soon after that, she was knocking on Henri’s door. She heard no indication that she was not welcome to enter and so she did without much of a real invitation to either. Compared to her purposely sumptuous abode, Henri’s room was practically spartan, but she had come for the occupant, not the decor. “Hey,” she greeted softly, because 'good morning' seemed inappropriate given Henri's current physical state. “Brought you something to eat, if you’re hungry. Some ice too, if your lips and eye are shouting louder than your stomach.”