Elspeth Ann Thomas Fry (elspeth_fry) wrote in v_nocturne_rpg, @ 2009-11-05 17:19:00 |
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Entry tags: | elspeth fry, joachim zahavi |
Meeting in the Stables
It had just started to drizzle as Joachim stepped into the shelter that the stable provided, and he shook raindrops from his hat before putting it back on. He was early, but he'd wanted a few minutes to gather himself before Ms. Fry arrived. He'd gone back and forth about scheduling this meeting, but the last few nights had been sleepless due to the return of the nightmares. This time, the beasts weren't attacking him in the field; they'd somehow followed him to the streets of London and were intent on destroying him there. To finish what their kind had started.
The Major checked his breath. If Elspeth smelled alcohol on him, she would doubtless imagine him to be unstable. He'd been maintaining as best he could, but the previous attack had left him unsettled, to say the least. Surely such things could not be a common occurrence? He must learn more if he was to do...anything, really.
Joachim leaned the back of his head against the solid stable wall, closed his eyes for a few moments. He thought of the no-nonsense young woman that Ms. Fry appeared to be, wondered how many of his questions she could answer. He needed much more information on this subject.
Outside the barn, Elspeth attempted to reign in her nerves and don a veil of control. A pair of lace gloves dangled from the bite of her front teeth. Her hands smoothed wisps of brown hair into a bun and fastened them with pins. Often the picture of cool -- when she wasn't upbraiding a colleague, that was -- the twenty-six-year-old found herself wound rather tightly.
Only three days ago, she returned to the Whitechapel after being locked in that dreadful house for days. Of course, her superiors interrogated her for the better part of a night, but since her story matched those of Armitage and Verdoux, she was released. Elspeth believed it best to keep busy, so she fed herself and rested, then examined the pieces of mail that arrived while she was out. She found Major Zahavi's invitation and responded in short order.
Now outside the barn, where the Major came previously to look at their horses, Elspeth wondered if she should've stalled a bit longer. It wasn't that she was unwell; she simply felt.. Well, less than the confident woman he saw battling a werewolf. Inquisitor Elspeth Fry, bested by a haunted house! Useless at the top of a staircase! But not to worry, she was quite handy with a crossbow.
She smoothed her palms over her stomach. "Breathe before you faint on his boots," she ordered herself. She straightened her shoulders and entered the barn. A year had gone by since her husband's passing, so she had abandoned the darker dresses of mourning for mauve.
The sound of boots on the hard-packed earth roused Joachim from his brief reverie, and he straightened his coat before checking it for loose threads or missing buttons. He'd thought of donning his uniform this afternoon, but it seemed like too much of an affectation. This was the best place he could think of for a meeting, as a more public spot offered too many chances for them to be overheard. To say nothing of it resembling a possible assignation. He would do nothing to compromise this woman's reputation.
"A good afternoon to you, Ms. Fry," he said with a formal half-bow. "I trust the rain has not inconvenienced you, and I hope you were not bothered by my contacting you at your residence. I was unsure of how else to reach you."
Elspeth smiled as she approached the gentleman. "I am not sure how else such visits are accomplished, Major, if one does not call at a residence." Her hem flounced above the toes of her shoes. It was strange to be in such clothing at the stables, but she intended to talk rather than ride. She stopped a few feet from him. "My brother assumes this is a business conversation about a horse. I'm sure he's curious why he was not invited..."
She trailed off and made a show of looking around the barn, as if James might linger behind a pillar, eavesdropping on their talk. "I assured him it was a matter of building rapport with a customer." At the far end of the stables, a boy tended to the animals. He was not within earshot, however.
"If I should be questioned I shall say no different. It seems as if there are some things one does not discuss openly, even if they are not military matters."
Joachim tucked brown hands into his pockets, considering his next words. "Forgive me if I am distracted," he offered. "I have slept poorly for several nights. The...incident from the other night has stayed with me, as I'm sure you can imagine. I had hoped never to see such things again. To find them here, of all places, has been quite disturbing."
She nodded. Her own recent experiences had taught Elspeth not to think herself above a good scaring. Sleep came in fits for the last two nights, her mind drumming up pictures of mist seeping beneath the door of her cabin, or inhuman eyes staring back from the mirror. The evils one could not see frightened her more than beasts. Weapons did little to dissuade them. "I understand. Even in a civilized place such as London, we must be vigilant. I used to think I only had to fear common criminals." She turned her head and watched a horse nosing into her feed bag. "Though my good opinion may not matter much, I thought you handled yourself very well, considering the circumstances. I could have understood going still as a stone, even if you hadn't had prior experience with them. But you didn't."
"I lost friends. Friends and a horse that I'd trained from a yearling colt into a mount worthy of soldiering exploits. Between that and my leg, I have much to hold against such creatures."
It was said with an attempt at a smile, but the expression was somewhat forced. His knee was actually better today, a surprising thing because of the rain and the chill in the early November air, but the memories of the previous attack had yet to fade. Perhaps they never would. "I have seen combat, Ms. Fry, men fighting to the death for money and for glory. But I had never seen anything like what set upon my scouting party, or witnessed such savagery. As callow as it may sound, I may never be the same man ever again."
"Better that a beast was responsible for the worst of it, than man," she said. "Otherwise, you might never talk to anyone again, either." Gesturing at a pair of crude benches that faced one another, Elspeth indicated that he was welcome to sit, too. Once she was settled, she considered carefully what she was about to say. "I think children would be better at handling this sort of revelation. When we're small, we believe in possibilities. There are fairy tales and goblins and all sorts of mythical creatures... Monsters under our beds, even! We have to be told they are not real. It is difficult to learn again what's possible and what is not."
She looked at him. "Perhaps it's best to simply believe all things are possible, Major... That all the old legends are rooted in truth."
"When I was a child, my mother would tell me stories of the djinn, how the evil ones would carry away disobedient children and keep them captive in their world. I suppose anything truly is possible. Foolish to wish I had not been informed in such a fashion, but there you have it."
Joachim looked down at the bare brown earth, the hay scattered beyond the benches. He was a proud man, some might even have said a stiff-necked one, and to find himself so completely at sea made him feel childish, as if he were still a beardless youth. Still, Ms. Fry was correct, to believe in the possibilities was a protection of sorts, and he knew now, didn't he? The officer coughed quietly into the silence between them, gave Elspeth a direct look.
"I would know more," he said, throwing a brief glance over his shoulder at the stablehand. "I would learn...I would learn to fight them, those things. I feel as if I must do something'.
She bit the soft inside of her lip. "There is great danger in such an undertaking." Between her fingers, she pinched a fold of her skirt and fiddled with it. The taffeta made a swishing sound as it rubbed against itself. "Of course, you'll think I mean dying, or injuring your other leg. It is true, those are dangers." She tilted her head. "But there's also the danger of catching their condition. It is fortunate that the soldiers you knew were killed, rather than maimed, by their claws or teeth. Werewolves spread their infection that way. What would you do, if you were exposed?"
He had been watching her hands, the somewhat fidgety movements of them, but when she asked her question he lifted his gaze back to her. Dark eyes narrowed as he studied her, and a certain coldness flitted over his face for a moment. He'd been a soldier for most of his life, and he understood risk. There was a rasping sound as he rubbed the back of one hand over his beard stubble. He should have shaved, but he had neglected his razor the past few mornings. Outside in the drizzle, a policeman walked past.
"I would put an end to myself," he stated matter-of-factly. "In whatever way was necessary. I have lived as a half-breed all my life as it is, but I would not be able to carry on as an animal. Nor would I put others in danger by prolonging my existence should I be, as you say, infected. I am a man, and I would die as one if it comes to that."
Though not one to shy away from blunt words, Elspeth looked down when he called himself a half-breed. She had wondered about the Major, with his foreign name and dark skin, yet perfect English and military rank. Other people of Indian descent had come to London and they did not look precisely the way he did. A short time ago, she might have looked down on his social standing, but the last year had given her a bit of perspective.
"Then you are braver than most, I think." She smoothed the wrinkle out of her skirt.
"I hope you'll forgive the intrusion, but there is something I wish to say." Elspeth had the distinct impression of dipping a toe in hot water, but impulsive as she was, she could not stop herself from doing so. "Having parents from more than one race pales in comparison to more than one species, and I can assure you there are such creatures." Her thoughts went to the dhampir she met, and how he felt it necessary to hunt vampires as penance for his father. "I do not mean to say your life has been easy. I cannot imagine--" She clipped off the words. "I only wanted to say, people should not look so harshly upon a person's skin, and I feel certain that they would not, if they knew what abominations walk the earth. It's foolish."
Joachim was still watching her, but the chilly quality of his stare had faded to a slight embarrassment. Curse his loose tongue! He plucked at the left lapel of his coat, then dropped the hand into his lap. It wasn't proper to speak of such things to a lady. "The world is not as I would have it, Ms. Fry," he said, and it was an understatement at best. "I have...adapted as best I can. Without speaking ill of anyone in particular, there have been times when I wish I was not the one having to do the adapting, but that is not.. " He had been dropping his gaze as he spoke, gradually lowering his eyes until he was examining the toes of his boots. They needed a decent polishing. "...That is not something you should take to heart. I did not mean you."
His words finally ran down, as though he'd run out of steam, and he returned his eyes to her face once he felt he could manage a neutral expression. "How have you come to learn of such creatures?" he inquired.
At last had come the question. Elspeth realized she had never spoken of the incident in detail to anyone outside the Inquisition. Even the local police only knew a shade of the truth. She wet her lips. "Last year, my husband was on his way home from an evening of playing cards. I feel certain he was drunk and not paying the slightest heed to his surroundings. Not that it would've mattered, I suppose. His horse came under attack by a werewolf. Carl was thrown. At the time, we did not know for certain what the beast was, of course, and thought him lucky to escape with a scratch. His luck did not hold out."
Becoming uncomfortable with sitting while the Major towered above her, Elspeth stood up. "At the full moon, I discovered him in the stable. Just there." She pointed at a stall close to the entrance. "He had changed. He was eating one of the horses, this... beautiful chestnut pony. It makes me ill to think about it." She wrapped an arm across her stomach. "I stuck a piece of the good silverware here," she reached to her nape, "At the back of his neck. Then I ran into the house and locked the door."
He felt ridiculous suddenly, as if he'd asked her the most inappropriate thing he could think of. He directed his gaze to the stall she had indicated, then finally took the seat she had offered earlier. Giving up the advantage of height made him feel at least less conspicuous, and he dug the heel of one shoe into the dirt floor while the silence stretched out.
"I'm..." Oh, yes, you're terribly sorry, aren't you, you fool? As if a woman of her station should take up such a crusade for no reason. The major touched his brow, rubbed at it lightly. "I again offer my condolences for your loss," he said finally, putting the words together carefully. "It must have been doubly shocking to find the danger so close. You are fortunate to have escaped such a fate yourself."
"Yes. Well. I'm quick on my feet." Now that she had stood up, down the Major went! Looking mildly flustered for a moment, Elspeth searched for the appropriate thing to do. She decided to sit back down, though she felt like a weasel popping in and out of a hole. Ankles crossed beneath the hem of her dress, which would probably be covered in dust when she stood again. That should make for a graceful exit, craning her neck to see if her bottom was gray and brown!
She tucked a piece of hair behind her earlobe. "Before it happened... I had a feeling," she hedged. "I had read stories," she laughed, "Though I thought them either fictitious or the ramblings of lunatics! Carl's description of the beast could've come from those pages, only I knew they had not, because he never picked up a book. And there was a full moon. I prepared myself... in case." She swallowed primly. "You know, I think the police were far more shocked. When they arrived, all they found was a fork stuck in my husband's neck, and there was I in my nightgown! They had questions, about how he managed to inflict so much carnage with his bare hands and teeth, and how I killed him with just the fork. I pretended to be too distraught to offer any explanation."
Elspeth, realizing she'd gone on too long, sobered and concluded, "I'm rarely that distraught."
"Yes." Joachim nodded gravely, folding his hands together to keep them from fidgeting. "Yes, you seem very composed. Self-assured in a crisis." His mouth quirked, the faintest hint of a smile. "I imagine you'd have made a good soldier."
He sat in silence for several minutes, looking out at the rain as it continued to fall. Was it in him to take orders from a woman, to listen and do as he was bid? He wasn't certain. He did have much to avenge, but whether he could look at this as if it were indeed a military operation - with Elspeth as his superior officer - might bear thinking about. He regarded the brunette where she had re-taken her seat, then cleared his throat.
"I am not without skills of my own," he said. "I am proficient with a rifle, including being able to snipe at targets from some distance. I should like to learn to defend myself and others from these foul things."
"A useful skill, indeed. I have used a crossbow to some success," she said. "It is preferable to brandishing a dagger in an alley and nearly having your arm lopped off for your troubles." If he was uncomfortable, Elspeth did not notice, but neither did she realize how much of his learning Major Zahavi wanted her to undertake. The Inquisition would not worry over-much about her conversation with the gentleman, considering their undeniable encounter with a werewolf. But if they learned it went further, eyebrows would lift. Time spent with the Major meant increased exposure for one of the Inquisition's hunters.
Elspeth thought about Jack Doyle and his personal quest against werewolves... How that made him a valuable asset to the organization, worthy of recruitment. A member of the military, however, might be viewed in a different light. She was not sure.
"You'll need silver," she advised. "If you use any other metal, your bullet might as well be a nit in its fur, for all the good it does."
"There are avenues I can pursue," he said. "Collectors of weapons often possess the ability to procure unusual items for defense. I can make some inquiries." He wondered if that would include Frederick, what his father would say if he knew he was planning to pursue this. His parents had feared for his sanity in the first days after the attack, his medicated babbling a subject for concern both with them and with his physician. If they knew not only that such creature were real and not fiction but that he was planning to go on the hunt for them, would they try to lock him up as a madman? Perhaps it was best not to risk inquiring with his father, just in case.
"You are quite the brave young woman, Ms. Fry," Joachim commented. "I should imagine that many women in your circumstances would not act as you have. It is..." He stopped talking, feeling as if he were on the verge of saying something offensive, and he looked at the backs of his hands for a moment as if that would help him know how to complete the sentence.
"...It is unique. Shows strength of character."
"I appreciate the compliment," she said, "Only I'm not sure it is bravery." Sitting on the bench with knees and ankles primly together, her posture erect, she looked small and delicate. Her fingers worried at one another within the gloves and she eyed his shoes. "My father told me that bravery is carrying on even if you're frightened. Sometimes..." She took a quick breath. "Sometimes I think something's wrong with me. I don't fear the things most people do. That's not to say that I have no fears!" she hurried to correct, laughing a bit. "I fear plenty of things that ordinary people don't, the water chiefly amongst them, though not exactly the water itself, so much as what's in it." Elspeth considered herself. There were many things she avoided out of uncertainty that normal women did not.
"If we're to keep up an acquaintance, you may call me Elspeth," she decided.
"Elspeth, then," Joachim said with a smile. "And if you wouldn't mind, you may call me Joachim. I hope this will not be too difficult for you, to arrange meetings with me if it is necessary. I give you my word, I will not inconvenience you. I can only imagine the social risks you'd face being seen with me. You may not hold the hue of my skin against me, but others..."
He let the sentence trail off, looked at her lacy gloves. He wondered about the unfortunate Mr. Fry, the state of the marriage at the time of the man's death. He must do nothing to cause insult. A woman's reputation, once sullied, was impossible to repair. He knew that first-hand. He would have no one suffer that fate because of his carelessness. "I am thankful for your willingness to help me."
"Major Zahavi... Joachim..." A moment of levity brought a smile to her face. "I appreciate your concern, and you are a gentleman to be worried about such things, but I am a woman who didn't hesitate to stab her horse-eating husband to death with a fork. My reputation is already tarnished." Such things as popularity meant little to her now, especially with a livelihood secured, and Elspeth was occasionally seen in the company of gentlemen. It was unavoidable. She did take care not to damage her family's image more than necessary. "We will practice discretion," she assured him. "However, if we are seen, do not worry yourself over-much."
The major's dark eyes regarded the woman next to him on the bench, and the corners of his mouth twitched into a smile that actually exposed some teeth. "I must strike you as a terrible prig," he offered, and the amused expression reached his eyes. "When one becomes accustomed to worrying about a lady's fate, it is a hard habit to break. Rest assured, I will attempt not to fret over it. I should imagine that discretion is something you know a bit about."
Outside, the rain was beginning to let up, turning into a drizzle as the afternoon progressed, and Joachim rose from the bench before extending his hand in her direction. "And now I am afraid I must bid you a good day, for I am supposed to meet with my physician and then take dinner with my mother in the evening. I shall be in contact in a few days, Elspeth."
A prig? No. Elspeth knew a thing or two about priggish behavior, having been the worst sort before the incident with Carl. Even now, she was considered a prude onboard the Whitechapel, though what else was she to do? Cavort with the men like a tavern wench? It was a conundrum.
She took his hand and stood. "Please don't let me keep you. I would tell you to give your mother my best, but beyond the business of horses, we don't know each other, do we?" She smiled. Through the lace of her glove, his hand felt large and warm. She let go. "Until then."
"No, indeed." He held her much smaller hand perhaps longer than he should have, then released it. Refused to let himself ponder whether he might like to know her better, beyond the business of horses. It would not be a good idea to be foolish about what was taking place here. This was...in its own way, this was a business arrangement as well. Nothing less, but nothing more.
"I wish you a safe journey to your next destination, and hopefully a dry one."
"Thank you." Elspeth watched him depart. Though his gait was stiffened by injury, his posture remained upright and there was purpose to his walk that some men lacked. She bit the inside of her lip at the corner. He was different than the gentlemen of her acquaintance, but no less civil; in fact, his manners were an improvement upon her late husband's and some members of the Inquisition. Once he rounded the corner, she looked at her right glove, the thin network of lace on her palm, and she wondered about her willingness to help the would-be werewolf hunter, even though he, unlike Mister Jack Doyle, was not one of Her Majesty's recruits.