Elizabeth doesn't know who she's becoming (manylighthouses) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2014-04-08 15:31:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, aramis, elizabeth comstock |
Who: Elizabeth and Aramis.
When: Early April (post-age plot).
Where: A library and a cafe.
What: A meeting.
Rating/Warning: Low, these two are mostly just adorable.
Status: Complete!
Aramis had never had an extensive book collection, but what he did have, most of it he had to leave behind when he moved to Orange County. It wasn’t all that awful except for when he got the itch to read something and it wasn’t there. Like now. He was feeling something in the way of historical romance or drama, and, to his delight, discovered that one branch had a copy of Notre Dame de Paris in its original French. It appeared to be harder to find than he’d hoped, and he stood in front of the non-English section, a frown growing and more evident on his face with each pass of the spines of books on the shelves.
Having an extensive library to choose from was perhaps the only part of her old life that Elizabeth missed. There'd been books on every possible subject there, in all kinds of languages. There had even been a few in latin.
Today, though, she was more in the mood for something classic and romantic, so she was perusing the french section of the local library. The smell of the place, with its musty books, made her feel almost nostalgic, and she ran her finger along the spines as she recited the names aloud, "Hmm.... Les Liaisons Dangereuses... Candide... Oh! Quelle merveille! Le Grand Meaulnes!"
She picked the book up with no small amount of reverence, and opened it up, marveling at its condition, then added it to a stack in her arms.
Apart from the times he spoke to his mother and father on the phone, Aramis was unaccustomed to hearing French in Orange County. He glanced over and put on a smile.
"Ça cèst la plus bon choix," he said, complimenting her choice.
"Ah!" Elizabeth hadn't even noticed that anyone was in the library around her, so focused had she been on the books. She was so startled that she actually dropped the books she'd been clutching onto, and then flailed a bit, "You startled me, monsieur!"
The man that had spoken to her was incredibly handsome, which didn't help at all. Elizabeth felt awkward and like a gigantic klutzy cow. She pulled on one of her sleeves, then blushed and stooped down to start picking her books up, "I'm not used to having company in the stacks."
He looked immediately apologetic at startling her, and stooped down to help pick up the books. “My sincerest apologies,” Aramis said, handing over a book with a smile. “I was sticking my nose where it didn’t belong.”
Before standing up again, the spine of a book caught his attention and he let out a triumphant hup. “Though maybe it was fate, since it would appear that the book I was looking for has been down here the whole time.”
"Oh no, it was my fault." Elizabeth replied, also apologetically. She was still blushing, and her blush only intensified when one of her fingers accidentally scraped past his hand in the process of grabbing one of her books from him. In the back of her mind, she told herself with a very disappointed voice, how extremely ridiculous and 'twitterpated' she was acting. This was a random stranger! Who apparently spoke french. Which was quite romantic.
But she barely knew him! And it wasn't right to be blushing so much over random frenchmen, no matter how romantic and handsome they seemed. Elizabeth smoothed her skirt a bit and tweaked her books back into a perfect stack, as if that might make her mind cooperate with her.
"Were you looking for that one? I had it in my stack here, but you're more than welcome to it. I have more books than I'll ever read through before they are due again. And that one is an old favorite. I practically have it memorized."
“Oh - Oh, please, no, by all means.” Aramis laughed, shaking his head and setting the book carefully on top of the pile in the girl’s arms. “I wouldn’t feel right at all about it. Besides, I’ve got the whole thing more or less memorized myself, and I think I can fill my time with something else just as well. I think there’s a Spanish copy of Don Quixote somewhere here.” He paused, flashing her an amused look.
“Unless you’ve got that one stacked up, as well,” he teased, good naturedly. And probably a bit flirtatiously, too, if he was being honest with himself. Aramis was hopeless at the best of times with a sweet and pretty face, and he saw how flustered she was, which made it all that more appealing.
"Are you sure? I feel like I couldn't possibly give the book the time it deserves. It should go home with someone else who will treat it well," Elizabeth got to her feet, while clutching her books against her in some kind of death grip. Mainly so that she wouldn't drop them again.
She tucked a loose hair behind her ear, and shook her head, "I don't have that one in my pile. I prefer to take things one language at a time. Otherwise, I start thinking in French or Spanish and the other book makes no sense to me for a little while. But I think I know where that copy is."
“I’m positive. It’s hard to tell when I’ll have free time to read these days anyway.” Aramis reached out to hold her elbow to help her stand, just in case the pile of books made her topple over or something. “You speak Spanish as well, then? I think I might swoon.” With another smile, he put his hand over his heart. “I would be most honoured if you could show me where Don Quixote is.”
Her elbow felt like it was still on fire where he'd touched it, and Elizabeth was still trying not to get flustered. It was extremely hard not to do that, though, because he was flirting with her. Or she thought he was flirting with her.
She wasn't even sure she could find words at that point. Her heart felt like it was racing and she wanted to just stay in his presence for as long as she could. So she grinned and nodded her head shyly, then silently motioned for him to follow her.
Elizabeth lead him to the other side of the foreign language section, where the spanish volumes were located. There were several more stacks available which made sense, given the area they were in. It was only then that she managed to find her voice again, "It's just... right here. My spanish is actually... a little rusty, but it's been improving since I moved here. I'm more afraid I'll lose my grasp of French if I'm not careful."
“Ah, not your native tongue, then?” he asked, amicably as he followed her. “I grew up around both languages so it’s second nature for me to slip between them. To be perfectly honest, sometimes it’s English I have trouble with.” Aramis looked amused and then laughed before putting a finger to his lips. “But shush, don’t tell anyone.”
"English was the first language I learned, but it was followed by French. Only, we spent just a few months out of the year there, and when we were back in New York, father only wanted us to speak English in the house. He and Mother seemed to disagree about that, but I never understood why," Elizabeth admitted, trading a secret for a secret.
"I like to think that I wouldn't forget French, it's such a lovely language and it's close enough to a native tongue. All things can fall out of practice, though, if they aren't applied. Or at least, that seems to be my fear. Perhaps it's not actually a concern at all."
She added, ducking her head a bit, "It would certainly help if I had someone to speak it with."
Aramis ran his finger along the spines of the books, reading each carefully as he listened to her. Occasionally he glanced over from the corner of his eyes, and he smiled a bit. “Funny, I was thinking the same thing recently. I do have a friend who sort of speaks both, but he’s hopeless really. Perhaps we can help one another out.”
Elizabeth's blush deepened a bit, and she turned her attention back to the spines of the books so that she didn't say or do something ridiculous. The handsome stranger was agreeing with her about spending more time together?
She felt like the collar of her shirt was suddenly a little too tight, and was so grateful when her fingers tapped against the familiar spine of Don Quijote de la Mancha, "Ah, aquí está! Exactamente donde lo dejé la semana pasada."
The switch to Spanish was mostly to show off, and she giggled, "Well, it's not as good as my French. But... did we ever introduce ourselves? I'm Elizabeth. If I'm going to have a friend to speak French to, I'd like to know his name."
Well, Aramis had to laugh a bit. “Well done. I see what you mean, it would be a shame to let that go to waste. A beautiful language spoken by a beautiful young woman is something that should be preserved.” He took the book from the shelf and gave her a nod of his head.
“Aramis,” he told her, “d’Herblay.” He put a bit of flourish on the name and, really, only gave her the last name to show off himself. Who didn’t love an authentic enough Frenchman, right? “It is an absolute pleasure.”
"Oh... The pleasure is mutual, I assure you!"
Elizabeth ducked her head a bit, unsure if that was too forward or not, "The world really must be as small as they say it is. Here you are, leagues away from your home country, and me nowhere near my mother's estate, either. I never imagined I'd meet a man like you here in a library in California."
“Ah, well …” Aramis shrugged, then gave her an embarrassed but altogether amused smile. “I’m not really from France,” he admitted. “I hope that doesn’t bring me down a bit in your eyes. I grew up on the east coast, but both of my parents come from France. So I’m close enough, really.”
"French, all the same!" Elizabeth countered, happily. She added, "And even then, I wasn't likely to run into you there. I was... something of a caged bird, until recently."
She rocked back on her heels a bit and darted her eyes off to the side, then hugged her books against her, "You couldn't possibly be interested in my life story. It isn't very interesting. But still... I would like to see you again. We can talk about anything at all, just in French... and I don't have many friends. I would love to count you among them, Mr. D'Herblay."
Aramis had met a few caged birds since coming to Orange County. Funny that. He couldn’t ever imagine a life like that. But he smiled at her and put a hand to his heart, pretending to be a little wounded.
“On the contrary, I would love to hear your life story. In French, of course,” he teased. “And Aramis is more than fine, really.” Grabbing a notecard and pencil from a stack for people to write down call numbers, Aramis wrote down his number and, for good measure, his e-mail, then tucked it into her copy of Notre Dame de Paris. “There, now you can reach me whenever you want.”
"Aramis," Elizabeth corrected herself. It was almost a whisper, like the idea of speaking his first name had left her breathless at the thought of it.
Maybe it had. She hugged her books against her chest again, taking extra special care now not to knock the card with his information on it loose, and beamed the brightest smile she'd smiled yet that day, "Thank you, I will! You can count on it."