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Post by Master Jean-Claude d'Aquitaine on Jan 18, 2010 1:40:59 GMT -6
In Turas Lan, 1330 Many days had passed since he had seen his heart, or heard her voice across the way. Jean-Claude wondered as the night drew to a close, if she would ever return from that ship. The lanterns of the night were starting to be lit as the soggy ground moved under the steps of the caretakers. The ice and snow started to melt between storms, but now the rains would not give. The beauty of the winter turned to a dull pull of depression, and he was thankful for his work--Spring would not be far. A break in the books, he sat back feeling his need to be refreshed and a change of position. Standing, Jean-Claude moved to the water room to splash his face, clean his hands of the dried blood, and correct his hair. It would be when he felt his heart ache did he move to the window to where her shop was still, and propped against the window. Where was she? He missed her dearly. (d A good nose could smell spring on the rains. Ada's did. It smelled muddy earth, ready to be churned over, and seeded with new life. The woods crackled with movement, animals rising from slumber and staggering forth toward food. As ice lifted, even the people began to move faster, pushing toward longer days of sunlight, smiling a little more readily, though the brighter colors of spring were still some weeks off. In the shuttered second floor of her building, Ada examined herself in the looking glass Jean-Claude had given her. She estimated herself at about sixteen weeks, and fingers traced the naked curve of her stomach. She was sitting high, the skin smooth and supple, as if she had swallowed a ball, rather than carried an infant. No amount of tailoring was hiding this child. Which meant, Ada thought with a deep frown, it was time to tell Jean-Claude. It was time to go to the ship, which she had been packing very carefully since the new year, and set sail. If she waited much longer, she would risk the child. She would risk Peregrine asking too many questions, and she would never leave Jean. It was time. She pulled on her dress, adjusting the laces, though not too tightly. She had learned it merely made her back scream in agony at night, and the fluttering movements seemed almost panicked. Ada's heart couldn't stand such rapid movements, and an overactive imagination certainly did not help. With a smile, she patted the stomach again, and took a final look around her room. It was mostly empty, ready for Marcelline to move in. Her apprentice was ready to take over; Ada had few worries worth voicing about the young woman, so she made sure to puff out the remaining candles, and took the last jar of pickled mushrooms with her out the door, grabbing a light cloak as she went and hurrying down the lane toward Jean-Claude's. Stairs were a little difficult these days, but Ada hustled up them, spilling into Jean's room with a laugh, leaving the mushrooms most likely on his table downstairs -- they were no longer clutched in her arm. The cloak she put on a peg by the fire to dry, it having been soaked in the short distance. "Oh, my love, it has been too long, I am sorry. You know I would be here every minute of the day rambling about your subject of choice, if I could." * He had missed her crossing the street, missed the flicker of light in her window as he was getting dressed to go see her. Somewhere between the break and his unwilling return to work he needed to see her. "Mon Chatte." He was surprised to see her, and it was written across his face half in his coat. "I was just on my way to you." The words nearly all fell together with the rich sound of his accent. His heart soured rushing forward as his lips turned up in a smile. He was slow to close the distance between them, but once he had her in his arms he could only think of never letting her go. "I have been concerned." He admitted freely, "Thinking you have forgotten this old man, and found a new." He teased, taking her hands in his own that were warm for once, and held them cupped. "Tell me you will come to dinner with me, that I may have if only a few hours of your time. I will make it worth your time." Meaning the best of the best of the best, and she could eat it all. (d She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly, breathing in deeply of his scent. She told herself not to memorize it. She would be home in a few short months. There was no use feeding homesickness. "I only have two candles in the upstairs, I just had to run up to grab a jar of mushrooms." She blinked, then smiled. "You know I would never forget you. You are first in my heart, always will be." At the touch of his fingers, the smile widened, and she looked up at him. "That would be lovely. We will have enough food until I burst, oh, and falling asleep in your bed -- I haven't done that in a few days." She laughed and took his hands, squeezing them lightly. She was going to leave tonight, with the last tide, but she didn't want that coloring the evening. He was in a good mood. His happiness radiated from his heart and lit his eyes. How could she let him spend the evening thinking this was their last anything, when she would be home in a few months? Ada was always hungry, it was certainly no symptom of her condition. She found she was starving about now, and dinner sounded delightful. She wondered if that waiter finally understood that "no meat" did not mean chicken instead of pork. * Jean-Claude laughed, that kind of sound that only came when everything he held in could be released, Ada did this."I would love that very much. Oh, Adelaide I could even sleep in your bed. It has been too long." He curled her arm into his helping her down the stairs, and into a new cloak. She did not wish to wear the ones of fur, that made her stand out as heavy wealth, but tonight he would not let her refuse. They were going to the medieval five star, not some tarts tavern, and he would not send her out in her wet one. "Yes, until you burst. Such lovely word choice, Ada." He smiled kissing her hand before pulling the hood of her cloak up, and getting his hat. The dinner was quick to settle, they were seated at his normal table with wine of course. He did feel this night was like all the rest, and as he went over the menu he did not say anything until finally the silence broke, "So next week, there is a gathering for the order. I am not certain of the details, but I do know Janice is looking forward to it greatly." He smiled again thinking of the chipper little blonde who was so pleased to jot words in his books..numbers, even. "But this falls on the full moon, and I know you will be off with my pirate somewhere." He raised his gaze to her, a dark amused look-- knowing her. (d Ada actually liked the fur, she just hadn't quite made up her mind why the change of mind. It felt good, heavy, sturdy, and lush. When they arrived, she was a little reluctant to part with it, but settled into her seat and rested her hand on the table for him to take. She let Jean read the menu as he always knew what to order, choosing to sip at a cup of hot milk while he took wine. She gave him an openly amused look at his suggestion she would be off with Pere. "Only twice, and the second time was for a sail. Which hardly counts, we did nothing worth feeling ashamed about." She grinned, took a sip of milk, and tried composing herself agian. Ada did a remarkable job of it, seeming a suddenly transformed lady, with perfect posture, if one elbow remained on the table. It wasn't fair to let him make plans. She bit her lower lip, and then determined to just come out with it, released the lip to speak. "I do not think I will be there, or even off with your pirate. It is getting harder to hide my belly, Jean. I think it is time to go." He must have known this day was coming. They had talked about it before, and Pere had begged her not to go, but what Pere did not know was worth keeping a secret. She bowed her head, her words sounding less confident, but no less passionate. "If I could.... If matters were less complicated...." * He had gone back to the menu hardly understanding anything on it as the must have a new cook; nothing was in French. However, when his eyes came back to hers again, there was a huge splash of shock in the otherwise deep pools of black. His jaw did not drop, but his mouth was not closed. It would take a moment for him to compose himself, that even when the service came to take their order he had not noticed. Blinking back to reality he would order for them, in quiet words and his smile was forced. With his wine in hand he would sit back in the armed chair, finally coming to meet her gaze trying very hard to keep himself together. He did know this day was coming, but it came too quickly. "Your plan to leave Skye? Have this child somewhere else? Is this what you mean?" He knew, but wanted to hear her say it. Jean's words were dry, but still calm. "I had thought you had abandoned this ludicrous idea." He fought many emotions all at once wanting so bad to be angry at her, lock her away in a tower, and ultimately loosing her forever. However on this other hand he knew..deep down he knew she had to go. He held her while she dreamed, touching the round of her child as it told her mother she had to go, and he could not follow. (d "Should I have it here?" she asked with remarkable calmness, though she did want to tell him a thing or two that was ludicrous. "Perhaps I can even be so kind as to address a letter to both Peregrine and wife. He will hate me if I stay.You won't hate me if I go." She sighed, and both elbows were on the table now, hands propping up her chin, so that dark eyes gazed thoughtfully at Jean-Claude. "Will you?" Avaria all but swam in those eyes these days. She woke up, terrified that there was no great canopy of silver-green leaves overhead, disconcerted at the lack of loamy soil beneath. She needed to go like she needed to breathe, and if he would not follow, then she must go alone. But stars! How she wished he would. That he had not lived such a hard life, that he would follow her to the ends of the earth, even that good fortune would keep her in Skye, where her heart belonged, where her soul was, where her shop stood, and her friends lived. It was hard, and she was scared, but she had also found some determination since speaking with Eirian. She would be stronger when she returned. And her love for Jean was never in question. "I will be back before you've had a chance to miss me." * "Will I?" He shook his head, waving his hand, "Will I write Rosalind and tell her about this? That her husband could not control himself, and that out of everything a child?" It heated him, and the truth could not be kept in any longer. "No. I will not. I am not going to clean this mess, just as I am not going to follow you, or beg you to stay. Adelaide, you must forgive me, but I am very clear on how I am finished with adventures. Even for you, you knew the consequences when you went head first in that forest." He took a deep breath closing his eyes to capture himself and brought his fingers together before him to think. He suddenly wished he could take Rosalind into his arms, shield her away from this pain. She did not deserve it. When their dinner arrived, he would not touch it, not a single bite. Jean-Claude lost himself in the wine, and snorted a small laugh. "And you pick Avaria.." He shook his head, reaching into his breast pocket to set out the proper coin for the meal, and would stand to leave. He was not leaving out of anger...mostly, but he had lots to do. There was no doubt she wasn't prepared enough, not for Avaria. (d "Jean, sit, please." Ada wasn't getting up. She wasn't finished with her dinner yet, and she was famished. She even took a bite of her fish, one of the few meats she felt it all right to eat. "I didn't pick Avaria. I picked a little island about an hour's boat ride from here, that even you, not wanting adventure, could journey to. We wouldn't be apart. I wouldn't feel like I was betraying you. Much less throwing myself off the edge of the world." A sip of milk to wash the fish down, a combination that was oddly comforting, if slightly disgusting. She would have to remember it for later. "I knew what the consequences were. I did not expect to see my daughter's face in a dream that night, to know what she would look like, to have the memory of her pressed into my body so fresh in my mind, it was as if she belonged there always. Just because I cannot explain it does not mean it is invalid. I made a second choice to keep her, and I make a third to leave, because I do not want my child at the center of pain. She is my joy, and I cannot wait to meet her. I will not let anything sully that." She set her knife down, and wiped her hands on the cloth napkin. "I have been making more choices in the past six months than I have in the entirety of my life, and due to inexperience, I do not know whether I am right or wrong. I do not want you to tell me to stay or go. But I would like to hear that, given the options, I have at least made a good choice." She draped her napkin over her meal and stood to face him, lowering her voice, lest they attracted too much attention. "My ship is ready, Jean-Claude. Everything I need is aboard. More than I need, perhaps. I want to enjoy my last night with you. I do not want to spend it packing." * The Frenchman was quiet while she spoke, listening with a shake of his head. However, it would not be until the last comment did he return his thoughts. "Because you know what you need, because you have done this for 10 years. Your door to your chamber can it lock? The windows? A crew that gets lonely can be a fearsome fight. What of a storm? Shelter when you get there? Are you aware that all of the ports have been blown up. Once you get off that ship you cannot simply leave it docked." There were too many things to be doing then waiting here, and he took her hand to kiss it. "I will have it all finished by midnight, you can wait for me in my bed. You will leave at dawn, and I will give you leave. Not that I could stop you..but this is what everyone loves about you is it not?" (d "No." He was leaving over her dead body. She realized her thoughts were running toward the dramatic, but it was true: No one believed her capable of doing anything on her own. They thought she would ruin it, or miss some critical step, and when had Ada ever given them reason to believe she needed to be treated like a child? "No, I have not done this. Not even for a year. But I can think for myself, Jean-Claude, and I have made all the preparations. I have lumber in the hold, tools to put a house together, a trunk of my possessions, and enough stored food and water in case I am not able to gather any for myself. Pere picked the crew, including the captain. They will come ashore to hunt and do what men like to do on untamed shores, I do not care, but they will be there when I am ready to return. The door locks. And I cannot account for storms -- they are greater than me, but the captain assures the ship is worthy." If he would look back, he would see this was the first time she had truly put her foot down about anything. She stood as tall as her small frame was capable of, now slowly folding her arms beneath her breasts, her chin set at just such a stubborn angle, and eyes just hard enough, that it would make anyone reconsider his options. Maybe he did know that look from somewhere. Maybe he would recall it from the determined little witch he had encountered years ago in Paris, who would not hesitate to pick up the knife upon the table, and plant it in the nearest wall to demonstrate her point. Were her hands not safely tucked away, her fingers might have twitched toward the blade. "This is our last night together," she said firmly. "I want to spend every minute of it with you. I want to have a good memory of our last night together. It will have to last us for a while, no?" Jean-Claude turned upon her swiftly, though everything about him always seemed to move in a single motion like the rotation of the moon in the sky, he found himself standing before her a different man. There was a wildness to him, a threat alone that reached the dark depths of his eyes, and shook free from his covered hands. It wasn't anger, that filled his face the smooth alabaster skin seemed calm, and perhaps if you touched it; it would be cold. However, his feeling of regret swam so well up his back, chilling his spine. This anger was a cool anger, towards the world in moments, and not at her..though she wasn't helping. "Adelaide, you can stand there and say all you wish, threaten me with your balled fists, and hard shoulders…It will not change anything. I am still going to that ship, and I will work on it all night if I must. I can not stop you, nor will I go with you, but you will NOT deny me the ease of knowing and seeing for myself you are in good hands." And tomorrow he would find that pirate and ring his neck. "I do not doubt you, so much as I doubt the forces that work against you, or that horrible place." Something in him broke, the ice melted from his flesh, the fire from his eyes as he shook his head, "Please.." Words were desperate, "Do not speak like that." In truth he didn't want her to go, of course, but he knew this look. He had watched Peregrine too many times offer the same exhausted catch in his eye, that pulled him between worlds, and though he did love the man dearly--it was not the same. Letting her go was going to madden him, make him feel he had lost the better part of himself. Theirs was a strange relationship, one that was void of commitment but he simply could not be without her, somewhere in his life. The child was not his, he knew this much, but he would see to it this daughter of the moon would have all the fine things in life. Jean-Claude was at a stand still in his own life, with the prospects ahead changing, she was the only rock that kept him grounded, and for selfish reasons he wished to lock her away. But how does one capture the wind. Peregrine should be shamed!"Let us walk to the docks.." He spoke after his calm had been collected, and he found his voice. "Then go home." He would make her not forget this night, or him.
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