PW124: Making Amends

[Azuel Vyaduka]

“It’s not the weather that does it, not exactly” Azuel responded without thinking, “It’s what they can do with it. Weather only affects us in terms of our ability to perform actions and duties. Snow adds novel activities, and those who enjoy those actions are bound to be out and about, enjoying them.”

His lips twisted into a sneer at the children playing with the snow, rolling it up to gather as much as they could. Such effort to a frivolous end. He might once have been like them, but he now scorned it. “I’m sure those who live in the north would regard this snow as we do a sunny day.”

Azuel wondered if he was being needlessly contrary. “Er, not the be pedantic about it, I only- grk!” He closed off his own half formed apology with a meaningless throat noise. The tip of his nose was abruptly pointed back to his own feet and they walked once more in somber silence amid the merrymaking around them. He shouldn't be speaking so personably with her; it would only invite her further into his life. Damn his instincts. He did not want to see the expression on her face right now.

He looked anyways.

[Ivone]

Ivone didn't really pay Azuel's comments any attention. She was too bemused and enamoured, watching the children. The laughter, their antics, and their ridiculously bundled bodies, all of it made her feel wistful. That horrible, twisting grief that made her stomach cramp warred with the ebullient, bubbling joy she felt just watching them play. Had he lived, her son would have been bundled up just so, toddling about the back garden and getting grumpy because his feet and bottom were getting wet... just like that little one over there with his mother. So, even as she smiled that smile that lit up her face, it broke a little and tears welled in her eyes. Then the smile disappeared like the sun on a cloudy day.

Sometimes when tears well, they don't fall. Sometimes, one or two break free. One fat tear broke and slipped down her cheek. Ivone looked down, slipping a gloved hand from the muffler to surreptitiously (or so she thought) catch the tears and dry them with a gloved finger. Ivone's eyes closed a moment as she breathed a quick, deep breath and tucked her hand back into the muffler.

When she looked up, she found Azuel looking at her. She offered him a wan smile amidst the raw, unmasked expression she wore.

"Yes, you're probably correct. My house is not much further."

The pair continued walking, making a right at the next intersection. Her home would be mid-way from there to the next one. As they approached her house, Ivone said,

"Would you care for a cup of tea or hot chocolate before you head home?"

[Azuel Vyaduka]

Azuel stared impassively, his insecure cringe vanishing as his lips pursed together. His eyebrows straightened into a flat line as his head similarly returned to face the road ahead. His expression had effectively reset itself.

Blessed by Teonidus with sharp eyes, he had seen the tear. There was no room for doubt, even in the depths of Azuel’s insecure mind. He shrugged his shoulders and pulled his cloak around him with the same motion, deep in thought. His green eyes scrutinized her as best they could while looking subtly out of their corners, taking in every detail available to them.

Azuel pieced the scene together easily enough: the children were the only probable source. It meant her grief was still raw. Perhaps it was justified, perhaps not, but Azuel’s suspicions were sent another warning flag. The conversation of last night shrank in his memory, eager as he was to add more fuel to the fire; the notion that Ivone had not come out of simple Yiamas spirit blazed brighter now than it ever had before. He was not fool enough to discount his sense of intuition.

They arrived at her street soon enough. When they were a few doors from her home, Ivone surprised him by breaking the silence with a simple inquiry that sent Azuel’s mind into overdrive.

Accept or refuse? On one hand the sooner he was gone the better. On the other, a lack of understanding could only hinder his aims in the future. There was no guarantee that he would gain anything but… blast, he was already out of time to mull over the matter.

“Yes, of course. That sounds delightful.” He responded with an even voice, just moments before his words might have come too late. Internally, he swore at himself and second guessed his every reason for stating what he had. He led her evenly through the snow, too distracted by his thoughts to excessively ignore or mockingly pamper her.

Nothing could be done about it now without conveying some negative impression, so Azuel resigned himself to his fate. If nothing else, the experience should only take a short while. He merely hoped he would not leave an equally poor impression from his conduct within her home. His grandfather would hear of it; that much, he could be certain of.

The snow before her house was untrodden, creating a pristine white blanket. Azuel did not care much for the aesthetics nature could provide, but it at least made a welcome change of pace from the melting, trampled footprints that dominated the street. He led Ivone up to her door before he began shaking his boots off so as not to track powder across her floor.

[Ivone]

Azuel's response surprised her. But, she supposed he'd responded out of politeness. Ivone pulled her key from a hidden pocket and unlocked the door. Inside, the house held a slight chill. The ceilings were high and no servants were employed to keep the place warm in her absence. Tian had splurged on electric lights, so the darkness was dispelled with a simple touch to a button near the door. Next to the door sat a bench, coat hooks, hat hooks, and a mirror. A thick rug offered a place to wipes one's boots.

Ivone stepped inside and gestured.

"Please, do come in."

Once Azuel had moved inside, she shut the door, wiped her feet, and moved to the bench. First, she placed the muffler in its place. Next, came the hat, scarf, and gloves. The coat was given its place as well. Taking a seat, Ivone leaned down and began to untie her boots. These were replaced with house shoes. With the change of shoes, Ivone lost at least two inches in height. Ivone gave Azuel time to wipe his boots and to remove his coat if he chose. She suspected not, but he'd surprised her once already.

Entering the house from the front door, one would find a staircase leading up to the second floor of the house. Stairs lined both walls and a walkway overlooked the main atrium. Double doors lay on either side of the room, leading to other parts of the house. The doors were closed. One might guess that the doors led to the rooms attached to the semi-circular bays at the front.

"The kitchen is this way." Another gesture indicated the way as she led him through the house. Only once they'd come to the kitchen did the house look lived in.

"Please, sit."

A serving for one had been cleaned and set to dry in the drying rack. Ivone moved efficiently around her kitchen, lighting the fire in the stove and fireplace. The fireplace would begin to heat the whole house using a clever system of vents.

Soon enough, the kettle began to boil and place settings laid upon the large block table in the middle of the room. Some evidence of her work was available for inspection as well. The work area was tidy and organized. Milk, sugar, and little tidbits were also placed on the table. Last came the kettle, with its cozy.

Ivone left any attempt at small talk to Azuel as she'd gone about the business of serving her guest, until she was ready to pour the tea.

"Do you take milk or sugar?"

[Azuel Vyaduka]

He couldn’t help but quietly snort at Ivone’s drop in height. Perhaps it was not so unreasonable that she had not chosen to brave the snow earlier. He held his boot out the door and shook in vigorously, removing as much snow as he could before entry. A frustrating lump stuck to the center, forcing him to kick it against the stone.

Turning back into the house with his footwear freed from the weather, he hung up his cloak though not his coat. That he chose to keep on. The house was still rather cold and he didn’t care to make the return trip without his body heat having kept his clothing’s temperature manageable. He shuffled along and wormed his way the seat which Ivone indicated.

“Ah, sugar I suppose, thank you,” He said in response to her question, his words accompanied by a casual shrug. A small frown dotted his features for just a fragment of a moment. He didn’t particularly care which was put into the tea, but he had been quietly hoping for that hot chocolate she had mentioned. The yearning was not so great that he felt it necessary to trouble her now.

He forced himself to relax; as ironic as that sounded to him, he certainly seemed to need to do just that with alarming frequency. At least he was practiced: he felt his shoulders lose their tension and his face reset to a neutral tone. He cynically mused that his face more often lied to those around him than it told the truth.

He accepted the tea in silence, taking a quiet sip before feeling the need to instigate small talk. “If you don’t mind me asking, have you any other plans for the remaining festivities, now that your apology has been accepted?” He immediately regretted adding the last part, despite the fact that he kept his voice natural throughout. It was a hair to accusatory for his liking, and unnecessary besides. He took another sip of the tea to help disguise any embarrassment.

[Ivone]

In her own home, her own kitchen, Ivone seemed a little less tense, too. She hadn't realized she'd been holding her shoulders so tightly until she sat down at the table with Azuel. She was still a little surprised that he chose to stay for a moment longer than necessary. She felt prickly around him, probably because he so obviously distrusted her.

“Ah, sugar I suppose, thank you.”

Looking over the tea setting, she suddenly put her hands to her mouth. Pink infused her cheeks, deepening the violet-blue shade. Her hands came down, fingers curling lightly against her palm, and she searched his face with her gaze. One would be hard-pressed to fake her actions. She hadn't, they were real. She was truly abashed that she'd forgotten to ask her guest's preference. He'd not said anything, but the slight frown gave her pause.

"I am so sorry. I ... I just went into an automatic mode. You probably wanted the hot chocolate instead. It's no trouble." To prove her point, Ivone gracefully slipped from the chair and moved to the stove once more. This time, milk was produced from the cold press, a tin of cocoa from the pantry, and a cup and saucer from the cabinet. She moved with ease around the kitchen, familiar with it.

“If you don’t mind me asking, have you any other plans for the remaining festivities, now that your apology has been accepted?”

Ivone had been stirring the milk, to make sure it didn't scald. The question slowed her motions and her profile showed an expression mixed with thoughtfulness and sadness.

"There's so many things to do this time of year. I have several orders I need to finish. I need to visit my parents. And, I... " The expression pained slightly. "I have some rearrangements in the house that needs tending."

Ivone began scooping spoonfuls of the cocoa blend into the milk, stirring carefully so it wouldn't lump up. The scent of rich chocolate filled the area. Ivone put the pot on the hob and put away everything she'd used before moving to the cold press once more. From there a small bowl was produced and a chunk of something dark. A wisk, applied to the contents of the bowl, produced a thick, whipped cream. The hot chocolate was poured into the cup, topped with the cream and the dark block was grated over the top of it: curls of chocolate.

"I hope you like it. It's my own blend." A shy smile was given as she placed the cup in front of him. Ivone did not rejoin him immediately. She cleaned up what she'd used before sitting at the table once more. Thankfully, the tea cozy had kept the pot warm. She poured herself a cup, plain, and took a sip.

"What of you? What will the Vyaduka's do for the remainder of the festivities?" Her gaze was clear and guileless. They held no blame.

[Azuel Vyaduka]

“You don’t need to-” Azuel started to protest, halfheartedly raising his palm in negation. It was too late and he did not wish to contest her on the matter, just as he had not cared to voice his complaint in the first place. Though continuing to fidget occasionally, he eased back into a comfortable position in his seat.

She answered his question, sort of. For a brief moment Azuel felt a flash of annoyance, surging through his body like a fire across kindling. He wanted to stand up, shake her, and tell her to get over it. It had been a year, hadn’t it? The feeling was followed by a flash of guilt, brushing away his true feelings and locking them deep within his chest.

He wondered if it was normal to hold on to grief for so long. Certainly he did not recall mourning his mother’s death for such a long period of time, though he had been young and had never been a passionate personality.

These selfish thoughts ran through his mind as he took his hot chocolate and sipped once again. His vibrant green eyes, concealed beneath their own drooping shape, studied Ivone’s every move and expression intently. She recovered quickly enough, with no further trace of her loss as she expressed her desire that he enjoy the hot chocolate. So lost in his thoughts, Azuel barely heard her and failed to respond in any meaningful fashion. Instead he smiled politely and placed the cup back on the table.

Her next inquiry made him chuckle. “Hardly anything. My family has done little in the way of celebrations since my mother’s death, if you’ll kindly forgive my bluntness. Grandfather is always off working for the city, and my father never enjoyed celebrations.” He considered elaborating, but decided he did not care to explain the matter of his family’s disharmony to an outsider. To the world, he would uphold the illusion of unity. It was a pathetic façade, but one that kept order in his life.

He looked up at Ivone, struck by the commonalities between them. It was no wonder he disliked her if she reminded him of himself, constantly hiding ugly feelings from the world. Nobody else would care about their true outlooks. At best, they would be annoyed. The fronts were safety against that inevitability.

For a brief moment he considered sharing this view in the privacy of her home. Habit and will kept him from doing so. If fronts were upheld for social facilitation, she would hardly appreciate an outpouring now. Nor did he trust her yet.

“I’m rather content with that, to be honest. Celebrations are frivolous and exhausting. Let other families play the host for my siblings as I enjoy humbler pastimes in the comfort of home.” He chuckled. “Arrogance on my part, I admit. I hope you can see where I am coming from, at least.”

[Ivone]

"Hm," Ivone murmured noncommittally. "They can be frivolous and exhausting, but I think that is the point of them. They give us the opportunity to put aside our day-to-day responsibilities. I don't think I'd call it arrogance, so much as preference. Socializing isn't for everyone, though, and it's wrong to force those who are uncomfortable to participate. Some prefer to be in the center of everything, some do not. Why force it?" Ivone gave a little shrug with her shoulder and took another sip of tea.

[Azuel Vyaduka]

Azuel would have like to frown. This was not proving to be as informative as he had naively hoped. Looking back on his semi-panicked decision making, he wasn’t certain what he had expected to find. Her house was bland, and no signed notes of confession saying “I have an ulterior motive in approaching Khayyam” were lying on a table somewhere.

Instead his face maintained a façade of sociability, running brazenly counter to his own declarations just moments before. He engaged in small talk for as long as was required, going about his duty like a soldier marching off to war, and as soon as it became acceptable he took the chance to stand.

“My sincere thanks for the hot chocolate,” He concluded, placing the mug beside the washstand. “I have not had it for quite some time.”

He began gathering his things to leave. When certain Ivone was not looking, he grit his teeth and admitted he might need to speak with his sister after all.

When standing at the door, with Ivone there to see him off, he considered one last attempt at provocation. A mention of her late husband, Azuel reasoned, would have interesting effects and her reaction would surely tell him something.

But no. That was not how he wished to proceed. He would die of embarrassment, particularly if she got accusatory. Instead he defaulted to the meaningless pleasantries which had occupied their evening. "Well, I'll be off then." He said with a short bow, "Enjoy the snow while it lasts, Lady Malatrast. It is quite the rarity."

[Ivone]

"You as well, Master Vyaduka. I wish a safe a pleasnt journey back home."

Ivone closed the door behind Azuel and heaved a sigh. Lady Malatrast... Ivone wasn't sure why it was odd to hear that. It was still true and she had been called such several times over the last three months on the circuit with Aurelio.

Through rote behaviors, Ivone hung the shawl and made her way back to the kitchen. She took her time, putting everything back in its place - cleaned and ready for its next use, whenever that might be. She wanted to bathe, but wanted to warm the house first. Soft steps took her upstairs to light a warm fire in her bedroom.

She'd finally reclaimed the master, though the bed was still too big when she slept alone - which happened more often than she'd prefer. Appearances had to be maintained. Her being seen on Aurelio's arm was well-known. Ivone wondered how long it would take for Khyyam to suggest she find more suitable accompaniment.

Thinking of Aurelio made her wonder if he'd keep his promise to visit her. He had a key to an unobtrusive door leading in from the back garden. He could visit whenever he chose.