I Remember Losing Hope

A two-story building. A small public bath and an office take up the first floor, while the second has three small rooms with two cots each. Newcomers through the door have a week here before they're expected to have joined the Red Collars or Blue Flame, or become employed in town somehow. Some exceptions are made, of course...

I Remember Losing Hope

Joined: September 9th, 2013, 3:56 am

September 11th, 2013, 2:59 am #1

A bed, so much nicer than what she'd had in Madame's house. Everything was better than sleeping mats and thin blankets. The whole room just for her. She didn't need to share, didn't need to step against the wall and wait her turn at the wash basin. She had this whole room all to herself. Bijoux had always wanted her own space, but she hadn't imagined that she would feel so compressed by the silence.

"S'il vous plaît, Dieu, ne laissez pas ceci être un rêve" If this was all just a dream the monsieur would find her. She had no way to flee the city and even if she could, what did she know about country living? She had one skill - sewing. What would that get her in the hills? Sure, there were other cities. None so fine as Paris, of course, but she could find work. If she could make it to Calais she might even be able to get to England.

But if this wasn't a dream? It had been three days now since the Sheriff had met her and let her out of that cell. He'd explained it all to her, but still it seemed madness. A door into other worlds. He had let her press herself into the wall, let her keep as far from him as possible. He hadn't commented on her state of disarray, her shaking hand, or the wide eyes that continued to dart back to the way she had come. He had taken her information and given her a room and let her lock herself away until she woke up.

"Vous ne pouvez pas m'avoir!" She screamed at the ceiling, arms crossed tightly across body. She screamed again, wordless this time, as she pressed her bony back into a corner of her room. Maybe she was mad. Maybe she had killed the man and now she was locked away to her own thoughts. It would explain why she had so much room all to herself. It would also explain why she was so warm in the middle of winter. Only madness or a miracle could do that.

If it was a dream she needed to wake up, needed to flee. Needed something to happen so that she wasn't helpless. She'd decided a few short days ago that she would not be helpless. If she could stand up to a peer of the realm she could stand up to her own mind. Possibly. If this was real, if she was in a different world (and what little she had seen likened this to be true) then He could still find her, could follow her here. "C'est peut-être juste purgatoire." Hysterical laughter bubbled from her throat and she slid to the ground, still holding herself, eyes locked on a spot on the ceiling.



S'il vous plaît, Dieu, ne laissez pas ceci être un rêve - please God, do not let this be a dream
vous ne pouvez pas m'avoir - you can not have me
c'est peut-être juste purgatoire - maybe this is just purgatory
Quote
Like
Share

Joined: June 14th, 2013, 9:54 pm

September 11th, 2013, 3:12 am #2

    Once Joraziel had healed enough that he was capable of taking care of himself entirely, he had asked to be allowed to stay somewhere besides the plantation house. He had been rescued by the Red Collars and nursed back to health by the Blue Flame and wanted to decide for himself where he belonged without too much exterior pressure. To do that, he had to live on neutral ground for a bit of time. John had set him up with a room in the interim housing, a ramshackle building arranged for the use of newcomers. Thankfully he had gotten a room all to himself. It was meager, but he was pleased for the arrangement. It meant that he would have time to process everything without anyone breathing down his neck.

    He was taking a nap when he heard her, praying and shouting and acting like a madwoman. John had warned him that the other resident in the building hadn't taken the news about her departure from the other world all that well. Jo sat up and yawned. Well, there went the nap.

    The Fae sighed and stood, putting on a pair of loose-fitting cotton pants and a t-shirt. His skin had healed tremendously well but was still tender in places, and soft, loose clothing was still preferable to anything else. He no longer had to wear bandages and only had to put ointment on twice a day, which was becoming a blessing. The past few weeks had been a unique kind of hell.

    "Mademoiselle?" he asked,rapping his knuckles lightly against her door. None of the doors in the place could be locked from the inside, but it would be ever-so-rude to just go in. Everyone else had left her alone, figuring solitude might calm her down. Not Jo.

    "May I come in?" he asked her in impeccable French. One of his ex-girlfriends had been French and from her he had learned the language. Luckily for Bijoux, she had lived around the same time period, so the dialect was almost exact.

((If the dialogue's in italics, he's speaking French. I'm lazy.))
Quote
Like
Share

Joined: September 9th, 2013, 3:56 am

September 11th, 2013, 3:56 am #3

There was someone knocking on the door. Her door. Or was it her door? The philosophical thoughts would drive her mad if she wasn't there already. She hadn't realized there was anyone else in the building. She certainly wouldn't give herself a man for a neighbor if she'd had her wont. That was another tally mark in the truth category. A new world. A town that burned in the day and froze at night. A desert when all she had ever known before was wet and gray and smelled of human waste. Paris, the jewel of Europe (just ask any good child of France.)

She wanted to lock the door, but there was no lock. The next best option would be to shove a chair under the handle, but the chair was a rather flimsy looking bit of wood and she did not trust it to protect her virtue. If she had any left. Bijoux brought her hands to her face and took a long gasp of air from behind her palms. Those thoughts were best left far, far away. The blond hunched over, pressing her hands hard into her face until she was sure she could continue without those thoughts in her head.

She dropped her hands and stared hard at the door as the man on the other side of the door asked if he could come in. He was asking. Politely. Of her. She carefully got back to her feet and crept toward the door, leaning against the wall to the side as she contemplated the request. This was her space, she didn't have to let him in. She couldn't keep him out, though. She wasn't sure what her choices were at the moment.

"Pourquoi? Que voulez-vous" She asked through the door, distrust clear in her voice. Who was this person? Why did he want to see her? Why did her want into her space. Hers. The Sheriff had told her that it was hers and hers alone, a place where she could come to terms with all of these changes. There was safety in numbers, the number one was the safest of all. If she was alone no one could hurt her.


pourquoi? Que voulez-vous - Why? What do you want?
Quote
Like
Share

Joined: June 14th, 2013, 9:54 pm

September 11th, 2013, 8:34 pm #4

    Truth be told, there was a good bit for the woman behind the door to fear in Joraziel. He was a Fae, a very old Fae from a very powerful bloodline, and he could wreak havoc on her human body without so much as a second thought. Thing was, he wouldn't unless she gave him very good reason to do so. He had his own moral code, but it was one to which he still strictly adhered. Killing people for no good reason was not something he would do, regardless of the situation.

    Then again, this girl had no idea he was a Fae. All she knew was that he was a man, and from the way she spoke, it was quite likely that she had been misused by men. The sorts of men that physically abused women made Jo sick. Them... them he would destroy from the inside out.

    "I only wish to know why you are so upset, and see if you would be up for talking about it. I know that sometimes having a companion to discuss one's anguish with is cathartic." If she chose to tell him to leave, he certainly would. He wasn't the kind of man to force himself on a woman, especially a woman in distress. All he wanted was to try to help, and to see if talking to her got her to shut up long enough for him to get a nap.

    "If you would feel more comfortable meeting me out in the hall, I can do that as well. I just wish to talk to you."
Quote
Like
Share

Joined: September 9th, 2013, 3:56 am

September 12th, 2013, 2:34 am #5

His words made sense, but men lied. They did as they pleased and had no consequences dropped upon them. No, that wasn't true. It was men of a certain standing that had no consequences. A slim hand moved away from her face to slide down the door and rest upon the handle. Anguish? Was that what she felt? Such a pretty word for such a frightening emotion.

Meet him in the hall? Her hand twitched on the door knob. She wanted to run to the other side of the room, to hide in her madness. If it was madness. Part of her, though, wanted to open the door and ask this stranger if this world was real. She wanted to know a lot of things. She was torn, his voice was soft and gentle, but she could not see his eyes to know if this was truth. A new home far from bight Paris, a place with different rules, different people.

Bijoux's hand turned the handle slowly and cracked the door just enough so that she could peak out with one eye, two thirds of her face still hidden. He was tall, taller than her which the French girl wasn't used to, and she flinched just a little as she raised her gaze to his face. He ... didn't look angry. She wasn't sure why she had thought he would seem angry. Once upon a time she had wanted hair the same color as his, but she had grown to accept the dark blond she had been given before birth.

"Je ne veux pas entrer dans la salle." She told him, pressing herself more firmly into the wall beside her door and staring at him defiantly. He could easily force her, but he had claimed that he only wanted to talk.

"I do not want to go into the hall."
Quote
Like
Share

Joined: June 14th, 2013, 9:54 pm

September 25th, 2013, 2:45 am #6

    Jo couldn't see much of the girl as she cracked the door open, but what he did see of her face was surprising. She was beautiful, a frail and fragile thing that reminded him somewhat of a porcelain doll. For some reason he had expected her supposed madness to manifest itself in her features, but instead she looked so serene. The only giveaway as to her internal conflict was her eyes, the icy orbs darting back and forth like a trapped animals'. He smiled softly at her and took a step back from the door to show her that he had no intention of entering without her express permission.

    "Well it would be difficult to really talk through the door like this, but if it makes you feel more comfortable, we can do that. Then, if you decide that I'm not a threat, we can speak face-to-face."

    His voice was soft and coddling, his accent only slightly off from years of not speaking the language. It frustrated him that he could not hold the woman, stroke her hair and tell her that everything would be alright. The protective part of his nature made him feel bitter and lost, but he would have to allow her to come to things in her own time.

    "Let's start with something simple. What is your name?"
Quote
Like
Share

Joined: September 9th, 2013, 3:56 am

September 27th, 2013, 7:51 pm #7

His smile was soft as he took a step back. She relaxed a touch with the extra space between them, pressing herself more firmly into the wall as she gazed at him silently. He was a big man, but not in an overfed sort of way. He was just tall, and he had a sort of energy about him, like he could move in any direction at any given moment. His face was pleasing to the eye as well. Once, long ago it seemed, she would have batted her eyes and giggled with her friends should he have smiled at her. Now she simply tried to compact herself a bit more so as to take up less room and become less noticeable.

”I am Bijoux.” She told him, switching to English. Her accent was heavy, but she was French and therefore it was forgivable. Everything was better in French, including English. This had been drilled into her head early on at Madame’s shop. She should be telling him it was a pleasure to meet him, or lowering her head and giving a curtsy, but she did not feel pleasure at meeting him and she did not dare take her eyes away from his for the long moment it would take to give a proper curtsy.

”Did you need something from me, Monsieur?” Her tone was guarded and she shrank back from the opening of the door just a touch at the realization that she was the same nothing here that she had been in Paris. Perhaps less, even, as she did not have a job or a class or anything else. She had no one and nothing, but then it was questionable if she had any before. Certainly the Madame had never truly cared for her or the other girls. Not for anything more than what they could bring her.
The blond squared her shoulders and moved a bit further into the door, catching her foot behind the wood so that it would be harder to press it open any more than it was. With her chin lifted just a touch she felt better, like she was better than he. Or, at the very least, not quite so far below him. He could hurt her, yes, but she could make it hard for him.
Quote
Like
Share

Joined: June 14th, 2013, 9:54 pm

September 30th, 2013, 4:36 pm #8

    "I only want to know what troubles you so," he said, switching to English as well. He had a slight lilt to his voice common in the southern parts of Ireland, though it was obvious that many, many years had passed since he had been in his homeland. What once may have been a defining pattern to his speech was now simply a gentle inflection on certain words, lending only a hint of his origins.

    He watched her as she steeled herself in the doorway, her eyes wild. She was prepared for a fight, for him to try and force his way in. That much he could tell. She was like a caged animal waiting to be beaten. He wondered who had hurt her to make her behave this way, what monster had caused her to automatically defend herself against others.

    "I am sleeping in the room next door and I've heard you in here, crying out. I was concerned."

    Jo was trying to be as gentle in his speech as possible, to assure her that he meant her no harm. "Bijoux, my name is Joraziel, but you can call me Jo if you'd like. Most people find it easier to pronounce. I am not going to hurt you. I am not going to force myself on you. The only thing I want is to talk, to learn who you are and try to help you exorcise your demons."

    He smiled again and held his hands out at his sides, palms up. He considered making his wings appear, to make her believe he was an angel, but that would be an unfair trick. He would save that sort of thing for if she refused to trust him at all. Humans, especially those from older times, were particularly open to the idea of trust when a heavenly figure was involved.
Quote
Like
Share