[022] OOM - Reunions and meetings and things of that nature

[tristranthorn]

"Party name of Thorn? Tristran of that set?"

It is a little after sunrise when Tristran opens his eyes to see a large badger approach him on its hind legs, wearing a threadbare heliotrope silk dressing gown. It bends forward, peering at him self-importantly, awaiting his response.

"Mm?"

Oh. And there's suddenly a headache the size of all of Faerie, he imagines, clogging his entire head, making him feel like someone's hit him repeatedly with a grand piano. There is a foul taste in his mouth, one which feels dry and furred. He could easily have slept for another several hours, and yet he knows he cannot at the same time.

"They've been asking about you," the badger goes on."Down by the gap. Seems there's a young lady wants to have a word with you."

Tristran sits up immediately. Something rises in his chest, but something also sinks. "Oh?"

The badger nods.

He turns to touch the sleeping star on her shoulder. "Yvaine," he says.

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[an_evening_star]

She hadn't been sleeping for very long, all things considered. The night had been pleasant and she had been more than content to be awake, just watching. She had easily settled back into the habit over her time in the witch's caravan.

So it's a rather sleepy star that opens her eyes to blink hazily at him, cheek still pressed to her hand and hair in her eyes.

Mumbled slightly, "What?"

[tristranthorn]

He is suddenly overcome with a sense of cheer.

"Good news," he tells her. "Do you remember Victoria Forester? I might have mentioned her name once or twice on our travels."

He realizes that if he talks to Victoria, he will surely be able to quickly sort things out!

[an_evening_star]

Oh yeah, now that's the sort of good news one wants to wake up to in the morning.

Totally worth opening her eyes over.

"Yes," she replies dryly. "You might have."

[tristranthorn]

"Well, I'm off to see her," he says, happily remaining un-fazed by the star's displeasure. "She's down by the gap."

He smiles. "Look. Well. Probably best if you stay here. I wouldn't want to confuse her or anything." While he explains to her that while he set out to win her love, things ... sort of changed along the way, and --

[an_evening_star]

The star blinks back at him once. Twice.

And then turns her back to him very abruptly, flopping one arm over her eyes. She's not particularly in the mood to deal with this right now, or quite awake enough to do it without crying messily and rather like a little girl.

Certainly wouldn't want Victoria Forrester getting the wrong ideas.

[tristranthorn]

His hand hovers over her shoulder for a moment, before he withdraws.

Well, she must have gone back to sleep, he thinks, as he gets up to find his boots and things.

Quickly, he goes down to the meadow stream to wash his face, and rinse his mouth out before running as quickly as he could toward the village.

When he reaches the wall, he immediately recognizes the wall guards that morning. Reverend Myles, the vicar of Wall and Mr Bromios, the innkeeper stand on either side of a lady, whose back is turned to him.

"Victoria!" he calls out.

[nosequels.livejournal.com]

The young lady turns at the sound of his voice and blinks for a moment before her eyes flood with tears.

"Tristran!" she says, and it might be said that she nearly storms a bit on her way over. "It is you! They said it was. Oh Tristran! How could you? Oh, how could you?"

[tristranthorn]

For a moment, he frowns, staring at her blankly, before immediately realizing that there is only one young lady who would be so reproachful.

"Louisa?" He inspects her, surprised by what he sees. "You have certainly grown while I was away, from a chit of a girl into a fine young lady."

He really means it. Tease him though she might have, he realizes he rather missed her.

[nosequels.livejournal.com]

She sniffles and tugs a white linen handkerchief from her sleeve, blowing her nose with it.

"And you," she returns, dabbing at her cheeks. "Have turned into a mop-haired raggle-taggle gypsy on your journeyings. But I suppose that you look well, and that's a good thing."

She motions impatiently for him to walk through the gap in the wall, "Come on then."

[tristranthorn]

"But the wall --" he starts, eying the innkeeper and the vicar a little nervously.

After all, after last night's events, he doesn't exactly want to repeat the same situation over again -- at least not without some good plan.

[nosequels.livejournal.com]

"Oh!" she brightens, obviously onto a story here. "As to that, when Wystan and Mister Brown finished their shift last night they repaired to the saloon bar at the Seventh Pie, where Wystan happened to mention their meeting with a ragamuffin who claimed to be you, and how they blocked his way. Your way."

She grins, "When news of this reached Father's ears, he marched right up to the Pie and gave the both of them such a tongue-lashing and a telling-of-what-for that I could scarcely believe that it was him."

"Some of us were for letting you come back this morning," the vicar adds. "And some were for keeping you there until midday."

[tristranthorn]

"But none of the ones who were for making you wait are on Wall duty this morning," says Mr Bromios with a broad smile. "Which took a certain amount of jiggery-pokery to organize -- and on a day when I should have been seeing to the refreshment stand, I could point out. Still, it's good to see you back. Come on through."

He sticks his hand out and Tristran takes it with a rather pleased enthusiasm. Next, he shakes the vicar's hand.

"Tristran," he says, "I suppose you must have seen many strange sights upon your travels."

Tristran thinks for a moment, then he nods slowly. "I suppose I must have."

[nosequels.livejournal.com]

"You must come to the Vicarage then, next week," the man declares. "We shall have tea, and you must tell me all about it. Once you're settled back in. Eh?"

Louisa, on the other hand, just sighs theatrically and begins to walk, briskly, in the direction of the Seventh Magpie, not particularly bothering to wait for him.

He'll follow. Eventually.

[tristranthorn]

Tristran can do nothing but nod, a little lost in his disbelief at being invited by the vicar himself, whom he has always held in some awe.

It is when he realizes his sister has disappeared from his side that he finds her walking away. He quickly excuses himself, then runs along the cobbles to catch up to her.

Once he is walking beside her, he says with a wide smile, "It does my heart good to see you again, my sister."

[nosequels.livejournal.com]

"As if we were all not worried sick about you," she replies crossly. "What with all your gallavantings. And you did not even wake me to say goodbye."

There's a brief pause here, for a thwap to his arm, "Father has been quite distracted with concern for you, and at Christmas, when you were not there, after we had eaten the goose and the pudding, Father took out the port and toasted absent friends, and Mother sobbed like a babe, and of course I cried too," another frantic hand gesture, steps picking up slightly. "And then Father began to blow his nose into his best handkerchief and Grandmother and Grandfather Hempstock insisted upon pulling the Christmas crackers and reading the jolly mottoes and somehow that only made it worse."

She huffs, "And, to put it bluntly, Tristran, you quite spoiled our Christmas."

[tristranthorn]

"Sorry," he says. Truly, he had no idea that he was that important. Didn't really think his being gone would have such an effect on his family.

Well, that's a silly thought, isn't it?

He's about to inquire her further about his mother sobbing -- after all, this is the least expected of all -- but it is already awkward as it is to hear this. Better to change the subject.

"What are we doing now? Where are we going?"

[nosequels.livejournal.com]

"We are going to the Seventh Pie," she says, with a strong undertone of duh. "I should have thought that was obvious."

And of course Mother cried - she's a mother, that's what they do. That and fret a great deal.

"Mister Bromios said that you could use his sitting room," she continues. "There's somebody there that needs to talk to you."

And, with that, she says nothing more and starts into the pub.

[tristranthorn]

Frowning, Tristran follows her wordlessly, passing a number of faces he recognizes.

Some nod at him, others smile, and some don't as he follows his sister to the narrow stairs behind the bar. The wooden boards creak loudly under their feet.

He clears his throat, curiousity piquing now. "So, who--"

[nosequels.livejournal.com]

At the beginning of his question she turns around to glare at him - and then, almost against her will, her lower lip trembles and she launches forward to wrap her arms tightly around his neck.

Another sniffle and she squares her shoulders and quickly turns and disappears, leaving him rather on his own.

[tristranthorn]

He stands still for a moment, startled by the sudden hug, but then he dusts himself off, takes a breath, and knocks at the door to the sitting room before going in.

The room is decorated with many little objects of unusual character, spread around the space. On the wall is a stick with dark metal cunningly beaten down to look like ivy wrapped around it. There are clay pots and other little antiques.

To the side of the room, a small chaise longue sits against the wall, with a low table before it. And, as Tristran walk past it, fingers carefully touch an aging leather-bound copy of the Laurence Sterne sermons.

He takes a step forward, seeing several leather armchairs and it is in one of these armchairs that Victoria Forester sits.

"Victoria," he breathes, not quite sure how he is supposed to feel, seeing her again.

Instinctively, he gets down to one knee before her, reminiscent of when he had gone down on his knees in the mud of a country lane once before.

[nosequels.livejournal.com]

The girl in the chair is still nothing short of beautiful - even with her eyes dark from worry, fingers clenched into her skirts - and the glow of the morning lights casts her curls a fine shade of gold.

"Oh, please don't," she says, eyes widening uncomfortably. "Please get up. Why don't you sit down over there - in that chair? Yes. That's better."

She blinks back at him then, almost hesitant, "Look at you. You became a man. And your hand - what happened to your hand?"

[tristranthorn]

"I burnt it," he answers, swallowing. She truly is still as beautiful as she was before he left so many months ago.

And, he notices as he watches her face, her eyes are grey. They're grey. How could he forget?

"In a fire."

[nosequels.livejournal.com]

She says nothing at all, not at first, just blinks and stares ahead of her - at the stick on the wall, or at one of Mister Bromios' statues, or perhaps at nothing really at all - still wringing her hands.

"There are a number of things that I must tell you, Tristran, and none of them will be easy. I would appreciate it if you could say nothing until I have had the chance to say my piece," she swallows, nodding absently before continuing, as if following some mental checklist. "So: firstly, and perhaps most importantly, I must apologize to you. It was my foolishness, my idiocy, that sent you off on your journeyings.

"I thought that you were joking ... no, not joking," her voice wavers a bit. "I thought that you too much of a coward, too much of a boy, ever to follow up on any of your fine, silly words. It was only when you had gone, and the days passed, and you did not return, that I realized that you had been in earnest, and by then it was much too late."

Another uncertain breath, "I have had to life ... each day ... with the possibility that I had sent you to your death."

[tristranthorn]

Tristran watches her as she speaks, watches the way her lips move and her hands wring in her lap with unease.

It is clear to him that she must have conducted this conversation in her head and rehearsed it at least a hundred times while he was gone.

That is why he could not say anything. If he were to interrupt, he would force her to depart from her script and forget what she had to say. So he nods, and lets her continue.

[nosequels.livejournal.com]

"And I did not play you fair, my poor shop boy - but you are no longer a shop boy, are you? - since I thought that your quest was foolishness in every way ..."

She pauses then, her hands gripping the wooden arms of the chair hard enough to stain her knuckles red then white.

"Ask me why I would not kiss you that night, Tristran Thorn."

It's not really a question.