Post by Deleted on Jan 5, 2016 14:32:29 GMT -5
Julien was trying to get back to work after the accident that had. Yes, he was catagorizing it as an accident. Mostly, because that limited the impact on his pride. Worrying his younger sister was not a good idea, her fretting was the last thing he wished to encourage of course; but more so than that he did not want his brothers to find out. It was bad enough his father knew, it was hard enough that he had to deal with the self-loathing accompanied with his inability to stand up for himself. But if Pierre found out? He would be goaded and tormented, for his lug head brothers were something of a sour point in the young prince’s mind. Often he painted unfriendly pictures of them with his imagination.
His hands were still bound, but were healing and each day they were checked and tended too morning and evening. It was a continued embarrassment to him and he loathed the sense of weakness he felt. This weakeness was made worse by the fact Julien could not write. Writing, books, study – it was a key aspect of his daily routine and that had been taken away from him. The attacker had known to hit him where it would hurt him most, and that was not to drive a stake through his heart. As useless as his hands were and as mounting as his frustration was, there was nothing more dooming for the man that having to let someone else in on this thinking and to assist him in something he had always taken for granted.
So, sat with an archivist, he was dictating words to be written. Reading three or four different log books as he discussed his thoughts on the affairs of caught with the paper and pen of the stranger. Well, relative stranger. He was sure he had met and been introduced to most of them at some point, but learning names and faces had always seemed irrelevant at the time. Now, Julien wished he had paid more attention.
A letter had arrived two days previous, from the damn girl who had been there in his hour of weakness. A request to see him and speak with him, and a regarding note about how she hoped him better than on the last occasion of their meeting. He was instantly suspicious. But this was not an unusual reaction, he had always been a naturally paranoid person and now even more so. A pause in his speech was greeted by a knock at the study door (a different study than his own, for being there brought back the sight of his blood littered over everything) and he looked up to greet his visitor.
~~
@kaeldeschenes / @gwyneveredeschenes
His hands were still bound, but were healing and each day they were checked and tended too morning and evening. It was a continued embarrassment to him and he loathed the sense of weakness he felt. This weakeness was made worse by the fact Julien could not write. Writing, books, study – it was a key aspect of his daily routine and that had been taken away from him. The attacker had known to hit him where it would hurt him most, and that was not to drive a stake through his heart. As useless as his hands were and as mounting as his frustration was, there was nothing more dooming for the man that having to let someone else in on this thinking and to assist him in something he had always taken for granted.
So, sat with an archivist, he was dictating words to be written. Reading three or four different log books as he discussed his thoughts on the affairs of caught with the paper and pen of the stranger. Well, relative stranger. He was sure he had met and been introduced to most of them at some point, but learning names and faces had always seemed irrelevant at the time. Now, Julien wished he had paid more attention.
A letter had arrived two days previous, from the damn girl who had been there in his hour of weakness. A request to see him and speak with him, and a regarding note about how she hoped him better than on the last occasion of their meeting. He was instantly suspicious. But this was not an unusual reaction, he had always been a naturally paranoid person and now even more so. A pause in his speech was greeted by a knock at the study door (a different study than his own, for being there brought back the sight of his blood littered over everything) and he looked up to greet his visitor.
~~
@kaeldeschenes / @gwyneveredeschenes