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Report to ModeratorsI had walked back and forth many a time only to find him brooding over the edge of a chair, sleeve flowing down the back like a waterfall. His arctic eyes were shut and no tears had fallen.
But of course they hadn't. Hunters don't cry.
The robes of the Archchancellor suited him very well, the flowing garments complimenting the fountain of curls. Even for the short time that I had known him, I was more than aware of his deeds for Rome and welcomed him to my finacee's former position. His years of dedication and experience were paying off, but as I stopped behind him, my burden of calla lilies against my chest, I tasted regret in the air around him.
I knew he wouldn't want the position...any sane person would, but Joscelin didn't work for promotions or money. Stubborn, but a noble soul. I respected that, I just couldn't understand it. It wasn't terribly common.
Perhaps it was the world around us that made me view the corrupted as normal.
I paused a moment. I knew his vampiric senses heard me stop, my gowns shuffling against the floor. But he didn't seem to pay much mind.
I knew what he was harboring so much regret over, however I did not feel it was my place. Especially not while someone is in a state of mourning. As much as I desired to beat him senseless with the bouquet in my arms, I decided against it.
If I was going to bring someone to reality, I would very much prefer to hit them with something harder. Preferably metal.
His quiet voice brought me out of my muses. Just as I had begun to walk again, go anywhere but be around his blackening aura, he stopped me.
"Did he say anything to you?"
I looked at the floor, the cloth from my headpiece covering most of my face. What did I say to that? I knew what he was asking; if Father Alessandro had told me anything of comfort before his death. Thankfully the cloth hid the smile that tugged on my lips. Joscelin knew more than anyone that the Father hadn't spoken to me. Joscelin had been behind me, a threatening black mass, when we recieved the news.
My heart wanted to humor him anyways, so I did. And he went back to the state of despair he was lingering in.
And just as I was about to head off for my second attempt at freedom, he stopped me yet again. I was having a hard time dealing with the guilt of grief of another when I had my own dilemmas to handle. But what was left of my concious stopped for him, and turned around.
"Yes, Hunter?" I murmered. I didn't have the energy in me to raise my voice to a normal volume.
"Why are you doing this?" His voice sounded accusatory, and I felt the muscles in my face tighten and my eyes narrow. Regardless of his promotion, I still held his fate in my hands. Naturally, I was insulted that one would speak to me with that tone, even in mourning.
"Doing what?" I bit out, moving to place the lilies on the mahogany table a few feet away. I stayed at the wooden edges, as far as I possibly could without making it look painfully obvious that I was wary of him.
I would never admit it out loud, but I knew my rank would do nothing if he were to confront me, and I knew from years of logical thinking that I would be easily overwhelmed and overpowered. I would hardly stand a chance.
Powers of exorcism and talents on a debate floor only go so far against a vampire.
Joscelin finally rose his eyes to look at me. They were deep and cold, freezing even, standing out against the pale greens and whites in his garb. The hand that had been relaxing on the rail of the chair was now slightly gripping it. I had been right to give him space.
"Marrying him." His voice was hard, and it was like touching dry ice for more than the designated few seconds. It hurt. "You're giving him more power-"
I cut him off, looking away at the same time. "Either I give it to him, or he takes it by force. If the people knew what was going on behind closed doors, everything would fall apart. The people-"
It was his turn to cut me off. That hurt, too. He rose up quickly out of his chair at a paranormal speed and glared at me, his golden blonde curls moving to settled after the sudden motion. There were so many robes at his feet that those hardly moved at all.
"Who cares about what the people want, Asherah!" he looked positively furious, and his anger wasn't helping mine.
I gripped the edges of the table, my little knuckles turning white. If only I had his physical strength. Then I wouldn't be pushed around this way. Because unfortunately, all that men will ever understand is the display of power.
"The people are all I have lived for, Joscelin!" I yelled back, pausing a moment to catch my breath. He looked as if he had just been vindicated; he saw my energy and power was depleated, and now looked smug. His eyes reading 'I told you'. That didn't stop me, however. "You're forgetting, Joscelin, that while we may suffer, Vincent will make the people suffer even more. My decisions and actions mean their survival." I glared at him and snorted.
Then I picked up the flowers harshly and made an ubrupt turn for the nearest exit, glancing coldly over my shoulder.
"But I can't expect a Hunter like you to understand. Everything you've ever done has been for yourself."
And I stormed out, slamming the door behind me and not bothering to catch any glimpse of his reaction or those of the servants.
Halfway down one of the main hallways I stopped and leaned against the wall, listening. This was our second official fight, and the last time he had come after me. Why, I was never told. It's been three weeks since then.
He didn't come after me this time. I don't suppose I could blame him.
It took me until the next morning, after hours of pouring over documents from foreign diplomats, that the meaning of his words and expressions revealed themselves to me. In my muses I had thought him jealous for asking about my marrying Vincent, especially after the night we had taken together in the chapel, but now I saw how childish that notion was. Joscelin wasn't so much jealous as he was concerned. We both knew that although I was a powerful exorcist and an able-bodied politician, I was clearly no match for Vincent should he decide to harm me.
I recalled how cold those eyes were, all of that ice that just couldn't be melted by that passionate fire within him. Father Alessandro's death had nearly killed what was left of him, and my being a saint, someone who took charge, an ally even, had just abandoned our cause. Regret, guilt, and despair had made their homes within his heart and I had done nothing to relieve it.
I let my head connect with the desk under me and winced at the pain, but tuned it out. I deserved that, I supposed.
After that moment, my mind was made up. I would go to him, but not after the paperwork that had piled up in front of me was finished. I could always reason that I had wanted to see how a lower ranking officer under me was doing during such a horrible time, but I knew that he'd see it in my eyes that I wanted to see him.
Because after all, even a Hunter needs comfort while in mourning.
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In Mourning - Chapter 1
In Mourning
by .sepher.shel.zahav.
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Libraries: Angst, Fantasy, One Shots, Original Fiction
Published on Sep 9, 2008 8:59 pm / 1 Chapter(s) / 2 Review(s)
Updated on Sep 9, 2008 8:59 pm
[Asherah and Joscelin argue after the death of Father Alessandro.]
Chapters
