A Grave Mistake

Sir JulienDelval wrote:As the pouch flew threw the air, he put out his hand to catch it. It hit upon the heel of his hand, making a loud clink and flying away into the underbrush. He sighed and went to look for it. Picking it up finally from underneath the fronds of a fern he noted that she was about to leave. He tossed the pouch back at her. "Mademoiselle..." He stood, his white hair falling around his shoulders, his eyes half closed against the gathering day. "This is not about money. If anyone had come to me to talk about anything I would have made the same reply. Now you have things you count yourself happy. You have a house to keep you dry, and friends, and items that you can call yours. I ask you not to give away the house nor the friends. I ask you to give the strength of your own two arms and whatever other physical things you can afford. When you are in a nice warm bed at night, what need have you of a pretty cloak? When you have a place to wash and be clean, what need have you to be afraid of lending your arms to a beggar searching for coins in a ditch?"

The irony of the situation was not lost upon him. Once another woman had thrown a purse at him - one he had attempted to steal to feed the poor over Christmas, from a dandy and a fop with more money than sense. Would people ever see that, until society was equal, there would be no happiness in the world? "Now that you have lifted yourself from your situation, you forget about those things you did and those people you met while in it. I speak not of those who are good friends, but those who shared the corner of a cold barn with you, or slept near you in the trees or down alleys. You have drawn yourself out and so believe that others may all do the same. Not all people are so lucky. I will eschew the trappings of richness in favour of helping the poor. Each penny that I make shall go to them. Certainly I will keep some for myself, for me and those like me to fall into sickness and death would aid them none."

His mind wandered to the Wolves. Removing Hrunting he set the blade down in the dewy grass. "If I set down my sword, does that make me any less of a threat? Someone else may pick it up and use it for great evil. In my hands it has remained sheathed for many months now. It is not the fact that the blade is a weapon which causes a threat, but rather the person who wields it. If all people with all reason left the Wolves then they would degenerate into a slavering pack of dogs.

"Sometimes a sword can just be an ornament. Sometimes a Wolf can be more than a wild animal." His eyes pointedly looked to her fox. "You can walk away from here today with a clean conscience, Aasha, because I never believed that you had any need for a guilty one in the first place. When one is brought low, one must do what one can to survive. The rules of society cease to hold sway."

Grave knew that she would leave now - walk away to her life and her home. His words would make no difference and yet he did not regret saying them. For to speak with one's heart was all that was necessary to seek true happiness.

He mulled over that thought while he waited for her to yell more at him or leave. She was a bright little camp fire and no mistake. He felt a grudging respect come over him for her. Although they did not agree, here was one who would stand strong by what she believed. Despite himself he knew that was something the Midnight Queen would approve of...

Sir JulienDelval wrote:He was just standing to pick up Hrunting once more when her words struck him. Grave looked up from under his long white hair, his eyebrows raising, his mouth formed into a half smile of shock.

"We'll just be Icey Grave an' Aasha...if'n we meet again. Till then, I'd be wishin' ya luck, but I'm thinkin' ya'd be makin' yer own."

Her words were wise, and warmly spoken, and he felt a... what? A possibility of a touch of friendship to them? No, he would not fool himself with that.

He opened his mouth and, to her back as she rapidly vanished into the morning halflight, spoke just once more. "Julien. You can call me Julien."

Scooping the long metal blade from the grass he wiped it gently and belted it to his waist. This had certainly been an interesting meeting. Maybe they would cross paths again. He would like to chat further with her, for within her Grave saw an inkling of something very important to every human - a soul. A soul with edges, but then a smooth soul caught upon nothing and was without guilt not by righteousness, but by carelessness.

Chuckling low to himself he began to hum a tune under his breath. Since when had he become so
religious and thoughtful? The walk back to the town was most wonderful, and he stopped to take in some bread...