"Here kitty, kitty, kitty," Evie beckoned, but the cat proved stubborn, and continued to stare at her like she had something on her face. She huffed after the calls had no effect and inched closer to the feline on top of a roof she absolutely did not trust. About twenty minutes prior, she had been safely on ground level, practicing her forms on the legs of a broken table she had found and propped up next to her door. She had just taken a break when a young girl, no more than fix or six, had wandered up to her. From her clothing Evie could guess that she was another resident of Riverside, just like her, a neighbor perhaps. The girl had tears in her eyes, and when Evie asked what was wrong, she had pointed at the cat that stared down on them from her roof.
The same cat that stared at her like she was a fool now. The roof of her house was not the sturdiest and already she had put her foot through a rotted corner-- she was going to have to find another bucket to catch the water when it rained. From then she had taken her time to crawl across her room, careful to stay on the crossbeams that held the roof up in one piece. Less likely for her to fall through on those, though not impossible... "Come here sweetie, someone misses you," she pleaded with the cat. Nothing, just more blank stares. She grumbled with herself and too another movement forward as she crawled ever closer.
She had given up trying to reason with it by that point, and instead focused not causing any more damage to her roof or even worse, taking a nose dive off of the side. Eventually, she did manage to reach the cat, and fortunately it appeared friendly enough to allow itself to be picked up without clawing at Evie's face. That was good, and slowly but surely she made her way back and began to climb down the side of her house with the precious cargo under her arm. Almost reminds her of her brief stint in the Academie, except the climbing exercises there required her to do in her full plate and gear. In comparison, carrying just a cat was a breeze.
Eventually, she reached the ground and the waiting child. "Kitty!" she said as Evie deposited it into her arms. "You know better, mommy told us to stop climbing houses," she chastised the cat. Evie agreed with the mother, if the other houses roofs were anything like hers. "Thank you miss!" the child said to Evie. She nodded her head and crouched to better see the child. She smiled and ruffled the fur on the kitty's head as she spoke, "You're most welcome, just try to keep this troublemaker out of trouble," she said playfully.
She hadn't quite made it back to standing before a familiar voice called out to her. "Evie-girl!"
The speaker wasn't exactly unexpected; he showed up with a military sort of regularity to check in with her, though little trace of the same could be found in his appearance now. Marcel, her older brother, was dressed neatly enough, and the sword at his hip probably never left it, but the bright orange scarf wound around his neck was assuredly not regulation, nor was the length of his dark hair—longer than she kept hers, actually, and pulled into a queue at his nape, bits and pieces escaping the discipline as always.
He grinned, flashing bright teeth, stepping up to where she and the little girl stood. "Making new friends, I see." He offered her neighbor a gallant bow, more than a little overblown quite on purpose. "What might our new friend's name be?"
The little girl's eyes lit up at Marc's timely appearance and seemed rather taken by his panache, but before she could give them her name, it was yelled at them from down the row of houses. "Christine!" the voice called, and looking behind Marc, Evie could see that it belonged to an older, portly woman. She stood in front of a house a couple down from Evie's own, but most notably [[[she had her eyes were stuck]]] on Marc, even as she spoke. "Come on home now," she said, and the little girl nodded.
The girl, Christine apparently, looked back to Evie and said, "Thanks again miss!"
Evie smiled again and nodded, "Anytime, just take care of our furry friend," she offered, and watched both child and cat wander back home, where undoubtedly the mother shuffled her back inside the house. Evie watched for a moment before turning to Marc, "You know, something tells me the mother doesn't like you," Evie noted, and she had a feeling she knew why. The lower classes she found did not trust the Chevaliers, and though it probably wasn't immediately apparent that Marc was an officer, there was something very obviously military about him, plus the sword at his hip probably didn't help.
He shrugged, obviously unconcerned. "Perhaps not. More importantly, Evie-girl, are you going to invite me in, or will we be having our conversation in the middle of the street?" He quirked a brow, tilting his head towards her front door.
"Had I spent a few more minutes up there, I don't think there would've been much of a difference," she said with some consternation as she looked toward where she had put her foot through her roof. Turning back to Marc she nodded, "But sure, let's move this inside," she offered, leading the way toward her door. She paused a moment to retrieve the estoc she had left leaning against the desk and then moved in, leaving the door open behind her for Marc.
The inside was much like the outside. Plain and uninspired. The first room they were in was a sitting room in the front, with a pair of chairs and an old fireplace and a kitchen in the back, with a counter and a an even older wood burning stove. Another door led off to the side where her bedroom was. There wasn't much in the was of decoration, aside from a single sword hung above the fireplace-- the sword she had taken from her uncle's house back when she had first accompanied Cor and Lia.
"I would've baked you something, but... my ingredients are running low," as they always were these days.
Marc sighed quietly, taking one of the chairs. It creaked almost alarmingly under his weight when he did, but held steady for now. "No need to worry about that." He smiled again, though it was a bit more strained this time. "With no war on and no field duty, I might actually have to start minding what I eat!"
The smile faded; his eyes landed on the sword over the mantel. His brows furrowed for a moment, but it was hard to tell exactly what he was thinking. He shifted his attention back to her, deftly untying something from his belt with one hand. When he set it on the table, it jingled—clearly there were coins in it. "There's the usual allowance in there, plus a bit from mother, and a bit from me. Maybe hire someone to get this roof patched." He couldn't hide his displeasure at having to say that, but he tried.
Evie frowned herself. She wasn't fond of having to have an allowance, but the fact remained that without it, she would probably go hungry. The jobs from the Lions were few and far between, and went to other things like armor repairs. At this point, her breastplate was probably more patch than original metal. Then she moved to the hole in her roof-- or holes, rather. There were more than the one she just made. She shook her head and took the seat opposite of Marc and began scratching at her hairline. "Maybe," she said with the same level of enthusiasm Marc had. In all honesty, she didn't like to dwell on her current lot, and would rather be doing things that took her mind off of it.
In that vain, "How is mother, anyway?" she asked.
"Same as always." Marc hummed, mostly to himself. "We're... talking to father, she and I. About you. I think part of him regrets what's happened, and after all this business with Uncle Jean—we might be able to bring him around." He leaned forward slightly, bracing both his forearms on the table and ducking his head slightly so they could meet eyes directly.
"This isn't forever, Evie. Just... try to keep your head up, okay? You won't have to live like this forever."
"Yeah, that's the plan," Evie said, a little more resigned than he had. She too had leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees. "One foot after the other right?" she said. She wasn't so sure about it herself. Her father had been very... Firm on his decision, and he was never the type of man to go back on the things he decided on for no reason. However, Marc was right on one thing. She would not have to live like this forever-- though that relied more on her than them. She would have to improve her situation somehow.
Easier said than done. In essence she was starting from the beginning, and she had no idea how to begin again. She supposed helping out Cor and Lia was a start, but that was sporadic, and never felt focused. She was there to give aid when they needed it. Thinking about it made her feel lost and and threatened to drag her back out of inaction. It was why she always felt like she had to be doing something, moving, training, something other than laying in bed and relying on the allowance from her family. But to do something more? She didn't even know where to start. She shook her head slightly, thinking about it too hard made her feel trapped.
Marc cleared his throat, as if to remind her of his presence. "Anyway, tell me more about how things are with you. What keeps you busy these days, Evie-girl?" He must have sensed at least some of her unease, for he showed no inclination to linger on the topic of their father.
She wanted to spill everything to him, and almost had before she reined herself in and bit her lip, both metaphorically and literally. "A little mercenary work here and there, but other than that," she said, glancing at her uncle's sword. "We're trying to look into what Jean had gotten himself into..." She admitted. Between them, Evie had the closer relationship to their uncle. She wasn't blind, she knew how her uncle's actions had turned the opinion against him, she could see it in his eyes. What he did was horrid and irredeemable, but despite herself, she could only see the man who had taken it upon himself to train her to be a Chevalier. Clearly, that too had failed, but she would always appreciate the effort.
"He definitely got in over his head," she said, with a look at Marc that stated the obvious. She refrained from mentioning the Ashfingers however and the Venatori involvement. Both because she did not want him to worry-- and letting any information about the Ashfingers slip would invariably not be a good thing. Kess was a woman of means, she she'd rather not have it turned against her.
Her brother did indeed furrow his brow a little at the mention of their uncle, but since he'd brought up the topic himself earlier, it probably wasn't just that. "Who's 'we'?" There was evident curiosity in his tone—clearly he hadn't expected her to be part of any such investigations.
"A couple of Argent Lions," she answered, "And a rather unique Antivan fellow." She frowned after that and crossed her arms. "The Lions were the ones who found Jean, they've been investigating ever since. I asked to tag-a-long because... well, he was our uncle," she said shaking her head, "Feels like the least I could do is try to clean up his mess."
That brought something to mind. She glanced back up at Marc and asked, "How's father and you handling it? The Order hasn't been too hard on you because of the relation, have they?"
Marc shrugged. "Nothing especially difficult. Of course the Emperor prefers his knights with clean noses, but he is not the type to condemn a family for one member's... indiscretions." It was difficult to read his tone. Marc had always been of the view that soldiers ought not express their political inclinations one way or another if at all possible. They were the blades of the Empire, not its philosophers or politicians. It wasn't the most common view, but it wasn't exactly fringe in the ranks either; enough people thought the same that he never lacked for agreement on the point.
He waved the matter away, however, refocusing his attention on Evie. "But Argent Lions, Evie-girl? Is that really entirely... necessary?"
"Marc, I don't exactly have a lot of resources to call on here," she said, gently motioning toward their surroundings. "And besides, they were the ones who uncovered what Jean was doing first, it's technically more their investigation than mine," she said, leaning back in her seat. Maybe if she had visited more or been with him more, she could have seen what he was doing and steered him elsewhere. Jean had always been a difficult man to move, but maybe she would've had a shot. Instead she failed out of the Academie and spent the following months pitying and feeling sorry for herself. Still sometimes did, it appeared.
She shook her head and looked back at Marc. "And I'd rather not involve you and father if I can help it," she said. "You two still have your honor and image intact. I'd rather you not risk it by rooting around in the mud with me," she said with a self-deprecating smile. It was one reason, the others involving Ashfingers and Venatori. She'd rather they didn't find themselves a target for either group.
"Don't worry about me Marc," she said, her smile warming up, "I may not be a Chevalier, but I was raised by them. I'll be fine." At least, she hoped. She didn't exactly measure up then, and she hoped that she would not find herself wanting again on down the line.
The shuttered expression on his face, while difficult to interpret, suggested that her persuasion had not been especially effective. Marc sighed almost under his breath, then dredged up a smile. "Well... I'm sure the official inquiry will conclude soon regardless. Whatever else the mercenaries are doing won't have much to do with you, no doubt." He shrugged, patted her hand, and then reached down to his belt, untying another pouch.
This one, though, looked to contain a deck of cards. "You still know how to play corners, I hope?" That was clearly teasing, and his whole face brightened with it, boyish grin flashing and lighting his dark eyes.
"One way to find out," she answered with a sly grin.
The same cat that stared at her like she was a fool now. The roof of her house was not the sturdiest and already she had put her foot through a rotted corner-- she was going to have to find another bucket to catch the water when it rained. From then she had taken her time to crawl across her room, careful to stay on the crossbeams that held the roof up in one piece. Less likely for her to fall through on those, though not impossible... "Come here sweetie, someone misses you," she pleaded with the cat. Nothing, just more blank stares. She grumbled with herself and too another movement forward as she crawled ever closer.
She had given up trying to reason with it by that point, and instead focused not causing any more damage to her roof or even worse, taking a nose dive off of the side. Eventually, she did manage to reach the cat, and fortunately it appeared friendly enough to allow itself to be picked up without clawing at Evie's face. That was good, and slowly but surely she made her way back and began to climb down the side of her house with the precious cargo under her arm. Almost reminds her of her brief stint in the Academie, except the climbing exercises there required her to do in her full plate and gear. In comparison, carrying just a cat was a breeze.
Eventually, she reached the ground and the waiting child. "Kitty!" she said as Evie deposited it into her arms. "You know better, mommy told us to stop climbing houses," she chastised the cat. Evie agreed with the mother, if the other houses roofs were anything like hers. "Thank you miss!" the child said to Evie. She nodded her head and crouched to better see the child. She smiled and ruffled the fur on the kitty's head as she spoke, "You're most welcome, just try to keep this troublemaker out of trouble," she said playfully.
She hadn't quite made it back to standing before a familiar voice called out to her. "Evie-girl!"
The speaker wasn't exactly unexpected; he showed up with a military sort of regularity to check in with her, though little trace of the same could be found in his appearance now. Marcel, her older brother, was dressed neatly enough, and the sword at his hip probably never left it, but the bright orange scarf wound around his neck was assuredly not regulation, nor was the length of his dark hair—longer than she kept hers, actually, and pulled into a queue at his nape, bits and pieces escaping the discipline as always.
He grinned, flashing bright teeth, stepping up to where she and the little girl stood. "Making new friends, I see." He offered her neighbor a gallant bow, more than a little overblown quite on purpose. "What might our new friend's name be?"
The little girl's eyes lit up at Marc's timely appearance and seemed rather taken by his panache, but before she could give them her name, it was yelled at them from down the row of houses. "Christine!" the voice called, and looking behind Marc, Evie could see that it belonged to an older, portly woman. She stood in front of a house a couple down from Evie's own, but most notably [[[she had her eyes were stuck]]] on Marc, even as she spoke. "Come on home now," she said, and the little girl nodded.
The girl, Christine apparently, looked back to Evie and said, "Thanks again miss!"
Evie smiled again and nodded, "Anytime, just take care of our furry friend," she offered, and watched both child and cat wander back home, where undoubtedly the mother shuffled her back inside the house. Evie watched for a moment before turning to Marc, "You know, something tells me the mother doesn't like you," Evie noted, and she had a feeling she knew why. The lower classes she found did not trust the Chevaliers, and though it probably wasn't immediately apparent that Marc was an officer, there was something very obviously military about him, plus the sword at his hip probably didn't help.
He shrugged, obviously unconcerned. "Perhaps not. More importantly, Evie-girl, are you going to invite me in, or will we be having our conversation in the middle of the street?" He quirked a brow, tilting his head towards her front door.
"Had I spent a few more minutes up there, I don't think there would've been much of a difference," she said with some consternation as she looked toward where she had put her foot through her roof. Turning back to Marc she nodded, "But sure, let's move this inside," she offered, leading the way toward her door. She paused a moment to retrieve the estoc she had left leaning against the desk and then moved in, leaving the door open behind her for Marc.
The inside was much like the outside. Plain and uninspired. The first room they were in was a sitting room in the front, with a pair of chairs and an old fireplace and a kitchen in the back, with a counter and a an even older wood burning stove. Another door led off to the side where her bedroom was. There wasn't much in the was of decoration, aside from a single sword hung above the fireplace-- the sword she had taken from her uncle's house back when she had first accompanied Cor and Lia.
"I would've baked you something, but... my ingredients are running low," as they always were these days.
Marc sighed quietly, taking one of the chairs. It creaked almost alarmingly under his weight when he did, but held steady for now. "No need to worry about that." He smiled again, though it was a bit more strained this time. "With no war on and no field duty, I might actually have to start minding what I eat!"
The smile faded; his eyes landed on the sword over the mantel. His brows furrowed for a moment, but it was hard to tell exactly what he was thinking. He shifted his attention back to her, deftly untying something from his belt with one hand. When he set it on the table, it jingled—clearly there were coins in it. "There's the usual allowance in there, plus a bit from mother, and a bit from me. Maybe hire someone to get this roof patched." He couldn't hide his displeasure at having to say that, but he tried.
Evie frowned herself. She wasn't fond of having to have an allowance, but the fact remained that without it, she would probably go hungry. The jobs from the Lions were few and far between, and went to other things like armor repairs. At this point, her breastplate was probably more patch than original metal. Then she moved to the hole in her roof-- or holes, rather. There were more than the one she just made. She shook her head and took the seat opposite of Marc and began scratching at her hairline. "Maybe," she said with the same level of enthusiasm Marc had. In all honesty, she didn't like to dwell on her current lot, and would rather be doing things that took her mind off of it.
In that vain, "How is mother, anyway?" she asked.
"Same as always." Marc hummed, mostly to himself. "We're... talking to father, she and I. About you. I think part of him regrets what's happened, and after all this business with Uncle Jean—we might be able to bring him around." He leaned forward slightly, bracing both his forearms on the table and ducking his head slightly so they could meet eyes directly.
"This isn't forever, Evie. Just... try to keep your head up, okay? You won't have to live like this forever."
"Yeah, that's the plan," Evie said, a little more resigned than he had. She too had leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees. "One foot after the other right?" she said. She wasn't so sure about it herself. Her father had been very... Firm on his decision, and he was never the type of man to go back on the things he decided on for no reason. However, Marc was right on one thing. She would not have to live like this forever-- though that relied more on her than them. She would have to improve her situation somehow.
Easier said than done. In essence she was starting from the beginning, and she had no idea how to begin again. She supposed helping out Cor and Lia was a start, but that was sporadic, and never felt focused. She was there to give aid when they needed it. Thinking about it made her feel lost and and threatened to drag her back out of inaction. It was why she always felt like she had to be doing something, moving, training, something other than laying in bed and relying on the allowance from her family. But to do something more? She didn't even know where to start. She shook her head slightly, thinking about it too hard made her feel trapped.
Marc cleared his throat, as if to remind her of his presence. "Anyway, tell me more about how things are with you. What keeps you busy these days, Evie-girl?" He must have sensed at least some of her unease, for he showed no inclination to linger on the topic of their father.
She wanted to spill everything to him, and almost had before she reined herself in and bit her lip, both metaphorically and literally. "A little mercenary work here and there, but other than that," she said, glancing at her uncle's sword. "We're trying to look into what Jean had gotten himself into..." She admitted. Between them, Evie had the closer relationship to their uncle. She wasn't blind, she knew how her uncle's actions had turned the opinion against him, she could see it in his eyes. What he did was horrid and irredeemable, but despite herself, she could only see the man who had taken it upon himself to train her to be a Chevalier. Clearly, that too had failed, but she would always appreciate the effort.
"He definitely got in over his head," she said, with a look at Marc that stated the obvious. She refrained from mentioning the Ashfingers however and the Venatori involvement. Both because she did not want him to worry-- and letting any information about the Ashfingers slip would invariably not be a good thing. Kess was a woman of means, she she'd rather not have it turned against her.
Her brother did indeed furrow his brow a little at the mention of their uncle, but since he'd brought up the topic himself earlier, it probably wasn't just that. "Who's 'we'?" There was evident curiosity in his tone—clearly he hadn't expected her to be part of any such investigations.
"A couple of Argent Lions," she answered, "And a rather unique Antivan fellow." She frowned after that and crossed her arms. "The Lions were the ones who found Jean, they've been investigating ever since. I asked to tag-a-long because... well, he was our uncle," she said shaking her head, "Feels like the least I could do is try to clean up his mess."
That brought something to mind. She glanced back up at Marc and asked, "How's father and you handling it? The Order hasn't been too hard on you because of the relation, have they?"
Marc shrugged. "Nothing especially difficult. Of course the Emperor prefers his knights with clean noses, but he is not the type to condemn a family for one member's... indiscretions." It was difficult to read his tone. Marc had always been of the view that soldiers ought not express their political inclinations one way or another if at all possible. They were the blades of the Empire, not its philosophers or politicians. It wasn't the most common view, but it wasn't exactly fringe in the ranks either; enough people thought the same that he never lacked for agreement on the point.
He waved the matter away, however, refocusing his attention on Evie. "But Argent Lions, Evie-girl? Is that really entirely... necessary?"
"Marc, I don't exactly have a lot of resources to call on here," she said, gently motioning toward their surroundings. "And besides, they were the ones who uncovered what Jean was doing first, it's technically more their investigation than mine," she said, leaning back in her seat. Maybe if she had visited more or been with him more, she could have seen what he was doing and steered him elsewhere. Jean had always been a difficult man to move, but maybe she would've had a shot. Instead she failed out of the Academie and spent the following months pitying and feeling sorry for herself. Still sometimes did, it appeared.
She shook her head and looked back at Marc. "And I'd rather not involve you and father if I can help it," she said. "You two still have your honor and image intact. I'd rather you not risk it by rooting around in the mud with me," she said with a self-deprecating smile. It was one reason, the others involving Ashfingers and Venatori. She'd rather they didn't find themselves a target for either group.
"Don't worry about me Marc," she said, her smile warming up, "I may not be a Chevalier, but I was raised by them. I'll be fine." At least, she hoped. She didn't exactly measure up then, and she hoped that she would not find herself wanting again on down the line.
The shuttered expression on his face, while difficult to interpret, suggested that her persuasion had not been especially effective. Marc sighed almost under his breath, then dredged up a smile. "Well... I'm sure the official inquiry will conclude soon regardless. Whatever else the mercenaries are doing won't have much to do with you, no doubt." He shrugged, patted her hand, and then reached down to his belt, untying another pouch.
This one, though, looked to contain a deck of cards. "You still know how to play corners, I hope?" That was clearly teasing, and his whole face brightened with it, boyish grin flashing and lighting his dark eyes.
"One way to find out," she answered with a sly grin.