@diicerolled sent 04. silently reaching for the others hand, needing comfort. ( from aranessa ) ( source. / accepting. )
The night at the Palazzo Davinos has shocked something to a racing start within the bounds of Julien’s soul. Hearing his cousin call for him through all the horror and falling bodies returned a sense of purpose to him which he had lost long ago, and only found upon leaving home behind in favor of Castle Torch. He may not have been content with where things had landed between himself and his family, but he was convinced that his father would look after Aranessa better than anyone else could hope to.
His cousin would be safe, his father would not have to look at him, Julien would not have to be looked at— a win for everyone.
But now his father is dead. For all the two of them know, everyone could be dead— and now, Aranessa has Julien alone to look to for comfort and protection. How long had it been, since he properly fashioned himself as his cousin’s knight? A decade, at least.
Old habits are indeed hard to kill, as it turns out.
They’ve been on the road for some time now, after leaving Dol-Makjar behind, and Julien has seldom allowed himself even a moment of rest. So long as he has a path in front of him, and the anchor of his cousin beside him, there is no need to think— to hurt, to grieve. There is only chasing and defending. There is only surviving until whatever comes next is before them.
But they’ve stopped moving for the time being, and however brief that pause in their journey may be, Julien feels himself growing restless.
Raising his eyes to the grey, overcast skies above the Dvalmar Pass, he takes in the weight of this silent moment to himself while the others are off concerning themselves with the significance of this place of mourning. He balances on the edge of a dangerous precipice, his heart rising to choke his throat, and he knows that if he remains standing still upon the edge, he will certainly fall.
And so he dismounts his horse and busies his hands and his mind with feeding the diligent creature an apple from his pack.
He remembers climbing trees in the Orchard, dropping ripe golden apples into his older cousin’s waiting hands and picking one for himself. He remembers Aranessa’s smile, his mother’s hands untangling stray leaves from his hair, his father laughing at the state of him…
But all of that is in the past now— a lifetime ago, or so it feels. In the present, a familiar hand reaches for his, seeking some scrap of comfort, some small glimmer of stability as the world falls down. He doesn’t have to look to know that his cousin is not smiling now. In truth, Julien can’t recall the last time he saw her do so.
He accepts Aranessa’s hand into his own and squeezes— tight enough, he hopes, to assure her that he is here. That he will not abandon her again.
“A shame the weather is so poor,” He breaks the silence, attempting to stave off the ghost hanging heavy over the both of them— at least for the first few moments. “The view from here is not half bad.”
But those moments pass and there is nowhere else to go. Perhaps it is better that way. If Julien can focus himself on his lady cousin in this moment, there will be no room to fall down the dark pit of focusing on himself.
He turns his head to look down at Aranessa at his side and his brows furrow, drawing his face into a painful set-jawed concern.
“…We will be moving again soon, but…for the moment, if there is anything I am able to do, I will. Even if it is simply remaining as we are, now.” Julien shifts, back to his horse’s flank so that he may place his attention properly where it is most needed. “I would ask what troubles you, but…what is there not to be troubled by? Something is on your mind, though.”
