Within his room, Achilles folds all his clothes, carefully making sure not a single one has wrinkles. He doesn't want to go out with his clothes a mess.
Darks to lights.... he thinks. Darks to lights. That's how Miro always liked organizing them, at least.
Some clothes can't be folded, such as his armor and a couple formal pieces. Achilles doesn't use that as an opportunity to skip out on smoothing and polishing each wrinkle or scuff. By the time the sun sets, he hangs the last of his armor in place within his closet.
All that's left is the helmet he's hidden under his bed.
The red crest causes dust to fly everywhere over the room, which he quickly fans away before sitting at the ever-so-bare workbench.
His mind seems to work at an exhausted jog as he tries to make it look as presentable as possible. He knows exactly how this day will go, and the next day, and the next day, and the day after that.
There won't be a day after that one.
There's a small knock on his door, jolting Achilles from his thoughts. Standing outside his room is Mirobelle.
".. Monsieur, good evening.." she greets, curtsying slightly. Achilles kneels a bit... he's always struggled to see her as any more than a child. She's never seemed to mind though.
"Good evening, Mirobelle. Can I help you with something?"
"I was... um.... well.... I noticed you're acting different than normal, and I wanted to make sure everything is alright...?"
He pauses.
"I didn't believe anyone noticed."
"I notice many things, Monsieur.... the others have as well. They....."
She looks down, voice growing hushed.
"... they believe you're preparing to go. You aren't actually, though.... r-right...?"
Achilles looks into Mirobelle's eyes.... he feels a muted kind of guilt as she looks up at him. He doesn't want to hurt her like this.... but how can he lie to someone who cares like she does? They came all this way to ensure he was okay....
He's not going to forgive himself for this.
".... I'm afraid they're right. I'm getting ready."
Mirobelle flinches as the words leave his mouth.
"... oh...."
"I know. I'm sorry."
"No, no, it is alright, I... I should have expected that....."
She turns away, covering her eyes with her forearm and shakily exhaling. Achilles looks down reluctantly, as neither speaks a word for a while.
"... hey. I want to show you something you might like."
Miro looks up as Achilles opens his door more, inviting her inside. She can't remember the last time she's been inside here, and the smell and lack of use unnerves her.
Achilles brings Mirobelle to the side of the bed, showing them each neatly folded pile of clothes, the line going from dark to light.
"I know you're really careful about organization. And.. I'm not gonna be wearing any of these anymore, so... thought I might as well do your job for you. And yes, pants are on the bottoms of the piles, shirts are on the top."
Mirobelle stares in silence before bringing a hand up to her mouth, choking out a sob. Without warning, she turns and hugs Achilles tightly.
The hug is full of grief and dread... a dread that spreads into Achilles' mind as well. He makes a mental note to not look into her eyes when he goes.
"I know... I'm sorry. It's gonna be okay though, Mirobelle. Got that...?"
"It's gonna be okay."
3 days left.
