Within the swirling Mist (IC) > Tales Around the Campfire

Elodie Eppinette- Conte des couchers de soleil (Tale Of The Setting Suns)

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TherapyCat:
Chapter I

"Le premier coucher de soleil"

The First Sunset







(L'eau est chaude, Elodie)
"The water is warm, Elodie."


Her mother basked in the ending gleam of the sunset, her skin radiating warmth, as did her smile as she extended out a tender hand from the darkened waters. Elodie gazed to her mother quizzically, she slowly arched her back, taking small steps closer to the woman, who she called mother, who made her life have a home. The sand
seeped through the cracks in her toes, the water taking its rounds in a rhythmic matter, dangerous and peaceful at the same time but most importantly-beautiful.
Elodie remembers very few things about her mother, however her beauty she remembers with utter clarity. Her hair was the color of corn, and her eyes were the color of the ocean she frequented quite often. Her skin was fair, well cared for, unharmed- a clear marking of the privilege her daughter would never have. Her voice was
at the pace of a gentle melody, and at the tone, of an autumn breeze; cool and collected.


(Il n'y a rien à craindre, mon cher)
"There is nothing to fear dear."

Her mother ushered her closer, as the tides nearly pushed Elodie back, keeping her footing was a challenge, doing so on the ocean floor was a whole other matter entirely. Eventually, however, she'd reach her mother's arms, the place where she always wished to be, and luckily where she stayed at this moment in her life.
Her mother held her close to her chest, brushing back the wild curls on her head, she'd lower herself down to mutter into the child's ear- sweet and serene.


("Tu vois. Tu ne dois pas avoir peur de faire un pas, parce que tu ne peux pas faire un pas que je ne serais pas avec toi.")
"See. You must not be afraid to step, because there is no-where that you could step that I would not be with you."


Elodie thought very little about the relevance of this statement, at the moment in which it was being said because her eyes were focused on the sunset. She was
fascinated by the vast use of colors, she lifted a tiny palm to the light, attempting to snatch it within the tiny spaces in between her fingers as if wishing to hold
unto its beauty forever. Her mother smiled down to her lightly before en clasping her hand around the child's, a sharp comparison between the two.

("On ne peut pas regarder le coucher du soleil cher, il doit tomber s'il y a un espoir pour que l'aube vienne.")
"One cannot keep the sunset dear, it must fall if there is any hope for the dawn to come."

Elodie frowned slightly at that, her lips pursed in dejection as she continued to stare at the sunset. Her mother began to lead her out of the water,
and upon the shore, around the dock, and back to the alley. All the while, Elodie's tiny, grungy, and curious hand, reached out to the sunset.


Wishing To Keep It

TherapyCat:
Chapter II

"Elle se dirigea vers le coucher de soleil"

She Drifted Into The Sunset




("vous savez ce que cela signifie, n'est-ce pas?)
" You know what this means, don't you?"

Elodie turned her head, she knew what it meant- however she didn't know how to process it, how greatly it would affect her.

("Elle est partie")
"She's Gone."

Her father nodded lightly, rubbing his temples, as if he could ease his pain, by simply allowing himself to forget. He turned to Elodie, nearly shoving the jar into her hands, disgusted, enraged, too pained to even hold the pot, for he knew what it held, and what he wished it didn't. Elodie peered down to the pot, expressionless. It was not for lack of emotion, her emotions were crashing inside of her, like the tides of an ocean, she was pushed and pulled every way at the realization of her mother's death. However, feeling emotion, and expressing it were two separate things. She sighed quietly, looking up to her father, with large rounded eyes, searching for words that a child should never be asked to find. Her father turned to walk away, muttering...


("Vous savez quoi faire avec ça.")
"You know what to do with it."

Elodie nodded. She watched her father drift out of her vision, with every step he took.

She knew how to do it
She just didn't want to do it alone.
She knew she didn't have a choice in the matter.

Elodie took off the lid of the jar, and proceeded to walk, step by step, into the ocean. She walked slowly, not because she was hesitant, but nostalgic of a time when she once was. She stood where her mother once stood, the waves crashed into her chest, but yet she stared into the sunset, eyes wide open as if wanting to feel every wave, crash into her even when the made her knees buckle, almost causing her to fall over. She turned her wrist, allowing her mother's ashes to become part of the sea that she cherished so much. She watched as the tides carried her, and drifted her among the surface, crashing into the distance, perspective making it look as though it was challenging the sunset.


Elodie would raise up a hand, fingers spread towards the sunset.

Wishing To Keep it.

TherapyCat:
Chapter III

"La chasse"

The Chase






" El, El! ELLL!"

Jacques came running through the streets, screaming as children do, as the worn souls of there shoes slapped against the street, their laughter echoing throughout the poverty-stricken streets.


("Tu ferais mieux de revenir avec mon livre, sale crasse!")
"You better come back with my book, you filthy scum!"

Jacques snickered.

("Tu ferais mieux de m'attraper!")
 "You better catch me!"

Elodie charged after Jacques, who she adoringly called "Jack" from time to time. She had met him, a couple of weeks after her mothers passing, which she caught him trying
to steal from the local bakers stand, they had an agreement that if he as going to steal- he had to promise her a loaf a week to keep her mouth shut- which Elodie
argued, that "it was a lot easier to do when your mouth is stuffed with bread." And thus, the friendship erupted.

Jacques turned the corner quickly, and Elodie whipped her head around, eyes narrowed.


("Où êtes-vous allé!?")
"Where did you go!?"

Jacques leaped down in front of her, seemingly from nowhere, smirking wide as he extends out the book.


("Je vous manque?")
"Miss me?"


("À peine.")
"Hardly." Elodie huffed, snatching the book back.

Jacques snorted lightly, leaning against the alley wall.


("Tu m' adores.")
"You adore me."


("Je te tolère.")
"I tolerate you."


 Elodie smirked in turn, opening her book, her eyes slowly looking up to glare at him in jest.


("Mhm. Fais-le face, Elly, Je Suis ton unique et unique ami, Alors Je suis ton Meilleur Ami.)
"Mhm. Face it- Elly, I am your one and only friend, so therefore I am your best friend."


("Bien sûr Jack. Tu es par defalt, mon meilleur ami.")
"Sure Jack. You are by default, my best friend."

Jacques rolled his eyes.


("Je ne vois personne d'autre voler des romans pour toi, mon cher.")
" I don't see anyone else stealing novels for you, dearest."


("Qu'est-ce que tu racontes?")
"What are you talking about?"

Jacques reached behind his back, pulling out a book of poetry, one that was collected by all the great poets of the core.
 Elodie reached out a grubby hand, eyes beaming- dancing even.


("Salut, c'est facile avec les mains, El. Tu connais ce grand bâtiment, comment ça s'appelle ... euh ...")
"Hey there- easy with the hands, El. You know that big building, what's it called... uh.."

Elodie sighed quietly.


("La bibliothèque?")
 "The Library?"


("Oui là-bas! Vous savez comment les nobles vous ont empêché d'entrer l'autre jour et à quel point vous étiez contrarié?")
"Yes there! You know how the nobles stopped you from entering the other day, and how upset you were about it?"


("... Oui, merci d'avoir soulevé cela à nouveau.")
"... Yes, thank you for bringing that up again."



She commented sarcastically.



("Bien. J'ai vu un homme sortir par là, je l'ai suivi un peu, j'ai attendu jusqu'au coucher du soleil, et puis je me suis bien…")
"Well. I saw a man exit there, followed him around a bit, waited till sunset, and then I well..."



"Jack.."


("Bien, je l'ai un peu agressé!")
"Fine, I mugged him a little!"
 

(".. comment tu chopes quelqu'un 'un peu'")
".. How do you mug someone 'a little' "

("..Bien je ne l'ai pas tué.")
"..Well I didn't kill him."


(".... Je Pense Que Vous Vous attendez à Ce Que Je Vous félicite.")
"....I feel like you expect me to congratulate you on this."


("... Je pourrais vendre le livre, tu sais.")
"... I could sell the book you know."


("Non, non-non. Merci Jack.")
"No, no- no.Thank you Jack."


("Tu vois, était-ce si difficile?")
"See, was that so hard?"


("Qu'est-ce que tu veux, hm?")
"What do you want, hm?"


("Un baiser. Juste un. Sur les lèvres, cinq secondes.")
" A kiss. Just one. On the lips, five secounds."




("Deux.")
"Two."

("Deux.")
"Two."


("Bien")
"Fine"

("Bien")
"Fine."



(".... Pourquoi veux-tu que je t'embrasse de toute façon?")
".... Why do you want me  to kiss you anyways?"



(".... Pour que tu puisses dire à Ada que je suis le meilleur amateur de Port!")
".... So you can tell Ada I am the best kisser in all of Port!"



Elodie sighed heavily, kissing the boy without fear, without hesitation, she was as brave as she was intelligent, as fearless as she was foolish.



Perhaps that is why she chased many things,

The sunset being just one of them.

TherapyCat:
Chapter IV

"En attendant un autre coucher de soleil"

Waiting For Another Sunset





(“Bonjour papa.”)

“ Morning, Papa.”

Elodie was much older now, she grew as children do, in tandem with Jacques. It’s not metaphorical to say they did so, hand in hand, as well. Needless to say, Elodie was introducing her early teens at this time. She stood in the doorway, of the home she was living in at the time, to call it a “Home” however was generous. To call it a “house” was even more so. It was four pieces of wood, thrown together with a blanketed roof. What’s even more unfortunate, is this would be the nicest establishment that Elodie would ever claim as her own, but even this was temporary.  Her father rolled over in his makeshift bed, that was constructed out of leaves, and surrounding trash, it looked more like a nest fit for an animal, then a bed made for a man. He squinted at Elodie, as if having trouble seeing her, it was not for his old age, for the man was barely old at all if it was not for the shortened life expectancy in the slums, one might consider him ‘middle-aged.’
His voice was cold, harsh, as it had always had been.


(Où étiez-vous?")
“ Where were you?”



Elodie glanced off, shaking her head.


(“J'étais avec… Jacques…”)
“ I was with… Jacques..”


Her father grumbled, stumbling to his feet in a hangover manner when it came to her father- he had ALWAYS been drinking.  He walked over, grabbing her arm, tightly.

("Qu'est-ce que je t'ai dit à propos de voir ce garçon?")
“What did I tell you about seeing that boy?”


Elodie narrowed her eyes, as she always did before she was about to cry, something that she was much better at controlling now, but in her youth, was another story.

("... Je sais ce que tu as dit.")
“... I know what you said.”

Her father raised his voice, lifting a hand to her cheek, he struck her. Without thought, without hesitation, in a swift motion. A practiced motion, this was not the first time. Even though it did not strike him, it struck her as if it was. She was a relatively small thing, a fragile thing, a weak thing, although she would have never admitted it then, and she would like never admit it. She was malnourished, and awkwardly tall when it came to her stature, she was all legs, it didn’t take much to bring her down. When she fell, she fell hard. She didn’t look at her father, she didn’t move, she knew better. She also knew that the man who stood before her was not her father.

Her father stood over her, overpowering her.  Pools of blue, and rage glanced down to his daughter, who was the mirror image of the woman he had once loved but know lost. The drinking he did blur his vision, and the pain he had impacted his judgment.

Neither of these was an excuse, but instead an explanation.

Elodie knew why. 

Elodie knew that come sunset, the pain would stop, her father would leave to find more poison.

Every day, she longed for the Sunset.

("Ce garçon ne t'aime pas, il n'est pas bon pour toi, il ne t'emmènera jamais dans la vie.")
“ That boy, doesn’t love you, he’s no good for you, He’s never going to take you anywhere in Life.”

He continued, it seemed like he continued forever at that moment, eventually, her vision blurred, as the tears collected in her eyes, clouding her vision, the blows continued, the insults continued. She never fought back, she wasn't feisty then.

She wasn't powerful then.

She wasn't Elodie then.

She was just the girl who longed for the Sunset to come.

TherapyCat:
Chapter V

"Elle l'aime"

She Loves Him





Elodie Sighed heavily, inhaling the salted air throughout her nostrils. She watched as the sunrise, as the city was
just starting to wake up. She hated the sunrise.  She stood, jack a pace in front of her. He wore a large pack on his back, and a bittersweet smile on his cheeks, as he looked over. Reaching up a hand to rest on her cheek.





("Ce ne sera pas aussi long qu'il y paraît, El.")
"It won't be as long as it seems, El."

("... Tu ferais mieux de ne pas mourir.")
"... You better not die."


She laughed to herself as if almost forcing herself to distract herself from what she wanted to, which was cry. Jack shook his head,
setting his hands to her waist, as he smirked, drawing her in closer somewhat.




("... Je ne peux pas mourir, il y a cette amère sorcière qui causerait des ravages dans les rues du port, si je le faisais.")
".. I can't die, there's this bitter hag, that would cause havok on the streets of Port if I did."

 Elodie snorted rolling her eyes.

("Je suis sérieux ... S'il te plaît, viens à la maison.")
" I'm serious.. Please come home."




("Je pars, donc quand je reviens, nous avons assez de pièces de monnaie et pouvons construire un endroit où appeler à la maison.")
" I'm leaving, so when I come back we  have enough coin, and can build a place to call home."


("... j'ai déjà une maison, avec toi.")
"... I already have a home, with you." 




("... je veux dire un quatre murs El.")
"... I mean one four walls El."


He smirked, turning away from her, tipping his cap as he moved to step off.
Elodie wrung her hands out, before managing to speak out.


"Jack?"

He paused, looking over his shoulder.


("Oui?")
"Yes?"

She gave a stupid smile, a rare one, a sincere one.


("... Je t'aime.")
"... I love you."

He shook his head.



("Je t'aime aussi longtemps que je te connais.")
" I'ved loved you for as long as I've known you."

She nodded lightly to that, rubbing her forearm, a bit stunned.  Jack beamed at her response, before fully walking off,
adjusting the weight on his back, seeming to be struggling with it. He'd pause ever three feet to wave back to Elodie,
she'd wave back, before shooing him off to continue. She watched ever one of his steps, from the sands to the docks,
to the ship. She memorized every step that he took away from her.

She watched the ship disappear upon the horizon.

She counted every step, as she would count every sunrise, until he was promised to return home.

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