The Hazards of Love [Levi/Irene] Jan 1, 2013 16:14:52 GMT -5
Post by The Sidhe on Jan 1, 2013 16:14:52 GMT -5
It was a little town, a quiet village. Ville-sur-Jarnioux wasn’t exactly postcard material, but it was a lovely little place. With its green fields among rolling hills and quaint houses made of pale gold stone, it was the very picture of what the French countryside was expected to look like. With the sun beating down upon the scene, it looked like quite a happy place to inhabit. If only that were true.
Giselle was at her wits end. It was bad enough to have her husband missing, but it was even worse with the kinds of rumors that were beginning to circulate. The rumors about how he had become so angry that the slightest little mishap would send him flying into a rage, about how he’d grown paranoid and barely trusted his own wife, let alone anyone else. People they’d known since childhood growing up in the little town were turning their backs to Giselle in her desperate search, even her own brother. She’d followed him about through the rows of grape vines, begging him to help until he too had turned on her,
“Souhaitez-vous écouter vous-même? Savez-vous comment vous paraître ridicule? S'il a été prise par la Bête qu'il est parti, Giselle!”
((Would you listen to yourself? Do you know how ridiculous you sound? If he was taken by the Beast, he’s gone, Giselle!))
She had glared at her brother with cold blue eyes, but her gaze had faltered. She wasn’t mad, she was worried. She just wanted her husband back,
“S'il vous plaît Adrien! Je ne sais pas qui d'autre s'adresser, personne ne va m'aider! Ils croient que c'est Dorian qui a fait cela, ils croient qu'il est devenu fou! “
((Please Adrien! I don’t know who else to turn to, no one will help me! They believe that it is Dorian who has done this, they believe he has gone mad!”))
Her brother didn’t look at her, continuing to check the vines for any sign of disease or parasites. Giselle huffed and stomped her foot against the ground, a small cloud of copper colored dust rising up around her ankles,
“Adrien, tu pourrais au moins m'écouter!”
((Adrien, you could at least listen to me!))
He turned on her then, getting right in her face and snarling at her,
“J'ai été à votre écoute, pendant des semaines, en fait! Vous devez faire face à la vérité que Dorian est mort ou il est celui qui nous tourmente! Sauf si vous pouvez trouver une preuve pour prouver au reste de la ville mal ou vous aurez une foule en colère sur vos mains.”
((I have been listening to you, for weeks in fact! You need to face the truth that Dorian is either dead or he is the one who torments us! Unless you can find some proof to prove the rest of the town wrong or you’ll have an angry mob on your hands.))
Giselle’s voice faltered as she hung her head,
“J'essaie de le trouver, mais-“
((I’m trying to find him, but-))
“Puis essayer plus fort. J'espère pour toi ces étudiants peut vous aider. Tu es trop jeune et trop belle pour être veuve.”
((Then try harder. I hope for your sake those students can help you. You’re too young and too beautiful to be a widow.))
The blonde clenched her fists but wasn’t daring enough to raise them. Instead she turned on her heel and marched through the rows of grape vines blinking back tears and biting her lip to keep any sniveling at bay. Adrien meant well, but he didn’t have to be so damned stubborn! Everyone threw a tantrum every now and again, her husband was no different! Dorian couldn’t be the beast, he just couldn’t be! Giselle would prove him wrong, she would prove everyone wrong, she just didn’t know how yet.
She reentered the town with the copper colored dust covering her shoes. She considered shaking them off when she reached the vineyard gate but decided it wasn’t worth it. They’d get coated again by the time she reached home anyways. Pulling the shawl she wore tightly around her shoulders, Giselle walked quickly and kept her head down. She didn’t need any berating from her brother’s neighbors today, and she knew if she made eye contact they’d feel compelled to turn away and whisper amongst themselves. They said terrible things, she knew this. They made up lies, claiming they’d seen Dorian tear the head off of a chicken with his bare hands, that they’d seen him running in the hills with wolves. Lies, all lies. She knew her Dorian, and he was no beast. Giselle hadn’t wanted to, but she’d come to hate her neighbors for the things they said.
Giselle gradually slowed as she reached the little house where she and Dorian called home. Pausing just outside the door, she wondered perhaps if he had come home, if he was waiting inside for her. Everything seemed so surreal without him present. It didn’t feel like their house, it felt like a museum with everything that was theirs on display until Dorian returned, and Giselle herself was not exempt to that. Slowly, she forced her feet to move forward towards the door and sat on the front steps. The students would be arriving soon, she knew that. It was the only reason she wouldn’t let herself cry. Her heart still felt no less weighed down, though. Sighing, Giselle regarded the thin band of gold around her left ring finger, smiling sadly for just a moment before hanging her head and clasping bother hands to her chest. If the students didn’t find him and bring him home, she didn’t know what she’d do.