Bring Him Home // Edmond

[Madeleine Aguillon]

YOU WOULD NOT BELIEVE YOUR EYES

if ten million fireflies lit up
THE WORLD AS I FELL ASLEEP

A blizzard was raging outside. The snow had been blowing fiercely for hours, and the heavy cloud cover gave the illusion that night had fallen around three that afternoon. Hardly anyone had come into the inn, only a few stragglers who had been caught out in the foul weather on their way to other destinations. Madeleine had served them food and hot coffee; she didn't use a slow day as an excuse to get out of cooking for the day.

Guillaume had awoken at first light, and had launched himself into his mother's bed to ask excitedly if he could go play in the snow. Uncomfortable with the idea of letting him go out of doors alone (Cavalier and his men had been failing spectacularly in their duty of keeping rioters far away), Madeleine had donned a long-sleeved dress and silk wrapper, and wrapped herself in a warm wool blanket. She bundled her little one in several layers of clothing, then allowed him to clasp her hand with his pudgy fingers and drag her outside.

Elise wandered by at one point, and Madeleine bought a flower from her when she stopped to have a snowball fight with Guillaume.

"Have you a place to sleep, Elise?" She inquired during a break in the great snowball war. "I will leave a blanket out and let the fire burn tonight if you need shelter."

After Guillaume had worn himself out and Madeleine began to feel the chill deepening, she shuffled him inside to warm his frozen fingers over the fire while she made preparations for the rest of the day.

By evening, only three visitors had come and gone, and Guillaume was happily holed up in his private sanctuary in the back with a picture book. Edmond had been teaching him small words, and Madeleine had offered to decrease his rent in exchange for the lessons. What with paying Cavalier more and more each month, she would not have been able to hire a proper tutor, but Edmond was smart and gentle, and was very patient with the small boy, who was still quite shy.

Speaking of Edmond, where was he? She had not seen him in two days' time. She wondered if he had moved on, but no- he'd collected the fresh linens she had left by his door the night before, so he hadn't left. She hoped he was safe, and worried that he was caught out in the storm, which was intensifying with every passing hour.

Resolving to put Edmond out of her mind, Madeleine called for Guillaume. He scurried out from behind the tall bar and threw himself on his mother, grasping her around the knees in a stupendous hug.

Madeleine knelt to the toddler's level and tweaked his nose. "Shall we sit by the fire, little duck?" She asked, and he nodded. She scooped him up in her arms. "My heavens, not such a little duck! Bigger and more handsome every day!" She planted a kiss on his chubby cheek and spun him in a circle, eliciting a joyous giggle from her boy.

After a few more minutes of play, Madeleine sat down in one of the larger chairs by the fire and held Guillaume in her lap.

"Shall we read a story, my duck?" He looked up and nodded enthusiastically at her. "Which one shall we hear tonight, then?"

Guillaume turned in her lap so he could see her face. He snatched her lace cap off her head and placed it on his own with a giggle. Madeleine couldn't help but to laugh too. Her hair spilled down over her shoulders in brown ringlets, and Guillaume liked to pull on her curls and watch them spring back into perfect curls.

"Monsieur Edmond tells stories about my soldiers," the little boy said conversationally, while playing with his mother's hair. "Was Papa a soldier? I like this." He was now fingering the ring on the chain around her neck. His little mind did wander so.

Madeleine knew that someday Guillaume would inquire after his father, but heavens above, this was early. She sighed a little sadly and gave her son a melancholy smile.

"Your Papa was very brave," she told him. "He wanted to do good things that would make people safe and happy." It didn't really answer Guillaum's question, but how did you explain to a four-year-old that his father had been conscripted into service? Gervais had accepted the responsibility he bore his country and been proud that he might be part of something that would make France better, but it had all been a farce. Napoleon had sent her husband, only twenty-seven at the time, to his death, and for that, Madeleine could never forgive him. Exile was too good for the fallen Emperor. She did not want to put an image in her son's head of war and violence.

- - - - - - - - - -

status: IN/COMPLETE
tagged: WHO YOU WIT?
words: COUNT 'EM!
outfit: POLYVORE, BBY.
notes: ANYTHING ELSE?
lyrics: FIREFLIES, OWL CITY
credit: TEMPLATE BY SHAZI ?! AT CAUTION 2.0

[Edmond Ivon d'Aoust]

Edmond had been boarding at the Winking Rabbit for about a month now, and had learned the area fairly well, or at least as well as one who was trying his best to stay out of sight could. This task was not easy for Edmond, admittedly, because, though his memory was damaged and his mind always preoccupied with questions about his origins, he was a natural people person, and very much enjoyed meeting new people and learning their stories. Maybe he liked hearing people talk about themselves because it made up for his inability to talk about his own history.

Something was still bothering him, though. The more he contemplated on his missing memory and the patches that he could remember, the more he realized that there were parts of it that just didn't add up. Even in his post-coma memory, there were always lapses that conveniently blanked out random tidbits, especially at night. He hadn't really noticed it during the campaigns, because sometimes he didn't want to recall things. Especially things he'd done, orders he'd followed. He still remembered the family in Spain, whom they'd had to arrest that one day.

But some nights when he was lying awake in his inn room, he couldn't remember what had happened or how he had gotten there. One night, he had woken to find blood on the front of his shirt, and though it was strange, he had just chalked it up to a nosebleed and changed and washed his clothes and face. But then the next week, it had happened again, and there had been more of it. He tried to blame it on a medical problem, even though he had noticed no other symptoms. He avoided visiting a doctor, though, a bit afraid of what the diagnosis might be.

One particularly cold night, however, in the midst of a blizzard, Edmond was staggering home, his coat and cloak wound tight about him. His mind was numb; he couldn't recall what had happened in the past couple of hours. He vaguely remembered going to bed early, so he didn't quite understand why he was out now, in the snow. All he knew was that he wanted to get back to his room and get bundled up in the covers.

Vaguely he tasted blood in his mouth, and his body ached, a sharp pain stinging in his side. He thought it was just the frigid air burning his lungs, but blood was beginning to stain his coat.

He pressed a hand to his side, frowning down at himself. Gingerly he peeled back his coat to reveal a stab wound - had he gotten into a fight? Maybe on the street? But strangely he couldn't recall that either.

Frustrated, he cupped a hand over his eyes to shield against the snow. Thankfully, the Winking Rabbit came into view, and he managed to stagger the last few steps, shouldering his way into the mostly-empty common room.

"I think ... I could use some good whiskey ... if I may have it brought up?" he grunted as he hobbled past the bar, avoiding Mlle Madeleine's gaze. He crossed the common room without another word, dragging himself up the stairs and to his room. Once there, he immediately stripped down to his shirt and breeches, going to the wash basin to wet a few cloths so he could start on his wounds. Inspecting himself in the mirror, he was startled by the crusted blood around his lips. As he dabbed his mouth off, though, he couldn't find any cuts on his lips.

[Madeleine Aguillon]

YOU WOULD NOT BELIEVE YOUR EYES

if ten million fireflies lit up
THE WORLD AS I FELL ASLEEP

Madeleine had just started reciting a story about a boy who couldn't say "please" when the door to the inn burst open in a shower of violently swirling snowflakes and cold wind. The suddenness of it all startled Madeleine, and she instinctively tightened her hold on Guillaume.

When she saw it was Edmond, she relaxed again, though she noticed within seconds that something was terribly wrong. He was moving gingerly, clutching his side. There was blood on his face, which was otherwise white as a sheet.

Madeleine jumped to her feet, putting Guillaume down, with a startled "M'sieur!"

"I think ... I could use some good whiskey ... if I may have it brought up?"

"Of- of course," she spluttered, and rushed to the counter to fill a decanter with the amber drink. "Guillaume, darling, fetch a bowl and fill it with water from the pot on the stove. And bring be some rags, as well. That's my good angel."

Within moments she was making her way up the stairs, carrying a tray laden with her best whiskey (from Gervais' own private store, which she hardly ever touched, and never for a guest) and a porcelain bowl of warm water. Tucked into the ribbon that secured her apron were three clean towels. She knocked on the door with the toe of her shoe.

"Monsieur Edmond? I have your whiskey," she called through the door. At his noise of acknowledgement, she pushed the door open with her shoulder and entered Edmond's room.

She did her best not to stare at Edmond, who was dressed only in his shirt and breeches and examining himself in the mirror. The side of his shirt was drenched with bright red blood. His coat, which he had tossed onto the bed, was wet, though with blood or with snow, she was unsure.

"I have your drink, M'sieur, and I brought warm water if you would like to clean up. Here are some clean tow- mon dieu," she exclaimed in a horrified whisper. She couldn't tear her eyes away from his bloodied frame.

At that moment, a small form darted through the door and attached itself to Edmond's leg.

"Edmond!" Guillaume cried. "You are back! Can you tell me another soldier story? Maman can't tell a story like you can."

"Guillaume!" Madeleine scolded her son. "Come away from him, duck." She looked apologetically up at Edmond.

- - - - - - - - - -

status: COMPLETE
tagged: EDMOND[/color]
words: 401
outfit: A dark green, long sleeved dress with an ivory chemise underneath; black shoes, a brown wool shawl, hair loose and curly
notes: XD
lyrics: FIREFLIES, OWL CITY
credit: TEMPLATE BY SHAZI ?! AT CAUTION 2.0

[Edmond Ivon d'Aoust]

Edmond had untucked his shirt from his breeches, edging the hem up enough to inspect his side. Upon seeing the rent flesh for himself, his fist clenched on the fabric, and he shut his eyes tight, cupping his other hand over them as he strained to remember what had happened. What was this? He wasn't an alcoholic, he did not indulge in any sort of recreational drug; he could think of no reason for his lapse in memory.

All he could remember was the scent of blood. The image of the horrified visage of a prostitute flashed before his eyes, and then a scream pierced his ears as his teeth sank into her flesh -

Mon Dieu, he thought to himself, his eyes fluttering open as a rap sounded on the door.

"Yes, come in," he mumbled, having to shake his head to break himself out of his daze. He had finished washing his face and his neck of the bloodstains, though the taste still lingered on his tongue. It wasn't entirely unpleasant, either.

I truly am going mad, he mentally sighed.

"Yes, many thanks," he managed, shuddering slightly and reaching to pluck up the glass. He hurriedly gulped the whole thing down in one go, and then dropped the glass on the nightstand before taking one of the cloths with another thank you and pressing it against the stab wound on his side.

Just then, Guillaume barged in the door, barreling over to Edmond's side. Edmond jumped, startled, the whiskey not having set in to calm his nerves (and more importantly, the pain) yet.

"It's fine, children will be children. M'sieur, please ... I am not feeling well. The story will have to wait," he explained to the child, trying to keep his distress out of his voice.

He took one of the damp cloths, pressing it to his forehead as he sank into a seat at the edge of the bed. He had started to tear bandages from one of his other shirts so that he could attend to the wound in his side, but had abandoned the task halfway, unable to clear his mind.

"Please m'sieur, don't do this, I'll do whatever you want!"

"Hungry. So ... so hungry ... "

Edmond shuddered again, shoving his effects off of the bed; his sword and gun clattered across the floor to make room as he laid down on his side rather suddenly, his hand still cupped over his eyes. "I do not understand what is wrong with me," he groaned, massaging at his forehead with his fingers.

[Madeleine Aguillon]

YOU WOULD NOT BELIEVE YOUR EYES

if ten million fireflies lit up
THE WORLD AS I FELL ASLEEP

Guillaume's face fell, but he let go of his mentor's leg and retreated behind his mother's skirt. She placed a hand on his head and instructed him to go to their bedroom and dress for bed.

"Wash your face," she called after him as he scurried out of the room.

Meanwhile, Edmond sank onto the bed, his wound still oozing blood. He suddenly swept all his things from the bed and they clattered to the floor.

"I do not understand what is wrong with me," he moaned. Madeleine set to picking up his scattered belongings and placing them on the wooden dresser.

"I would not presume to know the answer, M'sieur Edmond, but if you will allow me, I will bandage your side." She pulled a stool over to the bedside and placed the bowl of water and rags on it before kneeling on the ground beside the bed. She took a clean rag from the stool and dipped a part of it into the water, then gently dabbed at the dried blood on his side.

"Did this happen nearby?" She inquired. "I pay Cavalier my lifeblood to protect my patrons. If this is his idea of protection..." Her voice had been growing heated, but she took a deep breath and let her voice trail off. "I am sorry you were injured," she said, her tone calmer now.

She continued to wipe away the congealed blood, and when the surrounding area was mostly clean, she started on the wound itself.

"Deep breath," she said before touching the torn flesh. Her touch was gentle, but there was no getting around the pain of touching a fresh injury.

"I grow weary of the fighting," Madeleine sighed, to no one in particular, more to the room at large. "I do not want my son to grow up in a world where he has to fear for his life every time he steps outside. He is so young, and already his innocence is threatened."

Once the worst of the blood was done away with, Madeleine retrieved the pieces of ripped shirt to bandage him up.

- - - - - - - - - -

status: IN/COMPLETE
tagged: WHO YOU WIT?
words: COUNT 'EM!
outfit: POLYVORE, BBY.
notes: ANYTHING ELSE?
lyrics: FIREFLIES, OWL CITY
credit: TEMPLATE BY SHAZI ?! AT CAUTION 2.0

[Edmond Ivon d'Aoust]

Edmond pursed his lips, trying to keep his signs of slipping sanity to a minimum. Of course Madeleine didn't know the answer. How could he expect her to? He was lamenting now for no reason. Maybe he was just tired of not having answers. Or of not being able to complain to someone about them. One of his close friends - well, only friends - on the field, Christophe, had been a good confidante. Christophe had never seemed to mind Edmond's lack of memory, and was happy to listen to him bemoan his confusions, but then Christophe had died quite suddenly, brutally torn in two by a cannonball.

"Did this happen nearby?"

Edmond shut his eyes again, straining to remember. He saw the prostitute, outside a brothel. But this was not the slummy part of the quartier. It must have been farther out.

"No ... not nearby. I cannot recall where, specifically ... my mind ... 'tis swimming," he grumbled with another groan of frustration. What was wrong with him? Had he sustained some sort of damage to his head during the war? Something that he, ironically, could not remember? "I ... I do not even remember leaving the inn. Or how I ended up ... wherever it was."

He knew he wasn't making sense, so he stopped talking, his gaze falling and growing distant as Madeleine started on the wound. He listened to her speak, and though it was a bit difficult to concentrate on her words due to his own dizzying thoughts, he found her voice soothing at least, as well as her touch, though of course he would not say these things.

He barely reacted when she touched the wound, the whiskey beginning to do its job. He nodded mutely in agreement to her concerns, but unfortunately it was just the reality of the age. It was just like the Great Revolution of '89; most people were happy, some weren't, and a few just wanted to overturn everything and cause a ruckus. And of course it was that last group whom everyone felt.

Edmond didn't seem to even notice that he shouldn't know firsthand anything about the '89 revolution, though.

"I am certain that your vigilance brings him much resolve," Edmond mumbled distantly, shifting more onto his back now so as not to put strain on his side.

Normally he wouldn't have asked his next question, but his muddled thoughts coupled with the whiskey had diminished his inhibition.

"What of Guillaume's father? What is his tale?" Edmond had deduced a tale that he was almost sure was accurate, but he was curious to hear it from Madeleine's own lips, even if it was a sensitive topic.

[Madeleine Aguillon]

YOU WOULD NOT BELIEVE YOUR EYES

if ten million fireflies lit up
THE WORLD AS I FELL ASLEEP

Madeleine froze like an icicle when Edmond inquired after Guillaume's father. It was not that she was offended, just that the question had seemed to come from nowhere, and it wasn't a question she'd been asked by many people, least of all one of her boarders. She considered her answer for what must have seemed to Edmond like a very long time, but she wanted to answer his question without revealing more than was polite.

"My husband," she began hesitantly, "was a good man. He worked hard all his life and took very good care of Guillaume and me. He was kind and generous and loyal." She didn't realize it yet, but she was beginning to smile. "Gervais was so smart. I want Guillaume to be like him. And he had this manner of speaking..." She was rambling, and she shook her head as though shaking off a fly.

"Gervais was always looking for a way to make things better for us. When he was conscripted, he wanted so badly to believe that what he was fighting for was right, but I knew he didn't really think that way. The morning he left... well, I had suspected for a time that I was carrying his child, and I couldn't let him leave without sharing the news with him. He was overjoyed." Madeleine smiled sadly at the recollection of their last few moments of normalcy. Gervais had picked her up and spun her around in a circle, laughing and crying and kissing every inch of her face.

When she realized she'd stopped speaking, Madeleine sighed and went on.

"A few nights later, I received a letter, carried by a boy not much older that Guillaume is now. It was a message from the head of Gervais' regiment, telling me to come as quickly as I was able, that my husband had been wounded, possibly fatally. I got there as fast as I could, and was told that he'd been wounded in a skirmish. When I arrived at his side, he barely had the strength to speak. He had taken a fever and did not know me."

Madeleine's voice caught in her chest and she busied herself by piling the bloodied rags in the porcelain bowl and tidying up.

"Listen to me, carrying on so," she said with an embarrassed laugh. "I have been gifted by God with a precious boy, who looks more like his father with every passing day. I cannot tell you what it means to... to him that you spend your valuable time teaching him things like reading. His father would never forgive me if I neglected his education." She offered a smile of genuine gratitude to her patron. She liked Edmond, if for no other reason than that he did get on so well with Guillaume.

- - - - - - - - - -

status: IN/COMPLETE
tagged: WHO YOU WIT?
words: COUNT 'EM!
outfit: POLYVORE, BBY.
notes: ANYTHING ELSE?
lyrics: FIREFLIES, OWL CITY
credit: TEMPLATE BY SHAZI ?! AT CAUTION 2.0

[Edmond Ivon d'Aoust]

Despite himself, Edmond couldn't help a half-smile as Madeleine mused on about her late husband. It was easy to tell that she had loved him very much, and, as always, hearing another's stories helped to distract Edmond from a lack of his own. But when she indirectly mentioned the war, his face twisted into a frown. So his earlier speculations had been correct. But it was still troubling to see the pain reflected in the woman's face, how ever brief.

Edmond remained thoughtfully silent as Madeleine finished up the bandaging and tidied up. He shifted slowly to sit up, placing as little strain as possible on the wound; it wasn't the worst he had endured, even though his mind was still blanking out the details.

"Literacy is a rare and valuable thing, and those who have the capacity and means to obtain it are blessed," he mused, even though he had no recollection of how he had come to be educated, beyond the voice of a tutor reading grammar books to him - or maybe that had been a dream?

"Thank you for your assistance," he added, as if only remembering where he was and that Madeleine had just bandaged him up. While he might only have been there for the past month, he felt more at home in the inn than in any of the places he had stayed over the past years. Sure, there were a few rough patches, what with the gang and the slightly unstable civil climate, but Madeleine and Guillaume were kind and hospitable, and perhaps the closest to friends Edmond had had since Christophe.

"Perhaps I should rest ... I feel exhausted for some reason," he mumbled to himself as he bent to scoop up the effects he had dumped onto the floor, laying them out on the bed to sort out.