Author Topic:  i'm wishing [william]  (Read 85 times)

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  • Offline Bérénice Bonaccord
  • i'm wishing [william]
    « on: July 04, 2018, 04:39:11 AM »
    Two more days.

    Two more days before Bérénice would be returning to Beauxbatons. It had been a decade and a half since she’d last walked the halls of the palace as a student. That felt so long ago, but she remembered so much of it so clearly. It seemed that moving to Chatoeil, though initially intended as a respite from working, might have been fate – if one believed in such things. Bérénice was beginning to think she did.

    She had walked from her cottage to the town centre earlier this morning, holing up in the town library amongst stacks of books on hypnosis and teaching methods, wanting to be fully prepared for her stint as substitute professor. It wasn’t a career change – so she told herself – it was just, something different, for now. Change was good. She had to keep reminding herself. Even if it wasn’t planned change.

    The brunette was dressed in a cream sweater with a deep v-neckline, blush pink pencil skirt, and matching blush heels. Her beige coat was folded over the back of the chair next to her, and her thick, dark hair was knotted up in a chic bun, a couple of strands left free to frame her face. Her face, which was currently contorted into a soft frown of concentration as she read.

    Bérénice knew her skill almost like the back of her hand, but she was convinced that that may be her downfall as a tutor. Knowing something too well undoubtedly put you in a position where you left out details that came as second nature to you, but were unknown to the uninitiated. Her bookshelves at home had several tombs dedicated to her craft, she had packed those up and left the boxes with her parents in her childhood bedroom when she’d relocated to the seaside town. Bérénice didn’t want to make the trip back to Dahliental now, because they would ask what she was doing, squandering her talent as a measly teacher when she could be at the Hospital, really helping people (and earning good money) – or if she was that desperate for a change, in the Ministere, where her name would get her a job in no time. Both reputable, well-paying positions.

    So she’d come to the Chatoeil library. The hypnotist had been reading the same line over and over for several minutes before she realised it was no longer sinking in. She needed a break. Abruptly, Bérénice stood, pushing her chair back along the wooden floor and into the poor soul that had decided to walk behind her at that precise moment. “Oh, pardon!” She spun around, one hand flying up to cover her mouth and the other reaching out gingerly to touch on the man’s upper arm. “Je suis tellement désolé, es-tu blessé?”


    @William Dasher

  • Offline William Dasher
  • Re: i'm wishing [william]
    « Reply #1 on: July 04, 2018, 10:37:13 PM »
    This place was fantastic.

    William had always liked books. Some people had favourite smells; coffee, freshly cut grass or baked bread but his? His were the pages of books. He'd stumbled on this library by accident. In fact, this entire place had been a case of serendipity. He'd always found the French sun a bit too hot for his very English skin and so, he'd been here for hours. Or what seemed like it.

    He was only here for the day, really. Will had come straight from Nice and he was headed to the Amalfi Coast the following day. He didn't have a set date to return to London. It should have been some time this week but he'd caught sight of a newspaper while he was having an overpriced coffee in Paris. The sting he felt hurt worse than the burning hot liquid that came out of his nose at the shock of seeing his recently ex-girlfriend sat cosily next to a hulking great Quidditch player. In effect, it had scuppered his plans completely.

    Was he hiding? Yes. Absolutely. Will was over the initial shock and hurt but he just felt embarrassed now. Honey had been to his office and met his coworkers. He knew they knew about the break up but he wouldn't be able to stand the well-meaning sympathy and the cuddles and the endless cups of tea that he just wanted to drown himself in.

    His long legs walked up and down the rows of books, his big dark eyes not really focusing on anything in particular. Dressed in well cut jeans and a pale blue shirt, there was a pocket-sized guide to Positano sticking out of the breast pocket. Will's fingers gently skimmed over the various spines that were there, his touch soft and respectful. He was having a perfectly nice time until a sharp searing pain smacked him in the shin and sent him doubling over in pain.

    "Motherfu--" Will managed to stop the curse word from spilling out as he let out a grunt of pain as the throbbing sensation felt like a siren inside of his body. It was just the shock but it still made his eyes water and the sheer force of the blow sent his guidebook and his glasses flying.

    Someone was asking him a familiar phrase in an unfamiliar voice and Will forced himself to swallow the embarrassment. As soon as he looked up, his anger dissipated as he looked at a pretty woman. She looked very put together and the sunlight streaming through the windows made her look like she was wearing a halo. Either that or the strength of her chair attack had knocked the wind right out of his sails.

    Will squinted at her, completely at a loss. "Non, je suis…fine?" He replied, his eyes wide as the pain was smarting as it ran up and down his shin bone. He knew French. He was fluent but for the life of him, he couldn't string a sentence together. The only phrase bumping around his head was merde, il pleut and it definitely was not. Her hand was warm on his arm and she looked so utterly distraught, he was about to apologise for being in her way.

    "Je vais bien," he managed to tell her as he gave her a thumbs up. William took a half step backwards that looked more like a limp. He  had a French pen pal growing up. His bloody grandma was French but all he could think about telling her was that he could count to ten. He offered her a smile. To support her weight, he gently placed a hand on the elbow of the arm that was touching him tenderly. "I'm okay," he finally managed to tell her as he looked around for his glasses and his guidebook. "I'm really sorry," he told her as he looked her over to make sure she was okay. "Je suis un troll," he told her. "Big feet," he joked with an easy smile as  he gestured to his leather shoes. The ground needed to open up and swallow him whole now.

  • Offline Bérénice Bonaccord
  • Re: i'm wishing [william]
    « Reply #2 on: July 08, 2018, 04:22:46 AM »
    Bérénice’s eyes widened at the man’s short-lived (but rather colourful) outburst. It was immediately apparent that his first language must not be French, but in fact English. Their eyes met, and there was a moment of quiet as each seemingly acquainted themselves with the other. She realised how tall he was as he straightened to his full height; had she not been wearing heels the top of her head would barely reach his shoulders. He was a handsome man, with deep eyes and pleasant features. Bérénice blinked – she had moved to Chatoeil to get away from handsome men for a while, not to fall for the first one around her age that she found, or kicked a chair at. Goodness, she was newly-single, but not desperate.

    Her little hunch about his mother tongue was confirmed as he spoke directly to her this time, his French pronunciation wasn’t bad but he obviously lacked a full vocabulary. “I am so sorry,” she said again, this time in heavily-accented English. She hoped he was telling the truth. The healer in her wanted to offer to check it for him, but the rational part of her mind reminded her that it had only been a sharp smack to the shin -- unless he was cursed with exceptionally brittle bones he would be quite fine. He didn't look weak, perhaps just a little sad -- but that may well have been her fault for making his eyes water.

    “Oh, bonne.” She smiled, obviously relieved and a little amused at his thumbs-up gesture. Bérénice’s cheeks flushed pink as the man mirrored her and took her arm gently. “You are sure?” Her hand fell away as his did, “Non, it was my fault.” He told him, “I should have looked,” she turned in a mild fluster to glance towards the table and then back to him, via the offending chair. "I did not think there was anyone else in this... uhh," she paused over the word as she searched for it, her English a little rusty from not having used it in several months, "section."

    Bérénice let out a soft, tinkling laugh as he likened himself to a troll. “I do not think so,” she smiled demurely. If anyone knew about trolls it was her family. Would they ever live that down? She hoped so. Nice turned to pick up his things, bending at the knee to crouch down and scoop up his book as he simultaneously reached for his glasses. As she stood to hand the small tomb back to him, Bérénice couldn’t help but curiously read the cover. “Italia?” She flicked her eyes up to his, “Are you on holiday?” As soon as she’d asked she looked mildly horrified with herself, “Pardon, it is none of my business.” Her cheeks burned lightly once again as she held the book out for him to take.

  • Offline William Dasher
  • Re: i'm wishing [william]
    « Reply #3 on: July 12, 2018, 04:29:09 PM »
    Oh good, she spoke English. His face softened as he smiled. He realised now that he could apologise properly, whilst still being mystified that he'd managed to forget an entire language. Oh sure, his head was full of all sorts of things but not full enough that words just…fell out of it. The sharp pain was now more of a dull ache as he stood, careful to shift his weight to the opposite leg. It really wasn't that bad and the overwhelming urge to placate her was strong.

    "It's not normally busy?" Will asked, intrigued. If he had somewhere like this on his doorstep, he doubted he'd ever leave. Turning his head, he looked around. It was very much unlike a library. There were a lot of windows which meant lots of light. The place didn't smell damp or musty. The books seemed well cared for. Will couldn't imagine anyone had drawn a crudely shaped willy in any of the pages. What a revelation.

    He smiled at her again. "Ah, well, you haven't seen my feet," he joked again. As she ducked down, he was mildly alarmed but extended his hands for his belongings. "Ah, merci," he managed to tell her as he slid his glasses back onto his face.

    His smile didn't leave his face but he did flush slightly. "Sort of," he told the woman as honestly as he could manage. A holiday was exactly what he needed right now. "I'm trying to recapture my youth," he paused. "Raison d'être?" He asked lightly. "Or something along those lines. I haven't had time off in a long while and I've suddenly found myself with a lot of free time," he mused. Not that Honey ever took up much of it and it was never a chore. As scrumptiously as he could, his long fingers flicked the newspaper off the table and onto a seat, hidden out of view. He didn't want to be reminded.

    "Do you have any recommendations?" Will asked, gesturing to the book before holding it out for her to take and flick through. Unable to help himself, he chuckled. She seemed sweet and even possibly more awkward than he was. "There's nothing to apologise for," he told her in earnest. It made sense with his accent and his lack of spatial awareness that he wasn't from these shores.

    "I'm Will," he announced as he held out a tanned hand for a greeting. Though he didn't hate his full name, William added at least ten years onto him and the only person who called him that was his grandmother. Now would be the opportune moment to start flirting. There was a lot he could compliment her on. He could say that her accent was as smooth as melted chocolate, her eyes like a dappled stream. But no. Despite being on holiday, he still couldn't change his personality.

    "Could I buy you a coffee?" He asked her swiftly before he chickened out. "Café?" He squinted. "Or tea, juice, wine, whatever you like." Internally, he was screaming. Who the Hell asked a pretty woman out for juice? He wanted to punch himself in the face.
    « Last Edit: July 12, 2018, 04:29:22 PM by Sioban »

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