praiseandglory: (angry bordering on murderous)
Porthos ([personal profile] praiseandglory) wrote in [community profile] all_inclusive2016-05-10 05:31 pm

Not again

When Porthos stepped into their tent and found himself in a strange, yet familiar hallway, he knew exactly where he was. On either side of the hallway were doors - to rooms, suites, and many more strange places beside. The noises of the camp were gone, but the smell remained, on him, of gunpowder and blood, soot and grime. His usually elegant clothes had seen better days, his now longer hair was tied back and mostly hidden under a kerchief that might have once been white. His pistol was empty and he needed to clean his sword - Treville's sword.

The battlefield was now miles and years away, for all that it was also, somehow, right on the other side of a door. And, in his current mood, that made his blood boil as surely as Spanish insults.

"Not again!" he yelled, and punched the nearest wall with a gloved hand. He winced at the pain, but there was a dent in the wall now, and that felt slightly better.
averygoodshot: (s3 smile)

[personal profile] averygoodshot 2016-05-11 10:55 pm (UTC)(link)
Aramis would know that shout anywhere. No time apart, no seeming danger, nothing. That voice is perhaps the voice of Aramis's conscience.

Of course, Porthos is not the only one who's found himself back here when he hadn't necessarily wanted to. It seems this Nexus has something of a grip on at least Aramis as well.

"Breaking your hand will hardly serve you," he notes. It is so very good to see Porthos, after all. How long has it been? Too long, it seems, judging by the warmth in his heart.
averygoodshot: (Default)

[personal profile] averygoodshot 2016-05-12 11:36 am (UTC)(link)
Porthos always has carried his heart, large and expressive, on his sleeve, hasn't he? Aramis shouldn't be surprised that he's hurt. Those years ago, he had to say no to going to war. He had - has- a penance to carry out. Too many women have died or nearly died because of him.

The cowl of his robe is a pristine white as he comes closer, his beard and moustache immaculately groomed. He gazes at Porthos warmly, smiling. "It is good to see you, my friend."
averygoodshot: (shit)

[personal profile] averygoodshot 2016-05-12 03:26 pm (UTC)(link)
A different form of penance, then. All right. It isn't as if Aramis doesn't deserve it. (Though, he thinks, that his friends would be more understanding.)

"I don't know," he says, letting his hands drop. It's then that he looks Porthos over, head to toe. "Are you all right? are you injured?"
averygoodshot: (BW angsty profile)

[personal profile] averygoodshot 2016-05-13 02:07 pm (UTC)(link)
Just like that? Hurt flashes through Aramis's eyes and his shoulders lower just a little. "May I accompany you?" he asks, still searching Porthos's face.

Did he do such a terrible job of explaining his motives for staying at the monastery? Perhaps he had.
averygoodshot: (shoot him down)

[personal profile] averygoodshot 2016-05-13 02:27 pm (UTC)(link)
"You came from the front," Aramis doesn't so much as state the obvious, walking a half-step behind. He has noted the war coming closer to the walls of the monastery. He would be lying if he said it hadn't been on his mind. Caring for the children, however, took a good deal of his time.
averygoodshot: (don't fuck with me)

[personal profile] averygoodshot 2016-05-13 04:02 pm (UTC)(link)
While Aramis had no doubt he could again win Porthos's friendship, it isn't going to be easy, is it?

He follows down the stairs quietly. His robe may not be the most practical garb here. He will wait until Porthos finds his room to see if he is invited in to talk.
averygoodshot: (rich color pensive)

[personal profile] averygoodshot 2016-05-14 07:46 pm (UTC)(link)
It's difficult to not be looked at actually, and not entirely because, no matter how long he's spent in a monastery, Aramis is still vain. It's just that so much of the communication between the two of them has been nonverbal and now, Porthos won't even look at him.

"Would you rather I left you alone?" he asks, standing in the doorway.

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armedagainstlove: (weary)

[personal profile] armedagainstlove 2016-05-14 11:55 pm (UTC)(link)
Athos has been here for a week now, since the losses of the last battle. Two years into the war with Spain and each victory is as laborious and difficult as each loss, leading him to the hotel to lick his wounds. It's left him feeling like an old man, but one that at least finds respite in sleep and good food.

"Porthos," he chides calmly, regarding the new dent in the wall. "I hardly think the wall deserves what the Spaniards do."
armedagainstlove: (steady)

[personal profile] armedagainstlove 2016-05-20 01:15 am (UTC)(link)
Athos tiredly sets his things away now that he sees Porthos relent and relax. "A siege I'm more than eager to forget. The loss, near Lourdes," he says, trying not to let the weariness show on his face, though he imagines it's evident in every feature. "You look as though you've hardly been here a breath."
armedagainstlove: (calm eyes)

[personal profile] armedagainstlove 2016-05-21 07:14 pm (UTC)(link)
Athos consents with a nod of his head. His own hair is still dripping at the ends, but he gestures down the hall. "I'll be the one already starting in on a bottle of wine," he predicts, seeing as he does take advantage of the time he can spend drinking after so long without, on the battlefield.
armedagainstlove: (bang bang)

[personal profile] armedagainstlove 2016-05-23 02:08 am (UTC)(link)
Athos heads straight for the bar, trying to keep decorum in mind as he orders the bottle. True, very few here would know him for who he is back home, but he still wears a Captain's uniform and must be very cautious not to tarnish the reputation of the Musketeers. Still, he has had two large glasses by the time he sees Porthos again, pushing the other cup towards the man.
armedagainstlove: (determined)

[personal profile] armedagainstlove 2016-05-23 11:32 pm (UTC)(link)
Athos' smile softens with a tender happiness to see Porthos in new clothes that aren't riddled with the dirt and blood of the battlefield. All he's wanted of his men is to keep them safe and this hotel gives them the means to do so.

"What's the last you recall, then? How is France?"
armedagainstlove: (Default)

[personal profile] armedagainstlove 2016-05-24 06:18 pm (UTC)(link)

"I didn't think you would be preoccupied with the movings of small figures on maps," Athos remarks dryly, given that he himself is often moved to drinking at the sight of such dry strategies. He would never wish to impart such a heavy burden on d'Artagnan or Porthos, lest they ask for the responsibility.

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