Grief is the price we pay for love

[armedagainstlove]

Athos doesn't even realize what's happened, at first.

Ever since Milady had arrived insisting that Athos had been on his way to meet her, ever since he had returned back to Paris and discovered Aramis' treason with the Queen and the result of such a coupling, ever since Rochefort's rearrival on the scene caused him to slouch back to the Nexus, he has been drinking like he hasn't since right after his wife's supposed death. It is in this state that he'd fumbled through a well-known door that he'd thought harmless to him.

Intoxicated with the red wine, he does not notice the shift of gravity in his body, nor the length of his hair different, swept up by the hat. All Athos knows is that he has drank two bottles and is eager for a third, lest he fall into the eager pit of grief and the other complicated affections that lie in wait for him, all coaxed on by the woman whose locket he no longer wears.

When he arrives at the bar for his usual, he's met with confusion. The bartender states that she hasn't been around enough to have a usual. Athos smacks his palm against the counter, his rage brought forward with the incense of it all. "Wine," he snaps, calming himself before his demands grow angrier and more frustrated. "Just bring me wine," he mutters, voice hoarse from the drink.

He slumps into his seat and peers down for the first time, unsteadily taking account of how his clothes now seem to sag and slump on him. Sighing with the inevitable realisation, he lifts an elegant long-fingered hand to the bartender. "Make that two," he adds, before allowing his forehead to collapse against that waiting hand.

How could he have thought this would pass him by forever?

He grasps both bottles of wine greedily when they arrive, eager to trudge back to his room and escape the prying eyes of the public.

Comments

[aspecialkindofwoman]

It's when Athos is coming from the tavern that their paths cross. Milady stops at the sight of the familiar clothes clothing an unfamiliar form and she looks more closely.

She has heard of this door - this door that turns women into men and men into women. Perhaps that explains this. Or perhaps it is that someone has stolen Athos's clothes, which will leave her no choice by to take them back.

And that is what she is weighing when their eyes meet. Gender aside, she would know those eyes anywhere.

"Well."

[averygoodshot]

Now that Aramis has met both d'Artagnan and Porthos in the form of a lady, it doesn't surprise him as much as it could to find Athos this way - or, admittedly, he assumes it's Athos, who, too, makes a striking woman. He has just had his own glass of wine when he recognizes if not the tenor of the voice, but the tone. He will approach carefully, though, cocking his head. "Athos?"

[praiseandglory]

"Well," Porthos states, tilting his head to the side as he takes in the sight of Athos. The clothes make it a possibility. The tone makes it a likelihood. The two bottles of wine deposited in front of her - him - make it a certainty. "Here's to hoping it'll pass more quickly for you than it did for me."

[temperamentalsteel]

Even with his changed form, there was no mistaking the slouched figure and the hoarse demand for wine. Over Athos' shoulder, d'Artagnan signaled a server to water down the wine as much as could be gotten away with and to maybe bring some bread as they sat.

"Found the door, then?" he asked, joining his friend.