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closed log enter sappy name here

Characters: Julie and Joly (closed)
Date: 03/05
Location: The woods
Situation: Apparently a girl carrying archery equipment and a backpack with more patches than original fabric is fascinating. Who knew?
Warnings/Rating: Julie's a foul mouth. So...we'll go with PG. Being around a guy from the 1800's might get her to curb her tongue a bit.

Julie's days off were few and far between, entirely by choice. She liked working at Jacks shop. She liked being around Korra and the others and she really, really disliked being in her apartment by herself. Maybe she should look into getting a pet. Do they even sell pets around here?

She doubted it.

Anyway, it's her day off and she decided to pack a lunch of some of the leftovers she had (noodles, meat stuffed dumplings, a couple small cakes and some juice) and head to the woods with her sketch pad and her archer equipment. There was a quiver full of arrows she'd made herself, strapped to her back. There was a roll of what she guessed was burlap or really thick canvas, painted with red targets, tucked under her arm and the backpack on her shoulder looked a bit full. She didn't seem bothered.

There was a brief stop at an art supply store where Julie purchased a new box of colored pencils and charcoals and another sketch pad before she continued her way to the woods, completely unaware that she had in fact attracted any attention at all.

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Joly was not quite sure why the majority of his friends were located in the woody sector. Apart from the obvious ease of puns, when most of one's friends were of the male persuasion, the rest of it did not appeal to Joly. Still; with his walking stick well in-tact (and still fashionable, he might add; very little stress upon it, all things considered, well-kept) he had no reason not to wander his way to them, now and again. It was a trifle of a thing, to be among good company. And as the company was dwindling fast, he thought it best to take advantage of i while he could.

Besides; his friends were good in that they were always heavy in wine.

Nonetheless, it was impossible on his merry way not to notice the following rather striking picture: a lovely woman with hair like straw, carrying enough on her person to be comparable to a gypsy on her way to a festival, with a rather bemusing quiver of arrows and a shock of red paint laced against her arm.

Well! That wouldn't do. His own hands were quite empty, cane aside. And baffling though this curious woman was, she was also quite comely, and therefore:

"My good lady! Hullo, good morning? You are quite laden! It is a crime for a man of my comport not to offer his arm to ease some of that burden; need you any aid, on this fine day?"

Julie had shifted her bags some, freeing up one hand for a moment to search in her pocket for her MP3 player. It was charged, ready to go. She wanted some walking music. But she never really got the chance. Someone was trying to get her attention, a guy with a walking stick.

A...wait. A walking stick? Really? That was actually pretty neat. She stops in her tracks, turning to face him with an amused half-smile on her face.

"That's really polite of you." Color her impressed. She was used to less manners from the people back home, so well done Joly. "I don't usually see many people offering to help a stranger. If you really don't mind, I'm not really going all that far."

And lets be real, her arms were probably going to thank her later.

Instead of digging out her MP3 player, her hand extends as she introduces herself. "I'm Julie."

Was she rifling through her pockets for yet another thing to carry, was she? Quite the woman! As if she did not have enough already!

"Ah, but my dear, but you are hardly a stranger. Or shalln't be in a moment: I am Joly. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mademoiselle Julie. And see? We have banished the idea of strangers, just like that." With a sharp-edged smile, all fidgety energy and good humor, he offered out his own hand-- but simply to take hers, bring it up to his mouth, and kiss the knuckles with a bow.

Who, after all, shook hands with a woman?

"As you extend your hand, I now extend my arm-- what shall I carry? Shall I take all of it?"

Julie's used to playing pack-horse for herself, Joly. It's totally alright. She will one day explain the joys of living in a zombie apocalypse and how supplies are scarce and when a lot of them are found, it's best to carry as many as possible in one go. Maybe even a little more.

The kiss on her hand gets a raised eyebrow from her, but it's not in annoyance. It's more amusement. That had been a first.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, too." Julie looks at the assortment of stuff in her hands and, deciding her bag is probably the heaviest, she holds it out. She's good with carrying the rest.

"I'm not going that far. Just into the woods a ways to practice archery. You're welcome to stay with me. I won't be long."

And she wouldn't say no to the company at all.

While the epidemiology side of a zombie apocalypse would no doubt be a fun little mental game for him, from a purely analytical standpoint... the actual nitty-gritty of a real and true zombie apocalypse might have him pale as his own set of bones, my dear. Best saved for later in the friendship, eh?

Joly, for his part, does as promised. When her hand is released, he puts his to better work in taking her bag, and being so slim as he it, it is with a light squawk of surprise at its weight. Nothing he cannot handle, mind; it goes over a shoulder with only his brows sweating out their confusion, nothing more.

"Young lady! Such a weight will have disastrous consequences on your spine and posture." Tutted, with greatest and seemingly honest concern, before Joly was pulled back to earth (and away from medical scolding; lucky day) by the term 'archery.'

"A woman, shooting? Well-- well, well." It seemed off-colour, but nonetheless... a piqued smile, and a merry nod cam soon after. "I should like to see it! Besides, I should also like to save your posture, by keeping hold of this burden for a-while. Let's away, then?"

Don't mind her. The reaction to the weight of her bag has her chuckle some. She's sorry. Okay, no she's not. She's kind of a brat. Julie tilts her head in the direction she'd been heading, continuing in that direction. She was looking forward to the company, of having another person around. It was usually jut her, her MP3 player and whatever sounds that came from the forest around her.

As nice as that could be, sometimes it was a bit much. Julie wasn't a solitary person by nature. She liked having one or two people around.

"Alright! Fair warning. I'm not that good just yet. Both of my teachers left so, it's just been me doing things on my own."

Making do with what she had. She is nothing if not resourceful.

"So, tell me about you, Joly. Where are you from?"

"Ah? And you were being taught, at that! Rather like a medieval sou-a-story, isn't it?" With a similarly chipped grin, leaning both his weight (and that of the bag, really) back onto his walking stick as he let the lady lead the way to her wooded practice arena.

"Paris, my dear, presently. Though the South originally, warmer, dryer French land, more to my taste in climate and less in socializing, if you understand. And you?"

"America. Washington." She sort of gets the feeling he may not exactly know where that is, so she adds more. "West coast as far north as you can get before leaving the country."

She says this fondly, though. Washington is, in her opinion, pretty alright, undead aside. At the same time, she really doesn't miss it. Just the faces.

Getting to her practice area doesn't take much longer, either, and it's probably obvious why she uses it. The space is pretty open and there are already a couple smaller targets set up. But they look old and very well used.

She sets her bow and arrows down, holding her hand out for her bags.

"What did you do for a living in Paris?"

"America, I see." He chuckled, because what an extraordinarily endearing manner of calling the United States by. Quite 'American', at that, to forget that that was the name more aptly given to the continents. In French, the word 'America' did not appear at all in the country's title, though luckily, Joly had less prejudice than his peers against Americans, so to speak-- be they from the United States, or simply America.

"And yet; am I not wrong in saying that young America does not yet have legs that stretch out to the west coast?" And, in case it were rude of him not to ask earlier, him being a hero of their ilk and such: "Are you related to Washington, then?"

He cannot say he has spent much time in the company of Americans, not enough to grow knowledgable of the vastly changed geography, or even of familial ties.

Joly, when they arrive, does hand her bag out-- but persists in holding it. The ground will dirty it, and handing it to her would be rude. So he meant to hold it out, while she took what she needed from it.

"To live? I was very careful. To make a living? Ah! I fell into debt. Or, that is to say, I was a medical student." With a wink. "The Universities will bleed you before they let you know how to sew up the wounds, let me put it that way." He'd been well off enough to avoid real debt, but he had not quite had a steady income, either. "Some little medical works kept me in bread and wine, and ultimately the goal was full-fledged doctor, of course, and a practice in the South. Instead, I share a clinic here now. And you, my dear?"

She takes the bag anyway, hanging it up on a broken branch nearby. As sweet as that was, Julie had her way of doing things. This is one ridiculously independent woman, Joly. Good luck with that.

She searches through her bag as he speaks, pulling out an arm brace and slipping that on with practiced ease. Strings are adjusted and tied single-handed and her fingers are flexed to make sure it was on right.

"I helped at the foster home. The uh..city's orphanage. I read stories and helped them with schoolwork." And tried to show them that the world really could be a beautiful place. It was something they needed, otherwise they'd all end up like her father. Dead inside and lacking hope.

She goes through her bag again, pulling out a replacement target and heading over to one of the damaged ones, pulling that down and replacing it before heading back to Joly.

"Now, I work for my friends seafood shop. I keep orders organized, sometimes make deliveries. And I volunteer at the Welcome Center."

Another painted canvas is pulled out, another target replaced. The brace on her arm is adjusted once again before she reaches into her bag a final time and pulls out a hair tie. Hair's done up in a quick and sort of lazy ponytail, her bow and an arrow are in her hands a moment later.

Turning to face the targets, she readies the arrow and aims pulling the string back to her cheek. Her posture, since Joly was concerned, is as straight as she'd been taught and her stance is one of someone who's done this before. The arrow is released and while she doesn't hit the bulls-eye dead center, she's fairly close.

He listens with the practiced ease of someone used to doing so, and well within his comfort zone at being spoken at, even while tending other business. If the bag is fine with the tree, then so is he, and he leans against it gingerly to watch her odd little ceremony of replacing the targets.

Well, well! If she was related to America's Washington, then he could see the family legacy in this one; chopping down cherry trees, indeed! Quite the capable streak, quite the violent aim.

Giving her a smattering of applause from behind when she hits the target at all, he complimented,

"A good sort of work, I daresay! Very compassionate. It does not make an easy comparison with your... festival training, however? Is that why you are at it, learning to shoot?"

The applause is unexpected, eyes drifting to Joly. There's a half smile on her face, though, and a slight tilt of her head in thanks. It's taken her a while to get to that point and she thinks she still has a lot to do.

She almost fires off another arrow, lowering it and relaxing the string at the question of 'festival training'.

"No. It's..." Hmm. How to explain this without going into too much detail. "Back home, there's a kind of war going on. It's more for survival than show."

How's that? That's a good explanation, right?

"...A war that women are forced to fight? It has come to your doorstep, then. A pity to hear it, but I think you both wise and brave to protect yourself accordingly." A respectful nod, as he can see no reproach in a woman defending herself, and defending orphans no less, as was the two-and-two he put astride one another to get a reasonable four.

"Your teachers who were once here; were they of your world, Mademoiselle?"

"Everyone does their part back home," Julie says as she readies another arrow and fires. It's still not dead center, but that's fine. It's close enough for her.

"No. They were from separate worlds." One of her teachers was an elf. The other was a girl who had apparently won medals for her archery.

She turns to look at Joly again before holding out the bow. "Do you want to try?"

"Then, you fought with-- what, back home?"

He looks at the bow, the arrows, and thinks it would be unmanly to turn her down. Nonetheless, gingerly, he puts up a hand to pause her.

"I'm-- a shot, a fair shot, that is, with a rifle, eh? I've no need for arrows." If there was the slightest tremor of fingers there? Ignore it my dear, ignore it. He'd not held a weapon since being run through with it. The topic was still rather sore.

"Firearms." She's pretty good with those back home. She watches him, a slow smirk appearing on her face. He's not going to get out of it that easily just yet. She wants to tease him a bit, if only because she's a brat Sorry, Joly. Look at what you've gotten yourself into.

"I'll give you a lesson and I'm sure you'll be fine. I believe in you, Joly." And if that won't work? "Try it once for me?"

A hem of clearing his throat, and with rather a distasteful look, he reasons that he can not reject an outright request from a woman. Therefore: he is off the tree, and putting his hand out experimentally for the bow.

"One, then. If you insist."

The distasteful look doesn't go unnoticed. She'll remember it for later and ask what was wrong. For now, she'll just carefully show him where to hold the bow, how to hold the arrow, and how to pull the string back.

"And be careful," she finishes. "If you don't hold the bow just right, you risk hitting the inside of your arm with the string."

She steps back, tilting her head towards the targets with a small smile.

"Sounds unpleasant." He concedes, a bit more uptight than usual-- which is saying something, of someone who is staunchly against injury and illness of any kind.

Taking in a deep breath, he squints at the target, does as she says, and on the breath out, releases.

The arrow hit the target, at the very base. Nearly a miss, but at least it he would not have to go chasing. The sound of it barreling in did make him wince a moment, though.

"There. Not brilliant by any means, but..." He went to hand the bow back to her.

"Yeah. It's left it's share of bruises." She...actually may recognize the wince some. Her expression shifts from amusement to immediate concern the second she sees it. She takes her bow back, setting it aside. It's irrelevant, now.

"Joly, what's wrong?" Yes, she is in fact straightforward in asking. She already considers Joly a friend, so she's going to be worried.

"Theo, please." He offers, out of natural friendliness. It seems the norm here, more than it was at home, to use first names. "I am quite right, my dear, quite right. How many arrows have you left?"

"Theo. Alright." She doesn't quite buy that he's alright, eyebrows furrowing for a moment. She turns to look at her stock of arrows, seeing three left in the quiver. Julie turns to look at the targets, noting a few arrows that can be retrieved.

"As many as I need, but I think I'm done for the day." She heads over to her targets, retrieving arrows and inspecting them. There are a couple that have taken some damage, but Iorveth showed her how to repair them, so she should be alright.

"Help me get this stuff home?" She may have not needed the help earlier, and probably doesn't actually need the help now, but she likes Theo. Joly. Whatever.

"It would be my pleasure." Insisted, wringing and rubbing his hands a moment distractedly to get the feeling back about them, taking a deep breath before putting on another happy smile. "Do you live near, or quite far?"

Either way, he is at her leave, and goes to fetch his cane back for the journey.

"I'm not far," Julie says once she has all of her things where they should be. Arrows were put away in their quiver, her bow was back over her shoulder. She planned on leaving the newer targets up, grabbing the damaged ones to throw out later. They'd been repaired a few times already and were beyond the point of saving.

As for Theo's hands? "You'll get feeling back in them in no time. The first time I did this, my hands stayed sore for a day, but that was because my lesson was a couple hours long."

All of them were, actually. Julie liked learning and archery was fascinating to her. It was a new way of doing things and she appreciated the distraction.

Of course, now she was ready to go home and paint on her walls, if there's any space.

"What sector do you live in? Maybe I'll stop by to say hi sometime." That's not so much a 'maybe' as it's an 'it'll most definitely happen as long as he's okay with it.'

A soft chuckle at her insistence, and though the loss of feeling had come more from a sudden cold front in his blood than the affliction of arrows, he bowed a nod. "Indeed! And you are a very good teacher for assuring me so. My fears are much assuaged!"

Taking her bag for her once everything as packed again, he afforded: "The Metal Sector. Quite a lovely two-floor suite. You are very welcome to it, it enjoys company and so do I."

"Consider me a visitor, then," Julie says with a grin, clearly looking forward to seeing Theo again. She'll try to bring food or something when she visits, or find ways of getting him out of the suite just because there was a lot to see and do on the turtle's back. And Julie was trying hard to not be that much of a home-body.

She had to get out of her suite more.

"Mine's a three floor in the Earth Sector. I used to share it with a friend of mine, but they left. So its...a little too quiet for me."

"Three floors? Rathe a palace! But you'll need company to make a palace a home; I might introduce you to some interesting gentlemen and some ladies of my acquaintance. Old friends are easily missed, but new friends are easily made, eh?" He assured, before offering her his arm-- the one that was not occupied by her bag.

Some time later, really not all that long, Julie and Theo arrive at Julie's apartment. From the outside, it looks like every other place in the Earth Sector. Inside is another matter entirely.

Julie very much so made this place her own in the short time she's been here. The walls are decorated in painted designs, no two the same and not really following any pattern. Some are from people who have an obvious talent with paints and colors, some are little more than stick figures. But Julie doesn't seem bothered by this. A few, she runs her fingers over as she passes them on her way to the living room to set her stuff own. A golden sun here, a floating city there. She loves each drawing and painting done, regardless of the talent behind it.

And the apartment is clean. Kept neat and orderly.

"Welcome to my palace, as you called it." She holds her hand out for her bag, smiling a bit. "My friends helped me decorate the place. When new people visit, I ask them to paint something on the wall. It's entirely their choice. No pressure or anything." A half-shrug. "It's just neat to have something done by my friends on my wall." It gives her ways to remember people when they leave.

He gave a curious look about and slowly gave a bemused smile. It was... certainly eclectic! Something Prouvaire or Bahorel may have approved of, he thought. Perhaps a little too... much for him personally, not so relaxing and very cloying... but sweet, in the way.

A little reminder of all those she was close to. It was sentimental and feminine, and thus, homey.

Setting her bag down for her, he gave a quiet chuckle and raised his brows.

"Ah! I am no great artist. But I do know the mechanics of anatomical drawings, and I could regale your walls with that, if you've the heart for it." With a little grin at his own joke.

"Doesn't matter. It'll still be something of yours on my wall, and that's the important part."Cheesy jokes get the biggest grins from Julie, accompanied by a small laugh. And an attempt at playing along. It's not the best attempt, but at least she tried.

"As long as it's not too graphic. I don't have the stomach for it." See? She's also good at bad jokes.

"If you did want to paint something, there's more room in my kitchen."

Ah! She could play along. Grinning, he went to take off his top coat; if he were to paint, he shouldn't like to dirty it.

"Who nose! Mouth off if I don't have the eye for what's too graphic."

"Here. Let me give you a hand with that." Julie reaches out for the coat, laughing a bit more at the puns. This was the kind of thing she'd been lacking lately. Someone to crack stupid jokes with and who rolls with her sense of humor, even if that last pun was an accident.

There's a coat rack nearby she can hang the coat on, if Theo'll let her.

"I like you, Theo. You're hilarious. I'm looking forward to whatever spending time with you will bring."

With that, she heads off to her room for a minute to get her box of paints and paintbrushes. They're set on the counter near Theo.

"Thirsty? Hungry?" Trying to play a good host, here.

He handed over his coat with a glad little nod.

"Well! I have been told that I am easy to get along with." Though, much to his confusion, he had found it less to be the case here. No matter; he should not let that fact make him unpleasant.

"Always both, in the company of a kitchen." Agreed, but very easy as to whatever she wanted to offer. He quite enjoyed being cooked for, truth be told; not a very shocking truth, as he could not cook himself.

"These are your paints, eh? I have given you one coat, and will give your walls another."

~~Can't stop won't stop.~~

"Yep! These are my paints." Another joke from Joly and Julie is grinning again. She hadn't enjoyed being around someone this much since Raleigh and could quite happily see herself getting used to this.

Before she even starts painting, she's quick to get food on the stove to reheat. It's one of the thicker noodle soups from down the road. And, of course, there's kedan alcohol. It's become her favorite.

Her part of the wall has a picture of three people that's been carefully painted on. It's a bit more detailed than anything else she's done, as if she really wants to get this one right.

On a shelf sits a photograph of the same three people and it's clear this is what she's painting. It's herself, a few years younger, and her parents. She looks from the picture to the painting, frowning just a bit. Maybe she's being a bit too critical of herself, but it just looks wrong somehow.

"Did you figure out what you were painting yet?"

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