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Ohh, the thing with the “Melora’s kiss” blunt? You mean, how does Emile know how to roll one? Heh, okay so: I taught him how to smoke.
The first time, we were out walking the grounds of his family’s estate, just the two of us. I was a rare occasion that Emile had free time in his schedule, so we made an excuse of scouting the grounds ahead of an upcoming hunting party. Really, I think he just wanted an excuse to put some distance between himself and the house for a few hours. Couldn’t blame him.
We were taking a breather when I got a…mischievous itch. I pulled out a rolling paper and this tiny bag of weed I’d bummed off my sister. She smokes on occasion, usually for like, celebrations and such, and I picked it up from her. I had a little left over from Jo’s birthday and this seemed like the perfect occasion to finish it off. I started rolling it when Emile finally noticed and gave me this suspicious squint.
“What is that?”
So I told him, “Weed.”
“What are you going to do with it?”
“Smoke it.” Heh. So, then I asked, “Why, you want a hit?”
I was curious whether he would or not. Emile isn’t a rebel by any measure, but he has his own moral compass that isn’t a perfect mirror of either the law or his father’s. At first, he just watched as I lit it, but after I took the initial puff and handed it to him, he did actually take it. He choked when he took his drag, as expected, and I couldn’t help laughing, which I’m sure he didn’t appreciate. I didn’t want him to be too self-conscious, though, since that’s an easy way to get him to quit something in a huff, so I assured him I’d coughed like I was drowning my first time too, that most people did, and that Illy had had her turn laughing at me then.
He got better at it as we passed it back and forth, and even though he made a face every time like a kid pretending they liked the taste of a dry wine, to his credit he didn’t complain. Amazingly. After it was spent, we took the long way back to the house, hoping the wind would get the smell off of us and that our eyes wouldn’t be red. I was surprised at how willing Emile had been to try it. Like I said, he was such a stickler for propriety. But we were young; I figured he was being rebellious. Either way, I was happy. He needed to relax a little.
There were a few times after that. The second time, he insisted I let him roll it. And wouldn’t you know it, on the first try he rolled a perfect blunt. “You nerd,” I said. “You practiced that, didn’t you?” He wouldn’t say, but he sure looked smug. The only other time of note, really, was the last time.
We were at one of the other noble families’ estates for a festival, and everyone was on the lawn watching the illusionists the hosts had hired putting on a light show. I could tell Emile was miserable – not like he has any friends among his peers – so I got him to sneak off for a breath behind the storehouse. I offered to split another joint with him. This time I’d really had to wheedle it out of Illy, so I was determined to enjoy it.
“You don’t get it,” she’d whined, “tonight’s the night I’m gonna get laid, and this is my ticket!” Like she didn’t have enough in that bag for an entire orgy.
Anyway, so we were smoking, and to cheer him up, I said something about how mad his father would be if he ever found out. ‘Cause he hates his dad, I thought he’d get a laugh. Instead, he freaks the fuck out, throws the cigarette on the ground and stomps it out, even though it was only half-done! I was like, “What the fuck, man!?” He was convinced his father was literally going to kill him if he found out. So, he rushed off back to the festivities, leaving me in the dust. Which was weird because if he was so worried about getting caught, he should have waited a bit to air out before rushing into a crowd of rich people. But hey, apparently everything turned out fine. No one found out, and there was never any trouble.
So that was the last time, and that was a few years ago. Seeing him not miss a beat when I suggested smoking Melora’s kiss…I don’t know. Felt nostalgic. It’s silly, but I was touched he still remembered. Maybe a little proud, even. And the fact that he was so casual about it made me think maybe this little adventure had been good for him after all. It isn’t often he’s completely free of his father’s gravity. It hangs well on him. Wish he could have that more often.