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| A Chance Meeting; [Private for Patrick] | |
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| Topic Started: Jul 1 2009, 01:39 PM (150 Views) | |
| Fin | Jul 1 2009, 01:39 PM Post #1 |
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Princess of Thieves
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It was a circus full to bursting with expensive, elaborate costumes, performers spinning their partners around in colorful swirls that seemed to be alternating between rich vivid to smooth pastel. The men were dressed in finery, the woman were dressed even finer with their dresses ranging from large ruffly hoop skirts to sleek long gowns. The tunes the band played ranged from raucous to lazy little tip-toe waltzes. Jewels flashed and young women batted long painted lashes at would-be suitors. It was a gala that would be talked about for ages to be sure. It was befitting of any of the story book princesses she had known as a child, and it was just as grand as the ones she had begged to go to, and eventually attended, with her mother and father. Now, however, she stood further apart from the festivities. Yes, she had once begged to attend these carnivals of pride and gluttony. As a child she had crept from her bed more than once to sneak away and peek in on the parties, listening to the band and dreaming of days when she would be older. In these day dreams, she had always grown up tall and beautiful like her mother. Her many jewels would glint in chandelier light. Her hair would be long, she would wear a lily over her right ear to show she had no sweetheart. Some handsome boy would bow to her, offer her his hand, and they would dance the same steps as everyone else. He would let her be wild and free, he would embrace her headstrong nature and perhaps partake in mischief too- perhaps he was a prince of thieves! Her imagination used to runaway with her, but it always ended the same: They got married and were both happy forever after. When she'd finally been allowed to attend such gatherings, it had been a crushing blow when time after time she stood against the wall and watched the other girls be swept away by first sweethearts and new suitors. Sometimes, she had been the only one left, ears perked, tail hidden under a long skirt. Yes, even in her youth she had stood apart from the rest. She was different, her mother had explained as gently as she could. The older Fin had gotten, the more it ate at her to stand alone. Her father would dance with her, but it was hardly the same. Eventually the parties had become a chore. A chore that she would find excuses to avoid and had even run away from home to escape from attending. After her father had died, her mother would not attend them either. They had spent those nights together, much more like best friends than mother and daughter. They had eaten rich sweets and talk about things, the way girls do when left alone together. Fin would smother to lonely feeling of misfit and they would both cast away the biting grief that kept them locked in their room. Just for the night, the two could be happy. Apparently that had not been enough for mother. Still, for the sake of fleeting, happy memories where her father had waltzed her mother around the dance floor, (It was one of those moments where you could see just how much they had loved one another. His eyes fixed on hers as he spoke softly for only her to hear- sometimes she would just smile and other times she had laughed so hard they couldn't keep step with the music) Fin had attended this gathering. Not more than a day after escaping from prison she had been creeping through Madrid when she'd heard other girls discussing it; What dress they would wear, who they hoped to dance with.. At first Fin didn't care all that much, if at all, but after awhile of hearing talk of nothing else, she had made up her mind to go. So it was she stood near the door, her poison-honey eyes watching as a waiter hurried dutifully towards her with a bottle of imported wine and a delicate looking glass balance on a tray. People whispered as they passed her, but she didn't listen for details. She could guess none of it was friendly. The dress she had stolen had been oriental in style. Made of black, form fitting silk. It had no sleeves, and a high collar. Silver embroidery had been hand sewn in to make little glittering butterflies and cherry blossoms, as well as to make the frog buttons that ran up the front clear to her throat. It had been beautiful, but far too long long for her taste. Not only had it restricted her leg movement but it had dragged on the ground and tripped her. So it was she had torn it off and sloppily hemmed it to an almost indecent shortness. The lacy tops of her black silk stockings (also stolen) showed, as well as a good half inch of one pale leg (the opposite thigh was wrapped in white linen bandages). Her feet were clad in in little oriental style slippers, the material and embroidery matching her dress. It hadn't been at all long since her escape, wanted posters were cropping up all over with a hefty bounty for her head. She would not be dissuaded from attending though. Not even a year in prison could not break her headstrong nature, even if it had paled her skin and starved her to an unhealthy thinness. Her strength, though not eliminated, had ebbed a bit thanks to the confined space and starvation, but it was returning. She had felt it even in the few days of freedom she'd experienced. Still, something inside her was wrong, different, changed or perhaps just missing all together. She had not been broken by prison walls, or by beatings, or weeks of starving. It must've been that other stuff that had messed her insides up, like vipers nestled in the ivory cage of her ribs. The waiter stumbled a little but kept both the bottle and the glass upright on his tray. He approached her and his eyes slid over her, the shortness of her dress, the runs in her stockings. There were daggers tucked into them, though she'd placed them on the insides of her thighs for discretions sake. Her hair was hacked short in back, coming to a point at the nape of her neck, but was still a mess of uneven lengths. There was a white lily tucked a soft coal gray vulpine ear. Her bangs hung to her nose, brushed to one side, but through the thin, soft strands he could see the golden orbs were both watching him with keen disinterest. She had no jewels, no signs of wealth, and apparently no lover as she had yet to dance with anyone. Her left arm was bandaged down to the elbow, and the shoulder of the the right was bandaged too. A matter of fact, though he couldn't see it, her whole body was bandaged down to her midsection, covering ax and arrow wounds. Fin took the wine goblet and watched as he poured the wine into it, filling the delicate glass with the deep rich red. He nodded, half tempted to ask the price she would require to spend the night with him. One look at the daggers and the black claws that tipped the fingers of the hand that took the glass, and he decided instantly not to. He turned away but a voice, smooth and cool like the flat side of a knife, said “Leave the bottle.” Hesitantly he held out the tray, and she took the bottle by the neck, holding it next to her as with one hand she held the stem of the goblet and sipped the contents. Her back was against the wall beside the door, one leg lifted, pressing her foot back against the wall. Her tail sway slowly as her eyes turned away from the waiter and back to the dancers. Just like old times. She sighed silently and turned her back on it all, walking out the door. She limped as she walked, cursing the leg she'd been shot in as she did her best to hide it. She moved over to the bridge she'd crossed and sat on the very edge of it where it met land, still visible from the doors to grand establishment. She took the slippers off and set them next to her, along with Ring and Ghash, the bottle, and the delicate glass. Finally she just dangled her feet over the edge. Eyes cast out over the vast expanse of water, listening to the ocean rush and the still audible song the band played. A full moon was casting candlelight beams over the dark water. She looked down at her hand where her ring was supposed to be. Even after a year she felt naked and vulnerable without it. Perhaps if she'd had it she could've escaped the things they'd done, perhaps it would've taken twenty guards to hold her down instead of six. Or, maybe, if she'd never taken it off, she would've never be captured- after all, it had been moment after its removal that the guards had ruined an otherwise wonderful day spent stealing, be chased by mobs, and talking to that boy Patrick. She remembered his sea-salted skin and genuine smile, a single sea foam green eyes. What if he'd changed and she wouldn't recognize him? Say right now he was inside the grandeur building behind her; dancing dizzy circles with his lover or wife, and her ring was some forgotten relic lost long ago into the ocean over the railing of a pirate ship (at least he had very much resembled a pirate, from what she could remember). Beside the obvious alterations to her appearance (her hair had been so matted with tangles and blood she'd had to cut it shorter than before, especially around her ears) she was unchanged. No age had touched her. Maybe he would recognize her, at least. Maybe the ring was safe and he was waiting dutifully to return it for her. A bitter something lurking inside her made the latter harder to believe than the former. She pushed thoughts away and looked up again. The stars, the same who had mocked her escape, now glittered with sadistic humor as they themselves spun their partners out on the dance floor of black and blue oblivion. The moon stood alone, against the wall, waiting for the sun to appear and waltz her out of the gala of the night. What if he never came? She blinked and realized she was crying. She glared at no one, scrubbing them off. Memories were worthless, why had she ventured, wounded, this whole way? Why had she bothered dressing in finery (as fine as Fin could, being herself) when the outcome had been proven countless times before. Why was she crying? She didn't need anyone, she was better off alone. She always had been. The glass flew over the side of the bridge with a sweep of her hand, she watched the waves dash it against a rock. She had always been fascinated by the way things shattered. A thousand million tiny tear-drop shards never again to be reassembled by man or magic. What if thats what had happened to her? She plucked the lily from her hair, spinning it in her fingers. She caressed the soft petals. Lonely? She wasn't lonely... She was Fin Deloth, and she strong and brave and she needed no one. She spun the flower again, her eyes glowing in the dim light as she gazed down at it, now held in the palm of the hand with the finger that should have been adorn with her father's lucky ring. Wishing stars laughed cruelly as she closed her clawed fist tightly, then opened it palm down over the ocean. Her hands rested her hands on either side of herself, looking out into the distance as sea spray licked her heels. Ivory petals drifted slowly though the air, riding the wind too and fro before finally they met gently with the surface of the ocean. They rested there a moment, cradled like hope and sweet dreams, kissing the blue water like a fine, noble lady might, Under the weight of one crushing wave, they were dragged down, devoured whole by the dark expanse. |
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| Patrick | Jul 1 2009, 11:25 PM Post #2 |
Pirate
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How a pirate ever received an invitation to a ball was beyond him. Not only did he not really know how to dance, aside from the simple ones like the waltz, but he also didn’t own anything fancier than a white tunic and black breeches, and that was only if he had washed them. He spent more time than he had ever wanted to talking to tailors and seamstresses trying to buy something more suitable before the day of the ball. He didn’t dare go in his typical green or brown shirt and breeches, even though he would have been far more comfortable like that. He didn’t care to be the laughing stock of the entire event. In the end he couldn’t afford anything too extravagant; not his modest pirate’s salary, which was really only what he could steal or sell. He purchased a simple linen tunic of emerald green, almost a perfect match to his eye. The vest he had selected was the most intricate, and most expensive, article of clothing that he had ever owned. It was made of pale grey velvet and had braided cords around the edges. In a way it reminded him of the foam that collected on the waves of the ocean. He refused anything with puffy sleeves, and they couldn’t have forced him into hose if they had tried, and they did try. Instead he wore linen breeches in a shade of grey so dark that it was almost black. He had worn his own simple black boots, though not until he had spent some time shining them up as much as he could. He had to admit; he didn’t look half bad, even it felt the vest was cutting off circulation to both of his arms. He had of course ridden DawnStar to the location listed on the invitation. He knew that he was already fairly late, having spent so much time shining his damn boots and trying to keep his naturally messing hair from at least lying flat. He honestly had no idea what to do with it, and he figured that the ride over would simply return it to its natural messy state. But he knew that if he walked, he would only get his boots dirty again, and that defeated the purpose of all the time he spent cleaning them up. Honestly, how did nobles do this every week, or even every day? It seemed like far too much trouble to go to simply to attend a big party. When he reached the location specified by the invitation, Dawn stopped dead atop a cliff that dropped into the ocean. This didn’t seem right. All he could see was a large pile of rocks that somewhat resembled a castle of sorts. A glitter caught his eye, and he finally noticed the glass walkway, if only because another latecomer was just rushing across it. He carefully led his gentle mare towards the glass walkway. At first she was skittish, what horse wouldn’t be when approaching a nearly invisible path hundreds of feet above jagged rocks and crashing waves? He managed to coax her along with soft words and promises of sugar cubes and apples. She moved carefully and more slowly than usual, but he didn’t mind. Just so long as she kept moving. The site of the enormous citadel appearing from the piles of rocks was breathtaking, even for a simple sailor who knew little of magic. The glass of the building glittered with reflected light from the stars and the moon. He caught glimpses of the gardens as he passed, wondering how they would compare to the Immortal Gardens. He was just wondering what he was supposed to do with DawnStar when a blank faced man in a grey outfit appeared before him with a flourish and a bow. He said not a word, but simply took the reins of the mare and offered a hand for Patrick to dismount. He did so, cautiously, and almost at once the man was leading the mare off, whispering something about ‘stables’ and ‘retrieve her at any time.’ Well that part he didn’t like one bit, but he knew that a horse had no place in a ballroom so he would simply have to let her go. There were several people, and couples, milling about the front of the building and wandering into the gardens. Now that he was here, in sight of the grand building and others dressed far more extravagantly that himself, he felt out of place. Part of him wanted to turn right around and quit fooling himself. Another, slightly stronger part of him, wanted the free food and drink that was being offered just beyond those huge wooden doors, if only he could make himself enter them. He didn’t really have a good reason to though. Even though he had been invited to this soiree, he didn’t know anyone else who would be attending, aside from one tailor’s daughter who had hung around him much longer than necessary when he went in for a fitting. Honestly he had no desire to see her tonight. He glanced up at the stars, feeling the cool sea breeze dance across his face and taking a deep breath. Maybe he would just stay out here a little bit longer… He took another glance around the outside of the building, and finally something familiar caught his eye. A kitsune dressed in black silk was seated just past the front of the building on the glass walkway. He couldn’t imagine why he hadn’t noticed her the first time he passed by; maybe the dark clothing or just his amazement at the sight of the citadel. He wasn’t even sure if it was the same fox at first glance; not at this distance. He hair was definitely different, but that was to be expected after having an extended vacation in a cell. He pulled a crumpled piece of paper from a pocket on the inside of his vest, unfolding it slowly. It was one of the wanted posters displaying a crude drawing of her face, full name, and alias. He had torn down the first one he’d seen shortly after she had escaped and had kept it with him ever since. He wasn’t keeping it for the large sum of money to be paid upon her capture. Instead he told himself it was so that he would remember her face if he ever ran into her again, so that he could return that which rightfully was hers. That wasn’t the entire truth, but he wasn’t entirely sure why he held onto the poster. He had no idea of whether or not she would even be here, but he figured if he received an invitation, why not her? Ever since the posters had appeared in Madrid, where he was still spending a great deal of his time, he tried to find out as much about her as he could, which wasn’t actually very much. The guards that he questioned, sober or drunk, said very little, and usually their words had more to do with her looks than history. Apparently they didn’t get many females in lockup. He refolded the crumpled parchment along well worn lines and replaced it in his inner pocket. Another deep breath found him walking slowly closer and wishing that his boots didn’t make so much sound against the glass of the walkway. She seemed preoccupied by something in her hands, and he actually managed to get right up to the edge of the walkway, though several feet to her left so as not to startle her, with her noticing. It was then that he noticed the white flower falling gently towards the waves. From this view it was obvious that it was her, and it was obvious that she was crying. “Don’t cry, princess of thieves.” He held out a small handkerchief just as green as his shirt. He hoped that his voice wouldn’t surprise her too much; it was a long drop off the edge of this walkway. He seated himself on the edge of the path just as she was, leaving several inches of space between them. He remembered their last meeting, how she wasn’t too eager to touch him as they rode to the gardens, at least not until Dawn sped up and she almost fell off. Had that really been a full year ago? It didn’t seem like it had been that long. “Oh, I have something that belongs to you.” He pulled on the silver chain around his neck, and it fell from beneath the layers of his clothing to reveal a seemingly simple, slightly tarnished, ring hanging from the chain. The ring that she had given him hadn’t fit any of his own fingers well enough for him to wear it around without worrying about it falling off every time he moved his hand. Her fingers were far more slender than the hands of the pirate, which were used to working a ship. He had filched the chain the about a month after she had left him in the gardens. He had asked around to see if anyone knew what had happened to the kitsune, and it wasn’t until he met a couple of drunk guards in a tavern one night that he heard that she had been jailed. He had kept the ring on a chain around his neck ever since then. Somehow he figured that no cage could keep her locked up forever. In a simple motion he slipped the chain off of his neck and handed the whole thing over to her. He didn’t need the chain anymore. |
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| Fin | Jul 3 2009, 01:07 PM Post #3 |
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Princess of Thieves
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She heard hooves passing her but her dark apparel and the dimness of the greedy stars did wonders for making her invisible. The petals had disappeared, dragged down to the dark abyss. She considered pitching the bottle of red wine over too, and just getting another. After all, it was free, as was the delectable food who's scent even at this distance threatened to lure the melancholy bandit back inside. A voice, even though familiar, made Fin snatch with enviable speed for her dagger. She had it in her hand, a threat before her eyes even met the man she was threatening. Ghash glinted in dim light, poison honey eyes met a single sea green orb, and slid over the other features. An eye patch, red hair, an a familiar blade scar... “Patrick? There was disbelief written all over her face. It couldn't be true, her mind must be played tricks as it had been during her escape when she'd seen and heard her father urging her away from the prison, coaxing and commanding her to run to safety. Was this another delusion? She set Ghash down beside his twin, beside her slippers and the nearly full bottle of whine. She reached over once more to accept the green handkerchief, “I wasn't...” She gave up denying the fact and rolled her eyes as if annoyed by her own self. Their hands brushed when she took the green hanky, and a smiled pulled at the corners of her lips. He was real. She took the handkerchief and wiped her face with surprising roughness. Stray salty tears were swept up by the green cloth and she handed it back to him. She had been about the threaten him to start running if he'd lost her ring when he drew the very item from a chain under his tunic. Her eyes fixed on it, her breath coming in sharply as she extended a hand to take it. Her nimble fingers raced to undo the clasp and let the ring rest in her palm. She turned in, reading in inscription before sliding it onto her finger. It was as if some huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She smiled, her black tail did not merely sway but twitch and thrashed, wagging happily. In a fluid flick of the wrist the silver chain found its way back around Patrick's neck. She used it to pull him down, so he was was forced to lean towards her. She leaned over too and kissed him briefly on the cheek, just a brush of the lips. She released the chain and at with her legs crossed, still dangling over the edge. She glanced down at her stockings, at the indecent shortness of her dress, and then out at the ocean. “Don't read too much into that, It was just a thank you...from a princess.” She laughed at the last bit, glancing over, “How's the Deathwatch? Does your captain know you're off at some party?” She still spoke in teasing tones, gripping the wine bottle by the neck and tipping the substance to her lips. In prison she had heard talks about the deathwatch and, after asking a kind hearted guard for details, he had shown her a few wanted posters. Patrick's face had been on one of them, or, had seemed to be. It was utterly inaccurate from her memory, in shape and features, except for an eye patch, and an intriguing sword scar. “Wanted for Piracy” It had said, signed at the bottom by one of the captains. She wanted him to forget she'd been crying- hell, she wanted to forget she'd been crying, and the cause. The band struck up another tune, slower, and her ears twitched as it met them. The parade of expensive dresses and dazzling gemstones was continuing inside. There was music and dancing and fine foods, but she was outside of it all. Where she belonged. To hell with where she belonged! She glanced over at Patrick again, looking in more detail at his clothing. Even he had done his best to dress up, though both of them faced that the other participants all out did them fantastically, be it by inches or miles. His green tunic nearly matched his eyes, as had the handkerchief. He'd even worn a vest! A glance down at his boots showed he'd spent a decent time shining them. Her gaze turned back to own outfit. There were runs in her stockings, and a small hole on the toes of her right foot. The bandages on her leg were tight, but visible. The bleeding had stopped on that one, at least. She was sure the ones on her back, and the ax wound to her shoulder would not be so easily healed. Her bangs, still long, fell into her face as she looked back out at the roaring ocean. “You clean up good, for a pirate.” |
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| Patrick | Jul 8 2009, 06:22 PM Post #4 |
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Pirate
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The moment he saw the dagger he held up both hands in innocence; a causal smile also cropping up on his face. She didn’t seem able to believe that he was here, in the flesh. Well he could hardly believe it himself, not really being the type to enjoy a large crowd that a party like this would invite. The main reason he really came was for the free food and alcohol, which was enough to make putting up with crowds worth it. The fact that he ran into Fin at this event he almost didn’t attend just happened to be a coincidence; and a very lucky one at that. He took the fact that she lowered her dagger as a good sign and made himself comfortable while keeping an eye on her. As much as she might not want to admit to the tears, it had been hard to miss them. She certainly was the type of girl to cry without a damn good reason, and he couldn’t help but wonder what could have made her resort to tears on an evening such as this. It was a party after all, and they were supposed to be joyous occasions, or so he had heard. He watched as she wiped her face clean before taking back the cloth and returning it to his pocket where it belonged. He couldn’t help but smile when as she pulled the necklace and ring combo away from him, almost relieved to have returned it to its rightful owner. Carrying the ring around his neck had been like wearing a constant reminder of Fin; everything from just meeting her to her subsequent arrest. There were times when he would glance at the necklace and smile as thoughts of her eyes, and her cheek, arose in his memory, but overall he was reminded of how the objected needed to be returned. It wasn’t his even to borrow, and he only once even attempted to try it on when he had first received it, and ended up having to take care of it for awhile. He hadn’t minded giving the ring a safe home for the past year, but he was glad that it was back where it belonged. And he wasn’t the only one; Patrick had never seen the kitsune look even half as happy as she did when she finally placed the silver band back on her finger, only after inspecting it to make sure no harm had befallen the object during the past year. She swung the chain back around his neck and he wanted to stop her, knowing that he didn’t really need a plain silver chain anymore, but before he had the chance to say anything he felt himself pulled towards her. The kiss caught him entirely off guard, though he quickly tried to the emotion with a slow smile. He wasn’t sure if she could see the slow burn on his cheeks, but he was thankful that the sun had already set; the darkness would help to hide the flush that crept up the back of his neck. Maybe he would have to steal things from her more often, if this was how she reacted upon their return. Then again, the idea of him trying to pick the pocket of a renowned thief quickly changed his mind. When she mentioned the name of his ship he found himself shrugging. He turned his head and looked out to sea, the wide open waves curling away before them. “Uh, no, actually. The captain has no idea what I’m up to these days.” He tried to smile, but it came out more sour than he meant it to. Even though it was his choice to stay behind, the decision had still been a difficult one to make. It was hard being a pirate when your ship travelled without you for a full year. “I haven’t set foot on a ship since, well, since we met. It just didn’t feel right, leaving for who knows how long when I had something that belonged to someone else.” He shrugged his shoulders again, trying to make light of all that he had given up. Of course he missed the smell of the salty air and the feel of force of the waves moving beneath his feet, but he also didn’t want her to get the idea that it was in any way her fault. Yes it was partially because he wanted to return her ring that he had stayed behind, but he didn’t blame her one bit. In the end, the choice had been entirely his. He tore his gaze away from the ocean at her compliment, a genuine crooked smile returning. “Thanks. You know you don’t look so bad yourself…for a thief.” He meant it too. And with that comment he swiped the wine that she had taken from inside and took a drink straight from the bottle, setting it back down on the path and attempting to look innocent. She had changed into more formal clothing and even altered them to make them her own. At least she wasn’t dressed up in so many layers of fabric and frills so it looked impossible to breathe let alone walk around or dance. This was a dance after all, wasn’t it? “So I guess now comes the part where I ask you to dance…though I warn you; I don’t really know how to dance.” He had leaned slightly closer as if he was revealing a secret, but at the same smirking at the fact that had not only invited her to dance, but also admitted to not being much of a dancer in the same breath. But what else had everyone shown up to the citadel for? |
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| Fin | Jul 21 2009, 06:10 PM Post #5 |
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Princess of Thieves
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Fin's eyes had not been blind to the light blush that had tinted his features. It made her smile softly, but at his words in response to her question made her frown, her fangs dipping bellow her bottom lip. He had deprived himself of salty air and sea spray for a whole year, simply because she had entrusted him with her prized ring? She looked at it, resting on her finger with its message unreadable but comforting as it pressed against the skin, at home on her finger where it had not been for a whole year. In order to return it, he had left his true home for a year? Staying on land with no real reason except to wait for someone who might never have come. Of course with her reputation one would definitely expect her to escape from justice. Of course it had taken her a year, but it takes time to consider all options and gather information, especially in a well guarded and very high security prison. Had she known he was waiting she might not have taken her time in making her grand and by now well publicized escape. “You could have left, I would have found you anyway. I mean, I left for 'who knows how long' and we still met up.” Her black, vulpine ears and laid back. For a pirate, this young man certainly had an abundance of gentlemanly qualities. Her frown turned to a small smile though, “Luck had our best interests in mind... Though now you have me almost feeling bad.” She nudged him gently with her elbow, playful, “Almost.” The compliment took her off guard though, her weak smile transforming to a small look of shy disbelief. She just shook her head no. Her tail swayed behind herself through as a black clawed hand wrapped around the bottle and tipped it to her lips, drinking thirstily from the deep burgundy wine within. Some dripped from the corner of her mouth, and she wiped it away with the back of her hand as she set it down. Her leg twinged, but she ignored it, glancing over at Patrick, “Either you lie, or you have horrible taste in girls.” her golden eyes glowed in the dimness as they fixed on him, and then turned out to the roaring sea, “Regardless, thanks.” She laughed softly at when he said next, a clever offering for a dance and an added warning at his inexperience. Their hands brushed as she set her palm back to the glass bride and she withdrew it a moment before just resting it there. The slight touch was like a sign, an invitation for the additional contact that would be required for the dancing he had suggested. She laughed, a soft, warm, pleasant sound. She had missed laughing, and had not done so much over it before this night and this chance meeting. She glanced down at her bandaged leg and said, “With this leg I'll probably be a less than impressive partner myself, but yes...” She stood, pausing to push her surprisingly dainty feet into the slippers that had rested beside her before, “I'd love to dance with you.” Childhood dreams and exclusions forgotten she waited to enter the Citadel with Patrick at her side, a prince and princess, each in their own unique right. |
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| Patrick | Jul 23 2009, 11:08 PM Post #6 |
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Pirate
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He caught her frown and matched it with one of his own. What had she to be sad about? After all she had escaped from jail as well as had her ring back, and now here she was at a party with free food and drink. He had been happy simply to see her there, but perhaps that wasn’t the case. Perhaps that now she had her ring back, she was ready to be rid of him, toss him aside like a broken jewelry box, throw him out into the streets. Nah; that couldn’t be it. But he still frowned as he waited for an explanation, and when he heard it he rolled his eyes at her. “Oh, I have no doubt that you would have caught up to me eventually. I just figured I would make it easier for you.” He shrugged lightly before looking at her with a glint in his eye. At least she didn’t feel guilty about it Sure, luck probably had something to do with it, but then again, didn’t everyone in the entire realm turn out for this thing? It was a simple process of elimination, and he just made the right choice in finally deciding to attend. When she bumped him with her elbow, he glanced at her teasingly, almost as if daring her to do it again. His gaze returned to look out at the ocean again as she took a sip of the wine. Her demeanor changed slightly with the compliment, though he didn’t quite understand why himself. He took compliments in stride, with a smile and a shrug. But her response made him wonder how she saw herself. He considered contradicting her, telling her that he thought she had a beautiful smile and laughter like music, but decided against it. After the reaction to one simple phrase, he expected she’d probably push him off the bridge if he went any deeper than that. “Well for all you know I could have a peg leg under one of these boots, so I say we go for it.” He stood, somewhat less gracefully than she had done, and went to stand next to her. Offering his arm, Patrick bowed his head at her like he had seen several other men do this evening when escorting their own companions into the building. He wasn’t quite sure of the significance of such a gesture, but it seemed the polite thing to do. His way of copying their gesture was somewhat comical, a fact that was only enhanced when he winked boldly at her. Leading towards the building, he glanced down at her leg on more, his curiosity getting the better of him, as it usually did. “Where’d you pick up the cast anyway?” He wondered from the moment that he first noticed it, but didn’t think it best to come right out and ask about an injury. But now the conversation had been flowing well, and he didn’t feel like a jerk asking about it. Anyway they were making their way through the main doors, and there was plenty to look at. What seemed to him hundreds of couples on the dance floor, tables of food and drink, and there, amidst it all, were their hosts, sitting still as stone. Hopefully they could avoid the pair, for he was getting a bad feeling just by looking at them. |
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| Fin | Aug 6 2009, 04:34 PM Post #7 |
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Princess of Thieves
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At that little glint she caught in his eye Fin had happily obliged the dare, nudging him once more with her elbow. It was certainly proving an amusing night, a definite advancement from the three hundred and sixty five she had spent in a high security cell. Not that every night spent without locks and bars was not an improvement, but such charming company certainly had something to do with what made this night seem one hundred times better. That, and the ring now safely returned to her finger. Another comment was made, this time eluding to a potential peg leg. At this, her eyebrow quirked and honey colored orbs moved from Patrick's face down to his legs, and then back to meet his sea green eye. “Well then we'll have a good laugh, eh?” His next action took her a little off guard, taking in at first with disinterest his standing to follow. Then, however, his head bowed and he held his arm out to her in a flashy, amusing mockery of the nobility parading around. Her ears went back, or perhaps he was mocking her? No- he was most certainly not. In Fin's indecently short dress, holes in her silk stockings, the two of them made quite a comical pair at such an extravagant gala. The wink made her laugh, eyes brightening as, after a few moments pausing, she accepted his arm, a thief and a pirate heading in to what was to be the most talked about party of the year. She limped slightly as they moved together, doing her best to hide it. His questions drew her eyes back to his face, gaging for a moment just how much she wished to share with him. Her tail swayed lazily behind her, as floral smells from the gardens surrounded and engulfed them. It could not over power the sea's scent on his skin, however. Her voice finally came as they entered, passing the front doors. “A man named Liron patched me up. It could've been worse- getting three arrows and an ax to the shoulder seem like a bargain to get out of being lynched.” Joking about such a serious matter, she added, “Thats far too plain a death for my taste.” As they made their way onto the dance floor Fin turned to Patrick and released his arm, instead resting one hand on his shoulder and the other sliding into his hand. Her own was surprisingly soft for such a profession, but there had been very little hard work to rough them up while in jail. The dance started, she moved effortlessly, as if her limp didn't exist. She had, had over a century of practice, perfecting such delicate arts in an effort to be presentable for her mother's side of the family. She seemed happy, happier then he'd probably ever seen, but it did not show in a goofy grin. Instead it was bright in her gold eyes, a small smile that showed the tips of white fangs. “You're not so bad.” she told him, shifting a little closer so that she could speak quietly and still be heard. |
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