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The Grounds. [Faye Manor]
Topic Started: Aug 3 2010, 10:31 PM (1,643 Views)
Brandin Faye
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[[There were the torrid hedges along the right side near the wall of glass windows that made the manors rear. The hedges sheltered them from the servant's quarters on the other side; the delivery entrances, the part of their manor home that was always at work. They went all the way around, one particular opening leading to the garden 'maze' where he and Abira had so often lost themselves as young children. Outside of that was the stone terrace with marble inlays; it was the proper place for garden parties and long strolls.

Around the other side the gardens and vines opened up into vast fields, populated sparsely with well-maintained trees and distant goal posts indicating their perfectly-hidden Quidditch field. There were paths throughout and a sparkling pond-that-might-as-well-be-a-lake in the middle; benches and groomed flowers neatly tucked within the landscaping for those who were, like himself and Anastasia, taking such walks and wished to rest.

Farthest off were woods at the edge of what they owned, an entire ancient forest within which they hunted and took rides--when they weren't on their hippogriffs riding the skies instead. Through there lay a lake at the tip, and mountains. The entire manor was several buildings besides the main building; guest houses, greenhouses, quarters and farms; it was the center in many ways of productivity for the surrounding village beyond the hedges. It was only when one headed in the direction of that lake that they found peace in their surroundings; the village and manor were always abuzz with gossip and bristling with life.
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--Described by m'lord Damocles Faye. :)
I am nothing more than
A little boy inside
That cries out for attention
Yet I always try to hide
Cause I talk to you like children
Though I don't know how I feel
But I know I'll do the right thing
If the right thing is revealed
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Anastasia Zytsev
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Anastasia wasn't nervous. She was just...uncomfortable, that was all. Glamouring away a pregnancy wasn't the most comfortable thing in the world. It literally felt like her waist was being squished into a space ten times smaller than it was supposed to be in. And then on top of that, the corset was itchy. And her hair was heavy, all curled and piled.

And all of this was just an excuse not to focus on the real problem; she was about to go meet the ancestors of her boyfriend who was laying on the ground half-dead right then. Somehow, she was going to have to convince them to let her entire group stay, while keeping a lot of secrets and finding a way to fix things and...just...

She wasn't nervous.

It was right about then that the bumpy carriage, bought wrecked and fixed by no insubstantial amount of magic came to a stop. She had arrived.

Taking a deep breath, Anastasia looked down at her clothing for a moment, adjusting the hat on her head, and then lifted her chin. She was Lady Anastasia, of a Russian, well off family. And hell if she was going to act anything but. It was just a moment before the door of the carriage was opening, and she took the offered hand of the driver to step all her way down, taking in the gorgeous estate in front of her with as much grace as she could master.

Her astonishment didn't show on her face.
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Damocles Faye
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That morning, Damocles had found himself summoned from the middle of training to be informed by a very proud father that they were about to have an esteemed guest among them. Remarkable. Damocles didn't exactly see what was so different about this guest as opposed to the two dozen others they had received the last few weeks alone, but his father wasn't in the habit of explaining himself. Damocles was left to conclude that this would be nothing but a waste of time while he made himself presentable, Rowland chattering at his ear per-usual. Rowland was, it seemed, a lot more interesting in this Lady Anastasia than he himself was.

It wasn't, of course, like he had any problem meeting with noble-born women. It was only that having met several of them and finding them all the exact same, he could not bring himself to truly care. He had a duty to perform; he would present her to his father cordially after having greeted her, played hostess, and then heard out whatever request this was.

And by tomorrow morning, he presumed, he would be back in training. The fellow duelists still stood no prayer of beating him, but what kind of state would the village find itself in if he were unable to protect them? He could not--and would not--stand for them being in danger.

His politely distanced and regal attitude, however, disappeared before he had taken two steps down the front stairs as for the first time, he actually laid eyes on the Lady Anastasia.

Goodness merlin, she was gorgeous.

The curls piled and flowing away from her, caught briefly in the wind though clearly well-held in place; her eyes, her lips, that...gown...oh merlin. His annoyance, his resignation to his duty, and his boredom flew away as he waited for breath to re-enter his body. With a wave to the little party--he presumed Rowland included, although truthfully he had stopped paying attention--behind him, Damocles indicated clearly that he was going to take care of her personally. Her head held high as she examined the surroundings unimpressed, Damocles felt nothing but an upsurge in a need to impress her or accommodate her as best they could.

Walking the final steps down and coming to a stop, Damocles stood a bit taller while his eyes went wider to see her even up close. He was suddenly very glad that he had bathed since training; that his hair was brushed and his clothes (miraculously) were clean. Rowland deserved credit for once. Not, of course, that Damocles was going to tell him that.

Bending forward, Damocles offered his hand to take her own and brought his lips to kiss the top of her hand, as was proper. As he did so, he murmured,

"Lady Anastasia." Thank merlin the message had included the name. Rather, thank merlin his father had felt like sharing. "Delighted to make your acquaintance."

He kept his eyes on hers the entire time he greeted her.
Edited by Damocles Faye, Aug 4 2010, 06:08 AM.
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Anastasia Zytsev
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Anastasia deliberately didn't look at the doors as she heard them opening, though she did smooth down her skirts. Had she looked up, she would have had to squint. Really, that wasn't the most attractive way to be greeting some boy of the house. Brandin had managed to procure a news of sorts so they knew exactly what year it was, but just who would be greeting her was only through a knowledge of family history on his part. She knew she was either going to be greeted by a Merwyn or a Damocles, more likely the latter because of protocol and...

Well it was very confusing. Those were the history classes she'd doodled in.

It was only when the footsteps reached in front of her that Anastasia brought her gaze to the...man...in front of her. She literally had to bite her cheeks, this time her eyes widening just the ever slightest. Merlin damn those stupid Fayes! Of course they were all beautiful. Of course. There wasn't some gene down the line, they were just all. bloody. pretty. And this wasn't some little boy greeting her. If she had to guess, he was around her own age.

When he took her hand and kissed it though, Anastasia decided this was a good thing. It'd make it easier, right? So she met his gaze, a small smirk quirking her lips as she sunk into a deep curtsy, responding, "M'lord. The pleasure's all mine."

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Damocles Faye
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As the Lady Anastasia kept her eyes down properly demure, Damocles could not read her near as well as he'd have liked too. Oh, she was smiling, but he was quite used to the lies hiding behind smiles. He smiled that way himself on several occasions...a day. Thus he could not be sure it was sincere, though he wanted it to be.

The sweeping curtsy, however, made his eyebrow arch just slightly with his comfort at exchanging he proper greetings increasing his ease with the situation. He'd greeted two-dozen guests just recently, hadn't he? What with the ball coming up, and so many of the extended family in their quarters...he could not understand why this exchange was meaning more to him.

Damocles knew only that he was enjoying himself, and firmly he did not let his mind wander beyond that.

"Ah, I appreciate that." He remarked lightly, ego properly stroked and smirk still in place.. "But seldom have I beheld such beauty as you possess, so I must insist the pleasure in this case is mine."

The smirk on her lips mirrored on his lips, his own eyes were still wide and his breath a bit haphazard, but he was quite more at ease now. He was both being poetic, and genuine for what he knew. Why in the world would he keep his thoughts on her beauty to himself? In his experience, women enjoyed compliments as much as he himself did. And Damocles never had a problem with speaking his mind or being forward, now, that was one thing he knew for certain...

It wasn't like he was lying or even bending the truth; that was precisely how he felt, at that moment, with all his ease of the art of flattery in tact.

"May I escort you inside?" He asked while turning to the side and offering the crook of his arm with the smile still in place. "And might I inquire as to the nature of your request?"
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Anastasia Zytsev
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Anastasia returned to standing, eyes laughing as she took in his satisfied expression. At least this was one thing she wasn't so out of her league with; flirting and enlarging Faye egos was incredibly easy, and he, just like his great-great-great - wow, wasn't that awkward to think about - great...however many great grandchildren, lapped it up. But of course, it was equally given, and she allowed herself to actually laugh, a simple, light sound in her amusement.

"How charming. I suppose if beauty is all you seek, you must be frequently pleased."
Whoops. So the whole ego-crashing thing was just as much of a second nature, so she glanced at him to make sure it wasn't taken badly and added a sweet, "-m'lord."

The title itself was melting off her lips, a hidden kind of flattery in itself. Mostly it was because she was so amused to be talking that way, but it was also more of an...intimate, title. The only other times that she had used it was...well. Annie looked away from him as she fought a blush, relieved when he suggested they go inside.

She easily took his arm, fingers trailing lightly over muscle before settling in his elbow. Yup. Damn Fayes. "You may. My apologies for it being so dreadfully sudden, actually. I require a safe, equipped place to stay for an indeterminable amount of time. A loved one of mine is very ill, and we've traveled very far to find a cure. At this point the illness is far to severe to travel with any longer, so now we must stop and hope for the best. However I would like the healing to be in the best environment possible, and I am positive a home similar to my own would be able to properly provide. It is a horrid imposition and I'm aware I'm asking for a lot. It's just that..." Anastasia's voice broke, unable to keep the vulnerability from her voice as she finished as strong as she was able, "I don't know what to do any longer, or where to go."

From there she was silent, fighting the hormones that made her want to sit down and cry until she was breathing normally and had control over herself once again.
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Damocles Faye
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If Damocles had spared a thought to imagine her laugh, he could never had dreamed one up comparable regardless. The Lady Anastasia had a laugh that both delighted him and confused him; it was bright and yet with a hint of wry amusement. He had no idea where that might have come from; he was, after all, being one hundred percent genuine.

Yet just as inexplicably, he let out a chuckle himself, his deeper and good-natured. Her remark had caught him off guard; he was not used to any compliments of his being taken..quite that way. Nor was Damocles used to being put on the defensive, so he laughed in astonishment and returned lightly,

"I never said it was all I seek." He was still incredulous, intrigued by her remark and delighted in it as much as insulted by it. "I only sought in that particular moment to compliment you, for though I met you moments ago, you stole my breath away on sight."

The sweet address and the fact that she looked away fighting a blush (or so he comforted himself), however, went quite a way to mending his discomfort with her remark. A moment later, she'd traced her fingers just lightly across his muscles and he'd forgotten what she'd said altogether. All was most certainly forgiven.

At his questions answer however, as he began leading them up the stairs and listening intently, his indignant chuckle and wide-eyed look vanished almost immediately. From the moment she remarked that a loved one was ill, his brow had arched a bit higher while his cheeks creased in concern; when she admitted the request his head tilted and his other hand went to rest over her own, and when she remarked on the terrible imposition and her voice broke, Damocles turned and paused their walk.

His father could wait like, ten seconds. He didn't even know Anastasia had arrived as of yet.

"Do not worry about any such apologies." He said first, his gaze intent on her own eyes. "At least, not with me." All right, his father might be a different story. "I'm sorry for your misfortune, milady; It sounds like a terrible tragedy, but if it is within my power?"

His hand grasped hers a bit tighter and he said simply, "I will insure that it has a happy ending."
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Anastasia Zytsev
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Anastasia had to bite her lip when Damocles was immediately defending himself against what she had said, trying to avoid further insulting him by laughing again at his comments. If only they knew how alike they were...if only they realized it was a trend throughout every Faye rather than a situational personality thing...well hell. It did a great job of amusing her. It wasn't that each Faye boy didn't have their own personalities and mannerisms; it was just simply that there were certain things they all did. Every, single one of them.

"Hopefully not for too terribly long." She ended up responding anyways, fully smiling at him, "It'd be such a shame to cease live simply through...sight."

Oops. 1884. Her own mannerisms needed to start adjusting, and quick.

Luckily, stepping up the stairs required her to grab onto her skirts and pay quite a large amount of attention to that, lest she somehow trip or fall and completely embarrass herself. He was leading her for the most part, and she allowed that; yet, when he stopped she was tugged back slightly, having gone on to take that next step herself without realizing the pause. Instead of commenting, she looked at him, almost comforted to see that eyebrow going up.

He was a really, really good guy. "Thank you." She whispered, blinking a little harder in result of his sweetness, "They mean a lot to me."
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Damocles Faye
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The candidness of her immediate response threw Damocles off a bit--in a rather good way, he thought. It was remarkable to hear a lady speak as such, in any circumstance, let alone with someone they had only met. Of course, he knew that others of his standing might take the utterly wrong conclusions from those statements, or chastise the impropriety of it, but he did neither. It was surprising, but delightful. He also had to admit, he was a bit taken in by the full and warm smile. It was as though she got something he just didn't get-- was reacting to an inside joke with someone that was not him.

That probably should bother him more than it did.

"Not too terribly long, though long enough." He remarked back easily, lightly. "Yet rest assured I have no intention to cease living. I'd be too missed." Smirk. "...And I'd miss too much."

Walking with her was as cautious as he always was with ladies, although he had to admit he was not nearly paying the attention to her outfit that she was. Or rather, he was not paying the attention to her fabric...

Whoops. She'd pulled a little in front of him and he caught her on pure reflex and due to those muscles she had indicated appreciation for (although really, who wouldn't?). His remarks seemed to have brought forth a quieter response, which he supposed had been his goal with his sincerity, but he softened as well with her remark, and that was just strange. Damocles wasn't used to being softer. He had been caught off guard more times with one short walk than he had been in weeks.

And he had to admit, he was enjoying that, as much as his remarks were sincere. Did he have any idea what he was agreeing too? No. Did he know he'd be able to help? No. But a kind word and intent often went a long way, he thought, and far from the manners in bred within him, he simply wanted to try and ease her mind.

"Whomever they are, are lucky to have you fighting for them." It was stated simply and truthfully. "As it's clear the lengths you'll go to gain assistance, when so many of our peers wouldn't have dreamed of swallowing pride to ask for help."

Actually, he didn't know if that was true as much in Russia, which was where he thought his father had said she was from. Curiously, and with the air of a man trying to return the subject to something easier for her to talk about, he remarked, "Or is that not the same in Russia? I...believe you are from there, yes?"
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Anastasia Zytsev
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Long enough. Anastasia held to her previous statement that he was extremely charming. She had no doubt that he was a rather smooth man, a player of sorts. Any Faye boy, whether or not they had been ensnared by their match of a woman, tended to be one. He seemed to know just what to say in response, and although she could see that he was taken aback by her straight-forwardness, she wasn't exactly seeing that he was taking it in a bad way.

"Oh I'm sure. And a string of broken hearts left behind?" Her own eyebrow went up teasingly to match his, albeit his being for a less happy subject, but when he pulled her back from the step she warned gently, "Careful. I bruise easily."

Obviously he wouldn't have known that and she was sure it was more of an instinct than an actual thought, but she told him anyways. "A life is more important than my pride." She answered, though attempting to bring it back to the lighter subject, "Though I do have a rather healthy one." Because, after all, she was a lady of a prestigious establishment. Of course she had pride. That was just as much of a 'getting to know me' thing as it was to try and change the subject.

Clearly, they were on the same page. "You know what?" She confided, patting his hand with her free one as she turned to head up the remaining stairs once again, "I think it might be even worse. My dear, gruff Russians." She purposely added a thick accent to the last sentence, though it was with an easily heard fondness. "-don't like asking for help whatsoever. They're generally quite pigheaded. Stubborn, too."

Oh, was she warning him of her travel party?
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Damocles Faye
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Had it not already been official, Damocles was still ready to declare it: oh yeah, he liked this woman. From the gentle warning, the way she’d felt up his arm—the way she patted his hand now—and the light, and vaguely overt tease, his interest had already jumped from admiration for her appearance to genuine liking of her personality.

That had taken, what, five minutes?

Maybe he was being generous. Maybe they hadn’t even actually made it in the door yet. And maybe Damocles just tended to like clearly intelligent, savvy, beautiful girls with beautiful—nay, luminescent—smiles.

Tease or not, Damocles responded with a gentle smirk, “Lady Anastasia, you have a knack for reveal the uncomfortable truths, don't you? To be fair, I pride myself on my honesty. I’m always perfectly upfront.”

And truthfully, he was. Having his station in the household and surrounding town meant that in all honesty—his courting options were quite limited. That did not stop him from enjoying himself, nor did it stop girls seeking favors who always claimed not to mind his warnings and honesty about his situation, until of course his warning came true and suddenly it was his fault.

Clearly the Lady Anastasia had quite the insightful knack.

At her warning, Damocles lifted his free hand to indicate his caution and continued before he’d thought about exactly what he was saying, “Ah, physically or emotionally?”

She had just been talking about broken hearts, after all. Curiosity and lack of thinking before he spoke lead to the quick response.

Then he paused once more, though this time he did not cease his gait (as he wasn’t about to let her fall, nor himself). ”Oh. I’m terribly sorry; that was…incredibly rude.” He apologized sincere, remarking with a close, ”Can you forgive such terrible manners?”

Although, his question he thought, had been perfectly valid.

Her accent peeking through brought the smirk back to his hastily-constructed-apologetic-look and he chuckled in response to the remark on her 'Russian boys', ” And you’re fond of them anyways, naturally. Were you speaking of a specific few or in general?”

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Anastasia Zytsev
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Anastasia sighed happily when Damocles smirked at her, the title in which he constantly spoke just causing her to have to hide her glee. Lady Anastasia. Merlin, if he even knew what memories saying that brought up; if he knew what kind of thrill it gave her to hear it...

Well, he'd probably not stop. He was, after all, a Faye.

"People do tend to talk to me where they might have not." She agreed, blowing a curl out of her face as he announced he was a truthful person by virtue. That comment ranked just a little bit, knowing that Annie surely didn't like lying and yet here she was, fabricating a tale that was all to real for him; even if it was simply play-acting for her. She'd have to be careful to remember most of everything that was said so that the entire group could keep their act together and not be found out as liars. She didn't know what the consequences would be if they didn't figure out how to get back in time before punishment.

Forcing her mind to move away from those things that were making her nervous, Anastasia remarked, "It is always good to find an honest man. I'm afraid that isn't such a typical trait anymore." No matter how much she trusted them, anyways. Jeremy was a prime example, and more than that, by general rule stretching the truth was more overly common.

It surprised her slightly that she was being questioned on her simple statement of bruising easily, and despite them walking she tilted her face to look at him. Thoughtfully, she answered, "Physically, most definitely. I uphold that one would have to get under my skin before they were able to easily bruise me emotionally." And really, those she trusted and loved? Not many of them would do that to her anyways, so she didn't have to worry about it. His policy of truthfulness was being shadowed by herself...in whatever way she could.

"Not rude. How will you get to know me if you don't ask questions?" Anastasia grinned at him, stepping up the last few stairs and waiting for the door to open for her admittance, though she'd really rather just stay out and chat with Damocles. "Yes, yes I am. Which means it is a specific few, I suppose."
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Damocles Faye
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The happy sigh only widened Damocles’ own smile. He liked knowing that however different Anastasia was –and she did keep throwing him for a loop—he still had some of his usual skills. He liked making women sigh. And what was wrong with that? He was proud of it.

Although his eyes had not ever ceased looking at her entirely, he brought his head to a tilt at the remark to contemplate it. It was, he thought, easy to see why. While he had only just met her, she breathed an air of welcoming – as long as you were, perhaps, brave enough to speak. The regal way she carried herself didn’t erase what he thought was a naturally friendly attitude. That attitude had given her a straight-forwardness to his questions and remarks—given their easy conversation a lilt and touch of almost shocking familiarity. It was easy to think in context of that conversation alone that they might be speaking already as if they were old friends—acquaintances at least.

He wasn’t sure why that was; he simply wasn’t complaining.

”I couldn’t agree more.” He grinned. ”It is always good to find me.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t actually agree with her. It was that he couldn’t pass up an opportunity such as that, and would never try too hard to do so regardless. His smirk still in place, he continued, “As, long as I am here, I won’t let such traits of honesty and chivalry die.”

Well. His kind of chivalry, anyways, which he supposed might have been a little bit skewed…

But he believed in honesty, see? And he thought it ridiculous that the knights of old chivalrous code had dictated what it did: there was no way they upheld it and it made them all incredible hypocrites. That was one thing he would loathe to be.

As she actually answered his question, his brow arched once again in his surprise and her unbridled honesty. And once again, he was as delighted.

”I understand that.” He said it simply, perfectly as honest as before. ”Emotionally speaking, I suppose I’m somewhat the same way.” They were at the top of the stairs, and Damocles turned them, purposefully and suddenly slowing his gait. He was realizing he didn’t really want to end this conversation, not here, and trying to weigh about how rude it might be to delay her actually seeing her father. Of course, her request was obviously a very important one and he didn’t wish to cause her ill—so his momentary lament died off.

While the manor did not hold any “throne room”, as his father was not King, there was a receiving room around his study, and naturally of course the parlor for entertaining. That was how it went when you owned the town—quite literally speaking, acting as the noble Lord and thus, governor in the Ministry’s name. Safety of the people was his priority, where as his father tended to side more with “ruthless upholding of the letter of the law”. Damocles, however, made little to no judgments. He had no illusions of how heavy that burden would be.

It was what he stood to inherit; the duty was one he lived with every day.

Custom did dictate that he at least check with his father to announce her, obviously. So before opened the door at the end of the hall, he neglected to release her arm as he turned to her once more, as sincere and earnest as before. He was looking down at her one more, but his hands were around her own as he turned and he gave them a squeeze. His sincerity was only overshadowed by the sweet lilt and poetic rhythm of his words, “Consider the apology forgotten, then. I would like to get to know you, milady. From who these stubborn, pigheaded, much loved specific few are to the little things that I might do to bring that smile back to your lips.”

There was a breathless pause.

He released her hands after a nod and said simply, ”Let me see if I might announce you now, then.”

Five minutes or so later, however, he was exiting the room with sincere and complete apologies in mind from his very busy father. Shutting the door, his hand was still up against the frame as he remarked quickly, ”I’m sorry. It seems two of our subjects have gotten into a dispute over property, have cried witch and are demanding recompense following sentencing and ---well, I’m afraid my father is notifying the Ministry and working to employ memory-altering charms as it is very clear there was no actual magic here and asked me to pass on his sincere regret and apology, as well as an assurance that you will have the very next audience with him.”

Damocles swallowed, not entirely sure how she’d take that, though every word was entirely true. Slowly, he added, ”In the interim, I thought we might ask each other those questions to begin knowing each other. Might we go for a short walk around the gardens?”
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Anastasia Zytsev
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Anastasia noticed Damocles' nearly self-satisfied smile at her sigh, lashes lowering slightly knowing full good and well that she probably should stop. It wasn't per se that she was flirting on purpose, but it was more of the fact that to get to know people, she often had to throw them off guard. And without pushing them away too. So it was a simultaneous compliment and off-setting candidness that gave and took to get her what she wanted.

So she was dazzling on purpose, so they would get into the house. So what?

"Oh is that right?" Anastasia laughed, shaking her head in pure amusement. It didn't seem at all abnormal for him to say something like that. Hell, she would have expected something similar out of Parker's mouth, and it went a long way with making her feel a lot more comfortable with the entire situation. This wasn't some cold patriarch that wasn't going to believe their story or refuse to help them. This was a really sweet, typical Faye boy. Thank merlin.

Him admitting that he was similar - though clearly didn't bruise easily - in his emotional state, and it make her smile sweeten impeccably, both in understanding and because it was that simple; just like that, he'd begun letting her in on him. What his thoughts were, his mind, his tongue...within a walk to the door. It made her feel accomplished and useful and...just generally really interested in him as a person. She, perhaps better than anyone else, knew how the Fayes created the greatest stories.

"And I shall enjoy sharing. However, for the things that'd make me smile...I'll let you figure that one out yourself." It was her typical; there were some things she wanted to happen not because she asked for it, but because they wanted to. And really, it was a general ego-boost to have men fumbling around trying to make her happy, as bad as that sounded. But hell, if she was going to be truthful... it was. It really, was. Yet, before she knew it Damocles was letting go of her hands, and saying that he was going to announce her. Anastasia felt some kind of deep disappointment, wondering if after her audience with his father and retrieving her party she might spend a little longer with him. He was an interesting creature.

However, when Damocles returned to her after what seemed like a lifetime, he had bad news. She wasn't actually high priority enough, but his story did seem partially more urgent. Muggles and magic were dangerous things. At the same time, Annie was fully aware of the image that popped into her mind, an anxious bubble popping in her chest, fingers clenched together as her eyebrows creased. Parker, unconscious on that dirty hay-covered floor. Shallow breaths, short, stuttering heartbeats...It terrified her further than a stupid call for a property dispute, whether or not magic was involved. Still, she knew how selfish that was, and simply took a deep breath, pressing a hand against her chest for a moment as she decided that things would be okay. Positive thinking. She had to believe it would all end well.

"The..." Fully aware of how breathless her voice had become in that panicked state she was attempting to leave, Anastasia had to pause and close her eyes. One, two, three. In, and out.

When she opened them, she was smiling again, despite it being slightly off, and answered, "I would love to see the gardens of this estate."
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As she laughed again--that clear, bright, and enchanting sound--Damocles lips twitched with the sudden shock of happiness it brought him and he laughed himself. "Completely accurate, in fact." A moment later, his brow furrowed and for first moment since he'd met her, his eyes averted for a half-second.

Well, hell.

Damocles had met a lot of women, nobleborn and commoner alike. He revelled in their company and the attention they paid him. Whether it was as their Lord or as a courtier seeking favors or--merlin forbid--a marriage proposal, he was paid attention to. He was chased after, admired, and oh, he'd be lying if he said he didn't lap it all up with a smirk in place.

However.

Before right this moment, he'd never once felt the urge to look away, even for a half moment, as though something was occurring he wasn't completely comfortable with. Disarmed for that half-second, he looked back with almost renewed and utter determination. Of course he was comfortable. He was completely in his element. The Lady Anastasia was a courtier, a fellow noble from a far off country and she was appealing to him for help (he ignored that it was his father she was technicaly asking). There was absolutely no need to be so..struck, with her laugh and smile.

Yet at the same time, the fact that he had been--and was--seemingly attached him instantly to puzzling this out, figuring out what was so different this time. His brow still furrowed as he met her eyes again.

And in a moment, he realized that the second or two he'd bit his lip and looked over her shoulder; she had processed some kind of horrid distress. Startled both by it's reappearance--and then sudden disappearance a heartbeat later--he looked away again; this time he was looking back at the door he'd exited, imagining what his father was doing behind it and if he might interrupt him again. He wanted to insist that they help her and her traveling party and ... perhaps he was being a tiny bit selfish as well. He wanted to insure she was staying with them.

He wanted to insure that this wasn't his only opportunity to speak with her and get to know her.

His father was busy and impatient, and although he knew his father would be polite enough in the presence of another pureblood, he decided he would only make matters worse if he interrupted him a second time. The crisis that had broken out over property was alarming him, but not because he thought the person wasn't going to get what they owned.

He simply hated it when the villagers cried wizard. He knew where it led.

It was, he knew, a common fear among their people: that magic existed and it was the work of the devil. Whenever something went wrong, they had a habit of screeching for witchcraft without knowing how incredibly spot on they could be. The muggles they watched over had no idea that their lords and ladies were all users of magic; that it was in the line and they hid it out of self-protecting necessity. The bizarre thing was that sometimes, their cries weren't out of fear. Sometimes they honestly had caught a witch or wizard--one not born noble, illegally practicing.

His father, his tutors, his elder siblings all had explanations for this remarkable phenomonen. As magic was passed from parent to child, it simply could not stand to reason that anyone born of muggle parents could possibly hold magic from birth. He had been told as long as he could remember that illegal practioners were those who had discovered the nobles secret and been bewitched enough to turn to Dark Arts and steal that nobles abilitie--though not directly. Often he'd heard the heartbroken stories of noble parents who had given birth to a child of no magical talent. He knew such things were rare--but that made sense, as the ability of a muggle turning to dark arts to steal magic had to be rare as well.

No; their subjects, for the most part, had no idea of magic and the truth of it. But all of them knew the consequences. Anytime someone called witch, if the matter was swift and shut; the illegal would be executed, publically, to dissuade all practices. It was both the letter of the law and a practical one; these magicians were enslaved to the Dark Arts, right? Yet it had never sat well with him that they might kill their own subjects without any proof that they were up to anything treasonous. It was different with a known enemy, one who meant harm to their people and themselves beyond a shadow of a doubt. It was different with one who confessed to occurances that had harmed them or their people.These "illegals", these magic-users without noble blood, they never to his knowledge did either. They pleaded for mercy on deaf ears. He'd ignored it; told from a young age that their minds were warped with their sin and had thus become impeccably good liars. He'd ignored it until his sister had spoken with him urgently, told him of her suspicions among those she worked with in the ministry. Their motivations, she had told him, were not his. It wasn't the safety of their secret and world; it certainly wasn't the safety of their people.

It was, she had told him in hushed whispers, only of their own gain and ambition with which they thought, so convinced of themselves that they didn't question the basic beliefs that led to their power. And in telling him this, Abira had in turn made him cast a probing light onto those beliefs, but had not overly concerned him. There were books and books of proof; supporting evidence and tales of illegals using spells to harm children in sacrifices or other terrible such atrocities. He'd been comforted by the overwhelming burden of proof in his research.

Until the last time had someone called wizard and it had been their own stable boy.

It was harder to believe words written on a page than your sobbing and heartbroken sister who swore of his innocence. She swore he'd been born that way, that she'd never seen John use magic to harm a single living soul, that he'd lived in fear of himself all his life--and Abira had told no-one but her brother. She couldn't tell anyone else, and not because of Damocles' own pleas to protect herself by her silence, but because of John's. John had gone to their father the moment he was suspected and confessed irrefutably; told him he'd worked alone and no-one knew.

He was executed the next dawn.

A heartbeat later, Damocles had looked away from the door with a smile still firmly in place on his lips as he looked at Anastasia. No, he could not interrupt his father now. If there was any truth to the allegation--if there was another execution to take place within a few days--Damocles wanted to give his father the peace and space he'd need to make sure that this was right. He wouldn't risk an innocent life.

Nor would he abandon Anastasia, naturally. Whomever her ill companion was, whomever it was she cared about so dearly, he was going to help her help them. He was not letting his father tell her no, if he had any say in anything.

So as she breathed through her distress, Damocles took a simple step closer and wrapped his hand around hers, giving it a gentle and comforting squeeze. She was still smiling; she had not wavered for long. It was an impeccable mask, actually. He wasn't actually sure at all how upset she really was...he was hazarding a best guess and endeavoring to make her smile once more.

After all, he had just been challenged to do so, hadn't he?

"I will get you in next." He promised; that was one promise he knew he could keep. "And speak on your behalf if necessary. I don't think it will be, though. My father isn't one to turn away friends in need."

'Friend' being a loose term for 'noble and pureblood families they were not at war with', obviously. His lips twitched again and he simply remarked, "And...this way." And took her arm once more, leading back down a few hallways to open onto a stunning terrace and bring the full view of the acres they owned into view. There were the torrid hedges along the right side near the wall of glass windows that made the manors rear. The hedges sheltered them from the servant's quarters on the other side; the delivery entrances, the part of their manor home that was always at work. They went all the way around, one particular opening leading to the garden 'maze' where he and Abira had so often lost themselves as young children. Outside of that was the stone terrace with marble inlays; it was the proper place for garden parties and long strolls.

Around the other side the gardens and vines opened up into vast fields, populated sparsely with well-maintained trees and distant goal posts indicating their perfectly-hidden Quidditch field. There were paths throughout and a sparkling pond-that-might-as-well-be-a-lake in the middle; benches and groomed flowers neatly tucked within the landscaping for those who were, like himself and Anastasia, taking such walks and wished to rest.

Farthest off were woods at the edge of what they owned, an entire ancient forest within which they hunted and took rides--when they weren't on their hippogriffs riding the skies instead. Through there lay a lake at the tip, and mountains. The entire manor was several buildings besides the main building; guest houses, greenhouses, quarters and farms; it was the center in many ways of productivity for the surrounding village beyond the hedges. It was only when one headed in the direction of that lake that they found peace in their surroundings; the village and manor were always abuzz with gossip and bristling with life.

His arm still tucked within Anastasia's, his free hand turned the terrace door to shut it and he indicated around him with one single sweeping gesture. Though his eyes peeked to see whether or not she was impressed, he had to admit it was likely her own lodgings in Russia were as grand--or of even a taller scale.

So he neglected to inquire as to what she thought, instead beginning on their questions. "I'll share as well." His smile softened a bit while his free hand brushed at the top of his jacket. "I cannot promise total disclosure, but the questions I do answer will be with complete honesty." He nodded and with the simplest he could think of off the top of his head began,

"Who are your traveling companions?"

He was curious, he had to admit, on who it was she was traveling with that meant so much to her--though she described them as stubborn, pigheaded, proud, and reluctant to inquire after help.
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Anastasia Zytsev
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He looked away.

That simple fact that Anastasia was able to make him laugh with her over something, and then realize what he was doing and look away? It was a pretty powerful feeling. If this had all been completely genuine, she would have been really flattered he gave her that minuscule show of vulnerability. As it was, there was a mix between guilt for playing him and relief that it was all working. No, she hadn't intended on flirting - mostly because she had been under the impression he was just a little boy - but if it was working, she would just have to be careful not to pass the line. She hadn't come into this with a plan other than to ask for help, and if this was working she wasn't just about to cause some kind of whiplash and be distant.

It brought a little bit of a softer smile to her face though, wondering just how much experience he had in feelings. That was one place where all the Fayes were different; some felt every inch of agonizing emotion to the extreme, while others repressed them; locked them up tight. Yet, he was still looking right back at her, some kind of shift in his mind, a confused look in his eyes.

It was so. merlin. darned. cute!

Unfortunately, it also seemed that, where she saw Damocles' half-moment of uncertainty, he'd also seen a tiny glimpse her overwhelming panick. He took her hand again, and she nodded at his promise that after the disaster with the town was fixed, she would be heard. She could understand that; Annie wasn't typically one to be selfish and they were just strangers, where as the problem that rightfully went before her had to do with their home. It was logical. It was right.

And yet it didn't stop her from wishing that the damn people would just know there was a crisis happening and be good for the bloody hour she needed.

Luckily, Anastasia was pretty good at blocking out things she didn't want to think of, and so instead she followed Damocles - a bare half-step behind as she thought being behind was proper and yet was subconsciously unable to give him that pedestal - to the gardens. Now, typically one thought of gardens as rows of flowers, perhaps a bush or a flowering tree tastefully added throughout. What he showed her? It would have put Annie's thoughts of gardens to shame, if she didn't already have the imagination to make one up herself. She simply breathed in the fresh air, scanning the area for further use. After all, if her request was denied, perhaps there would be somewhere they could sneak in.

Anastasia didn't believe that would be necessary, but it was always worth it to have a backup plan.

"Does anyone in your family have a knack for the gardening, or is this all your servants?" She found herself asking a question that was from her own upbringing; her babushka grew her own garden, but it was more for herbs. Still, they'd ended up being beautiful all the same, perhaps just because there was so much love put into it.

He didn't say anything about them previous to her question, and Anastasia made sure her face was neither impressed nor bored, tuning in to his question instead. The comment about not getting full disclosure made her eyebrow arch, but she didn't respond. See, that was just what he thought...

Clearly he didn't know her. And typically, it wasn't something they had talked about. So, naturally, she had to talk about them while making things up.

"My traveling companions..." She stalled slightly, pushing one of her curls out of her face again as the wind threw it from behind her ear. "Well, there's six of us total. I have two other females in the group, one of them being Lady Rebecca. She's a childhood friend of mine." Lies. She'd heard of the girl once; with her telling Parker about him 'dying', and then had met her for like, forty minutes while they procured everything they needed; "-and the other is our family friend, Lady Marit. Then we're also accompanied by one of my best friends and brother-in-law, Lord Jason."

Lord Jason. The simple thought of that - and how he might take to be called that before she filled him in on her little improv - made her smile. The other two though, Annie couldn't use the same excuse for. One brother-in-law is acceptable; she could come up with an easy reason why one sister couldn't come along. Three? Not a chance. So she blurted out the first thing that she thought of, attempting to control her voice and hoping the waver would only be passed off as worry. "The last two are my brothers; Brandin is the eldest in our group, and he's been trying without prevail to brew something to save my other brother, Parker. He's come down with some kind of unknown illness..."

It was there she had to stop, all but slipping out of Damocles' grasp to sink onto the nearby stone bench, her skirts just automatically gathering beneath her. She had to take a deep breath or two before she managed to finish, quietly, "He's dying. He's the reason we're here, and I am desperate for anything it takes to save him."

She chose to focus on the fact she called them her brothers, knowing that it was the only non-threatening way they could explain three men traveling with three unwed women. Yeah that... that was one thing that she wasn't going to explain to Parker. Still, it would explain any affectionate, mindless gesture she did to them while they were there.

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Damocles Faye
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While Anastasia took in the surroundings, Damocles wore the simple expression of being riveted by his companion as he kept his eyes on her. Having never been in Russia, he neither knew the differences in their culture nor their decorations (admittedly; he could name each Tzar, Tzarina, and their policies dating back the last hundred years). His determination was forgotten as he watched her; her eyes widened simply and she appeared at once comfortable in the surroundings. It was, he thought, the best he could hope for. Anastasia had been raised as he; there would be no wide-mouthed gasp of shock. He realized a moment later; that was the best he could have hope for in truth. Any gasps at their decorating and beautification by fellow courtiers were either those of jealousy, or fake displays meant to flatter. If she was impressed, he wanted that to be real--and as she clearly wasn't, he found himself enjoying that reality almost as much.

It simply meant that it would be a challenge to impress her, just as it was one to discover how he could make her smile. The more he spoke with her, the more twists and turns he seemed to find, despite her open and frank attitude and searchlight beam. He was thrilled...and more than that, he was fascinated.

At the question, he blinked only once before offering a smaller smile. "Well, all creative decisions are made by my mother, mostly, though at times my father, my sisters and I offer a word or two. I suppose you could say our family shares the knack for decorating. The servants naturally provide the upkeep and maintenance...though Evelyn grows a few herbs on her own, I believe." He would have to check that, actually. She used to spend hours tending to the flowers while he and Abira ran throughout the maze...but those days had long since passed. Evelyn had a little under twelve-month old daughter, Leah, and was properly already pregnant once more. Abira's position and his own hardly allowed them to dive off into wild flights of fancy in their garden maze in the afternoons any longer.

The fact struck him, but passed. It was just that: a fact. Their stations allowed them hundreds of other opportunity's and if he was being honest, he far preferred where he was now. The memories were fond to him, but his steed, duels, and companions were far more enjoyable pastimes.

He was pleased initially to have apparently calmed her down, but as she sank into a bench and explained her companions, Damocles listened while committing names to memory and facts to heart. One brother in law, one family friend, one childhood friend, and two brothers, one of whom was the reason for their pilgrimage. She had not mentioned where the sister was, but it was not uncommon for husbands to travel without their wives.

And it was her brother, with whom she was so consumed with worry for.

As she had not mentioned a husband of her own (though he supposed his question had not exactly asked that, he knew rules of propriety would dictate that she would not have traveled without him unless circumstances were dire and unforgiving to bend to the rule), Damocles felt no shame in sitting beside her and taking her hand once more to give it a gentle squeeze of comfort.

"Brandin will have anything he requires--be it other Healers or herbs alone." He promised it, aware that if his father said no it would mean he take care of it himself and not truly caring. "And Parker's surrounded then, by a sister, brother, and friends who love him. That counts for a lot." He thought of trying again to tell her Parker might be all right, but he was realizing slowly that his words there would be empty of a promise and as such could be far less comfort than his hand simply holding hers. Instead of focusing on that, then, he decided to ask another question, casting his mind around for something that interested him and would be simultaneously easier for her to discuss.

"What part of Russia are you from?" He settled on, his lack of knowledge in the culture irking him now. "And what's your favorite way to spend freetime?"
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Anastasia couldn't help but smile when Damocles did tell her that his mother was the one that decided on the gardens, with the rest of his family offering suggestions. Clearly she hadn't mentioned any servants with her when she had been traveling, and it was much the truth that Anastasia extremely disapproved. It was a lot more than she had expected just to hear that the servants kept it nice for them, and it made her happy.

"I love gardening. Flowers, mostly. Camomile, azaleas, orchids, roses, lilies, gerbera daisies, chrysanthemums and carnations. The weather in Russia though... the winters are really hard on my flowers. Only the roses tend to survive. They're extremely strong plants, actually, despite their delicate blooms. I have a beautiful set of plants, a sixth-generation growth that just make you seriously stop and smell them, despite the cliche saying. I literally have not seen anyone come into my greenhouse and not immediately head in that direction, if only to find out what smells so wonderful. Well, that and rose hips are popular for all kinds of maladies and teas, and my roses are the sweetest you'll find." This was true, at least. Her grandmother had given her a section in her greenhouse when she was sixteen and she had been working on making those roses perfect for years.

Talking about her flowers calmed her down slightly, and she nodded at Damocles' promise. "He'll appreciate that. I appreciate that. My brothers and I... and Jason, we're all extremely close. Parker's only a year older than I, and we've just...we've all been through a lot." She ended up sighing heavily, and then patted his hand entwined with hers, "However, I must apologize for becoming so easily upset. May we walk through the maze?"

Moving would help, as well as focusing on his other questions.

"I'm from Adygea. It's close to Georgia and Ukraine, and is only a few hours from the Black Sea. It's beautiful. All rolling hills and mountains, fields of flowers and rivers that provide us with waterfalls..." There was a bit of wistfulness in her voice; Annie tended to spend her summers in Russia with her babushka, but just too much had happened. And it worked out well enough; if they had traveled all the way from Russia, they must have been traveling for ages. Horses were nice but they didn't get anywhere fast.

"As for what I do in my free time..." Annie paused on that, trying to make sure her normal responses were acceptable in the time period they were in. Really though? She just didn't care. She just simply switched running for riding, and went with that. "Well I love to ride, especially on early mornings when the dew has just set in and everything's quiet and glistening. I also write a fair amount. Stories, mostly. I love exploring and experiencing just...everything. I'll do anything once. I play the flute and the piano, and..." She grinned, standing up to dust off her shirts and gently lead to the entrance of the maze, "I can't sew to save my life and could probably take on most men in a mock duel."

Take that with a grain of salt.
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The multitude of flowers that Anastasia immediately listed brought an amused lift to Damocles' eyebrow. He was quickly learning he was going to have to drop any expectation he had of a noble born lady when it came to her, for she was immediately defying and challenging them all. The reserved and closed answers had turned into earnest responses fraught with excitement. Her smile was kind, crinkled around her eyes with sincerity rather than plastered on lips that lie. His own expression mirrored hers in turn, enjoying the ease of the conversation. He was genuinely interested; the fact was surprising. It wasn't as though Evelyn had never spoken to him of gardening before. Yet the way she discussed it stirred some curiosity for the subject he'd never before felt, if only for the sake of keeping the light conversation going, and prolonging their moments together.

"I wonder if that's why the rose is the cliche flower for romance." He pondered thoughtfully, tilting his head. "The fact that it can weather even the Russian winter."

It was one thing several armies of old could never do. He'd been taught several times why it did not matter how profitable conquering parts of Russia might seem; the weather alone provided the best armor for the nation that could be provided. Not that he had any honest interest in conquests such as that, but there you were.

Smiling, he continued with a show of 'regret', "My own suggestions aren't nearly so specific, I'm afraid. I tend to organize by color; point out that some area ought to have more of the orange ones and perhaps a sprig of that 'white puffy herb over there'." His smile was bashful, but his eyes betrayed his amusement. Now there was one thing his tutors had never drummed into him: the names of the flowers that grew around them.

"Now, why don't I find that hard to believe?" He returned, referencing her comments about her roses being the sweetest you'd find. The remark was light and laced with amusement, but had a note of sincerity as always. Most of his lines did, and that one he hadn't even bothered adding a 'though I'm sure you're sweeter than any of your roses' to it. He might have; he felt it was true, but he thought it unnecessary.

As she patted his hand, he smiled as comfortingly as possible, still committing the names to memory. Repeating them he'd found, helped the fact that he was liable to forget. He could tell easily that she cared a great deal for the entire party--though he found it slightly of interest that she named only the boys the second time. He supposed a moment later, however, that it made sense as they all were somewhat her brothers--and Parker, for obvious reasons, was occupying most of her mind.

"No apology is necessary." He said simply, standing first and offering his own hand. "It's obvious you care for them all a great deal, and I find it both refreshing and touching. Too often it seems lately that those of our birth are willing to trample over family due to vanity and ambition. It's heartbreaking. My own siblings...I can't imagine what I'd do if any harm came to them. But I can assure you I would not be above anything to save them myself."

He extended his hand to lift her while nodding towards the maze. "And of course."

The maze was not that far, nor that long and difficult. It was, however, magical and thus the hedges had a tendency to grow and shift every few weeks, thus creating new ways through and blocking the old. Leading towards it, he made a mental note to look up where Adygea was on the map precisely. Her tone, however, describing her home brought another twitch to his smile for a moment. Anastasia describing something she loved seemed to light up the whole world.

Her list of hobbies brought his head spinning; the amount of information in thirty seconds was enlightening, amusing, and confusing. He nodded at her choice of time to ride remarking, "That is my favorite time to ride as well. Before the sun gets too high and hot, particularly this summer."

It was unbearably hot right then, yes?

"You write?" He remarked with remarkable interest; telling stories was a hobby they evidently shared. "What do you write about?"

The musical ability's he noted, though he knew that playing instruments were basically in their job description as courtiers; Damocles too played piano and had a fair voice offhand. He was about to remark this, when he heard her last comment and his eyebrows skyrocketed. Lips twitching with shock and amusement, he immediately protested, "Oh, could you now?"

Being a gentleman dictated that he might not challenge that, but oh, the devil was he was itching to try and see if it were true.

"I might have challenged you." He remarked, deciding on honesty with a wicked smirk and wink. "But I wouldn't want to risk your embarrassment or injury."
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Anastasia shook her head at Damocles, "It's not cliche. It's classic. Truthfully, I think it's because roses need so much attention that once you get that perfect bloom, it's got to be worth something. Daisies are my favourite flower though. They're so cute, all white and innocent..."

It was amusing to her that he spoke of the Russian winter as he had heard about it, and she wondered, "Have you ever been to Russia? Only hardy sorts can live there. It's a cruel, cruel place. The weather is very nearly always extreme."

And yet she loved it. Every hill, every body of water and village, every snow storm and heat advisory..she loved it. "Orange ones..." It made Anastasia laugh as she imagined him attempting to organize a garden by color. "England has the most beautiful array of flowers though. I think I heard that they grow much better here."

Aha. With his comment about it not being hard to believe her roses were the sweetest, she could practically hear the end of the statement. She did know the future bit of the line well enough, so before she even thought about it she answered, "Thank you."

Oops.

Instead she moved on to hear how close he was with his own family. It was sweet, and it was exactly what she wanted - and was expecting - to hear. The Fayes were always extremely family oriented, or, at least, the generation she spend time with was. She wouldn't expect anything less from him.

He said that they could go into the maze, and Annie beamed at him, bouncing up from the seat to head to the edge of it. "Especially when I have to wear all these skirts." Anastasia told him, about to laugh as she let go of him to pick up the edges of them. "I write things that happen, and I write happily ever afters. But yes, I definitely could."

When Damocles announced that he would challenge her but for her own sake, Annie's eyebrow went up as far as it could, leaning closer to him as she confided, "On your part, perhaps. You know why I can? Because...I'm quick."

With that said, Annie grinned and spun, taking off down the path. The skirts actually didn't hinder her as she was holding them up, and she was used to running in heels so it was only the unknown terrain that was a factor, and even that she was able to navigate somewhat successfully.
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