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| The Grounds. [Faye Manor] | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Aug 3 2010, 10:31 PM (1,640 Views) | |
| Rebecca Cowen | Dec 16 2010, 05:56 AM Post #41 |
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Was it possible for one's heart to actually escape ones chest? Hers was trying. It was trying desperately. With every beat she thought it was going to succeed as well. After a few moments marveling, she tilted her head at his confusion. Rebecca didn't blame him. Of course he would be confused. Of course with everyone in this bloody house treating him like he was a lesser person because of the circumstances of his birth, the fact that she could want to help him had to be confusing. After all, Lady Rebecca was a noble-born witch from Russia. She should have servants and an ego the size of a continent. She shouldn't be speaking to him, let alone wishing to help him. She should act like he was worth nothing....ignore the truth, ignore that he was worth far more than anyone else she'd met in this bloody time period, if there even was a way of measuring a person's worth. It sickened her almost as much as it saddened her. Her indignation not withstanding, she straightened as he looked up at her again, suddenly breathless. "Not a trick." She swallowed, wetting her lips hesitantly in their small, soft smile. "I...might have insinuated he couldn't take care of himself. So he wants to prove he can, I guess." He averted his eyes for a moment and she swallowed, a slight amount of guilt tugging at her chest. He had no idea who she really was--he couldn't--yet he'd given her flowers. Yet he'd risked punishment to spend time with her, trusted her almost as immediately as she had him. She wet her lips again. He looked back up. Her heart was giving her rib cage a bruise. "Thanks." She said in a whisper. "I only meant..." Her brow furrowed for a moment. "Rowland, I like you. And I...don't want you to get in trouble. Not on my account." |
![]() your eyes whispered: have we met? this night is flawless: don't you let it go | |
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| Deleted User | Dec 16 2010, 06:30 AM Post #42 |
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NPC-- Rowland Stone![]() [Abi!] Not a trick, he was assured of it. He could trust the words of Lady Rebecca, somehow he knew that. Maybe it was because she was so different from the other visiting nobles and lord and ladies that presented themselves through these halls and grounds, or maybe Rowland had spent enough time with her himself to know that she was a person of character, of greatness, she was just...wonderful. But he was biased, and currently staring, so he digressed. Her insinuation made him grin, for she was clearly correct. He would never say it out loud, however, for fear of anybody else hearing him say such words but Lord Damocles wasn't...entirely too bright when it came to simple matters, no. His talents lay in other, more important tasks. Sure, the mighty Lord Damocles could duel with the best of them and win every sword fight imaginable, and slay any beast he ever encountered. That did not mean the man knew how to fold his socks, or more frequently polish his mirror. Happy to know that the flowers were at least well received, he grinned and tilted his head forward before answering, "You're welcome." But her remaining words just kept proving him that she still didn't quite understand him. "Lady Rebecca, forgive me being too forward, but...I don't care." He chuckled at the knowledge, knowing it was true, before continuing. "I gave you flowers because...well, I like you too," he felt himself blushing but he continued still, "And I wanted to. To do something...for myself, that's not a luxury I'm awarded with frequently. And as long as I like doing it...I'll keep doing so." He smiled at her, and then feeling awkward at revealing all that, shrugged again. "They're just flowers." |
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| Rebecca Cowen | Dec 16 2010, 06:57 AM Post #43 |
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They're just flowers. The post script was remarkable. He wasn't kidding when he said he didn't get to choose for himself that often; the 'luxury' of taking a break wasn't one he was given often. That she could understand. What she was so awestruck by, was his decision to risk that break just to give her flowers. Flowers he clearly had taken from the garden around them, picked himself and wrapped into the bouquet himself. He'd risk the break to give her that moment of happy surprise, that smile and an altogether beautiful bouquet, and he considered that doing something for himself. And he didn't care. He didn't care that she was more trouble for him than he could possibly know. Her hand came up for a moment, her eyes locked with his. He lived a life where his days were spent being ordered around, where he was yelled at even when he did everything right. He worked longer hours than the sun considered reasonable, and he was never thanked that she could see. It was incredible to her that he could be so optimistic, so cheery, so wonderful. Her eyes widened in their soft understanding and she shook her head for a moment, only a fraction of an inch so she could continue to look at him. She didn't want to look away from him, even as she was leaning a half inch closer to him. She didn't care either, she decided. It wasn't the impropriety that might stall her; it was who she was for real. It was the fact that her birth year was nineteen ninety one, that no matter what happened she was going to have to leave, and that she wasn't supposed to have met him at all. Her chest seemed to constrict at the thought; her heart thudded in her ear. There was something wrong with her own thought process. How could it be she wasn't supposed to have met him, when there was no moment as important to her as this one? And so she didn't care. She didn't care because he liked her and she liked him and sometimes it was as simple as that. The next moment she was kissing him. Her hand had come up to cup his cheek and she bent her neck up a half inch to bring his lips down onto her own, moving gently closer. Her eyes fluttered shut as she kissed him, her heart starting it's improper hummingbird beat again, bruising the cage that seemed to constrict with every passing moment. Her eyes stayed shut even as she released him, pulling back only a centimeter. Her cheeks seemed to be aflame as they opened gently again and she swallowed. "Forgive me for being too forward." Her words were whispered without breath. Edited by Rebecca Cowen, Dec 16 2010, 06:57 AM.
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![]() your eyes whispered: have we met? this night is flawless: don't you let it go | |
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| Deleted User | Dec 16 2010, 08:31 AM Post #44 |
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NPC-- Rowland Stone![]() [Abi!] She was silent for a while, a very long while. She just stood there and stared at him, as if she couldn't understand the language he was speaking in. He was completely sure he was speaking in English, he did not know any other language, unless he had tapped into an innate ability of speaking German or Swiss. That notion, however, was far from logical so the only explanation that remained was that he had either shocked her into silence, or offended her into silence. Neither of which were entirely favorable. Especially the latter one, that one was rather frightening a concept. He noticed her hand come up and he looked at it oddly, wondering what she was intending to do. If she was going to slap him...well, he had been a bit forward. That was logical reasoning, borne out of a life of having to analyze the consequences of most things. It was an instant reaction, which he wanted to kick himself over after he thought it through. Why on Earth would she raise her hand to strike him for? He had been nothing but the most gracious and kind person, servant, either way. She had just admitted to liking him, he had done the same in return regarding her...his logical reasoning was missing logic. And then she shook her head in understanding and exhaled in relief, a grin on his lips. To have someone understand how he felt, someone other than his other fellow servants, well it was an odd feeling, but he quite enjoyed it. And then that same breath he exhaled, he inhaled again as she stepped closer to him. He looked at her face, freely, without having to look away or shy his gaze down, or anything of the sort. He could just honestly look at her and examine and observe and simply...relish in the aesthetic wonder. She really was truly beautiful. There was just this light that seemed to radiate from her; it was entrancing. Her hand cupped his cheek, and his heart seemed to stop completely and speed up at the same time, he felt like he was cut off from air and like he had just taken his first true breath for the first time. He knew what was going to happen, but rather than worry about...absolutely everything, he just relaxed. His eyes closed as he leaned in to meet her kiss. It was soft, and brief, but as he opened his eyes after she pulled away he couldn't find one mistake at that moment. "I didn't mind," he responded very honestly, just as quietly as he looked up from her lips to her eyes as he swallowed. Merlin, give him strength. |
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| Rebecca Cowen | Dec 16 2010, 09:03 AM Post #45 |
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For a few moments, she stayed perfectly still. Her gaze flicked from his eyes to his lips and back, her fingers brushing against his skin. She had no desire to ever leave this moment again. Her mind was on freeze: she wasn't thinking about anything else. There was nothing else: nothing but her exhilarating terror and the man whose cheek she cradled. When Rebecca was ten years old, there had been a boy on the playground who had kissed...no, he'd bumped his lips against hers for less than a second. He then had declared a few heartbeats later that he didn't like it and run off. Ten minutes later he let her borrow his marker, and mumbled out an apology. She didn't think that counted as a first kiss. When she was fourteen she had been asked to the homecoming dance. Kimberly had spent six hours before the event doing her hair and make-up, giving her advice she'd stolen from Princess Diaries on how to kiss properly. Kim had forgotten that her friend went to a Catholic School. After two hours of nuns patrolling the dance floor and breaking anyone apart who had less than three inches of space between each other, the romance was left a little flat. Despite his hearty attempt at a kiss goodnight, she had stopped him a minute in and agreed with him when he said it felt wrong. ...And wet. Of course it felt weird. He was one of her best friends. Prom had featured the requisite date that daddy could approve of. He'd been nice, but his peck on the dance floor was as lifeless as...actually she couldn't think of anything that had been so lifeless. After the prom, when other kids had been knocking themselves out and finding the backseats of limosines, Rebecca had instead gone to Kimberly's house with friends to play drinking games to romantic comedies, no boys allowed. Kimberly's boyfriend didn't count. By that point he was one of the girls. Those were not kisses. Until this moment, Rebecca had never been kissed. The short, soft, brief moment that her lips had met Rowland's had set her on fire. She blinked. At his soft reply, she pressed her lips together for a moment, fighting an immediate blush. Breathless as ever she nodded an inch and then whispered, "Good." Her lips met his again. Hesitantly at first, she moved her lips against his, her hand suddenly tightening around his cheek a moment later. Her other arm moved around his shoulder and neck as she pulled herself in gently. Her lack of experience was haunting the back of her memory; her lips and body seemed to react instinctively instead. As her brain shut up, she kissed him harder, longer, deeper, lost perfectly in the bliss of oblivion. |
![]() your eyes whispered: have we met? this night is flawless: don't you let it go | |
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