Careless

Like the Dungeons below it, the corridors are a winding and breezy maze through the castle. Scurrying servants, marching Knights and noble men walk these halls. Learn your paths; it's easy to get lost.

Careless

Tewdwr Mawr
Tewdwr Mawr

Aug 9 2011, 05:25 PM #1

Tewdwr sat on the lush cushions of a broad armchair, one hand nearly wrapped around an enthusiastic and richly talkative young noblewoman and the other holding an ornate pipe of aromatic herbs. Distantly, he started into space while his company snuggled closer to him an inch at a time. It was clear that she had had entirely too much to drink, truth he could almost share should he finish his own glass that lay close by. The chamber was filled with partyers, all sharing words of the latest scandals. It felt so familiar, stuffy. He exhaled a plume of smoke and considered the boredom that racked his being. Looking down at what was left of the strong liquor in his glass he managed a half-thought, placed the pipe aside and reached for it in a moment of decision.

After he drank it his mind went blank and a slight numbness in his fingers was the first thing he noticed. The alcohol wasn’t quite enough to make him unconscious. The look in his eyes was almost devilish. He got up and pulled his red-dressed damsel with him and showed a grin that wasn’t at all related with his better side. Wordlessly he led her out of the chamber and into the darkness of the corridors. His heart throbbed with purely instinctual excitement as he pushed her to the wall and started kissing, sometimes lightly biting, every bit of skin he could find in the absence of light. She giggled, protested then giggled again and pulled him back. Women were such indecisive creatures.

He couldn’t even remember her name. This was the first time he was going to use a person he didn’t have anything against. Stooping lower than usual seemed to be the plan, but the little guilt he felt was no match for the simple fun he needed to dispel his loneliness and boredom. Nothing seemed too excessive if he could just stop feeling them. In a moment of soberness and panic she remembered what she was doing and decided against it. In the moonlight her dazed distress almost startled him, so much did it remind him of Rowena.

Rowena. Why was she so constantly on his mind? With a frown and a stifled growl he let the nameless girl rearrange her skirts. When he turned he could hear her skittering away down the corridor. “Damn.” His fist collided hard with the stone wall and he started walking while using it as support. He had an urge to go back into the party chamber and put himself in a coma with more drinks. He could still think. It was obvious he hadn’t had enough. Despite it, he never turned back to the desired door, instead going further down the corridor until he reached the opening to a balcony. He wasn’t the first one to come here.
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Rowena Harvey
Advanced Member
Rowena Harvey
Advanced Member
Joined: Aug 18 2009, 10:01 AM

Sep 12 2011, 05:04 PM #2

Rowena was taking solace in the softness of moonlight. She was comforting herself in the only way she knew how; through her imagination. In its pearly serenity, the moon that shone above her was wonderfully universal - If she turned her face skywards and ignored the sparkling lights of the city retched out before her, she could be in Irick. And she could believe for those brief moments, that she had never left her position. That she had never ventured to Camelot on a whim. A cloud covered the silver light from view and Rowena silently cursed the heavens that they should be so selfish as to take away her comfort.

In the chill of the evening, Rowena was suddenly grateful for the thickness of her traveling garb. It should have been a wholly unflattering garment, but somehow it managed to hang from her delicate frame in a way that could barely be faulted. But the cobalt blue was so alien to the uniform pattern of her dresses in court and every time she caught sight of its startling colour she felt her heart ache just a little for what she had done. Her family alone would be hard enough to answer to, not to mention court, the other ladies… Clare. Rowena fluttered her eyes shut and let a sigh rip from her lips. She had left so suddenly, she had not even thought to announce her coming. Camelot, in all its night time glory, had not the faintest idea she was here. And she had come to the castle because it had seemed such an obvious place to start. But start what?

The hunting party had been uneventful. She had, to her surprise, even managed to enjoy herself with the ladies for the days that it continued but at its end she had left with a feeling of emptiness that had hollowed her to her core. She had felt like a child experiencing a bout of depression after being dizzied by their first adult gathering in society. And so, very much like a child, she had packed her bags and left in manner that now made her feel both entirely immature and naïve.

There was a movement behind her and she swivelled on the spot, travelling garb swirling around her feet for a moment before settling in an almost disgruntled manner after being so rudely disturbed. Rowena felt, with the catching of her breath, as her heart melted into her chest and her very being started to dissolve. Every excuse and every complaint she had for being there on a Camelot balcony that late May evening, was ushered away.

Tewdwr.

Her lips went to say his name, but froze –half open – as her wide gaze began to take in his presence to its full meaning. He was leaning slightly, a hand absently splayed against the wall for support. His eyes were not quite focused and didn’t hold their usual sharpness, their usual spark. They were dulled as if… the blow that Rowena then felt to her growing shame was so powerful she could have believed it to be an actual, physical strike against her stomach. Her eyes remained locked on his, open confusion and then bitter understanding spreading across her face. “Don’t… don’t let me disturb you.” She managed, though her throat felt raw. And besides, a second after she said it she knew she meant quite the opposite. She couldn’t decide whether she was more angry at his state or at herself for actually believing that she had managed to change him. And now she had travelled all this way to find her naivety screaming at her in the face. She wanted to cry or hit him or just get out.

Without really being in control of herself, she glided forward, determined to pass him and let him endure his alcoholic stupor in peace. She could leave first thing tomorrow and she wouldn’t have been absent from her post for too long. She might even be able to blame it on a sudden and unexpected family urgency. Her eyes bored into him and hated herself all the more when she realised how desperately she wanted him to catch her and stop her from leaving. She hesitated, a gaze that was seeping disappointment, still trained on his infuriatingly handsome face. Her voice was tiny, but in the silence of the balcony its clarity was not lost. She could smell the hint of alchol on him now. “I’m sorry, this isn’t the man I came for.” And after the briefest of hesitations, she moved to go past him.




{hope s'okay :-)}
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