Roleplay City
Oberon Castle => OBERON CASTLE: Drink Today, Die Tomorrow => The Palace => Topic started by: Existentially Odd on April 02, 2008, 11:11:00 PM
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The new Captain of the Guard was somewhat surprised when he was informed by Prince Mayhew\'s personal aide that he could commence training with the newlywed at any time - the insinuation being that sooner would be better than later. Disappointed was likely closer to the truth, really, because he was well aware that Mayhew wouldn\'t be interested in spending time with his new wife after losing his lover, but she was so lovely that Freddy had rather hoped the boy would be charmed enough to... move on. Apparently, that was not to be.
A week after the wedding (which was the captain\'s own imposition, for he\'d held out that long in the hope Hew\'s attitude might be changed - only to receive a second visit from the miffed aide, that had him obediently turning up the next day), Captain Frederickson arrived at the palace for his first official training session with Prince Mayhew. They\'d got on alright while Captain Wilson was away in Greece, taking a while to find a comfortable groove together but had got there in the end.
Somehow, he didn\'t think that that tone would be present today, and it made him nervous. He stood in the training hall, in light leather armour, slapping his sword thoughtfully against his right leg (and staring down at his lifted boot while he did) as he waited for the appointed messengers to reach the prince and alert him to his visitor\'s presence.
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He didn\'t have to wait long for Hew had asked to be alerted of the new Captain\'s presence as soon as he\'d arrived, so he\'d received message before his aide could officially tell him. Dressing into his training armour it wasn\'t long before he approached Frederickson and bid him good day without a smile, not slowing his pace while they travelled to the armoury which was very near the dirt covered arena where he always trained. It was a courtyard within the palace itself, a few strategically placed objects were sometimes within it. At the moment it was empty, nothing had been organised to be set up within it. Hew preferred training outdoors in the forest mostly, but didn\'t think Frederickson would allow that just yet. Everybody seemed cautious about sending him out of the Palace lately, even with an usher.
"What weapons did you wish me to learn?" he asked as he entered the armoury, the palace guard standing near the door opening it for them as they approached. Within were rows of weapon holders with various types and styles of weaponry. Hew immediately went to the wall rack holding swords and placed his hand on his favourite lighter piece. He was a nimble swordsman, Wilson kept telling him, so it was in his favour to choose weapons he could move around quickly with. Usually, when he went to a weapon he would be allowed to use it but wasn\'t sure if Frederickson would offer him the same option.
The expression on his face had been consistently bland. He didn\'t look excited or happy about what was going to take place. Usually he looked forward to these sessions and figured if he went back into routine he\'d be happier. He preferred to spend the time training rather than with his new wife so at least that was better, but there was little shine to his eyes as he looked Frederickson\'s way and awaited his answer.
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Freddy frowned, thinking back on their previous training sessions together. They hadn\'t had too many but he\'d been trying to take a look at the prince using every weapon available to them, just so he could gauge potential weaknesses. Of course, he\'d also allowed the boy to dictate where they\'d started and it had been with swords, so he\'d seen his ability with those - even the exotic ones. Now, he\'d like to see something else brandished by the young royal, but he felt awkward about ordering it, so he explained his reasoning instead.
"Well... I didn\'t get to see you wield everything when I trained you while Lam was away, so I thought we should continue with you showing me how you go with some of the other weapons. How about a mace instead? Or an axe? A spear?" Freddy offered, his hand sweeping towards the myriad of weapons still to be touched on the other racks, which included a ball and chain, nets, bola and daggers. He didn\'t even discuss the choices of shields and bucklers he\'d like to see Hew touch, not until the prince picked something other than a sword.
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Hew was feeling argumentative and he struggled to contain it before he decided to unleash it. Why should he make things easy for everyone when he was suffering?
"I won\'t be walking around with a mace or an axe or a spear," he said by way of his own explanation. "I\'ll be equipped with a sword. Perhaps I should learn how to master one weapon before learning others. That makes sense, does it not?" he queried, being polite in his questioning while his eyes challenged Fredricksen in the contrary.
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"To a degree," Freddy conceded, "but versatility is also valued and if you hope to enter more than one competition at the Tournament of the Corn this year, you\'ll want a few tricks up your sleeve. I\'d feel better knowing you could use any weapon that fell by your hand, should there ever be an emergency, rather than leaving you with one specialty that will effectively strand you if you were ever stranded and in danger."
Of course, the thought of war coming to Oberon was almost laughable, as was the notion Prince Mayhew would ever be caught in the midst of things with absolutely no guards about to protect him, but Freddy liked to be sure.
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"Nobody will beat me at the Tournament no matter how badly I fare," Hew said, cynicism at the battles he\'d won being deserving. There were a few times he was doubtful that his win had been true and now that small degree of doubt in his angry soul was coming to the surface.
Even though he still opposed Frederickson\'s words with his own, he moved away from the swords and towards the rack of flails. Essentially a stick with a chained ball, he knew his choice would have his trainer reaching for a shield. They would both have to carry shields but Hew would choose something smaller and light, and if the captain knew what was good for him, he\'d choose something big and heavy.
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Freddy raised his eyebrows at Hew\'s snide comment about no-one beating him but he didn\'t say anything. He had an inkling that the prince was right, for he\'d done remarkably well during his first tournament foray the summer before, but all the boy\'s opponents had made their own decisions on the matter, it hadn\'t been influenced by anyone else.
Seeing Hew grab a flail, Freddy chose a mace, anticipating he\'d be able to get Hew\'s chain wrapped around his handle so he could disarm the boy at some point - until then, he\'d need a hefty shield and so he grabbed a kite shield from the appropriate storage place. He frowned at Hew\'s choice of shield but said nothing, believing this lesson would mostly be about him striking that shield in its crossbar so that it caused Hew\'s arm to vibrate with pain and him to drop it. He needed to build up a shield arm.
Once they\'d chosen their equipment, the pair walked out to the fighting area. It had been so long since there was any training done, there was actually a light covering of grass amongst the dirt. Freddy knew it would be gone by the end of the training session. After a brief warm up, the two of them shaped up to each other and then began the steady trading of blows. Freddy wasn\'t as lithe at dodging out of the reach of Hew\'s flail, but he was experienced enough with his shield to be able to take repeated blows upon his shield. By the same token, Hew was incredibly light on his feet and could avoid Freddy\'s advances, but one good blow was likely to undo him.
Freddy saw his opportunity about twenty minutes in. They\'d been dancing about each other and were beginning to breathe harder now, sweat glistening on their brows as they stared intently at their opponent, trying to judge moves (the captain was secretly impressed that Hew did know the flail and was happy there didn\'t need to be too much instruction, for it felt like they were bonding more). Hew made a swing with his weapon that was slightly too high and Freddy shoved his shield into the blow, hoping the spiked ball would grab into the wood a little. That was when he would smack his mace hard against Hew\'s shield arm, before ripping his weapon upward, catching the flail\'s chain and swinging wide, hopefully disarming the boy in the process.
Of course, Hew might have other plans, he was a resourceful boy, but Freddy could see his victory clearly in his mind\'s eye. The flail landed against his shield and he attempted to follow through immediately.
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Freddy got his victory exactly as he\'d planned for Hew had been putting a lot of effort into each blow in order to have some impact. When the flail left his hands he was taken aback, not realising that this was his trainer\'s objective. Wilson had always told him her objective as well as Hew\'s own, disarming without proper warning, well, it simply wasn\'t fair.
"You cheated!" Hew accused, stepping back and lowering his defensive posture to adopt an entirely different kind of defensive posture.
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The captain blinked, his mouth falling open as he was momentarily lost for words. "I... uh... no, I didn\'t," he said slowly, his brows lowering at the accusation. "That was a perfectly fair move, I disarmed you cleanly. If you don\'t want to leave yourself vulnerable, stop throwing yourself out there."
He supposed it would take some time getting used to fighting someone even bigger and stronger than Lam had been, but Freddy believed that that would be good for the prince.
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"You\'re supposed to tell me the point of this lesson in order to train me. How am I supposed to learn anything if I don\'t know what you did?"
It was a rubbish statement. Hew knew exactly how he\'d been disarmed. He\'d seen it, he\'d felt it and he even knew his mistake. Playing dumb wasn\'t exactly something he liked doing or did often but he couldn\'t let Frederickson present himself as a good trainer. Not when he missed Wilson. Not only had one person been pulled from his life that he cared about, but two, and Frederickson was the only person available to him at this very moment that he could take it out on. Also, he was supposed to be Wilson\'s replacement, which was laughable.
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Freddy couldn\'t help but give the boy a truly bewildered look, honestly flummoxed by what he was saying. He couldn\'t imagine Lam had trained him by spoonfeeding him, surely... ? Well, he would have to change that, if it were the case.
"Look," he said grimly, tightening his grip on his mace as he dropped his shield to the ground, holding it against his leg with his left hand, "I don\'t know if that\'s what you\'re used to, but I can tell you it\'s not how it will be from now on. It\'s stupid to warn you of my intentions before I follow through with them," he spat, summarily dismissing any and all training methods Lam might have chosen to impart upon Hew - without naming names, of course.
"You\'re never going to get into a battle where your opponent is going to declare how he intends to defeat you, are you?" he scoffed. "So why would I do that now? It\'s up to you to learn to read your opponent, not be told where your next attack is coming from!"
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"So you have no techniques to show me then; no names for steps, no styles of strikes, no plan of attack. You\'re just going to come at me until I best you?" Hew raised an imperious eyebrow.
He knew Captain Wilson had begun by letting him fight and then correcting him as he went. She would tell him her intentions sometimes and other times not. She would tell him what his objective was and other times let him decide his own. It was unfair to challenge Frederickson before he got started but Hew didn\'t care about fair. He was lonely, angry and beaten and he wanted to blame everybody else for his current position.
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"It was a warm up exercise!" Freddy cried, obviously beginning to lose his patience - which was generally legendary (especially when compared to his former captain\'s), but wasn\'t anything close to being under his control at this particular moment. He didn\'t think he\'d ever met anyone as infuriating as the prince and he failed to see why he\'d been lauded as gifted by Lam.
"I\'ll get to all that other stuff but, as I said, I just want to see you try a few weapons and see where you need the most work first, okay? I\'m not Wilson alright, I\'ll do things differently and you\'ll get used to it eventually, just give it a chance," he said sternly, glowering at Hew and thinking that it was his bloody fault there\'d been a change in his trainer anyway, so he didn\'t see why he was copping the fallout from it - but he didn\'t say that out loud, it just burned in his blue eyes instead.
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Hew didn\'t have a sensible enough argument for the captain but was pleased that the other man was losing his patience. Hew had heard that Frederickson was almost never unsettled by anyone or anything so this was a minor victory to the young prince.
"Fine," he said coldly, moving to where his flail lay on the ground and picked it up, hefting it in one hand before swinging it gently to and fro. He began to circle Freddy once more, not giving his trainer much chance to collect himself before he began to attack rather ferally.
It would be a losing tactic, to let his rage control his decisions, but there would be no holding back and likely he\'d have Freddy on the defence initially, until he was disarmed again. It was obvious Hew had no style in his fighting, he was merely going on instinct, pain and wrath.
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Freddy was surprised by the boy\'s passion and was slightly taken aback by how ferociously he was swinging his weapon. He also began to realise that he wasn\'t necessarily seeing the boy that Lam always did; he was here to train the prince who\'d love and lost and was now a shadow of his former self. He didn\'t know why he hadn\'t seen it sooner, but it helped him to be a bit more sympathetic.
He let Hew swing and vent for a while until he saw the boy tiring, and then he swept his mace up and through his flail\'s arc, achieving the ball wrapping around his weapon\'s neck and allowing him to yank it cleanly from the prince\'s grasp once more. He watched him through far more concerned eyes now, speaking with his usual calmnes once again.
"If you\'re taller than your opponent, you can come in over the top of their upswing with a flail and hook it with very little effort," he explained his move. "You\'ve still got some growing left in you, so it might be a tactic you\'ll remember in future. How about we switch weapons now?"
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"How about we don\'t," Hew spat back, angry that he\'d lost his weapon yet again because he\'d been watching out for it this time. He was breathing hard and hadn\'t really got into his training routine but had decided he didn\'t really want to anyway. Not if he was going to feel worse than he had before he\'d started. Training was supposed to make him feel better about things. It was too much a painful reminder to see Frederickson in Wilson\'s place.
He stormed off, intending to leave the training ground and to spend his time elsewhere.
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"Hey!" Freddy called and, instinctively, bounded after the boy so that he could grab him by the arm and detain him, expecting that he\'d be struggled against but getting quite a strong grip to counter that so he could turn Hew to face him. "Where are you going? I thought you wanted to train?" he demanded, back to losing his sympathy and feeling impatient with the emotional prince.
"Look, I know I\'m not Lam, but you need to give this a chance!" he ground out, hoping to inspire the boy to talk to him, rather than running away and not explaining why he was so upset. He deliberately used her personal name, hoping to trigger some sort of reaction to it.
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Hew glared at Freddy while his arm was in the captain\'s grip but he didn\'t struggled as the other predicted he might. He simply turned and listened while Freddy implored his case.
There were two clear directions he could take here, and he knew it. One was to settle himself and to return to training, to allow Frederickson his chance, to allow himself a zone of comfort and consolation, to perhaps even tell the man how he felt and what kind of loss he was dealing with and maybe getting some kind of support or at the very least gaining an ear for his troubles.
The other direction was to isolate himself from everyone and everything. After a long moment of silence as he deliberated, he finally spoke.
"Unhand me," he said coldly, choosing the latter of the two options. It was a direct order, something he would give Freddy a lot of trouble for refusing (as much as he was able).
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With a heavy sigh, Freddy did exactly as he was ordered, seeing that his chances for working with Hew were slipping. Lam was relying on him to keep the boy in line; to look after him in her stead and she\'d be very upset if he told her that he and Hew had failed to connect n any sort of decent level so that he could tell his former captain of the boy\'s state of mind. As much as he disapproved of what had happened to get the two to where they currently were, he was loyal to both and wanted to help.
"You\'re good at that," he stated quietly, letting Hew go with a glint in his eyes that signalled he was only doing it literally. "Giving orders that work out for the worst," he added, explaining his primary comment. There was a challenge in his gaze that he hoped Hew met - even if it was with fists - just so that they could get beyond all this argumentative horse shit.
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It was obvious by Hew\'s expression that the captain\'s words hit home. Their effect likely wasn\'t desired for Hew shut himself down more firmly by turning his back and moving away. He would, by the end of the day, request another soul to train him in place of the captain, perhaps a palace guard. His suggestion was met with denial and his routine was forced upon him. He would continue his training three days a week with the captain. Finding himself facing yet another blockade thrown him by his father, he turned heel and left without argument, only to find himself wandering the gardens where he knew Rochelle would be.
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Roche was doing her best to keep herself from being the moping, morose bride she wanted to be, but it wasn\'t easy. Especially when she\'d already had the queen asking her (oh, horror of horrors) if she and her husband had consummated their marriage. What was she to say to something like that? All she\'d been able to manage was a stammered negative before she\'d been drilled on what sort of behaviours the two of them had been displaying. With colour high on her cheeks, she\'d asserted that she\'d tried on her wedding night and had certainly made herself available to her husband but he simply wasn\'t interested.
The rest of the discussion had gone over and around her swirling head and she hardly remembered how it had gone, though she knew the queen hadn\'t been happy. Not with her so much as her son, but upset nevertheless and it had given Roche no more understanding of what was going on in her husband\'s world either.
To occupy herself, she\'d taken to spending time with her sisters-in-law. They were only two years younger than her but they were the same age as her brother, Didi, and so she could relate. Somewhat, anyway. She and the twins had some etiquette lessons together and they all agreed that none of them needed them, but that was about the only things they agreed on. Roche had managed to convince the girls to come out onto the grounds and kick a padded leather ball around with her today but the other princesses had been disinterested at the start and completely unskilled. When they\'d expressed a desire to go and play with their dollies, Roche had conceded defeat and farewelled them with a smile that had failed as soon as she\'d flopped down onto the thick grass, beside the ball.
She missed her brother, who would gladly have played with her for hours. She missed her whole family. She missed her old life. Hell, she missed having a life. With a deep, sad sigh, she\'d pulled her pretty skirts up to her thighs (they weren\'t practical for kicking balls anyway but she\'d toed her shoes off) so that her long, tanned legs might benefit from the sun\'s touch. She closed her eyes and tipped her head back as she leaned back on her hands as well, trying to empty her mind of angst and just concentrate on how nice it was to be alone, in the sun, on soft grass that might even be back at her home in France, not too far from her family and everything that had made her happy.
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Hew found her like that, tanning her legs in a manner not befitting a princess but this wasn\'t the first thought in his head. He looked at her, this punishment received for having a common lover (and a man to boot) and found himself scowling at her. She had no idea of his presence however, so he strode up to her, not hiding his footsteps, and stood over her so that his shadow fell over her face.
"You\'re unladylike," he critisized, preferring it over the boring qualities of his sisters but wanting to demoralise Roche anyway.
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She made a very ladylike yip of fright as her face fell into sudden shadow and she reached blindly for her skirts, tucking her legs up into a crossed position as she flung the multiple folds of material hastily over them. Of course, since she\'d basically had her face tipped to the sun for the past ten minutes, she was more or less blinded as she sat up, big green spots dancing before her vision that had her rubbing her eyes to no avail.
"Zere was no-one else around," she argued hotly, ambarrassment spurring her into responding instinctively, rather than holding her tongue demurely as she should\'ve. She blinked towards the gardens before her, not looking up at the husband who hovered at her back because she didn\'t think he\'d be there long anyway. He\'d obviously only approached her to take out his confusing emotions on her. Well, she wasn\'t having that from him as well - especially considering he was the source of all her ill feelings.
"And I don\'t care what you zink anyway, ah am a lady," she muttered more to herself, rubbing her eyes again and giving up on being nice to the man who certainly wouldn\'t do her the same favour. He\'d only say one more cutting thing to her and then stride off anyway, why should she care so much what he thought?
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"Palace guards patrol around here all the time," he said with a frown. "You\'ve gone and given them a show. What makes you think you\'re a lady when you fling your clothes off like a whore?"
It was probably the worst thing he\'d ever said to her, but hurting from Freddy\'s words he had no sense of judgement. He hated her, he hated her silly golden smile and her stupid accent and the fact she didn\'t wither beneath his gaze each and every time. He hated that she was speaking back to him right now when he simply wanted to bully her, to make her cry, to make himself feel better - he thought.
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She was too stunned to react for a moment, though tears immediately pricked her eyes and her fair cheeks were flushed with the humiliation of his accusation. Blinking them away (and still trying to see properly through the sun spot dancing across the front of her eyeballs), she got immediately to her feet, brushing her skirts down furiously and swiping up her shoes. They were pretty and delicate and she didn\'t have the time to shove her feet in them right now, when all she wanted was to get away from him.
"Ah am no whore," she announced with as much dignity as she could muster, standing up to him and doing her best to look austerely down her nose at him (being taller, this was impossible but she gave it a red hot go anyway), chest uffed out and hands gripping her skirts angrily at her sides, shoes in the left. "And you, sir, are no gentleman to speak to me zhat way!"
This rebuke uttered, she spun on her heel and stormed off towards somewhere else in the garden - she wasn\'t quite sure where, though it looked like the maze, through her very blurry vision (which she swiped at, but the tears refused to stop). She bit hard on her lip as she went, not wanting him to hear her sobbing out her hurt - especially since he\'d only abuse her again for crying. Maybe she could get lost in the maze and then she wouldn\'t have to endure this nightmare any longer. They would pronounce her divorced and send her back to France for terminal stupidity.
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He left her then, bitter amusement swelling in his chest and filling it with sour pride. It hadn\'t made him feel that much better for the dark quality of causing her tears and sorrow left him with a hollowness that couldn\'t be squashed. Turning his back on her and leaving her to run into the maze and out of his sight, he returned to their room to remove his training armour and dress himself appropriately for lunch.
Everybody was seated save for Roche\'s empty chair on his right. It wasn\'t like her to be late for a meal and as servants were asked to look for her and collect her, he excused himself, his mother asking him where he was going and he shushed her by explaining he knew where his wife was and was going to get her. He didn\'t say where she was, wanting to collect her on his own.
The maze was something he\'d grown up with so he knew all the twists and turns. He\'d been very good at playing chase games within it, listening for footsteps and making the turns to get him on this side of the hedge or that side of the maze in order to capture his target. Rochelle was his target for now, but in an entirely different way to how she\'d been this morning.
"Roche," he called out after going deeply into the maze near the centre so she would hear him no matter where she was, "call out to me and I\'ll come get you." He said this gently, hoping she would respond.
He felt like a heel hours after the deed was done. She was right, he wasn\'t a gentleman and after a great deal of thinking he was ashamed for how he\'d treated Frederickson and then how he\'d sought her out just to punish her. He didn\'t have to like her but he didn\'t have to be that cruel.
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"Ah... I\'m here," she eventually called, having found herself a wooden bench to curl up on. She\'d cried herself silly for so long, she had no idea how much time had passed by the time she finally sat up from her sprawl along the bench and tucked her feet beneath her, sitting at one end with her shoes still on the ground where she\'d dropped them.
Although she was aware of the sun\'s position having altered above her, she didn\'t realise she\'d been clasified as \'lost\'. She was in a somewhat rebellious mood after the way Mayhew had spoken to her, in fact, and had been deliberately avoiding going in to lunch, taking on the mulish mindset that she might be better off hiding in the maze until she starved. Had she canged her mind and attempted to go in, she would\'ve quickly realised she didn\'t have a clue how to get out - that was exactly what struck her when she heard her husband\'s voice and her first urge had been to get away from him again. Where could she go though?
Besides, he\'d used the shortened version of her name - the fact that he\'d used any version of her name made her want to listen to what he would have to say next and the rather nice way he was speaking made her hopeful he might even apologise. She deserved an apology but she wouldn\'t hold her breath until she got one. She believed she would sooner perish, despite her optimism. Her cursed, stupid optimism.
She looked up from contemplating the emtiness of the bench before her as he finally walked into her area, her pretty lips downturned at the corners and her face splotchy from crying, though her cheeks and eyelashes were dry by now. She didn\'t move but watched him warily, deciding it should be him who spoke next; he was always the one setting the tone for their interactions anyway.
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When he found her it was obvious she\'d been crying from the state of her face. He couldn\'t look her in the eye but refused to give her an apology for it. She\'d had her dress up after all. On the heels of this thought he relented, for abusing her in such a way wasn\'t how he liked to think of himself.
"I shouldn\'t have called you a whore," he said finally, his tone firm but hardly apologetic. "You\'re not a whore." She was his virgin wife in fact and far from the spectrum with which he\'d coloured her. He waited for her to accept his comment.
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She really wished he\'d stop saying that horrible word; every time he repeated it she flinched, almost as if he was slapping her with it, her expression cringeing slightly. When he finished, she lifted her gaze, looking him in the eye.
"No, I am not," she agreed, her tone implying that she didn\'t think his words were enough, as far as apologies went, but she was stoic enough to accept them without worsening the situation. She watched him, wondering how such a beautiful person on the outside could be so ugly within. She wanted to ask him to explain this - and many other things - to her, but knew she\'d never penetrate his hardness.
"In future, I will be sure to restrict mah exposure to a more private place," she promised, shifting her gaze to the walls of leaves around her. No-one would be able to see her in here so the next time she felt like enjoying the sun, she would come within these moving walls. She didn\'t state it, but he should understand from her insinuations. She hoped it would be enough to make him happy.
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He noticed her flinching and within himself he wondered what he thought he was doing using curse words around her. He\'d never been so callous before, did she really deserve such a shitty apology? He mourned for what had been lost to him but that had been his own careless fault. How long could he have kept it up if he\'d not gone to Phinn so often? Months? Years?
He didn\'t really hear her, for he was awash with sadness and it reflected in his expression. The stoniness had gone, now there was a mournful young man before Roche and he nodded at the end of her statement about exposure, not knowing exactly what she\'d said, only knowing that she\'d finished talking.
He didn\'t trust his voice to answer her, not when his heart felt like a stone in his chest. Instead, he put out his hand so she would come to him and hold it and he could lead her out. He wondered if he would be snubbed, that she would come up to him but ignore his offer. He wouldn\'t blame her if she chose to keep her distance.
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Roche glanced from his hand to his face and back again - so many times she expected the offer to be withdrawn because she took so long debating it. She knew she should remain mad at him for speaking to her as filth on the street (who wanted to provoke her ire) would; she should punish him for assuming she was doing anything but enjoying the sun when left to her own devices. It wasn\'t as if he would spend any quality time with her voluntarily, after all.
The problem was her traitorous heart. She wanted kind gestures from him, to be invited closer to him, to understand him. He\'d spoken out from a place of bitterness but none of that was evident in his beautiful eyes now; he just looked sad and, unfortunately, she couldn\'t resist him. She loved him, for better or worse, and she was downright relieved that he was making any effort whatsoever. Even though it had had to come after a horrible experience, she was grateful that it was there at all.
Standing, Rochelle slid her hand gracefully into his, maintaining eye contact with him. Once the hold was secure, she glanced down to slide her feet into her shoes. They were fairly close to where he stood but, unfortunately, all the grace she claimed ended at her hand, for her curled up legs were tingly with being cramped beneath her. As she lifted her first foot, she wobbled... and toppled straight into Mayhew, grabbing for him automatically in an effort to keep herself upright.
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When she slipped her hand into his he felt better that his apology had been accepted and noticed the way her hand was warm and soft. Putting her shoes on had gone mostly unnoticed until she fell against him. He thought the move deliberate and therefore manipulative. Pretending to trip over her own feet and sending her reeling into him where he had no choice but to react and catch her. He held her by the upper arms as she landed against his chest and forced her back to her feet with the same hold, though his fingers vice-like and no doubt leaving behind impressions of their hold in the form of bruises for the next day, only this did not enter his mind now. His eyes moved from sadness to coldness almost instantly and after he righted her he gave her one hateful glance before moving ahead of her in the maze with the intention of showing her the exit so they could give the impression of a good marriage to those who wouldn\'t know any better.
He did not offer his hand to her again.