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Very, very distracted. And she had been for the last couple of weeks, ever since Alastor had broken her heart and called their...whatever it had been, over. It was painful, festering like a wound that she couldn’t stop touching. It was as if she thought that she could make more sense of it, what had happened that night between them. She’d been upset, he’d been upset and then things had just...fallen apart.
She sighed, shaking her head as she tried to get away from the intrusive thoughts. She’d tried on more than one occasion to pen him a letter, to reach out in some way but things felt odd and broken. Each of them had ended up thrown across the room in crumpled balls, forgotten until she could be bothered to clean them up. She had no idea what to say, no idea what the way forward for them was after all of...that. Was this how she lost her best friend? Was this why people said it was better to stay out of romantic relationships with friends?
It was cold today in the Agora, the winter winds starting to pick up -- whistling down the alleys and rattling unsecured windows. Sara brushed back her hair, letting the dark brown strands fall down her back. She normally wore it up in some sort of style, but it was helping keep her warm -- although the wind was ruffling it. It was her day off today, and she had been of half a mind to not take it -- except for the glare that Xanthippe had shot her while Melina had not been looking. She already had reason to suspect that the blonde had a grudge against her, so as not to incur any more animosity, she’d respectfully excused herself and left the two of them to their own day.
The cold helped clear her mind a little. She pulled her warm himation closer, bundling it up against the chill. Her face was flushed, her nose pink because she’d been outside far longer than she should have. She simply didn’t know what else to be doing. She supposed she could have made time to see Tasia, but things still felt a little estranged between herself and her elder sister. She certainly didn’t want to see Emilios, not after how he’d acted. He’d been playing the part of her big brother, her protector in place of her father -- but she was upset with him. He’d been the catalyst that had brought down her carefully rebuilt tower.
She turned another corner, her eighth lap of the Agora just finishing up when she saw something -- no [/i]someone[/i] that made her stop dead in her tracks. It was as if she’d summoned him with her thoughts, she’d know that lanky frame and gait anywhere -- even if his back was to her. She was instantly awake inside, dragged from the sluggish slumber that her walking had lulled her into. The cold air hurt her lungs as she sucked in a deep breath, stepping back to lean into the building she’d just come around.
What was he doing here? She wondered, carefully leaning to get a better look. He was still, but only for a moment before he was moving again, walking briskly away from her. Sara frowned, but her curiosity got the better of her as she crept out after him -- keeping back several paces. She was quiet, years of sneaking around her father and brothers aiding her as she weaved through the crowds of the Agora. She just had to keep him in sight. She just...wanted to know what he was doing. Was he meeting someone? A girl?
Jealousy and fear met as one, causing her to frown. This was stupid, she should just…
Impulsively, she closed the gap between them and reached out, closing her hand over his wrist as it swung back while he walked. She cursed herself almost as soon as she’d done it, but it was too late to do anything about it now. So she stood awkwardly, her hand wrapped around his wrist. Her cheeks heated, the pink of the cold now mingling with her embarrassment. ”Alastor.” She said, not quite able to meet his eye. ”I…” She pulled back, dropping his hand like it was a snake that had bitten her. She tucked her arms beneath her himation, twisting her fingers together nervously. ”Hell..o?”
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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She was distracted.
Very, very distracted. And she had been for the last couple of weeks, ever since Alastor had broken her heart and called their...whatever it had been, over. It was painful, festering like a wound that she couldn’t stop touching. It was as if she thought that she could make more sense of it, what had happened that night between them. She’d been upset, he’d been upset and then things had just...fallen apart.
She sighed, shaking her head as she tried to get away from the intrusive thoughts. She’d tried on more than one occasion to pen him a letter, to reach out in some way but things felt odd and broken. Each of them had ended up thrown across the room in crumpled balls, forgotten until she could be bothered to clean them up. She had no idea what to say, no idea what the way forward for them was after all of...that. Was this how she lost her best friend? Was this why people said it was better to stay out of romantic relationships with friends?
It was cold today in the Agora, the winter winds starting to pick up -- whistling down the alleys and rattling unsecured windows. Sara brushed back her hair, letting the dark brown strands fall down her back. She normally wore it up in some sort of style, but it was helping keep her warm -- although the wind was ruffling it. It was her day off today, and she had been of half a mind to not take it -- except for the glare that Xanthippe had shot her while Melina had not been looking. She already had reason to suspect that the blonde had a grudge against her, so as not to incur any more animosity, she’d respectfully excused herself and left the two of them to their own day.
The cold helped clear her mind a little. She pulled her warm himation closer, bundling it up against the chill. Her face was flushed, her nose pink because she’d been outside far longer than she should have. She simply didn’t know what else to be doing. She supposed she could have made time to see Tasia, but things still felt a little estranged between herself and her elder sister. She certainly didn’t want to see Emilios, not after how he’d acted. He’d been playing the part of her big brother, her protector in place of her father -- but she was upset with him. He’d been the catalyst that had brought down her carefully rebuilt tower.
She turned another corner, her eighth lap of the Agora just finishing up when she saw something -- no [/i]someone[/i] that made her stop dead in her tracks. It was as if she’d summoned him with her thoughts, she’d know that lanky frame and gait anywhere -- even if his back was to her. She was instantly awake inside, dragged from the sluggish slumber that her walking had lulled her into. The cold air hurt her lungs as she sucked in a deep breath, stepping back to lean into the building she’d just come around.
What was he doing here? She wondered, carefully leaning to get a better look. He was still, but only for a moment before he was moving again, walking briskly away from her. Sara frowned, but her curiosity got the better of her as she crept out after him -- keeping back several paces. She was quiet, years of sneaking around her father and brothers aiding her as she weaved through the crowds of the Agora. She just had to keep him in sight. She just...wanted to know what he was doing. Was he meeting someone? A girl?
Jealousy and fear met as one, causing her to frown. This was stupid, she should just…
Impulsively, she closed the gap between them and reached out, closing her hand over his wrist as it swung back while he walked. She cursed herself almost as soon as she’d done it, but it was too late to do anything about it now. So she stood awkwardly, her hand wrapped around his wrist. Her cheeks heated, the pink of the cold now mingling with her embarrassment. ”Alastor.” She said, not quite able to meet his eye. ”I…” She pulled back, dropping his hand like it was a snake that had bitten her. She tucked her arms beneath her himation, twisting her fingers together nervously. ”Hell..o?”
She was distracted.
Very, very distracted. And she had been for the last couple of weeks, ever since Alastor had broken her heart and called their...whatever it had been, over. It was painful, festering like a wound that she couldn’t stop touching. It was as if she thought that she could make more sense of it, what had happened that night between them. She’d been upset, he’d been upset and then things had just...fallen apart.
She sighed, shaking her head as she tried to get away from the intrusive thoughts. She’d tried on more than one occasion to pen him a letter, to reach out in some way but things felt odd and broken. Each of them had ended up thrown across the room in crumpled balls, forgotten until she could be bothered to clean them up. She had no idea what to say, no idea what the way forward for them was after all of...that. Was this how she lost her best friend? Was this why people said it was better to stay out of romantic relationships with friends?
It was cold today in the Agora, the winter winds starting to pick up -- whistling down the alleys and rattling unsecured windows. Sara brushed back her hair, letting the dark brown strands fall down her back. She normally wore it up in some sort of style, but it was helping keep her warm -- although the wind was ruffling it. It was her day off today, and she had been of half a mind to not take it -- except for the glare that Xanthippe had shot her while Melina had not been looking. She already had reason to suspect that the blonde had a grudge against her, so as not to incur any more animosity, she’d respectfully excused herself and left the two of them to their own day.
The cold helped clear her mind a little. She pulled her warm himation closer, bundling it up against the chill. Her face was flushed, her nose pink because she’d been outside far longer than she should have. She simply didn’t know what else to be doing. She supposed she could have made time to see Tasia, but things still felt a little estranged between herself and her elder sister. She certainly didn’t want to see Emilios, not after how he’d acted. He’d been playing the part of her big brother, her protector in place of her father -- but she was upset with him. He’d been the catalyst that had brought down her carefully rebuilt tower.
She turned another corner, her eighth lap of the Agora just finishing up when she saw something -- no [/i]someone[/i] that made her stop dead in her tracks. It was as if she’d summoned him with her thoughts, she’d know that lanky frame and gait anywhere -- even if his back was to her. She was instantly awake inside, dragged from the sluggish slumber that her walking had lulled her into. The cold air hurt her lungs as she sucked in a deep breath, stepping back to lean into the building she’d just come around.
What was he doing here? She wondered, carefully leaning to get a better look. He was still, but only for a moment before he was moving again, walking briskly away from her. Sara frowned, but her curiosity got the better of her as she crept out after him -- keeping back several paces. She was quiet, years of sneaking around her father and brothers aiding her as she weaved through the crowds of the Agora. She just had to keep him in sight. She just...wanted to know what he was doing. Was he meeting someone? A girl?
Jealousy and fear met as one, causing her to frown. This was stupid, she should just…
Impulsively, she closed the gap between them and reached out, closing her hand over his wrist as it swung back while he walked. She cursed herself almost as soon as she’d done it, but it was too late to do anything about it now. So she stood awkwardly, her hand wrapped around his wrist. Her cheeks heated, the pink of the cold now mingling with her embarrassment. ”Alastor.” She said, not quite able to meet his eye. ”I…” She pulled back, dropping his hand like it was a snake that had bitten her. She tucked her arms beneath her himation, twisting her fingers together nervously. ”Hell..o?”
Was this healing?
Alastor's wounds were no longer encumbering him. He'd been asked all sorts of questions by Agathon, particularly, if he was being followed by someone. To expose the young apprentice information broker would be a folly, and Alastor did his utmost in every respect to ensure that he wasn't thought of as more than simply the master informer's whipping boy. Sent on errand after errand, it was only now as Taengea nosedived into the pits of Tartarus that he was given any sort of respect.
Being beaten down by Emilios of Mikaelidas wasn't any kind of concern for Agathon, but the spymaster seemed to show it, regardless. Not required to handle manual labour for a time, he was allotted the opportunity to read, imparted lessons in script were somewhat easier to digest. But, there was the matter of practical exposure. So, the master informer sent him on a task. It seemed simple enough. Tail his associates, and do so without being noticed. Keeping tabs on several of the man's lackeys proved a troublesome, but not unfulfilling challenge.
Alastor found that he enjoyed this line of work more than he let on. Two days chasing after a man at the port, he'd learned that he was a methodical man, and without needing to go through too much trouble, he provided Agathon with his insights. Today, it was a woman he was following. Just a few years older than Alastor himself and really, quite pretty. She held some handmaiden position in the palati, and Alastor didn't want to show his face there again, lest his task become muddled and his face be the target of Emilio's fist once again.
But, she seemed to stay away from the palace. She held a list in her hand, one that Alastor would never get close enough to see, but by the look of it, quite extensive. The apprentice let some distance form between his target and himself, letting himself peruse some of the wares and allow the other thoughts to dissipate in the comfort of cold, calculating logic in how to get from point A to point B.
He wanted to grab himself some lunch, in the middle of it all. She seemed like she was staying put, moving from stall to stall. Alastor allowed the woman to drift from his gaze. In the end, if she got away, he had plenty to go on and he could track her down later. Agathon wasn't giving him particularly pressing deadlines with the information garnered, and he inked the last bit of his notes on a scrap against the wall and made his way towards a food stall.
He didn't realize, even for a moment, that he was followed until he felt a lax grasp worm around his wrist.
Huh?
Was he seen? Was the girl behind him the very one he'd been tracking, about to berate him for his efforts? She'd certainly recognize him immediately, or at least know of him through Agathon. He nearly rolled his eyes, not wanting to deal with a verbal lashing from his out-of-sorts instructor but that all went away as soon as he found his captor.
Fuck.
Alastor felt the clutch in his stomach as he locked eyes with Sara, the narrowing of his throat as he tried to swallow his words. She seemed flushed, with good enough reason. The last time the two had seen one another, Alastor had just taken a beating and insisted that they should no longer... do what it was they were doing.
His mind whirled back to their confessions in Euttica, then their all-too-brief bliss. shared kisses reflected back onto his lips, and the flush she had on her expression wasn't far behind. He couldn't help it, when his fingers interwove with hers. Remembering where they were, he took Sara's hand properly and led her towards a nearby pathway.
"Were you following me?" he asked. His tone held no malice in it, unable to form even if it was his intention. Instead, there was a pressing sadness in his expression, his gaze narrowed. At the very least, this meant that he hadn't been outed. It was debatable, however, if that was better or this cringey embarrassment that was welling in his mind.
"I... it's good to see you. You look well," he offered weakly, before he relented. Unless she was the one who shied away, he wouldn't cast her aside or berate her for reaching out to him.
"Can I... erm... help you with something? You seem uneasy."
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Was this healing?
Alastor's wounds were no longer encumbering him. He'd been asked all sorts of questions by Agathon, particularly, if he was being followed by someone. To expose the young apprentice information broker would be a folly, and Alastor did his utmost in every respect to ensure that he wasn't thought of as more than simply the master informer's whipping boy. Sent on errand after errand, it was only now as Taengea nosedived into the pits of Tartarus that he was given any sort of respect.
Being beaten down by Emilios of Mikaelidas wasn't any kind of concern for Agathon, but the spymaster seemed to show it, regardless. Not required to handle manual labour for a time, he was allotted the opportunity to read, imparted lessons in script were somewhat easier to digest. But, there was the matter of practical exposure. So, the master informer sent him on a task. It seemed simple enough. Tail his associates, and do so without being noticed. Keeping tabs on several of the man's lackeys proved a troublesome, but not unfulfilling challenge.
Alastor found that he enjoyed this line of work more than he let on. Two days chasing after a man at the port, he'd learned that he was a methodical man, and without needing to go through too much trouble, he provided Agathon with his insights. Today, it was a woman he was following. Just a few years older than Alastor himself and really, quite pretty. She held some handmaiden position in the palati, and Alastor didn't want to show his face there again, lest his task become muddled and his face be the target of Emilio's fist once again.
But, she seemed to stay away from the palace. She held a list in her hand, one that Alastor would never get close enough to see, but by the look of it, quite extensive. The apprentice let some distance form between his target and himself, letting himself peruse some of the wares and allow the other thoughts to dissipate in the comfort of cold, calculating logic in how to get from point A to point B.
He wanted to grab himself some lunch, in the middle of it all. She seemed like she was staying put, moving from stall to stall. Alastor allowed the woman to drift from his gaze. In the end, if she got away, he had plenty to go on and he could track her down later. Agathon wasn't giving him particularly pressing deadlines with the information garnered, and he inked the last bit of his notes on a scrap against the wall and made his way towards a food stall.
He didn't realize, even for a moment, that he was followed until he felt a lax grasp worm around his wrist.
Huh?
Was he seen? Was the girl behind him the very one he'd been tracking, about to berate him for his efforts? She'd certainly recognize him immediately, or at least know of him through Agathon. He nearly rolled his eyes, not wanting to deal with a verbal lashing from his out-of-sorts instructor but that all went away as soon as he found his captor.
Fuck.
Alastor felt the clutch in his stomach as he locked eyes with Sara, the narrowing of his throat as he tried to swallow his words. She seemed flushed, with good enough reason. The last time the two had seen one another, Alastor had just taken a beating and insisted that they should no longer... do what it was they were doing.
His mind whirled back to their confessions in Euttica, then their all-too-brief bliss. shared kisses reflected back onto his lips, and the flush she had on her expression wasn't far behind. He couldn't help it, when his fingers interwove with hers. Remembering where they were, he took Sara's hand properly and led her towards a nearby pathway.
"Were you following me?" he asked. His tone held no malice in it, unable to form even if it was his intention. Instead, there was a pressing sadness in his expression, his gaze narrowed. At the very least, this meant that he hadn't been outed. It was debatable, however, if that was better or this cringey embarrassment that was welling in his mind.
"I... it's good to see you. You look well," he offered weakly, before he relented. Unless she was the one who shied away, he wouldn't cast her aside or berate her for reaching out to him.
"Can I... erm... help you with something? You seem uneasy."
Was this healing?
Alastor's wounds were no longer encumbering him. He'd been asked all sorts of questions by Agathon, particularly, if he was being followed by someone. To expose the young apprentice information broker would be a folly, and Alastor did his utmost in every respect to ensure that he wasn't thought of as more than simply the master informer's whipping boy. Sent on errand after errand, it was only now as Taengea nosedived into the pits of Tartarus that he was given any sort of respect.
Being beaten down by Emilios of Mikaelidas wasn't any kind of concern for Agathon, but the spymaster seemed to show it, regardless. Not required to handle manual labour for a time, he was allotted the opportunity to read, imparted lessons in script were somewhat easier to digest. But, there was the matter of practical exposure. So, the master informer sent him on a task. It seemed simple enough. Tail his associates, and do so without being noticed. Keeping tabs on several of the man's lackeys proved a troublesome, but not unfulfilling challenge.
Alastor found that he enjoyed this line of work more than he let on. Two days chasing after a man at the port, he'd learned that he was a methodical man, and without needing to go through too much trouble, he provided Agathon with his insights. Today, it was a woman he was following. Just a few years older than Alastor himself and really, quite pretty. She held some handmaiden position in the palati, and Alastor didn't want to show his face there again, lest his task become muddled and his face be the target of Emilio's fist once again.
But, she seemed to stay away from the palace. She held a list in her hand, one that Alastor would never get close enough to see, but by the look of it, quite extensive. The apprentice let some distance form between his target and himself, letting himself peruse some of the wares and allow the other thoughts to dissipate in the comfort of cold, calculating logic in how to get from point A to point B.
He wanted to grab himself some lunch, in the middle of it all. She seemed like she was staying put, moving from stall to stall. Alastor allowed the woman to drift from his gaze. In the end, if she got away, he had plenty to go on and he could track her down later. Agathon wasn't giving him particularly pressing deadlines with the information garnered, and he inked the last bit of his notes on a scrap against the wall and made his way towards a food stall.
He didn't realize, even for a moment, that he was followed until he felt a lax grasp worm around his wrist.
Huh?
Was he seen? Was the girl behind him the very one he'd been tracking, about to berate him for his efforts? She'd certainly recognize him immediately, or at least know of him through Agathon. He nearly rolled his eyes, not wanting to deal with a verbal lashing from his out-of-sorts instructor but that all went away as soon as he found his captor.
Fuck.
Alastor felt the clutch in his stomach as he locked eyes with Sara, the narrowing of his throat as he tried to swallow his words. She seemed flushed, with good enough reason. The last time the two had seen one another, Alastor had just taken a beating and insisted that they should no longer... do what it was they were doing.
His mind whirled back to their confessions in Euttica, then their all-too-brief bliss. shared kisses reflected back onto his lips, and the flush she had on her expression wasn't far behind. He couldn't help it, when his fingers interwove with hers. Remembering where they were, he took Sara's hand properly and led her towards a nearby pathway.
"Were you following me?" he asked. His tone held no malice in it, unable to form even if it was his intention. Instead, there was a pressing sadness in his expression, his gaze narrowed. At the very least, this meant that he hadn't been outed. It was debatable, however, if that was better or this cringey embarrassment that was welling in his mind.
"I... it's good to see you. You look well," he offered weakly, before he relented. Unless she was the one who shied away, he wouldn't cast her aside or berate her for reaching out to him.
"Can I... erm... help you with something? You seem uneasy."
Her heart was pounding as her stomach did stupidly familiar little flip flops that she wished would go away. She didn’t let go of his wrist, even though some part of her knew that she probably should. She did not know where they stood, not since the night in the palace when they’d been caught together and he’d ended things between them. The thought of it stung, His hand twisted, breaking her grip only to intertwine their fingers in a familiar fashion. Butterflies surged in her stomach as he pulled her along behind him, towing her along to somewhere more secluded nearby.
She said nothing, not sure what to say. It had been the same when she’d tried to pen her letter to him, a jumble of feelings and incoherent thoughts as she tried to work through her own emotions. Anger, sadness. They flicked back and forth so rapidly, a candle flame that was ignited and subsequently blown out in succession. Were you following me? She blinked, his face coming back into focus at the question as she was pulled from her internal reflection.
”Yes,” She hesitated and shook her head. ”I mean no, I was just...walking and I saw you.” She could see her breath, carrying her words onto a white cloud that floated away. She squeezed his hand, unable to help it. She knew what she wanted to do, but it felt...wrong. He had to still feel something for her right? Or was he just holding her hand out of habit? ”I just wanted…” She paused, unsure of what she had wanted.
She smiled when he spoke again, telling her that she looked well. She was glad he thought so. She hadn’t felt well since things had ended in such a spectacular disaster. The smile did not quite reach her eyes, the blue pools murky and unclear with her guard firmly up. She met his gaze directly, dropping it only to watch the familiar curve of his mouth before returning to his eyes.
Could he help her with something?
It was such a...distant statement in her head that made her heart sink. This was the boy she’d been friends with since she had been no more than seven or eight. Nearly a decade of friendship and he treated her as if she was some patron who had walked into his shop. She untangled her fingers from his, tucking the slightly warmed fingers under her himation and out of sight. Her cheeks warmed and she hoped he wouldn’t be able to tell because of the cold.
”It’s nothing.” She said, reluctantly turning her head to look back out at the public square that they’d just come from. She had wanted to ask him what he was doing, he’d looked so focused...so intent on something, or someone. She felt the unfamiliar threads of anxiety threading between her ribs, tightening around her lungs like a vice. How fast could she make an escape? ”It was good to see you. I’m sorry if I bothered you.” She took a step back, starting to turn away. Gods, she was so stupid.
This character is currently a work in progress.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Her heart was pounding as her stomach did stupidly familiar little flip flops that she wished would go away. She didn’t let go of his wrist, even though some part of her knew that she probably should. She did not know where they stood, not since the night in the palace when they’d been caught together and he’d ended things between them. The thought of it stung, His hand twisted, breaking her grip only to intertwine their fingers in a familiar fashion. Butterflies surged in her stomach as he pulled her along behind him, towing her along to somewhere more secluded nearby.
She said nothing, not sure what to say. It had been the same when she’d tried to pen her letter to him, a jumble of feelings and incoherent thoughts as she tried to work through her own emotions. Anger, sadness. They flicked back and forth so rapidly, a candle flame that was ignited and subsequently blown out in succession. Were you following me? She blinked, his face coming back into focus at the question as she was pulled from her internal reflection.
”Yes,” She hesitated and shook her head. ”I mean no, I was just...walking and I saw you.” She could see her breath, carrying her words onto a white cloud that floated away. She squeezed his hand, unable to help it. She knew what she wanted to do, but it felt...wrong. He had to still feel something for her right? Or was he just holding her hand out of habit? ”I just wanted…” She paused, unsure of what she had wanted.
She smiled when he spoke again, telling her that she looked well. She was glad he thought so. She hadn’t felt well since things had ended in such a spectacular disaster. The smile did not quite reach her eyes, the blue pools murky and unclear with her guard firmly up. She met his gaze directly, dropping it only to watch the familiar curve of his mouth before returning to his eyes.
Could he help her with something?
It was such a...distant statement in her head that made her heart sink. This was the boy she’d been friends with since she had been no more than seven or eight. Nearly a decade of friendship and he treated her as if she was some patron who had walked into his shop. She untangled her fingers from his, tucking the slightly warmed fingers under her himation and out of sight. Her cheeks warmed and she hoped he wouldn’t be able to tell because of the cold.
”It’s nothing.” She said, reluctantly turning her head to look back out at the public square that they’d just come from. She had wanted to ask him what he was doing, he’d looked so focused...so intent on something, or someone. She felt the unfamiliar threads of anxiety threading between her ribs, tightening around her lungs like a vice. How fast could she make an escape? ”It was good to see you. I’m sorry if I bothered you.” She took a step back, starting to turn away. Gods, she was so stupid.
Her heart was pounding as her stomach did stupidly familiar little flip flops that she wished would go away. She didn’t let go of his wrist, even though some part of her knew that she probably should. She did not know where they stood, not since the night in the palace when they’d been caught together and he’d ended things between them. The thought of it stung, His hand twisted, breaking her grip only to intertwine their fingers in a familiar fashion. Butterflies surged in her stomach as he pulled her along behind him, towing her along to somewhere more secluded nearby.
She said nothing, not sure what to say. It had been the same when she’d tried to pen her letter to him, a jumble of feelings and incoherent thoughts as she tried to work through her own emotions. Anger, sadness. They flicked back and forth so rapidly, a candle flame that was ignited and subsequently blown out in succession. Were you following me? She blinked, his face coming back into focus at the question as she was pulled from her internal reflection.
”Yes,” She hesitated and shook her head. ”I mean no, I was just...walking and I saw you.” She could see her breath, carrying her words onto a white cloud that floated away. She squeezed his hand, unable to help it. She knew what she wanted to do, but it felt...wrong. He had to still feel something for her right? Or was he just holding her hand out of habit? ”I just wanted…” She paused, unsure of what she had wanted.
She smiled when he spoke again, telling her that she looked well. She was glad he thought so. She hadn’t felt well since things had ended in such a spectacular disaster. The smile did not quite reach her eyes, the blue pools murky and unclear with her guard firmly up. She met his gaze directly, dropping it only to watch the familiar curve of his mouth before returning to his eyes.
Could he help her with something?
It was such a...distant statement in her head that made her heart sink. This was the boy she’d been friends with since she had been no more than seven or eight. Nearly a decade of friendship and he treated her as if she was some patron who had walked into his shop. She untangled her fingers from his, tucking the slightly warmed fingers under her himation and out of sight. Her cheeks warmed and she hoped he wouldn’t be able to tell because of the cold.
”It’s nothing.” She said, reluctantly turning her head to look back out at the public square that they’d just come from. She had wanted to ask him what he was doing, he’d looked so focused...so intent on something, or someone. She felt the unfamiliar threads of anxiety threading between her ribs, tightening around her lungs like a vice. How fast could she make an escape? ”It was good to see you. I’m sorry if I bothered you.” She took a step back, starting to turn away. Gods, she was so stupid.
Alastor didn't know how to handle... any of this. He'd never been in this position, where he was pushed into conversation with someone he held such... complicated feelings for. He pushed back from Sara because his involvement in her life was deceptive at its very inception. Even when they were younger, it'd been sneaking off in Euttica, far away from the eyes of her irksome parents or sister. Then, as they grew older, it was to hide away from the complicated relationship she had with Achilleas. Now? It was Emilios that kept them apart, unable to reconcile any sort of meaningful relationship between the two of them through the misunderstanding of their encounter.
He imagined what it might've been like if Achilleas was in the palati instead, but the only person he'd bult a rapport with was off fighting a war to protect the people of Taengea from senseless violence.
This left Alastor with a pit in his stomach, one he was pushing down, and again when it rose back up. He suppressed those feelings when out in public, stewing on mistakes and his experiences since returning to Taengea only in the cannabis-tinged air of his own bedroom. Even there, however, he was being bothered. With refugees in his house from the provinces, there truly was nowhere for him to reflect on any of it. So, he lost himself in his work. In the solace of the mechanical elements of taskwork, he could find some peace.
At the very least, I'm not getting beat up anymore.
Yet.
"It's nothing."
He heard the words, but the tone knitted into them was so unfamiliar. Usually, Sara exuded a sort of warmth about her words, from their cadence to the smile she always wore around him. It was like basking in sunlight, being in her presence. But, she seemed overcast, a sense of gloom about her. Did... he do that to her? By leaving heron that property? He knew it'd been the right thing to do, to distance himself. Or at least, he thought so? Now, he wasn't so sure. If this change between them had robbed Sara of her radiance... then it was his fault.
When her fingers untangled from his own, he felt his features twist, a sense of curiosity rising within him. If Sara was being withdrawn and pulling away, then he had no choice but to unravel her. Even if he might never solve the puzzle that was women, he could at least... try.
"Was it, Sara? You aren't bothering me, but I feel like something's bothering you. Please, stay? I want to understand," he added, letting his gaze follow her hand as she tucked the fingers into her himation. Alastor felt the shivers rack his own form, the cold piercing in through the adrenaline that'd been coursing through him. The movement, the need for secrecy, it provided a sort of rush that only now as it dissipated did he realize was protecting him from the frigid weather.
"Or maybe, we should both go. Somewhere inside... warm?"
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Alastor didn't know how to handle... any of this. He'd never been in this position, where he was pushed into conversation with someone he held such... complicated feelings for. He pushed back from Sara because his involvement in her life was deceptive at its very inception. Even when they were younger, it'd been sneaking off in Euttica, far away from the eyes of her irksome parents or sister. Then, as they grew older, it was to hide away from the complicated relationship she had with Achilleas. Now? It was Emilios that kept them apart, unable to reconcile any sort of meaningful relationship between the two of them through the misunderstanding of their encounter.
He imagined what it might've been like if Achilleas was in the palati instead, but the only person he'd bult a rapport with was off fighting a war to protect the people of Taengea from senseless violence.
This left Alastor with a pit in his stomach, one he was pushing down, and again when it rose back up. He suppressed those feelings when out in public, stewing on mistakes and his experiences since returning to Taengea only in the cannabis-tinged air of his own bedroom. Even there, however, he was being bothered. With refugees in his house from the provinces, there truly was nowhere for him to reflect on any of it. So, he lost himself in his work. In the solace of the mechanical elements of taskwork, he could find some peace.
At the very least, I'm not getting beat up anymore.
Yet.
"It's nothing."
He heard the words, but the tone knitted into them was so unfamiliar. Usually, Sara exuded a sort of warmth about her words, from their cadence to the smile she always wore around him. It was like basking in sunlight, being in her presence. But, she seemed overcast, a sense of gloom about her. Did... he do that to her? By leaving heron that property? He knew it'd been the right thing to do, to distance himself. Or at least, he thought so? Now, he wasn't so sure. If this change between them had robbed Sara of her radiance... then it was his fault.
When her fingers untangled from his own, he felt his features twist, a sense of curiosity rising within him. If Sara was being withdrawn and pulling away, then he had no choice but to unravel her. Even if he might never solve the puzzle that was women, he could at least... try.
"Was it, Sara? You aren't bothering me, but I feel like something's bothering you. Please, stay? I want to understand," he added, letting his gaze follow her hand as she tucked the fingers into her himation. Alastor felt the shivers rack his own form, the cold piercing in through the adrenaline that'd been coursing through him. The movement, the need for secrecy, it provided a sort of rush that only now as it dissipated did he realize was protecting him from the frigid weather.
"Or maybe, we should both go. Somewhere inside... warm?"
Alastor didn't know how to handle... any of this. He'd never been in this position, where he was pushed into conversation with someone he held such... complicated feelings for. He pushed back from Sara because his involvement in her life was deceptive at its very inception. Even when they were younger, it'd been sneaking off in Euttica, far away from the eyes of her irksome parents or sister. Then, as they grew older, it was to hide away from the complicated relationship she had with Achilleas. Now? It was Emilios that kept them apart, unable to reconcile any sort of meaningful relationship between the two of them through the misunderstanding of their encounter.
He imagined what it might've been like if Achilleas was in the palati instead, but the only person he'd bult a rapport with was off fighting a war to protect the people of Taengea from senseless violence.
This left Alastor with a pit in his stomach, one he was pushing down, and again when it rose back up. He suppressed those feelings when out in public, stewing on mistakes and his experiences since returning to Taengea only in the cannabis-tinged air of his own bedroom. Even there, however, he was being bothered. With refugees in his house from the provinces, there truly was nowhere for him to reflect on any of it. So, he lost himself in his work. In the solace of the mechanical elements of taskwork, he could find some peace.
At the very least, I'm not getting beat up anymore.
Yet.
"It's nothing."
He heard the words, but the tone knitted into them was so unfamiliar. Usually, Sara exuded a sort of warmth about her words, from their cadence to the smile she always wore around him. It was like basking in sunlight, being in her presence. But, she seemed overcast, a sense of gloom about her. Did... he do that to her? By leaving heron that property? He knew it'd been the right thing to do, to distance himself. Or at least, he thought so? Now, he wasn't so sure. If this change between them had robbed Sara of her radiance... then it was his fault.
When her fingers untangled from his own, he felt his features twist, a sense of curiosity rising within him. If Sara was being withdrawn and pulling away, then he had no choice but to unravel her. Even if he might never solve the puzzle that was women, he could at least... try.
"Was it, Sara? You aren't bothering me, but I feel like something's bothering you. Please, stay? I want to understand," he added, letting his gaze follow her hand as she tucked the fingers into her himation. Alastor felt the shivers rack his own form, the cold piercing in through the adrenaline that'd been coursing through him. The movement, the need for secrecy, it provided a sort of rush that only now as it dissipated did he realize was protecting him from the frigid weather.
"Or maybe, we should both go. Somewhere inside... warm?"
She hated herself for hesitating when he spoke, unable to go simply because she wanted to hear what he had to say. She had felt his absence in the short time they were apart, different from the time that they’d been forced to stay away from each other following her fall from nobility. Those days had been hard in a different way, but at least then -- they’d both wanted the same thing. Now, she wasn’t sure what he wanted. What she wanted. She toyed with her fingers beneath the himaton, rolling her pointer finger between the thumb and side of her knuckle on her opposite hand.
Half-turned away, she looked back -- her blue gaze murky and guarded as she looked him over, trying to figure him out too. ”I’m not bothered.” She lied, forcing herself to give a shrug of her shoulders. She did not want to be so easily read like one of his books. She shifted her weight from the balls of her feet to her toes and back again, swaying in the cool air.
The cold was starting to bother her, truth be told. ”We could go inside.” She agreed easily, letting him lead the way. He led the way, and she followed him like a quiet mouse -- tempted to slip away, but the opportunity never seemed right. He’d glance back to make sure she was there just about every time she thought that her chance had finally come. She sighed, unsure of how to disentangle herself from the mess that she’d gotten into. They came to a small establishment, but it was pleasantly cozy and much warmer. She wondered if he came here often.
Taking a seat at a small table, Sara tucked her ankles before continuing just where they’d left off. ”It just...looked like you were busy.” She murmured, feeling the excuse was the strongest that she could muster. ”You were looking for someone, weren’t you?” She asked. She reached up to tuck her hair behind her ears which were reddened from the cold, just like her nose. ”N-Not that it’s any of my business.” She cleared her throat and looked decidedly away, while internally she was dying.
She’d known the moment that she’d grabbed him that she’d made a terrible mistake. Both of them were pretty horrible at awkward conversations, and Sara felt completely out of her element. This was a different type of hurt, one that she hadn’t grown up with and gotten better at pushing down until she could pretend that it didn’t hurt at all. This one was strangely more personal, a fire that had been smothered to embers with water and all the wood too wet to restart.
”I got a job.” She murmured, unsure why she had said it. ”Emilios got me a position with the Leventi house as a maid for one of the ladies.” Had he noticed that she was no longer around the palati? Had he cared?
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She hated herself for hesitating when he spoke, unable to go simply because she wanted to hear what he had to say. She had felt his absence in the short time they were apart, different from the time that they’d been forced to stay away from each other following her fall from nobility. Those days had been hard in a different way, but at least then -- they’d both wanted the same thing. Now, she wasn’t sure what he wanted. What she wanted. She toyed with her fingers beneath the himaton, rolling her pointer finger between the thumb and side of her knuckle on her opposite hand.
Half-turned away, she looked back -- her blue gaze murky and guarded as she looked him over, trying to figure him out too. ”I’m not bothered.” She lied, forcing herself to give a shrug of her shoulders. She did not want to be so easily read like one of his books. She shifted her weight from the balls of her feet to her toes and back again, swaying in the cool air.
The cold was starting to bother her, truth be told. ”We could go inside.” She agreed easily, letting him lead the way. He led the way, and she followed him like a quiet mouse -- tempted to slip away, but the opportunity never seemed right. He’d glance back to make sure she was there just about every time she thought that her chance had finally come. She sighed, unsure of how to disentangle herself from the mess that she’d gotten into. They came to a small establishment, but it was pleasantly cozy and much warmer. She wondered if he came here often.
Taking a seat at a small table, Sara tucked her ankles before continuing just where they’d left off. ”It just...looked like you were busy.” She murmured, feeling the excuse was the strongest that she could muster. ”You were looking for someone, weren’t you?” She asked. She reached up to tuck her hair behind her ears which were reddened from the cold, just like her nose. ”N-Not that it’s any of my business.” She cleared her throat and looked decidedly away, while internally she was dying.
She’d known the moment that she’d grabbed him that she’d made a terrible mistake. Both of them were pretty horrible at awkward conversations, and Sara felt completely out of her element. This was a different type of hurt, one that she hadn’t grown up with and gotten better at pushing down until she could pretend that it didn’t hurt at all. This one was strangely more personal, a fire that had been smothered to embers with water and all the wood too wet to restart.
”I got a job.” She murmured, unsure why she had said it. ”Emilios got me a position with the Leventi house as a maid for one of the ladies.” Had he noticed that she was no longer around the palati? Had he cared?
She hated herself for hesitating when he spoke, unable to go simply because she wanted to hear what he had to say. She had felt his absence in the short time they were apart, different from the time that they’d been forced to stay away from each other following her fall from nobility. Those days had been hard in a different way, but at least then -- they’d both wanted the same thing. Now, she wasn’t sure what he wanted. What she wanted. She toyed with her fingers beneath the himaton, rolling her pointer finger between the thumb and side of her knuckle on her opposite hand.
Half-turned away, she looked back -- her blue gaze murky and guarded as she looked him over, trying to figure him out too. ”I’m not bothered.” She lied, forcing herself to give a shrug of her shoulders. She did not want to be so easily read like one of his books. She shifted her weight from the balls of her feet to her toes and back again, swaying in the cool air.
The cold was starting to bother her, truth be told. ”We could go inside.” She agreed easily, letting him lead the way. He led the way, and she followed him like a quiet mouse -- tempted to slip away, but the opportunity never seemed right. He’d glance back to make sure she was there just about every time she thought that her chance had finally come. She sighed, unsure of how to disentangle herself from the mess that she’d gotten into. They came to a small establishment, but it was pleasantly cozy and much warmer. She wondered if he came here often.
Taking a seat at a small table, Sara tucked her ankles before continuing just where they’d left off. ”It just...looked like you were busy.” She murmured, feeling the excuse was the strongest that she could muster. ”You were looking for someone, weren’t you?” She asked. She reached up to tuck her hair behind her ears which were reddened from the cold, just like her nose. ”N-Not that it’s any of my business.” She cleared her throat and looked decidedly away, while internally she was dying.
She’d known the moment that she’d grabbed him that she’d made a terrible mistake. Both of them were pretty horrible at awkward conversations, and Sara felt completely out of her element. This was a different type of hurt, one that she hadn’t grown up with and gotten better at pushing down until she could pretend that it didn’t hurt at all. This one was strangely more personal, a fire that had been smothered to embers with water and all the wood too wet to restart.
”I got a job.” She murmured, unsure why she had said it. ”Emilios got me a position with the Leventi house as a maid for one of the ladies.” Had he noticed that she was no longer around the palati? Had he cared?
"I'm not bothered."
It was almost a comfort, to be in front of someone so earnest when the world he lived in now was so shrouded in lies and secrecy. While the work that Agathon set him on was necessary and even, at times, exhilarating, little by little he felt his morals and understanding of the world come into question. He'd read incessantly on philosophy and morality in his years in Athenia, and wrestled against what he believed being weighed against what was necessary for survival.
It's easy for rigid morality to exist in waxing theoretical, he'd thought this many times in the past weeks as he unraveled and re-configured his beliefs. With Sara, he didn't need to do that. He never did, and that honesty was more and more missed in the middle of his uncertain existence. When she agreed with his suggestion, he led the way, uncertain glances back at her meeting an awkward tension with an untenable desire to draw closer. Even while he lamented this awkwardness that he created through necessary distance, he craved proximity in the one person he was once able to truly confide in.
Once both of them shook away the cold and sat down at the table, Alastor considered Sara again. Or rather, he continued to. She murmured out her reasoning, and then once she posed her following question, he deliberated just how much he should reveal to her. These were merely tests, little games the master informer played with him in order to build his skillset, to make him more useful to him. But, would that reasoning make sense to Sara? He decided to give it a go.
"I was tailing an associate of Agathon's. He calls them hands-on training, which I guess is true. But, I think more than training or tutelage, it's a test. He doesn't explain anything, just asks me to figure out what to do."
He almost rolled his eyes at it, but then his thoughts drifted back towards Sara and just how uncomfortable she looked around him. He understood it. It was weird, even as Alastor came to grips with what he'd done, he questioned it again and again. Was it the right move? Was there a right move at all? He feared for his own safety, almost as much as he feared for Sara's dignity. She looked as if she could properly rejoin the Mikaelidas family in the palati and him getting in the way of that would be insane.
He didn't ask to be pulled away from the palati in his duties, but in light of what had happened, a turn of events that Agathon knew about without needing prompting, he'd been pulled away. When Sara mentioned getting a job, he raised his eyebrows. She'd been sent over to the Leventis? Either way, it had to be better than living with Meena and Tasia at home.
"Do you like it?" he asked, his fingers slowly inching forward beneath the table in an effort to take hold of her hand. Instinctive, the motion wasn't quite under his control as he studied her further still.
"Are you safe there?" More and more these days, with strange and terrible happenings of uncertain origins plaguing the streets of Taengea, this question seemed so relevant.
"If something happened to you..." he trailed off, his gaze flickering towards the table as his hand stopped in its tracks.
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"I'm not bothered."
It was almost a comfort, to be in front of someone so earnest when the world he lived in now was so shrouded in lies and secrecy. While the work that Agathon set him on was necessary and even, at times, exhilarating, little by little he felt his morals and understanding of the world come into question. He'd read incessantly on philosophy and morality in his years in Athenia, and wrestled against what he believed being weighed against what was necessary for survival.
It's easy for rigid morality to exist in waxing theoretical, he'd thought this many times in the past weeks as he unraveled and re-configured his beliefs. With Sara, he didn't need to do that. He never did, and that honesty was more and more missed in the middle of his uncertain existence. When she agreed with his suggestion, he led the way, uncertain glances back at her meeting an awkward tension with an untenable desire to draw closer. Even while he lamented this awkwardness that he created through necessary distance, he craved proximity in the one person he was once able to truly confide in.
Once both of them shook away the cold and sat down at the table, Alastor considered Sara again. Or rather, he continued to. She murmured out her reasoning, and then once she posed her following question, he deliberated just how much he should reveal to her. These were merely tests, little games the master informer played with him in order to build his skillset, to make him more useful to him. But, would that reasoning make sense to Sara? He decided to give it a go.
"I was tailing an associate of Agathon's. He calls them hands-on training, which I guess is true. But, I think more than training or tutelage, it's a test. He doesn't explain anything, just asks me to figure out what to do."
He almost rolled his eyes at it, but then his thoughts drifted back towards Sara and just how uncomfortable she looked around him. He understood it. It was weird, even as Alastor came to grips with what he'd done, he questioned it again and again. Was it the right move? Was there a right move at all? He feared for his own safety, almost as much as he feared for Sara's dignity. She looked as if she could properly rejoin the Mikaelidas family in the palati and him getting in the way of that would be insane.
He didn't ask to be pulled away from the palati in his duties, but in light of what had happened, a turn of events that Agathon knew about without needing prompting, he'd been pulled away. When Sara mentioned getting a job, he raised his eyebrows. She'd been sent over to the Leventis? Either way, it had to be better than living with Meena and Tasia at home.
"Do you like it?" he asked, his fingers slowly inching forward beneath the table in an effort to take hold of her hand. Instinctive, the motion wasn't quite under his control as he studied her further still.
"Are you safe there?" More and more these days, with strange and terrible happenings of uncertain origins plaguing the streets of Taengea, this question seemed so relevant.
"If something happened to you..." he trailed off, his gaze flickering towards the table as his hand stopped in its tracks.
"I'm not bothered."
It was almost a comfort, to be in front of someone so earnest when the world he lived in now was so shrouded in lies and secrecy. While the work that Agathon set him on was necessary and even, at times, exhilarating, little by little he felt his morals and understanding of the world come into question. He'd read incessantly on philosophy and morality in his years in Athenia, and wrestled against what he believed being weighed against what was necessary for survival.
It's easy for rigid morality to exist in waxing theoretical, he'd thought this many times in the past weeks as he unraveled and re-configured his beliefs. With Sara, he didn't need to do that. He never did, and that honesty was more and more missed in the middle of his uncertain existence. When she agreed with his suggestion, he led the way, uncertain glances back at her meeting an awkward tension with an untenable desire to draw closer. Even while he lamented this awkwardness that he created through necessary distance, he craved proximity in the one person he was once able to truly confide in.
Once both of them shook away the cold and sat down at the table, Alastor considered Sara again. Or rather, he continued to. She murmured out her reasoning, and then once she posed her following question, he deliberated just how much he should reveal to her. These were merely tests, little games the master informer played with him in order to build his skillset, to make him more useful to him. But, would that reasoning make sense to Sara? He decided to give it a go.
"I was tailing an associate of Agathon's. He calls them hands-on training, which I guess is true. But, I think more than training or tutelage, it's a test. He doesn't explain anything, just asks me to figure out what to do."
He almost rolled his eyes at it, but then his thoughts drifted back towards Sara and just how uncomfortable she looked around him. He understood it. It was weird, even as Alastor came to grips with what he'd done, he questioned it again and again. Was it the right move? Was there a right move at all? He feared for his own safety, almost as much as he feared for Sara's dignity. She looked as if she could properly rejoin the Mikaelidas family in the palati and him getting in the way of that would be insane.
He didn't ask to be pulled away from the palati in his duties, but in light of what had happened, a turn of events that Agathon knew about without needing prompting, he'd been pulled away. When Sara mentioned getting a job, he raised his eyebrows. She'd been sent over to the Leventis? Either way, it had to be better than living with Meena and Tasia at home.
"Do you like it?" he asked, his fingers slowly inching forward beneath the table in an effort to take hold of her hand. Instinctive, the motion wasn't quite under his control as he studied her further still.
"Are you safe there?" More and more these days, with strange and terrible happenings of uncertain origins plaguing the streets of Taengea, this question seemed so relevant.
"If something happened to you..." he trailed off, his gaze flickering towards the table as his hand stopped in its tracks.
Agathon. It was not a name that she was not terribly familiar with, even though she knew he had to be fairly important. He was Alastor’s mentor and even if she didn’t know exactly all of the things that Alastor was responsible for -- he had to at least be some kind of nobility. Right? Her hand lingered on the table around a drink that had been brought by, her free hand pressed into her lap and anxiously smoothing the fabric of her cloak. She forced a smile onto her lips, polite and non-committal.
”You’ve always been smart.” She said. ”If you think it’s a test, you’re probably right.” She shifted in her seat, her shoulders stiff as she found that she could not relax. She did not know how to be around him. Their courtship had been brief, but she had jumped into it without hesitation. She had loved him as openly and fiercely as she did anyone else and then he’d...he’d hurt her.
She dropped her eyes, grateful for the drink to look at because she couldn’t manage to hold his gaze. Her mind bounced from their shared secrets in Euttica to that dark night in the palati. Each blink of her eyes thrust her from one extreme to the other, and she had to stop or she would weep. His question drew her away from her thoughts.
Did she like it? Was she safe?
She cleared her throat, taking a deep breath as if she had a lot to say before she spoke. She chose her words carefully, unsure of how much she should give away. If he had been still a friend, if the events in the palati hadn’t happened, she would not have hesitated at all. She would have told him every miniscule detail. She would have been honest.
”It is...interesting.” She said with a tight lipped smile. ”My lady is very kind, but I think I’m stepping on the toes of the maid she already had.” It was quite the understatement. Xanthippe had made her position on Sara quite clear, and it was becoming painfully obvious that the blonde was not there to help her. She seemed to try to sabotage Sara at every turn, even though Sara just wanted to quietly go about her work.
She glanced down, noting his hand inching towards her. When she looked at it, it stopped and Sara felt her heart fall again. The feeling was painful, and she pulled her own hands out of his reach -- removing the temptation entirely. He had made it very clear that they were not good for each other, that he didn’t want to continue their relationship. And right now, Sara could not bear even the semblance of friendship either. She couldn’t sit here and pretend things were fine, that he was still the boy who she’d written countless letters to, the one who knew her better than even some of her family. She had to cut him off, even though it hurt -- at least until she could mean it when she said that he was just a friend.
”Tell me more about your work.” She asked. ”I-if you can, of course. I don’t...I don’t suppose I understand what it is that you do.” Her cup sat untouched now, her hands twisting together in her lap. ”Do you like it? Is it what you wanted?”
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Agathon. It was not a name that she was not terribly familiar with, even though she knew he had to be fairly important. He was Alastor’s mentor and even if she didn’t know exactly all of the things that Alastor was responsible for -- he had to at least be some kind of nobility. Right? Her hand lingered on the table around a drink that had been brought by, her free hand pressed into her lap and anxiously smoothing the fabric of her cloak. She forced a smile onto her lips, polite and non-committal.
”You’ve always been smart.” She said. ”If you think it’s a test, you’re probably right.” She shifted in her seat, her shoulders stiff as she found that she could not relax. She did not know how to be around him. Their courtship had been brief, but she had jumped into it without hesitation. She had loved him as openly and fiercely as she did anyone else and then he’d...he’d hurt her.
She dropped her eyes, grateful for the drink to look at because she couldn’t manage to hold his gaze. Her mind bounced from their shared secrets in Euttica to that dark night in the palati. Each blink of her eyes thrust her from one extreme to the other, and she had to stop or she would weep. His question drew her away from her thoughts.
Did she like it? Was she safe?
She cleared her throat, taking a deep breath as if she had a lot to say before she spoke. She chose her words carefully, unsure of how much she should give away. If he had been still a friend, if the events in the palati hadn’t happened, she would not have hesitated at all. She would have told him every miniscule detail. She would have been honest.
”It is...interesting.” She said with a tight lipped smile. ”My lady is very kind, but I think I’m stepping on the toes of the maid she already had.” It was quite the understatement. Xanthippe had made her position on Sara quite clear, and it was becoming painfully obvious that the blonde was not there to help her. She seemed to try to sabotage Sara at every turn, even though Sara just wanted to quietly go about her work.
She glanced down, noting his hand inching towards her. When she looked at it, it stopped and Sara felt her heart fall again. The feeling was painful, and she pulled her own hands out of his reach -- removing the temptation entirely. He had made it very clear that they were not good for each other, that he didn’t want to continue their relationship. And right now, Sara could not bear even the semblance of friendship either. She couldn’t sit here and pretend things were fine, that he was still the boy who she’d written countless letters to, the one who knew her better than even some of her family. She had to cut him off, even though it hurt -- at least until she could mean it when she said that he was just a friend.
”Tell me more about your work.” She asked. ”I-if you can, of course. I don’t...I don’t suppose I understand what it is that you do.” Her cup sat untouched now, her hands twisting together in her lap. ”Do you like it? Is it what you wanted?”
Agathon. It was not a name that she was not terribly familiar with, even though she knew he had to be fairly important. He was Alastor’s mentor and even if she didn’t know exactly all of the things that Alastor was responsible for -- he had to at least be some kind of nobility. Right? Her hand lingered on the table around a drink that had been brought by, her free hand pressed into her lap and anxiously smoothing the fabric of her cloak. She forced a smile onto her lips, polite and non-committal.
”You’ve always been smart.” She said. ”If you think it’s a test, you’re probably right.” She shifted in her seat, her shoulders stiff as she found that she could not relax. She did not know how to be around him. Their courtship had been brief, but she had jumped into it without hesitation. She had loved him as openly and fiercely as she did anyone else and then he’d...he’d hurt her.
She dropped her eyes, grateful for the drink to look at because she couldn’t manage to hold his gaze. Her mind bounced from their shared secrets in Euttica to that dark night in the palati. Each blink of her eyes thrust her from one extreme to the other, and she had to stop or she would weep. His question drew her away from her thoughts.
Did she like it? Was she safe?
She cleared her throat, taking a deep breath as if she had a lot to say before she spoke. She chose her words carefully, unsure of how much she should give away. If he had been still a friend, if the events in the palati hadn’t happened, she would not have hesitated at all. She would have told him every miniscule detail. She would have been honest.
”It is...interesting.” She said with a tight lipped smile. ”My lady is very kind, but I think I’m stepping on the toes of the maid she already had.” It was quite the understatement. Xanthippe had made her position on Sara quite clear, and it was becoming painfully obvious that the blonde was not there to help her. She seemed to try to sabotage Sara at every turn, even though Sara just wanted to quietly go about her work.
She glanced down, noting his hand inching towards her. When she looked at it, it stopped and Sara felt her heart fall again. The feeling was painful, and she pulled her own hands out of his reach -- removing the temptation entirely. He had made it very clear that they were not good for each other, that he didn’t want to continue their relationship. And right now, Sara could not bear even the semblance of friendship either. She couldn’t sit here and pretend things were fine, that he was still the boy who she’d written countless letters to, the one who knew her better than even some of her family. She had to cut him off, even though it hurt -- at least until she could mean it when she said that he was just a friend.
”Tell me more about your work.” She asked. ”I-if you can, of course. I don’t...I don’t suppose I understand what it is that you do.” Her cup sat untouched now, her hands twisting together in her lap. ”Do you like it? Is it what you wanted?”
"You've always been smart."
He wasn't sure how to answer that. Alastor didn't think of himself as smart as he looked back to the decisions he'd made, how he'd comported himself in the middle of the street. His decisions weighed on the impressions of others, as if being accepted by strangers would try to heal the hole in his heart.
No.
He knew it now. He understood when he'd been accosted by rats, when the Drowned moved throughout his city, that no amount of acceptance dealt with the dread. He dreaded the future, being a part of the whole, assimilated and deprived of himself. He wanted honour, and had the means of getting it. But, the notion of getting it and losing his soul? He grit his teeth, the grimace materializing upon his lips for a moment too long as she went on and he answered her in kind.
Get the conversation away from me.
His conflicts were no longer her concern. He'd made sure of that when he tore her heart into pieces. He saw it now, in how she acted, in the sadness settled upon her expression. Her smiles no longer glowed like they used to. Sara was torchlight given flesh. She lit the world around her and now... she was extinguished. The sight of it was a weight on his chest, crushing the air from his lungs as she answered his question with an equally grim prospect.
"Tell me about your work."
It was the last thing he wanted to talk about. It was the thing he'd chosen over her, he realized, not so much in the moment but in the time that'd elapsed since. He'd protected himself and in the process torn her apart. He shook his head as he rose from his chair. A hand skimmed along the back of his chair, then he pulled it along with him and sat himself back down. He was within reach of her now unless she pulled back.
"Before I do that... can I tell you something?" he asked, those azure eyes studying her.
"I messed up, Sara. I really, really messed up and I hurt you. I can't bear it anymore, especially right now. I don't want to just pretend it didn't happen, that I didn't ruin this. I want you to know... I just thought it would help."
A tear dribbled down his cheek as he leaned forward, catching her jaw in his hand before placing a chaste kiss against her lips.
"I miss you."
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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"You've always been smart."
He wasn't sure how to answer that. Alastor didn't think of himself as smart as he looked back to the decisions he'd made, how he'd comported himself in the middle of the street. His decisions weighed on the impressions of others, as if being accepted by strangers would try to heal the hole in his heart.
No.
He knew it now. He understood when he'd been accosted by rats, when the Drowned moved throughout his city, that no amount of acceptance dealt with the dread. He dreaded the future, being a part of the whole, assimilated and deprived of himself. He wanted honour, and had the means of getting it. But, the notion of getting it and losing his soul? He grit his teeth, the grimace materializing upon his lips for a moment too long as she went on and he answered her in kind.
Get the conversation away from me.
His conflicts were no longer her concern. He'd made sure of that when he tore her heart into pieces. He saw it now, in how she acted, in the sadness settled upon her expression. Her smiles no longer glowed like they used to. Sara was torchlight given flesh. She lit the world around her and now... she was extinguished. The sight of it was a weight on his chest, crushing the air from his lungs as she answered his question with an equally grim prospect.
"Tell me about your work."
It was the last thing he wanted to talk about. It was the thing he'd chosen over her, he realized, not so much in the moment but in the time that'd elapsed since. He'd protected himself and in the process torn her apart. He shook his head as he rose from his chair. A hand skimmed along the back of his chair, then he pulled it along with him and sat himself back down. He was within reach of her now unless she pulled back.
"Before I do that... can I tell you something?" he asked, those azure eyes studying her.
"I messed up, Sara. I really, really messed up and I hurt you. I can't bear it anymore, especially right now. I don't want to just pretend it didn't happen, that I didn't ruin this. I want you to know... I just thought it would help."
A tear dribbled down his cheek as he leaned forward, catching her jaw in his hand before placing a chaste kiss against her lips.
"I miss you."
"You've always been smart."
He wasn't sure how to answer that. Alastor didn't think of himself as smart as he looked back to the decisions he'd made, how he'd comported himself in the middle of the street. His decisions weighed on the impressions of others, as if being accepted by strangers would try to heal the hole in his heart.
No.
He knew it now. He understood when he'd been accosted by rats, when the Drowned moved throughout his city, that no amount of acceptance dealt with the dread. He dreaded the future, being a part of the whole, assimilated and deprived of himself. He wanted honour, and had the means of getting it. But, the notion of getting it and losing his soul? He grit his teeth, the grimace materializing upon his lips for a moment too long as she went on and he answered her in kind.
Get the conversation away from me.
His conflicts were no longer her concern. He'd made sure of that when he tore her heart into pieces. He saw it now, in how she acted, in the sadness settled upon her expression. Her smiles no longer glowed like they used to. Sara was torchlight given flesh. She lit the world around her and now... she was extinguished. The sight of it was a weight on his chest, crushing the air from his lungs as she answered his question with an equally grim prospect.
"Tell me about your work."
It was the last thing he wanted to talk about. It was the thing he'd chosen over her, he realized, not so much in the moment but in the time that'd elapsed since. He'd protected himself and in the process torn her apart. He shook his head as he rose from his chair. A hand skimmed along the back of his chair, then he pulled it along with him and sat himself back down. He was within reach of her now unless she pulled back.
"Before I do that... can I tell you something?" he asked, those azure eyes studying her.
"I messed up, Sara. I really, really messed up and I hurt you. I can't bear it anymore, especially right now. I don't want to just pretend it didn't happen, that I didn't ruin this. I want you to know... I just thought it would help."
A tear dribbled down his cheek as he leaned forward, catching her jaw in his hand before placing a chaste kiss against her lips.
"I miss you."
She hadn’t considered how hard it would be to hold a conversation with him again. She felt like she had been tossed out into the Aegean, left to sink or swim and Sara was afraid of the water. She’d never learned to swim, so she was merely sinking. Down, down, down away from the light of the sun and into the darkness of Poseidon’s realm. She was holding her breath, hoping beyond hope that someone would come to her rescue but she wasn’t sure anymore if there would be one. She had been left behind, abandoned by everyone she loved. Forgotten.
She had barely noticed that her gaze had drifted to the table, her entire body going still as she considered this miserable fate. Love was so cruel, she decided. She could scarcely decide if it had even been worth it at all. Can I tell you something? The words made her look up, and she wondered for a moment if he could see how lost she felt.
I messed up, Sara.
She blinked, surprised, and hesitated -- completely unsure if she was hearing only what she wished to or if he was actually saying these words. Her eyebrows crept up, a wary hopefulness that had not yet died making its way into her face. She felt her own tears welling up as one escaped down his face, trickling down to plop on the table between them. Before she’d even taken a breath to reply, he had leaned forward -- catching her face with his hand and pulling her up into his mouth.
Her eyes fluttered closed, her heart pounding already at such a chaste thing. When he pulled back it took her a moment to open her eyes, his face blurry thanks to her own tears. She reached for him, cupping her hand around the back of his neck and pulling him back to her lips. She kissed him heatedly, hungrily, even there where there were a dozen eyes. Let them talk, let them think whatever it was they wanted to about the bastard daughter of a dead man.
”I love you, Alastor.” She said firmly, her heart in her eyes. ”I always will.”
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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She hadn’t considered how hard it would be to hold a conversation with him again. She felt like she had been tossed out into the Aegean, left to sink or swim and Sara was afraid of the water. She’d never learned to swim, so she was merely sinking. Down, down, down away from the light of the sun and into the darkness of Poseidon’s realm. She was holding her breath, hoping beyond hope that someone would come to her rescue but she wasn’t sure anymore if there would be one. She had been left behind, abandoned by everyone she loved. Forgotten.
She had barely noticed that her gaze had drifted to the table, her entire body going still as she considered this miserable fate. Love was so cruel, she decided. She could scarcely decide if it had even been worth it at all. Can I tell you something? The words made her look up, and she wondered for a moment if he could see how lost she felt.
I messed up, Sara.
She blinked, surprised, and hesitated -- completely unsure if she was hearing only what she wished to or if he was actually saying these words. Her eyebrows crept up, a wary hopefulness that had not yet died making its way into her face. She felt her own tears welling up as one escaped down his face, trickling down to plop on the table between them. Before she’d even taken a breath to reply, he had leaned forward -- catching her face with his hand and pulling her up into his mouth.
Her eyes fluttered closed, her heart pounding already at such a chaste thing. When he pulled back it took her a moment to open her eyes, his face blurry thanks to her own tears. She reached for him, cupping her hand around the back of his neck and pulling him back to her lips. She kissed him heatedly, hungrily, even there where there were a dozen eyes. Let them talk, let them think whatever it was they wanted to about the bastard daughter of a dead man.
”I love you, Alastor.” She said firmly, her heart in her eyes. ”I always will.”
She hadn’t considered how hard it would be to hold a conversation with him again. She felt like she had been tossed out into the Aegean, left to sink or swim and Sara was afraid of the water. She’d never learned to swim, so she was merely sinking. Down, down, down away from the light of the sun and into the darkness of Poseidon’s realm. She was holding her breath, hoping beyond hope that someone would come to her rescue but she wasn’t sure anymore if there would be one. She had been left behind, abandoned by everyone she loved. Forgotten.
She had barely noticed that her gaze had drifted to the table, her entire body going still as she considered this miserable fate. Love was so cruel, she decided. She could scarcely decide if it had even been worth it at all. Can I tell you something? The words made her look up, and she wondered for a moment if he could see how lost she felt.
I messed up, Sara.
She blinked, surprised, and hesitated -- completely unsure if she was hearing only what she wished to or if he was actually saying these words. Her eyebrows crept up, a wary hopefulness that had not yet died making its way into her face. She felt her own tears welling up as one escaped down his face, trickling down to plop on the table between them. Before she’d even taken a breath to reply, he had leaned forward -- catching her face with his hand and pulling her up into his mouth.
Her eyes fluttered closed, her heart pounding already at such a chaste thing. When he pulled back it took her a moment to open her eyes, his face blurry thanks to her own tears. She reached for him, cupping her hand around the back of his neck and pulling him back to her lips. She kissed him heatedly, hungrily, even there where there were a dozen eyes. Let them talk, let them think whatever it was they wanted to about the bastard daughter of a dead man.
”I love you, Alastor.” She said firmly, her heart in her eyes. ”I always will.”
