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Post by Alice Brandon on Jun 1, 2008 7:44:18 GMT
It had been a couple of days, maybe a week since the 'incident'. That was what she was calling it since she tried to block out the memories. Of course she couldn't. Who could block out the memories of a heart break, especially with the physical signs on her face. Her whole face had been a medley of black and blues with a few cuts from the sheer strength of the blows. Her lip was slightly swollen on one side, though by now it had gone down, but she was too scared to show her face in public. So instead she spent her time in the forest, hoping to come across Simon or Tristan, though the latter was who she really wanted to see. After that night where both men had hit her, one on purpose, the other . . . she did not know, Alice had cried her heart out in her bedroom at Underwood. It had been the first of many nights she had slept there since she was younger, but the embarrassment of her face kept her from the castle and the Sheriff's prying eyes.
On this particular day, Alice had left her home early and wandered on foot. Tristan had never shown her where the hideout was, though she had a good guess it was near the main road. She didn't know what would happen when she'd see him, or if he'd avoid her completely, but she could not bare the silent pain anymore. She had to speak to him, to explain herself to him. It was only fair as he walked in on the most compromising of scenes. It wasn't like she had encouraged Simon to kiss her, though maybe she had kissed him back. Alice couldn't remember.
As she walked through the forest, the hem of her gown kept catching on twigs. She wore all black as was fitting for her mood. She was in mourning for her broken heart and lost chance at love. Her dark hair was worn down, mainly to hide her face, but also because she was too depressed to braid it back. She carried no money, though a silver dagger was stuffed in her boot just incase she ran into trouble. But who would want to kidnap a ghost? For that is what she felt, her eyes a little red from crying and her cheeks discolored and unnatural. One side had a small scab from the blow Tristan had given her. She winced at the remembrance of the pain. She let a small sigh escape her lips before she crumpled to the ground beside a great oak.
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Tristan Ash
Greensleeves
Romeo and Outlaw Mediator
where for art thou, Romeo?
Posts: 15
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Post by Tristan Ash on Jun 22, 2008 9:12:02 GMT
Unfortunately for Alice, there were still ruffian's who would kidnap a ghost. They themselves were 'dead men', outlaws, and a lot of them who could ally themselves with neither gang would take what - and who - they could. If Alice hadn't felt a pair of keen eyes on her whilst she had wandered it was a miracle. The hungry outlaw had been easily tagging along behind her, covering both of their tracks to avoid interference while he did what he needed to do. Young women almost always had something of value about their person, and if not, then there was always her chastity that could be taken in lieu of other jewels.
His mis-matched boots made no sound on the instrumental forest floor, and any noises he might have made in error were silenced by the girl's fumbling about. When she finally drew closer to a clearing and collapsed beneath the massive oak tree, a nasty grin split his irregular features. He might not be pretty nor have bathed for a good long while, but in the arms of a woman like that even he could feel like a Lord for a few minutes, he'd wager. If he liked her he might even find somewhere to keep her. With a short sword drawn he crept through the brush yards back in the forest to remain unseen before he came upon the woman from behind. Kneeling behind her in a quick, desperate motion, he laid the blade of his sword against her throat.
"Allo, pretty," he crooned in a hoarse, tavern-brawl voice. "Looky what we 'ave 'ere. You must'a known I was lonely!"
It had most definitely been a week. Tristan had been counting the minutes, the hours most carefully since he had last laid eyes on Alice - his Alice - in the arms of Simon. He knew exactly how long it had been since he had felt the simultaneous twisting of a knife in his back and the pain of a broken heart. He would have died for that woman, but would he still? He wasn't entirely sure. While he was she that he had loved her, he didn't know whether he still did. Was it prudent to love a woman who would lay down with your friend? Who else had she kissed since they had been seeing one another? The contemplations were almost too much to bear.
As he wandered through the forest on his way back to camp from Merton he felt entirely at odds with himself. If he were to see Alice this very moment he would more than likely hear her out. Chances of him seeing her in the deepest darkest places in Sherwood Forest were unlikely, however, and he wasn't yet so totally in control of his countenance as to seek her out in Underwood. He trudged along taking no care for the noise he was making and knowing full well that the broad sword belted at his waist and the crossbow slung casually across his back would make light work of nearly anyone who dared to challenge him. It was then that he heard the voice.
Without thinking he raced through the underbrush, picking his crossbow from its fashioned scabbar, unhooking the safety from the notching system and aiming it professionally at the man who had a lady held hostage. At this stage he did not recognise either party, but the mere fact that the man's tone had not incited courage in Tristan than the woman would be unharmed was enough for him to step in.
"Unhand her!" he commanded in a clear baritone. "Leave her, and I will leave you with your life, Sir!"
((OOC: Hope it's okay! Apologies for the delay!))
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Post by Alice Brandon on Jun 23, 2008 2:44:20 GMT
Alice had not heard the ruffian company she had been keeping since she had entered the forest. Slumped against the majestic tree, she rested her head on her arms, her arms hugging her knees to her. Then came the most thrilling and horrifying sound, boots on the forest ground. She looked up hoping and dreading to see Tristan, but instead she saw an even worse sight. It was of a man she didn’t recognize, and he was leering at her. Then he began to speak. His words were like knives to her stomach. Here she was, defenseless, waiting on a whim that Tristan might just appear, and she was probably going to die, or worse.
Trembling only a little, Alice tried to hide her fear as she moved her hand. She remembered the dagger in her boot. It was a good chance and she should go down fighting. What had changed in the little Alice that made her think such big thoughts? She was considered meek and to some, easily persuaded. But since the heartbreak and the bruises, it had unleashed a new strength. Or maybe it was the lack of desire to live. Of course she didn’t want to suffer the fate the man held in his vermin hands, but at the same time it felt like her pitiless existence should be extinguished if it were to be.
But then Alice heard another pair of boots and heard a voice that was sometimes more familiar than her own or her father’s. Her heart rose in her chest before fluttering back down, defeated. With that voice came the memories. She looked down, her hair covering her face and her bruises even more. She didn’t know how he would react if he knew it was her and not some other maiden in trouble. Would he leave her to this terrible fate, or was he really the man she loved. And the worst thing: would he believe her if she told the truth? That kiss had not been her idea of fun, and she didn’t want to be kissed by anyone but Tristan. Still, were they the tragic couple torn apart by stupid mistakes and misunderstandings. Couples like that died for their love.
Alice then looked up as Tristan spoke. Her heart started beating harder. “Tristan” she said before she could prevent the word from escaping her lips. In situations like this, he would be the man she wanted. He would always be her knight in shining armor. No one could replace that, even if things changed. As she looked up at him, her hair shifted, revealing a few bruises and the scab on her lip. She had not noticed it, though her hand subconsciously went up to her cheek for a split second.
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Tristan Ash
Greensleeves
Romeo and Outlaw Mediator
where for art thou, Romeo?
Posts: 15
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Post by Tristan Ash on Aug 10, 2008 10:00:48 GMT
Upon hearing another man’s voice and knowing that he was no longer alone in pursuit of the woman beneath him, the rogue impressing himself upon Alice seemed to realise his error. Though he was now an outlaw, his noble upbringing was not so far removed from Tristan that he spoke with the vulgar colloquialisms of his peers and as the cool, discerning nature of his demands reached the inferior ears of Alice’s attacker, the man did the smart thing and fled. He crashed through the bushes until he reached the nearby track, where he ran without looking back. Tristan, who had still not realised just who the maiden was that owed him her (questionable) virtue, rushed to be near her side and offer what little comfort he could.
Until he saw that it was Alice.
Having previously been intent on helping the poor creature back to her home, husband, father ect. he now found himself in the unhappy situation of not knowing what to do or say. Alice had been occupying his mind pleasantly for the past few months and now ion the short time she had been dallying with Simon she had managed to destroy his trust, his confidence and his faith in her. When she said his name and his eyes met hers across the small space in between them, Tristan was torn between feeling an odd mixture of confusion, anger and embarrassment. Had she meant to be out here with some man? Had Tristan suddenly dev eloped a knack for stumbling upon her at her most crass moments?
Looking her up and down as though he could hardly believe his eyes, Tristan’s first assumption that this was a lady who had been stolen from her home by a ruffian soon became something infinitely more sinister. He shot her a questionable look; betraying his inner suspicions and merely saying nothing for the time being. He swallowed heavily in a bid to devour some of the anger he had been chewing, cud-like ever since he had witnessed the kiss between his beloved and his fellow outlaw. It tasted like acid bile in his mouth, and it was a bitter pill to swallow, knowing that she cared so little for him when he would have gladly laid down his life to protect her.
“Oh,” he blurted finally, sick of the silken silence stretching between them, becoming more looped and ensnaring like a spider’s web with every passing second. “It’s you.”
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Post by Alice Brandon on Aug 10, 2008 17:23:28 GMT
Alice felt the sudden relief once the outlaw ran away, but now it left her and Tristan alone. That is what she wanted, to be alone with Tristan so she could explain herself. Somehow she thought now was not the time he would listen, but she had to try. She looked up at him and cringed from his expression. What must he think of me? she wondered to herself. "Oh thank you! That man was horrible and I thought I was surely going to . . ." she trailed off. Then there was silence. Tristan did not step away from her, but he did not touch her either. Instinctively, she moved her hand to swipe back her hair, revealing the bruises on her cheek created by Simon and Tristan. The pain was still there, throbbing slightly when the wind touched it, but she did not notice it, being so close to the one her heart beat for.
And then he spoke. To her those words sounded like an accusation. As if it was slightly expected that she would be found in a compromising position. "Tristan, I only meant to find you, and then this man came," she replied, stopping short. Then she composed herself, looking down at her small and delicate hands. "What you saw the other night were the results of my futile attempts at reconciling with Simon. I did not know he would (pause) kiss me, but when he did I tried to fight him off. But he was strong. And then you came in at the wrong moment." Somehow Alice knew these words would fall on deaf ears. And saying them did not make her feel better. She wanted to see some sign that Tristan did not hate her or blame her. She wanted him to hold her hand, maybe to put his arms around her for comfort, but instead she shifted back, making more space between them.
Alice wasn't the best with conflict, and she tried to avoid it as much as possible. But here is was now, laughing in her face and all she wanted to do was curl up in a little ball and disappear. If only a word could make this all go away. If only it were that simple. She thought about what she could say. The things she had thought about, but and never considered saying allowed too soon. Alice was a fierce and hopeless romantic and she felt things quite strongly. She had felt quite strongly for Tristan as well. She took a deep breath.
"Tristan," she said, her voice caressing the name as she spoke it. "I love you," she said quietly and then quickly added, "I'm sorry," before looking down at her hands again. She knew that telling a man of her love first was not a good thing. It gave him power of her, but right now she did not think convention was in order and if that was how she felt, then why could she not express it?
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Tristan Ash
Greensleeves
Romeo and Outlaw Mediator
where for art thou, Romeo?
Posts: 15
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Post by Tristan Ash on Sept 2, 2008 3:55:15 GMT
Tristan was usually far more sympathetic to creatures in need than he was at this precise moment. The fact that he had endured such pain at the hands of both Alice and Simon, whether such pain was intentional on all counts or not – was not an easy thing to get over and although he wanted to believe her apologies and explanations Tristan was not entirely sure that he would be able to. When her exclamation of gratitude faded into the hungry green forest surrounding them Tristan was disappointed in her; he would have liked to hear her speak some more. When she opened up again he listened as attentively as he could given the circumstances, wishing and hoping that she might say something – anything – to heal the breach between them.
She was a gentleman’s daughter, and here she was wandering the forest in the middle of the night and all for him. She further risked her honour and name (Tristan, having formerly been a noble was sensitive to the delicate nature of both) all for the desire of seeing him? The ice around his heart began to sweat. He could see the anguish in her eyes, which he now gazed into, and feel the ingenuity in her words which he had previously refused to hear. Perhaps she did love him after all. Perhaps she did. He let out a long, soft breath when she said that she loved him and she was sorry. He had been such a fool, but he was also still wary.
“I love you too,” he finally admitted, looking up to Heaven for guidance before capturing her gaze once more. “But tell me, Alice – Could there have been a right moment for me to come in? What would I have seen if I had’ve been a moment early or a moment late?” His eyes mirrored the question his lips posed, and he knew that if she gave the wrong answer he would not be able to let himself trust her again.
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Post by Alice Brandon on Sept 2, 2008 5:35:54 GMT
To hear Tristan admit that he loved her back made her feel like there was hope. She could see in his eyes something changing and she had the sudden urge to hug him, but her better judgment prevented her from doing so. She had just encountered something pretty terrible and then to have the one person she wanted to see come and save her, but not sweep her off her feet into an epic kiss made her feel lacking. She looked up at him, finding her eyes focusing more on the lower part of his face as the desire to be near welled up inside. She couldn't understand her strong desires and needs, but to hear the I love you suddenly unlocked something within her, even if she had said it first.
"Truthfully Tristan," she began to say, letting her hair fall back completely to reveal her still injured face. She couldn't think of anything else to say. "You came at the one moment that I needed you most." Basically she was saying that she was glad he came then to simply save her. The fact that later would have been worse simply because the act would have been done and she would not know how to explain it made him coming then better. Though coming sooner would have made the situation less dramatic. "I need you right now," she then added softly and truthfully. Her body was shaking slightly as the tears fought to escape. She yearned for the comfort of his arms and the warmth of himself near her, but she did not have the courage to move to him, still afraid that he was angry.
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