Come One, Come All

[donjavier]

Javier jumped slightly as Isabel shuddered back into consciousness, taking a deep gasp of air as she sat up. He smiled in spite of himself as she called him by the shortened version of his name. He should probably be more concerned by the fact she’d just passed out, but he couldn’t help but be pleased by it. He guessed that wasn’t the reason she’d passed out, then. “Yes, I said you can call me that.” He replied teasingly, a grin spreading over his face. He should probably be acting with more decorum, given her present state, but it was just what came naturally to him. He’d try to keep himself in check in future, he decided.

The next minute, though he let out an ungainly snort, but managed to prevent himself from laughing properly when her mask slid down her nose and ended up around her throat. She was clearly still feeling the effects of her sudden fainting fit, and having some lord giggling at her probably wasn’t going to help. He considered resettling the mask over her eyes, but decided against it. If she wasn’t feeling well, it was probably best to keep it off. Plus, he wasn’t sure she’d be comfortable with him doing so.

His suspicions were confirmed when she slipped her hand out of his a moment later. Abashed, he shuffled to his feet and dusted his knee’s down “That will teach me to wear white to a fair.” He joked, trying to cover up his slight embarrassment. He turned and looked around the hall - it was new, from what he gathered, the old one having been burnt down before he‘d arrived. The walls were pristine, the lime having settled down to a soft cream colour, and the windows were draped in a tasteful, lightly patterned moss green fabric. Somehow, he couldn’t quite imagine the Sebastian Mannering had ordered it decorated like this.

He turned back round when Isabel asked about what’d happened. Seeing as she didn’t seem to be slapping him for being inappropriate, he judged it’s be alright if he sat down next to her. He ignored the fact that she was probably in no fit state to slap him anyway.

“You fainted” He replied, turning to look at her from where he sat. He felt a strange sense of pride that he’d known the word and not had to pause to think of it “You gave me fear” he faltered this time, “Wait, you don’t say it like this in English?” It appeared his pride had come on a bit too soon. Frowning, he tired to think of English grammar rules. In France, he’d had to go over them countless times, and even then he’d never perfected them - there’d been so few times to practice, and then there’d been no time at all. Now he was here, doing the best job he could. He thought some of the nobles tolerated his poor use of the English language just so they could try and probe into his past. The higher up you got, the more powerful knowledge became. Thankfully, his broken speech was the perfect way of avoiding their questions.

Javier looked over at Isabel again. She was tying the mask over her face again. Que lastima, he thought, she was quite beautiful, it was a shame to hide it behind the paper construction. And she’d not prodded and poked him for information - perhaps it made her even more beautiful in his eyes. He nudged himself mentally. Perhaps he should stop staring at her and start acting a bit more like a Lord. He cleared his throat and made to make a trifling comment about the decor of the place, but he was forestalled by Issie’s thanking him. “De nada” He replied, smiling, and resisting the urge to take her hand again “It was nothing” He looked around the room again “It is so very different from Spanish houses,” He commented, thinking out loud “All our houses are white. Apart from in the north, in Galicia. There all the houses are grey, like the weather. All Galician’s are miserable, because of the rain.” He turned back to Isabel, grinning again “They told me all English people were miserable, too. I think they lied.”

He averted his gaze after that. He was not doing a very good job of not being overly familiar. He broke into a smile again, though, when she started drumming her fingers on the wooden bench. He could not imagine any of the highborn ladies he had met doing such a thing."I do not think I like tournaments. Too noisy, too..." Javier thought for a moment before finishing her sentence “Ruidoso” He flicked his eyes back to hers as he said it “That is how we say it in Spain. Demasiado ruidoso” He wondered dimly if perhaps it was a bit to arrogant of him to instruct her as to how to say it in his language, then he remembered - he was a lord. It was there job to be arrogant.

“De nada” He repeated at her second bout of thanks. He seemed unable to slip back into English now “I did not mind” He said with slight effort, though without the irritating click of the fingers.

[xarae]

Isabel smiled with relief when he confirmed her question. It felt nice to be, well, personal with the nobleman. For just a moment, it made her feel special. "Good, then. I'd hate to go around calling you sir forever. It's such a drab word."

Issie rolled her eyes, but refrained from saying anything as her mask slid downwards. She supposed the ribbon had been jostled when he'd laid her down, though how exactly he'd managed to get her inside was still a mystery. The most obvious option was that he'd dragged her, but for some reason she couldn't imagine him doing that. Isabel ignored the turmoil brewing inside her mind for the sake of preventing another headache and fiddles listlessly with a loose thread on her dress.

Oops. From the way he hurriedly stood up after she'd taken her hand back, Isabel reasoned she had offended him. It was too late to take his hand back now without looking like a fool, so she merely looked pointedly at the ground. She would have liked to say something - anything - to make the situation better, but she was at a loss for words.

She forced a smile at his joke, knowing very well it was to cover up her slight folly of taking away her hand. The intricacies of social interaction had always been a lost cause with the girl, so she assumed it was best to not say anything at all and let him ponder his supposedly bruised ego in peace.

Issie took this opportunity to inspect her surroundings. Lord Mannering had said this was his home now, though it hardly seemed suited to his personality with all the dull muted greens that seemed to be floating around. If Isabel had it her way, she'd drown the hallway in shades of deep chocolate and burgundy. Then again, she'd never get the chance to "have it her way," so she satisfied her craving for redecoration in her mind, imagining various shades of colors where lifeless beiges and greens already lay.

It was slightly startling when he took a seat next to her, but she figured the original boundaries between noble and peasant had long since been trespassed. Isabel smiled warmly, glad that he sought her company instead of leaving like most nobles would. Hell, most nobles would have left her on the ground outside.

"Hmm? Oh... yes, I suppose the fair was just too much. Too many people all in one place... quite constricting, really." Fainted... when was the last time I did that? Isabel vaguely recalled passing out in a tree once when she was eight, but that was only because Claire hadn't ceased crying for two days for lack of food. She'd climbed the tree in an effort to get away from the dratted noise, and then eventually lack of sleep mixed with a terrible migraine had caused her to faint. Falling out of the tree was not fun, she recalled.

She smiled slightly when his English faltered. It was an endearing habit, though she supposed the nobles found it quite tiring. Issie glanced over at him, her mouth slightly parted as if to say something, but she closed it quickly when she saw him staring. Quite flattering, really... Isabel blushed lightly, but didn't look away. Just like when she'd first met him in the square, it truly felt good to be watched. Or, rather, stared at. At the very least, she felt wanted.

He cleared his throat, and her blush deepened. Isabel turned quickly to the left, her hair swinging over her shoulder. She made as if she was inspecting one of the boring, green-and-beige threaded tapestries that was hanging from the wall across and to the left of the bench, but was really trying to shake off the effects of his stare. His words about Spanish houses went over her head, though his last sentence stuck with her. Isabel smiled coyly, but didn't move to look back at him, seemingly too enthralled in the tapestry.

"Not all of us are miserable, true enough."

Issie tilted her head to the side as he finished her sentence for her, in Spanish no less. She waited a moment before speaking. "Demasiado ruidoso?" The words felt strange on her tongue, tasting of some spice she couldn't identify. "Did I get it right?" Issie asked, finally looked back at him. Her gaze was curious and eager and she obviously meant it. Isabel liked learning new things, one of the few reasons she could write properly, unlike many other peasants.

Now quite enthused, Isabel took his hand again, trying to ignore the furious tingling that was dancing in her spine. "Javi, do you think... well, would you mind teaching me some Spanish if I help you with your English?" She offered, smiling, if a bit shyly.

Feel my heart in your hands
Can we start this all over again?

This time I'm only 18 inches from you.
This is not the worst that has happened

text in purple © we the kings
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[donjavier]

Javi shrugged as Isabel told him of her dislike for the word “sir”. “I always used to think it was-” He paused to think for a moment “Not so bad. Better.” When he had first started acting a lord, people calling him sir had been such a novelty. He’d loved it, the power it gave him. As a fisherman he’d always had to be the one calling other people sir, and maybe he had briefly dreamed of what it would be like If he was in that position. The whirling colours of the Spanish nobles, their fiestas, there dances. Especially their dances. That world always held something for him, something forbidden and enchanting and frightening all in one. Now he was part of it. It occurred to him, though, that Isabel was still in the position he once was. He sympathised with her, but he couldn’t think of the word “sir” as a drab.

“No pasa nada.” He continued, thinking out loud “It is not… important. I don not want you to call me Sir. Javier, or Javi-” he grinned at her “Is fine.” He vaguely wondered again how much trouble he would get in for letting her call him that. No more than he would get in for carrying her around the air and taking her into ‘Bastian’s home, he supposed. As long as she didn’t do anything awful, he should be alright. But he wouldn’t put it past her. He remembered how she’d refused his coin in the market place -- days ago. She had to get her money somehow. Perhaps fainting on rich nobles was one way of doing it.

As he stood up slipped his hand subtly to his purse, hoping Issie wouldn‘t notice. He didn’t want her to think he didn’t trust her, he just couldn’t be too careful. He hardly knew her, after all, even if he did feel some strange affinity to her. It was still there. He scolded himself for thinking Issie capable of robbing him. Maybe she was, but if she had wanted to do so she could have already. Maybe she had something else in mind.

He closed his eyes momentarily, trying to force the thoughts from his head. He’d been enjoying spending time with Isabel, he didn’t want to ruin it with suspicion and unease. He was glad when she smiled at him as he sat down. He‘d had a fleetingly worry she would think him impertinent, but he’d had enough of second-guessing himself.

“Too much?” He was getting a bad habit of repeating peoples words, he thought. “The only time I have known people fait from to much was with vino, wine.” He grinned at her. She seemed slightly troubles, and he hoped his gentle teasing would lighten the mood. Then again, he’d probably feel troubled if he’d just passed out in public, and he doubted the jesting of some ponsey noble would make him feel better. He shrugged mentally. He couldn’t know what it was like to pass out in public, it’d never happened to him, and probably never would. He was a man, for one. Men tended not to have fainting fits in the way women did, or at all, for that matter. His mind wandered vaguely onto how very different women were from men. They saw things differently, acted on them differently. Apart from Issie. He glanced over at her when he thought that. On the outside the was every inch a woman, perfectly formed perfectly- perhaps he shouldn’t think about that too much. But on the inside she had something he hadn’t found in any other woman he had met. Sure, there had been other headstrong peasants in Spain, but none of them had quite had her daring, or her wit.

He turned away abruptly. He realised he’d been looking at her with more than polite intent. Had he been the type to blush, he would have, but being who he was, he settled for appearing very interested in the décor of the place and smiling softly at his own impertinence.

He snorted before he could stop himself at her attempt to speak Spanish “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He said, but laughter was sneaking into his words “No, it was good, truly,” He added, trying to recover “It’s just tú accento, your accent. ¡Es terrible!” He had to put a hand to his mouth to try and stop himself from laughing again. “Lo siento.”

Javi felt a jolt as she took his hand in hers again. “¡Por supuesto!” He replied to her question, as eager to teach as much as he was to learn “Bueno, empezamos.” He lifted her hand up, stroking her flingers with his own “Dedos.” He told her, before moving his fingers to circle her palm “Mano.” Then he moved his hand along her arm, and up to caress her shoulder “Brazo… Espalda,” A smiled crept to the corner of his lips. He ran his hand up her neck to cup her face “Rostra,” He wasn’t really instructing her any more, merely letting out a string of words. The real meaning was in his action “Labios,” He continued, as he lifted is thumb to brush softly against her bottom lip. “Y besar. To kiss.”

[xarae]

Isabel restrained herself from doing something childish when he spoke, like sticking out her tongue or huffing in over played, dramatic annoyance. Sir was indeed a drab word, but if he couldn't tell that it tasted like wet ashes, she wouldn't bother to explain. He'd only look at her curiously, laugh, or worst of all, get up and leave. Issie had a feeling that she'd like him to be close from now on. Quite close.

She smiled in relief as he explained that it was fine to call him by name. Javier, or rather Javi as he seemed to prefer, was a nice name. A good name. Issie leaned back against the stone wall, her smile still in place. "Good. I like that." Vaguely, she found herself wondering the same as him - just how much trouble could he get into for this? Certainly not trouble, but rather that frosty exclusion that the nobles seemed to have so well practiced. Issie would hate to see him spurned on her part, because it was after all entirely her fault for fainting. Then again, it was his good will that caused him to drag her here. Again, this brought up the slightly confusing thought of just how he brought her here.

He didn't seem like he had just dragged her in an undignified manner through the mud, and there was no splattering on her dress. Must've carried me. Her train of thought crashed and burned at this, making her face turn a shade pinker than normal. The thought of his hands at her waist seemed terribly improper, Though this not what bore most heavily on her mind. Mainly, she was a bit upset at the fact that she hadn't been awake to know the feel on his hands around her. Isabel shrugged it off, fiddling with the sleeve of her dress and trying not to think about it too much.

While he suavely slid his hand into his purse, her eyes were elsewhere, focused on the tapestry to his right. It was quite unobtrusive, the colors nearly blending with the wall. This was unsettling. If Issie had been in charge of decorating, she would have done so with flair. And of course with colors that were more pleasant to look at (and taste) than the bland beiges and hunter greens that were spread throughout the Hall.

Isabel smiled slightly, swatting his shoulder gently. "Not a drop of wine has touched my lips all day, I'll have you know," She said, laughing softly. The words were true - if you didn't count the taste of Sebastian's name, which she didn't. Her father enjoyed a good pint of ale when he came across it, but no one in her family was a drunk. She'd seen men - pathetic, beaten, sorry excuses for men - slumped against the outer wall of their cottages, shirts stained and stinking of alcohol. She truly pitied the women who had to clean up their messes. Especially their vomit. Issie shuddered slightly, setting this thought aside. It was too disturbing.

Bringing herself back to the present and away from such unappealing thoughts, she noticed he was staring at her - quite openly, as well. She blushed lightly, but didn't look away, holding his gaze for a moment longer than necessary. Isabel sighed softly, then averted her eyes. Stolen looks were fine, but it was quite obvious nothing would come of it. A peasant? A noble? It was laughable, though she knew quite a few pretty village girls who warmed the beds of those higher in standard than themselves. Isabel also knew she had too much pride for such... dirty work.

The moment was lost when he began laughing at her attempt at Spanish. Issie rolled her eyes, tugging slightly on his sleeve in a joking manner. "Hmph! Well, I apologize for my lack of accent, not all of us are natives," She said. The words were slightly curt, but the humorous glint in her eyes was entirely fun-loving. There was hardly a serious thing about her.

Isabel smiled winningly. The beginning of his words were lost on her, but as he began to touch her gently, the meaning dawned on her. At first, she softly repeated the words back to him, trying to match the sound of the rolling syllables as best as she could, but eventually she dwindled off, lost in the soft feeling of his fingers of her skin. Ever so slightly, she leaned into his touch, giving him permission via body language to go farther, if he pleased. Issie shivered lightly as his fingers brushed against her neck, trying to contain her emotions. He's only teaching me Spanish, only teaching me Spanish, only teaching me Spanish...

Her breath caught in her throat when she felt his fingers on her lip. She stiffened, but only slightly before relaxing noticeably. Her eyelids fluttered closed, but a few moments later she opened them, gently taking his hand by the wrist and moving it away. All it would take was to close the few inches of space between them, all it would take was a little impulse... Issie took a second, perhaps two, to think it over before she leaned in. "Besar?" She repeated under her breath before pressing her lips to his.

If I don't listen to talk of the town
Maybe I can fool myself

I'll get over you, I know I will
I'll pretend my ship's not sinking

text in purple © go west
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