As You Were [Tag Rose]

[conormccarthy]

It was not often the Conor found himself with some free time in the middle of the day to do exactly as he wanted. Arnold the smith had given him leave to deliver some important pieces to the hall in Locksley. He'd then said that Conor could have a few hours to himself before he was expected back in Knighton.

The walk to Locksley was a short one at best, but naturally Conor had gone to the stables and tacked up the horse most dear to his heart. The horse in question was a beautifully built palomino mare. Her pelt was so light, she reminded him of clouds at sunset when the sun was just beginning to tinge them with colour. The golden-yellow colour was striking and rare, and fit the guise of a maiden's horse. But Conor would never part with her; Lissie would never know another hand but his.

After the joyous ride to Locksley, Conor had stopped at the manor to deliver Arnold’s packages and then headed toward the lake. The day was bright, and Conor wanted to take advantage of the warmth by having a swim. He was in need of bathing anyway, so a dip in the lake would clean as well as sooth.

Stripping and donning a makeshift breechclout made of thick cotton to cover his modesty, Conor stepped into the lake. Lissie stood on the bank, grazing contentedly while her owner waded deeper into the lake.

The water was refreshingly cool as Conor sank in up to his neck and the stable hand was glad of the time to actually enjoy it. He splashed around for a while before making an effort to get rid of the dirt and grime that had accumulated over the week. As he was cleaning his shoulder, he caught a glimpse of the oak tree that he knew stood in front of Rose's home. He had hoped to see her when he dropped the blacksmith's delivery off but there was no luck.

It had been a week or more since he had met her. The next day, he’d gotten up early and ridden over to the meadow to pick a bunch of flowers to replace the ones he’d dropped. He had left them on her doorstep, sure that she'd find them when she went out to work at the manor. He wondered if she had enjoyed them. Conor decided to pick her some more before he left to go back to Knighton. It was a pity she would be working; else he might entertain the idea of working up the courage to call on her.

He thought of the small gift he had brought with him that he intended to leave on her doorstep this time. It was a simple braid of laces, plaited neatly and not wider than his little finger nail. The laces had been spare, and the lather-worker though she might enjoy it to use to tie her flower bunches or perhaps as a bracelet or necklace. It was hardly an extravagant gift, but he hoped she might appreciate the subtle beauty of it.

Conor wasn’t even sure why he wanted to give her something, but it seemed like the nice thing to do. She might enjoy it, and he would be free of those darned laces that haunted his dreams. At least the laces now served some aesthetic appeal. Perhaps he should learn to make beads, and then he could sell the lace braids as jewelry. Encouraged by that idea, Conor began to think on where to by the bone and tools to fashion beads.

He glanced over at Lissie and glad to see she was still happily grazing where he had left her, his disgarding clothes nearby, he relaxed in the cooling waters of the lake.

[Rose Barns]

rose BARNS

The week had been long. The little joyous moment Rose had experienced meeting Conor and receiving his flowers the next day felt like a lifetime ago. Perhaps Rose had aged greatly since Asher had found out her identity. Since then, Rose had not gone to work. So when Conor had arrived at Locksley Manor, Rose had not been there to see him. Instead she had been at home. Or more precisely, she had been in the forest near her home. Not too far in where it could have been dangerous, but far enough so that no one she knew could see her tears. Rose would never cry in front of anyone. It was not in her nature, not since she had seen the strongest of her family reduced to blubbering nothings. It wasn’t that she was unsympathetic, but she feared she too would turn into a weakling like her mother and embrace the madness. Rose would not embrace the madness.

Perhaps she spent hours, maybe only minutes, but finally Rose started to walk back toward her house. There was a lake nearby where she used to swim in with her brother and Asher. The though of taking a dip sounded like a good idea. No one would be there to see her. On the way, Rose picked a few flowers, turning them into a little wreath that she placed on her head. She wore a pale green dress. Impractical for every day life, but something she saved for special occasions. Why she had put it on this morning? Perhaps she had suspected running into someone she would want to look her best as, or maybe she was planning on attending the little dance the children had decided to put together. The villagers rarely had any reason to celebrate, but with the few coins she had left, stolen from the local treasury, given to them, they had a happy week. Perhaps that would be the last of the gifts she would give them. Maybe she would burn her mask, though she didn’t want to. But maybe it was for the best. Or maybe there were too many maybes.

Rose didn’t really notice Conor as she approached the lake. His attention seemed to be toward her house, and her’s seemed to be on taking of her dress. Underneath was a thick enough shift that wouldn’t go see through in the water. Deftly, her dress came off, the wreath of flowers laid on top, and she slipped into the water with a little splash. The first thing she did was dunk her head. She didn’t want to kill herself, but she did enjoy the feeling of being under water. Minutes seemed to pass as she sunk to the bottom. Her plan was to kick off once she touched ground.

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[conormccarthy]

Conor had drifted over to the deeper part of the lake, drawing in a deep breath so he could float easily along the surface. It was strange to feel weightless, and Conor could feel worries he didn't know he had releasing their stressful hold on him. He could just relax, with nothing in the world to trouble him. Except perhaps - he looked over to Lizzie, but she was still standing on the lake's edge. In fact, she seemed to be watching something.

Following the line of her gaze, he was utterly surprised to see Rose coming along the lake's bank. What was she doing here? She seemed to be fiddling with the back of her dress, and Conor noticed in passing that it was much more extravagant than the simple one he had met her in. Was she going to a party? To meet a noble? It only became obvious to Conor what she had been doing when she peeled her dress away to reveal her plain undergarments.

Much to his embarrassment, Conor was now staring at Rose as she arranged her dress on the bank and took a wreath of flowers from her head. Shame stabbed at him, and he exhaled sharply as he looked away. She hadn't noticed him, so perhaps he could sneak away before she realised he had been a voyeur to her undressing. Unfortunately for Conor, exhaling so swiftly caused him to sink.

With a few bubbles of surprise, Conor swam back up to the surface and took a deep lungful of air. He looked around for Rose, but she had disappeared. A set of ripples that were not in the same pattern as his own suggested along with the train of small bubbles and a ghostly pale shape under the surface that she had indeed entered the water. Transfixed, Conor could only think to tread water as the air caught in her scant clothing rose to the surface, followed by a few she must have exhaled.

[Rose Barns]

rose BARNS

Rose felt her feet touch the bottom and she kicked up, propelling herself to the top. As her head broke through the water, she raked her hair back with her fingers and then suddenly saw a figure in the water. She blinked a few times as the droplets fell from her face and her vision cleared. Suddenly she recognized the blond hair and sweet face of Conor, the man she had met a week ago. And then it dawned on her how she must look, and how he looked! This was definitely not proper for a young woman to be seen like this by a young man. But then this was not as bad as Asher taking off her mask and revealing her identity.

"Oh, hello," Rose said with a smile, dipping down so her chin was resting on the surface of the water. Her blue eyes reflected the light from the lake as she looked up at the man. She looked back at her clothing at the bank and then wondered if Conor was wearing any clothes. She blushed at the thought and looked back at Conor, making sure not to look down. Rose was very innocent and naive when it came to men. "What are you doing here?" It was a friendly question.

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[conormccarthy]

The shape suddenly came toward the surface, and Conor tried to scramble backward but doing so in water was not easy with such fast movement. She came up a little distance away with a splash of water sending roiling ripples across the surface to lap at his bare shoulders. Rose blinked water from her eyes, and Conor noticed it had spiked her eyelashes into distinctive points.

She looked directly at him, blowing his chances of sneaking away without being noticed or recognised. She greeted him, glanced over at the bank where his clothes were folded and then her face reddened. Conor looked away, his own blush blooming brightly on his cheeks despite the cool water around him. She asked him what he was doing here, and his jaw worked, but the only sound that came out was a strangled 'ahum'.

They were both dressed in nothing but underwear, and she was addressing him as if they were fully clothed and having a normal conversation! Conor wished he had ground under his feet, at least then he wouldn't drown before he could make his excuses and take his leave. To preserve her modesty, he turned away, staring intently at his horse. Perhaps if he didn't look at her, he wouldn't feel so dastardly for having watched her undress. He almost sunk again as he remembered and had to give a strong kick of his legs to stay afloat.

Steeling himself, Conor gathered some courage to reply. "Umeyemswimmin." He said, so fast that it was almost unintelligible. It felt so rude to turn his back on her but he could hardly look at her without feeling as if he'd turned into a peeping tom.