there was perhaps more to river than jessica could suspect, more to him that made them more of kindred spirits than to the extent they already were. although, the things that threatened to distinguish him, in the worst way possible, were not ones he tried to give much thought to, terrified about the conclusions he might draw. it had been instilled in him from a young age that his lot in life was to honor his family name, to be a man worthy of it, and to ensure it carries on to someone else who would be tasked with such things, too, in due time. should the current senior barkley have any say ( and if habits persisted, he absolutely would ), there was no room for any deviations from such standards, no allowances for diverging from such a clearly delineated path. for as much scrutiny and potential disapproval that jessica might receive for all the alone time she was spending with a boy, river was likely to get the opposite reception; his parents would undoubtedly see the groundwork for a potential courtship and begin trying to suss jessica out, in regards to suitability — more than they had been already, river was quite sure. not that he would want her to get roped into any obligations of matrimony with him. on paper, he might have been a societal ideal: he came from money, he had manners, he was the eldest ( and only ) son of a well-connected family, and he’d been well-educated. but that was just on paper, and there was quite a bit below his surface level that could surely negate all of that, parts of a troubled soul that seemed to only push him deeper into general despondency at a list of things that seemed to just be continually growing.
but none of those things were things to dwell on now, not when they’d been able to steal a few moments of freedom and take advantage of them in such a youthfully and innocently joyous way, perhaps something of a last grasp at the adolescence they were growing out of all too quickly. or, at the very least, an opportunity to poke sufficient fun at their elders, even if jessica proved much better at it than he. her assessment of their likely exchanges inside the house were amusingly accurate, and he stalled in packing snow together to laugh lightly and give a fond shake of his head. “well, now i truly don’t feel so bad about sneaking off — you make it feel like i’m still there.”
as she wondered aloud about how best to decorate their final product, he stepped back for a more comprehensive view, assessing each option before her final conclusion snapped him out of his quasi-reverie. despite the evidence of surprise in his expression, brows raised and lips parted just slightly as if he had just stopped short of offering a response, river knew she was right. he exhaled, turning back to the incomplete snowman, hands on his hips as he gave it another once over in consideration. “well … we can’t have a stupid looking snowman,” he echoed after a moment or two of silent vacillation, in resignation to the fact that it was indeed their best option. he glanced hesitantly back towards the house, which provided many potential ports of entry, though not all would allow for the necessary subtlety. “we’ll have to go in a back way,” river concluded. “and we may have to be a bit unconventional about it if we’d really like to go undetected.”
EXT : THEIR WORLD IS A FROSTED DELIGHT, A FAINT LAYER OF ICING UPON THEIR CAKE - DOOMED LIVES, THE SNOW HERE AS CLIPPED AND TENDED TO AS THE GRASS ITSELF ( PERHAPS THAT'S WHY SHE TOOK SUCH PLEASURE IN DESTROYING IT ). THE AFTERNOON STILL HOLDS THE COLD TINGLE OF FRESH MORNING AIR.
JESSICA: as happy as i am that i can so artfully recreate my mother's machinations, i'll have to respectfully ask you to never say that again [ ... ] especially in front of my mother ( and any other company for that matter, you know how these people can gossip ). I'M AFRAID SHE'D FIND IT TOO JOYOUS TO SUPPOSE THERE ARE ANY SIMILARITIES BETWEEN US --- and we know that i must escape my mother's joy in any way possible.
A CLOSE UP : jessica's hands are gloved, a silken softness twisting around her palms ( truly not made for this kind of brutal weather --- gloves meant for dinner parties and general aesthetics, as fashion was little more than a quick look - at - me statement as you entered a room ). A PASSING THOUGHT, ALMOST LAUGHABLE --- mother won't be happy. they'll be absolutely ruined by the time she makes another appearanced, soaked to the bone through the flimsy material, and jessica knows she should care more [ just as she knows she doesn't care, not truly, not in a way that counts --- THIS IS THE MOST FUN SHE'S HAD SINCE CHILDHOOD HAD BLOSSOMED UNTARNISHED AGAINST HER TONGUE ]. she wrings them together, knuckle passing across knuckle, her thumb rubbing upon her palm. self - comfort sprung anew, a gesture that her mother had once enacted, a gesture that she know mimics with maternal intent. A MOTHER CONSUMES : jessica wishes herself to be eaten alive, the vague gaping maw of a motherly home, hoping that warmth would come to her again. HER HANDS ARE SO COLD.
JESSICA: that sounds like a rather fetching plan. give me your arm, so it looks as if we're merely out on a stroll together [ ... ] we're surely being watched.
THE CAMERA OFFERS A WIDE SHOT : jessica as viewed from others, slipping her hand into the nook of the gentleman's arm ( a courting by any other name --- as if jessica hadn't been utterly bewitched earlier by the soft column of the kitchen maid's throat, all unscarred pale skin laid to waste beneath a collar ). SHE PRESSES HER CHEEK AGAINST HIS SHOULDER, A FOND GESTURE --- one that her mother would surely lecture her on tonight. they rush together, arm in arm, a speed that borders on a breathless run as they make their way towards the back of the house.
