Sofya: *One moment, she had been holding her mother's hand, Ronald squeezing her shoulder, being told the strange story of how their mother had been saved. Her upper lip was stiff--she refused to cry, for this was happy news, their family at least was safe (though Father was not leaving her side and was fussier than her Grandma at the moment). The next moment, or so it seemed to Sofya--and this was even stranger to her, she was riding bareback, through the forest, still in a torn ball gown, red hair flying free and whipping her neck. She wasn't sure she recalled the details of her in between properly: she must have asked for leave to go to sleep, she recalled hugging her brother, had a vague memory of embracing an intoxicated Vlad. Somewhere on the way to her bedroom it had occurred to her that Hector and Mitchell were on foot, that there were wards for a mile preventing apparition, that if she hurried she may be able to find them. Though the chance was small, her mind was made in a moment. Hector's face seemed seared into the back of her eyelids.His guilt, his defiance, his horror and the half mumbled defense to her, "I didn't mean--" had seemed to stop her heart in her chest. She hadn't been able to wrench her eyes from him until he left. Now she slowed the horse in frustration, muttering under her breath,* This is folly. *It was the second time, she thought amused, that she had run into the forest to catch him without remembering why she had. Dismounting, she hardly could feel her legs as she stepped to a tree to rest. There was a river nearby, she thought, she could at least sit in reflection, away from the nightmare of court before she returned. Sitting on a stone, she was startled to see she'd slipped the bandage on her forearm, and set about replacing it with heavy breath. The task was not sufficient to erase Hector from her mind-either Stone, in truth, for it seemed without them, she would be motherless now.*
Mitchell: *At his urging, they had split up. Sonja, Arthur, and Kenneth would be arriving at their camp directly, but he and Hector we're taking the longer away around, in case they were being followed. Hector hadn't said a word since they had started running, and he seemed intent on placing his entire focus on the ground in front of him. They couldn't run forever though, and Mitchell bid his nephew stop near a river, holding himself with his hands on his knees as he breathed heavily. He had barely gotten air into his lungs that he heard the sound of hooves on the forest floor and he groaned- they wouldn't be able to outrun, so they had to go up. He patted Hector's shoulder and then pointed up at the tree and began climbing first*
Hector: *He had just wanted to have a little fun. The beginning of the night seemed like half a century ago to him, and any time before that another life altogether. He couldn't shake the man's face from his mind, the look of horror in his eyes as he was skewered, the blood that had bubbled up in his mouth and coughed out. Hector didn't know it was that easy, taking a life, how fast a person could vanish from the world, how fragile they all were. He was just trying to save his friend, that was all...Jasper had been his friend and now what was he? He had been attacking all of them too, more than once Hector screamed at him to stop but he hadn't. That wasn't Jasper, the Jasper he knew wouldn't harm a fly...maybe a fly, maybe a deer, never another person. But Hector had, Hector had killed a man, a husband. The woman's scream still rang in his ear. Hector stirred, not having noticed they had stopped and only barely registered that they were about to be caught. Maybe he should turn himself in; he wasn't like his uncle, his uncle had never killed anybody but he had. But instead he began to climb, not as aptly as his uncle, but he was hiding in the branches by the time a horse came into view, though it remained a fair distance away from them. Blinking suddenly as he noticed the cascade of red hair illuminated by the moonlight straining through the leaves, his breath caught in his throat.* Sof...*he whispered under his breath, barely audible to his own ears, he began to move down*
Mitchell: *With eyes wide, he stopped Hector from moving further and leaned in to whisper as well, trying not to let the sound travel* Are you mad?
Hector: I trust her. *he said immediately, though he couldn't be sure why. The only thing they had done was dance...oh, and he held her hostage, a lifetime ago. Though she didn't turn him in during that. He moved again, out of his uncle's reached and climbed down. His tux was ripped and dirty- Karyn was gonna kill him. He stepped away from the tree slowly* ...what are you doing here?
Mitchell: *Oh for heaven's- he dropped down to the floor as well, but he remained by the tree, wary, making sure someone hadn't just sent a pretty little redhead as bait and distraction.*
Sofya: *As she tied the bandage off again, the horse startled beside her and she hopped back to her feet in an instant. The forest had never frightened her, but after tonight...she wasn't ashamed of a certain skittishness, that was common sense. One hand slid to wrest her wand free again, but the other only tucked a wild, scarlet strand back as she turned and saw instantly what had spooked Sable. Her brow arched, flooded with a rush of delight, relief, hurt, and a confusing rush of something else she had no name for, but it filled her up and made her take several steps towards him. Her wand dropped to her side, and she stilled seeing Mitchell too, her back stiffening in guilt more than wariness. Her mother had always preached tolerance and non-violence despite her father being the Lord Commander, but she had never seen any reason to dispense with propriety. This view Sofya shared, yet here she was in the forest at midnight in a torn gown, hair free, and wand down encountering a man they all claimed was a murderer, and another she knew had killed. Hermother would kill her. Yet she held her chin higher, eyes snapping back to Hector, saying very softly, but with determined strength* I don't know. Honestly. *Her eyes softened as she looked at him.* I know you didn't mean to, I wanted to...tell you, I guess that was my...thought. *she pressed her lips together, then turned to see Mitchell still off. Her voice was stronger as she continued, eyes locked on his fiercely with a steel line in her jaw.* I owe you an apology, Mitchell. I believed you guilty until tonight, and I am ashamed of it. *her lips press together, and for a moment she feels very young looking at him, fear for her mother crossing her face, before saying quieter* Yet you saved my mother's life tonight. I don't know why you would, *her shoulders dropped* I only can say I...am utterly within your debt, and thank you more than words can say. *Her eyes seemed instantly to go back to Hector.*
Hector: *he nodded a bit absently, not exactly sure what to make of her words. They didn't offer much comfort, though he supposed he was glad to have someone think he wasn't a cold blooded killer, but he had killed nonetheless. Were he a more godly man like his grandparents he would be worrying for his eternal soul. Right now he was a bit more worried about his not do eternal life, and how many enemies he had just made. Before he had figured how to respond to Sof, she was speaking to his uncle instead*
Mitchell: *Well that was unexpected. His eyes remained locked on hers as she spoke, weighing the truth of her words. He did not know the girl personally, though her features were familiar, but even still his expression softened as she admitted in believing his innocence* Well *he spoke quietly, shrugging* that's one down. *Only, oh, the rest of court and town to go. He hoped that didn't mean he had to save that many people as well. He only has so many arms. He nodded at her gratitude* just did what was right. *she didn't care anymore though, her attention had drifted again* We can't stay long Hector. *Nevertheless he recognized those looks, so the least he could do was give them some privacy, so he walked more towards the river to wet his face and take a drink; he had to think*
Hector: *his gaze had not left hers as she spoke, gladdened to hear her words but no more knowing what he should say than before. He barely heard Mitchell speak again or walk away, nor did he know why he asked the next question* Who was he?
Sofya: Most people wouldn't have. *She didn't want the dismissal, though she couldn't say why. Mitchell was believed by so many to be a dangerous killer--she had been among them--yet he still strove to save her? It wasn't just "what was right." It was a whole lot more. It spoke volumes for his character.* And I should think it's two at least; my brother said as much. *Before he'd left her to drink. Quietly nodding as Mitchell moved off, she didn't take her eyes off Hector, her face suddenly contorting in pain at his question.* Hector...don't...*she winced* Don't torture yourself...*she bit her bottom lip hard and finally answered, realizing she would have wanted to know herself.* Anthony Tissar. A knight. *And friend of her fathers. He'd given her a sweet once when she was sick. Her heart seemed to throb. Instead she said softer,* Who was it you saved?
Hector: *Hector knew the words her uncle did not speak out loud for once; "he wasn't most people". It was true. Mitchell had just risked his own life to save Hector's. His jaw and gaze set as Sofya began to deny him at first. He was already torturing himself, what would a name do? Apparently, much more. A knight...ironic enemies for a blacksmith, really. Is that all they came to at the end? A name and a job title? He frowned further, and shook his head slowly, breathing out heavily* Jasper. We're mates, or rather...were. *he purses his lips together* Guess "accomplice" is a better word now, innit? *he gritted his teeth together, clenching his hands into fists at his sides, but his eyes remained wide before he cleared his throat, blinking through his thoughts, grasping at straws* Your uncle...I mean, would I...if I turn myself in...ain't got much chance, really...
Sofya: *She didn't recognize the name Jasper, but she hadn't expected to. Supposing after a moment that she had just been searching for a reason, to justify what she had always thought she should have found unjustifiable. At his gritted amendment she took another step forward, reaching for his hand, squeezing it with a head shake; she couldn't think how else to refuse his words besides simply refusing them. It was petulant. But she didn't like seeing him in pain. Softly, with an intake of breath, she shook her head again, looking down* I don't know why Jasper attacked. If you do, I'd like to know. But otherwise...*she looked back up, saying hesitantly* Uncle Damocles is fair. And he would be incredibly sympathetic. But the council is not, and they will not be. On top of their ignorance, it wouldn't surprise me if they sought to make an--an example--*her breath caught*--Hector, please don't. Please.
Hector: *his eyes flicked to her hand as she took his, marveling briefly at how smooth and soft her hands were. He shook his head, his eyes still focused on her hand* I dunno. He's been odd for a couple o'weeks, but I didn't think...*That was the whole problem. He hadn't stopped to think, and now look where he was. He frowned over the details, not really understanding how the law worked at court, but he didnt like the sound of this council. But a man was supposed to own up to his mistakes, and he had made a terrible one. For a fleeting moment he even considered confessing to Mitchell's other charges, if he was going to be hanged anyways-- but he didn't consider it for too long. Hector didn't want to die. Looking up from their hands finally he asked quietly, in confusion* Why do you care what happens to me?
Sofya: *She bit her lip in concern but decided she could worry about Jasper's motivations tomorrow. It made very little sense to her regardless, and Hector's face...her heart seemed to pound very loud in her ears. Her gaze dropped to her hand in his. It was funny; she had thought to comfort him, yet his grasp did more to steady her. He was strong. A particularly rough callus on his thumb seemed to mark her sensitive skin alight, and it occurred to her she didn't know what he did for a living. She hardly knew anything actually, but of course he couldn't make a living turning weapons to acorns. With another sudden breath at his hesitant question she lifted her gaze to his and answered before thinking.* Should I not, Hector? I have no desire to see justice so subverted. Not anymore than it already has been. *That wasn't why, or rather the only reason. Exhaling, she said almost in wonder.* I care. In the time I've known you, you have berated me, stolen from my uncle's armory, to arm your outlawed family and friends against my father, held me captive, , killed someone, and....*she softens, but says fondly in quiet earnest*... you have made me laugh more honestly, and feel more strongly, than I think I have in my entire life. I care. *a little hesitantly* Do you not?
Hector: *Justice, that was fitting. He actually would have believed her at just that but she continued and it threw him for a loop for a moment, as well as cause a brief smirk to cross his face as she recounted all he had done and then he smiled a lot more genuinely than he thought he would be capable of again* From the moment you slapped me, actually. *his lips twitched before he added more lightly* You're a pretty good dancer, Red, I was impressed.
Sofya: Well, you were being exceedingly presumptuous. *Her lips twitched, refusing to blush. The fact that she had made him smile, she thought, meant more to her than his compliment. Yet her smile widened at the name 'Red' anyways, and she chuckled just barely, just once.* I was being stubborn, truthfully, but. You were impressive yourself. *Her head tilts, asking lightly, suddenly anxious, trying to dispel her fear.* 'Red'? First Sof, and then fox--how many nicknames do you intend to have for me?
Hector: Not an insult I've heard before. *And he had heard quite a lot in his 18 years of living with his parents. Then again, he wasn't sure if his mum knew what the word presumptuous meant.* I know. *Women liked a man who could dance, his dad had always said...oh bugger, his parents. Mia. They were going to kill him, then they were gonna dig him up and kill him again. He much rather face the court council, actually* Oh, as many as come to mind. Sofya. Sof. My foxy lady. Red. *he wiggled his eyebrows, passing his thumb over her knuckles* You kno' I'm gunna be going through some difficult things- *an understatement* -a Lady that claims to care about me would give me a kiss for good luck. *his lips twitch*
Wri: Lmao i just got randomly reminded that Gendry technically has a sister "Mya" too btw. XD
Sofya: It wasn't quite meant as an insult, *she heard herself say with a small smile etching itself across her lips* more a chastisement. And anyway, I suppose I prefer when one is bold and daring to one supplicant and likely to cowardice. So you may, *she teased* even have considered it a compliment. Though that would be the stuff scandals are born of, I suppose that too. *watching his thumb pass over her knuckles her breath and heart fluttered before she suddenly met his gaze again* Hector...*her brows furrow, and then sudden steel appears in her eyes and jawline again--and she goes on her toes (Gods her was tall) to press her lips suddenly to his. She meant to pull back at once, but seemed to forget to do that the moment her lips were on his, though truthfully she didn't have any idea what one did next. (All right, she had an idea, Jane -had- said somethings, but she had no experience at it.) Instead she squeezed his hand and kept her lips on his firmly*
Hector: *his grin, and smirk, returned as she went through her rather wordy explanation, only to have her end with it being more of a compliment than anything else.* Ah, I knew you liked "being snatched". *It was a tease, but he was glad that the effect on her hadn't been disgust. Despite his constant confidence, he knew that could have been a likely possibility. His eyebrows were raised up to the moment she leaned up to press her lips against his, and remained there. He wrapped his arms around her waist to hold her to him, kissing her back and moving his lips against hers softly and slowly*
Sofya: *His arms enclosed her waist, and seemed to remind her to move her own, so she laid them around his neck and shoulders. She still had no idea what she was doing. Tired, too full of confusion and grief to even reach rage, she was still aware this was meant to be wrong. She was only 16, not yet a year out of school, and he was hardly a knight of the tales. (She thought Ron had more of a taste for the tales than she, though he wouldn't admit that of course.) He was right: he'd snatched her, she should have hit him again, told her brother and father. Yet she started moving her lips against his tentatively, under his gentle tutelage, for the motion had lit a fire in her belly she didn't know how to quench. Arms still around him, she finally pulled back for air--and because she had started thinking, and the task was a dangerous one.* Hector. *She breathed it out.* It occurs to me I am unlearned of you beyond a name and fondness for jests. *her eyes lock on his, still hooded* Yet I feel I know you all the same....
Hector: *he chuckled against her lips at her words, nodding, understanding what she meant. He was similarly without knowledge of her himself, and what was more surprising than that was that he actually wanted to know more. This didn't exactly coincide with the reputation he had been building, but he wasnt too devastated* Well, I'm a blacksmith's 'pprentice, 18, and born of the dragon. *the scoff behind him let him know his uncle had approached again, which meant time was up but he licked his lips and said to Sof instead* If you come back in a week to this spot, maybe we can get to know each other a little bet'er?
Sofya: *A blacksmith's apprentice--oh Lord, she really could hear her father now. Yet as her gaze flitted down again, tracing his arms, unbidden came the image of him working, sweaty and diligent in a forge, hammering out a plate and a slow, delighted blush crept up her cheeks. This she would have denied of course. Brows furrowing, she first said with a tiny smile* 16. Almost 17. And I suppose my trade has been curtsies, sewing, and singing--as well as spells of nursing and healing of course. Oh, and knife-throwing and riding. *Her lips flicked, adding confusedly,* You call your father a dragon? *Hearing Mitchell's scoff as well, she startled and dropped her arms from his neck, looking between them without moving out of Hector's grasp. Oh bother. Her eyes went wide at Hector's question, and she considered it for a few moments before nodding very slowly.* If I can..get away. *she looked at Mitchell, then back to Hector, troubled* You're safe, though?
Hector: The knife throwing and riding I believe *not many could ride a horse in a saddle, let alone bareback* the sewing not so much. *he smiled again though and then answered* My mother fits the description better...but no, I didn't mean either. *Mitchell was getting impatient, he could tell. He sighed, hating how rapidly reality was returning and nodded* As safe as I can, really. *he licked his lips* Take care of yourself too, yeh? *he lifted a hand from her waist to tuck a red strand of hair behind her ear* I hear sewing needles can turn into quite the weapons in a pinch.
Sofya: *Truthfully she had said sewing only as a matter of form, but she grinned wider as he continued, nodding once.* Mending can be quite important really, particularly for bandages and the like...but I suppose I was always partial to riding above all. *She didn't know why she was still speaking about this; she supposed she had wanted to stave off reality as much as possible. Waiting a moment, going still, eyes still locked on his where she thought she could glimpse a world of emotion* Yes, I will. *She wasn't the one in danger, she was about to say, though after this night that was hard to believe. Looking at Mitchell again only an instant, she added softer* But where will you go? What will you...do? *Her gaze flicked back to Hector hesitantly, a hand coming back brush sweat from his brow, even as she murmured in agreement.* Fierce weapons actually.
Hector: Partial to riding? *his lips twitched in amusement before he added* I'll keep the jests and comments to myself just this once. *he licked his lips and then inhaled in uncertainty, looking at his uncle for a brief moment again, frowning* I don't know.
Mitchell: *he patted the horse as the two spoke, speaking to the animal in whispers. He always wanted a horse. They should have stolen horses from some of the stables of the manors they'd robbed.* What do you think, horse? *he asked just as quietly as before* Slightly mental or completely bollocks? *the horse neighed and Mitchell nodded, knowing the answer.* Bollocks, I agree. *Oh Hector. Sometimes his nephew took too much after him. Turning to the pair of them, he answered as much as he could* We have a place, we're safe there. We'll figure out what to do *he sighed, tiredly* in the morning.
Hector: *He didn't want to do any of that, he wanted to go home and sleep in his pathetic excuse of a bed which was surely going to be better than the forest floor, but he didn't say so. Instead he turned to Sof again and nodded* I'll be fine.
Mitchell: We'll be fine, horse *he rubbed the steed's long nose* You're sweet for worrying.
Sofya: *The moment the words had been out of her mouth, she'd opened it again to try and amend them, but now just chuckled in amusement at his restraint. Her smile faded slowly as she turned to listen to Mitch and pressed her lips together. She understood why they wouldn't tell her where it was--but still, she wished they could, just so she could bring them something. Exhaling, her words were soft.* All right. His name's Sable, by the way, Mitchell. *And apparently he'd made a new friend. Heart still fluttery, she looked back and leaned up tentatively to brush her lips against his cheek, whispering* Then one week, here, after sundown.
Mitchell: *he turned back to the horse* Nice to meet you, Sable. I'm Mitchell. *he patted his neck again*
Hector: *he shook his head slightly at his uncle but turned back to Sof quickly enough and smiled, nodding* One week. *he let his arms fall from around her and then winked in a farewell before turning back to his uncle*
Mitchell: Bye Sable *he kissed his nose and patted it before clasping his nephew on the shoulder, squeezing once and started running again, leading the way even as his nephew paused a moment to look back one more time*
Sofya: *She pulled back as they ran, waiting a long time without moving. As Hector looked back, her heart seemed to skip a beat again and she scolded it, a posh outcry of--*Oh, stop that.* Flooded with conflicting emotions of worry and delight--of guilt and relief--of blame and gratitude, she felt suddenly more tired than before. A hand slipped her hair back again as she walked back to Sable, patting his nose herself.* Oh, Sable. What am I going to do? *Suddenly throwing her arms around the horse's neck, she buried her face in the fur to stifle tears, thinking of every poor person tonight, of Anthony, of her mother, and Hector. She held him tightly, until a wet, pink nose pushed against her ear in what she swore was in indignant shove. Chuckling as she leaped back, one hand cleared her ear, the other eyes and cheeks. Deciding with determination just to focus on Hector, she turned to mount again, and by the time she was headed back, she was lost to how it had felt to kiss him, and to a small smile.*
