In This Castle, Made of Stone | Annabel & Cam
The inertial nausea following their flight had thankfully, dissipated. He had thrown some bills at the driver without much care, and then proceeded to open the car door, breathing in the chilly air with an unspoken sense of satisfaction. Winter suited him, and it pleased him more than he would ever have admitted, as much as he hated the life it reminded him of. With a quick glance at Annabel that barely registered, he began to trudge up the slope towards the resort, expectant that she would follow behind him. Inviting her to come along with him had been a reckless choice on his part, he mused. He berated himself internally for what vulnerability he had allowed her, when she confessed that her father was forcing her to spend her break away from home, in regards to her own interests. And she had acted as if that were punishment. He wasn’t sure as to whether that should have irritated him, or amused him, as it managed to do a rather odd mixture of the both. But this was uncharted waters; far too close for comfort in revealing what was personal to him, and him alone. It had not been a good decision, and he was certain in this, speaking little to her as they made their way there.
He would have to face his family eventually, but he would be damned - at least if he hadn’t been already - if he were to do so in front of Annabel. His relatives were coldly formal, at best. Their comments had double meanings, and their wits were always sharp; waiting for the prime moment where he would trip and cut himself upon them like a fool. The moment had yet to occur, thankfully, but he was not keen in likening the possibility. He had to be on guard. Not only mentally, but physically as well, though the likelihood of monsters appearing in such a place had always been rare. Tight-lipped, he approached the reception, a plan already beginning to map itself out in his mind. They would secure their rooms. Annabel could get an instructor of sorts, and he could spend time skiing in solitude, time that was sorely needed to think. To prepare. Then, when he was ready, he would go visit his family, the briefest of visits, and return as he always did, without much of a change. If luck would have it, the two aspects of his trip here would never have to intertwine at all.
