But that is the cinch of it, so easily put. Because she doesn't.
They are not, all of them, such a bad lot. It is simply that while they worry about hats and balls and certain eligible young Lords, who might be more one than the other, Marian will never be much like them.
She can affect it. Flawlessly, if she has to. But she doesn't often here.
Here. Where it will not cost someone their life or livelihood if she does not.
Here. Where not one Lady would be more than scandalized to think of the idea.
It is easy to joke that she has befriended them and found them lacking, but it is the reverse that is almost too much more true. They have attempted befriending her -- for Lord Caspian's being so close to her, as much as Queen Amy and King Perry, and even the children, whom she watches over at times -- and all come away with cool, but more confusing than conclusive, results.
They are kind and often almost too clueless in ways Marian can never be again, and though she hates them for it in some moments, she wouldn't want it ripped from them. Not even by her own hands. And she's never had anything but the utmost adoration for the few, but great, who truly knew her.
Even as she rolled her eyes up at the point of one right now, like it was too tedious to even pretend in deed and word the friendship of his followers, and Amy's great round of cycling ladies. She stepped closer, and let her fingers wrap against the crook his arm, even as she erred back toward a rueful smile.
"She would like that." Lineave. As would Marian.
Who would never, even at night, turn down a ride, or an ocean, or a forest.
They were never quite right, but they were as close as she could come to it.