Atlantic Roleplay Community Boards

Genevieve Troyes · Adventurer Joined: 09 Sep 2012 Posts: 26

The sword made a neat slice in the silk of her sleeve.

"Well done, ser. You've killed my dress."

She bowed with the perfect grace of a lady and stood, neatly sheering the rest off in one swift motion. He watched the silk spiral slowly to the ground and her as she repeated the same thing on the other side.

"That's better, nothing to get in the way now." She raised her sword.

"Your father is going to kill you," he paused, "no, your father is going to kill me."

Genevieve rolled her eyes and blew a strand of hair out of her face. "No. My Lord Father's tailor is going to kill me and weep more over that than I. Sword up."

"My Lady..."

She looked heavenward and sighed. "What is it now?"

"You must understand, I'm at a grave disadvantage here," Joren was squirming as he continued, "I am a man and...."

She cut him off. "Yes, yes. You are a man, I can see how that's a disadvantage. Sadly, there's nothing to be done about it." She raised the sword and lunged at him.

The sound of metal striking metal echoed through the field and finally drew the attention of her brother.

"How's my sword lesson going?" he called.

"I think you're doing well," she yelled over her shoulder. "How's my theology lesson going?"

"I think you're a heretic!" he answered back.

Joren was gaining ground now but at least he'd finally shut up about the proprieties of being a lady. She watched the way his body moved, anticipated each of his steps and successfully blocked his strikes. She noted how heavily he was sweating and how his shirt clung to his chest. She grinned he should try this in a dress.

"All done," Chretien gathered the books together and started walking towards them. He was several feet away before she noticed he was there.

"I'm a heretic, eh?"

"Among other things, " her brother smiled.

Genevieve laughed and Joren caught her off-guard. She overcompensated and landed hard on her backside in the mud and grass. Joren paled and dropped his weapon, rushing over to help her up.

"My La...." she brought her blade up to his neck, "deeee.."

"Such a grave disadvantage," she said, her eyes sparkling.

Genevieve Troyes · Adventurer Joined: 09 Sep 2012 Posts: 26

Silk and Song

"Hm?" Genevieve tried to look up and her head was promptly and gently pushed back down. She was once again staring at her feet.

"..like strands o' spun gold an' if the light catches it jus' so, it shines like golden fire..."

"Thank you, Nan." The old woman's bent fingers deftly wove her hair and the silver ribbon into a thick braid down her back.

"Ye ready fer this evenin'? Yer father has many a noble comin' an they be bringing their sons with 'em," she paused for a response that never came and then sighed. "All done, now stand an' I'll help ye into the dress."

"Nan, I can dress myself." The nursemaid turned and glared and Genevieve knew better than to say another word. Instead she gingerly stepped in to the pale blue gown that old woman was holding open for her. The silk felt cool and smooth as it slid over her skin and she stood as still as a statue until all of the all the buttoning and adjusting was done.

"Yer quite a vision, " Nan grinned, "now ye stay exactly on tha' spot, no runnin' off. There's one more thing I 'ave to git on ye." Genevieve watched her toddle over to the bureau and caught her reflection in the mirror. She blinked in disbelief?

The silk clung to every curve of her body and hung seductively off her hips. She turned slightly and the material moved with her as if it were a part of her. The slightest shift of her body, even the mere act of breathing, made the silk sing its enchantment louder.

"I said ye were a vision, now come 'ere so I can put these on ye."

Genevieve Troyes · Adventurer Joined: 09 Sep 2012 Posts: 26

Genevieve stared at herself in the looking glass long after Nan had wandered off. The delicate silver and moonstone earrings hung to her shoulders and lightly grazed them as she turned her head. The matching necklace complemented the silver edging of the gown. And whereas her eyes were normally a pale grey, they now mirrored the dress and looked an icy blue. Everything was picked and chosen to perfection to accentuate all that she was – and it infuriated her.

"Hey, why so blue? Get it? Blue...you're all in blue?" The voice startled her and she spun around.

"Whoa, who are you and what did you do with my sister!" Chretien was leaning against the door and grinning like an fool. His whole demeanor changed once he saw her face.

"I was only joking, you look quite stunning."

"That's just it," she responded.

"You're mad because you look beautiful? Okay, this one you're going to have to explain to me."

"Later, " she said through clenched teeth, "right now we've a banquet to attend."

Genevieve Troyes · Adventurer Joined: 09 Sep 2012 Posts: 26

Silk and Song

She found herself seated next to Ser Andre. The chair to her left had been occupied and vacated many times by many different lords' sons all night. Ser Andre was long-faced and all tooth and guffawed at everything he said aloud. Ser Andre was also not looking at her face while she spoke to him.

"They are lovely, aren't they?" She asked innocently and smiled. The knight nearly choked on his dinner. "The jewels," she held them aloft, "they were my mother's." At least he had the common decency to look slightly abashed.

"Aye, I was just thinking that, " he wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve, brayed again and stood. "My Lady, " he said and bowed, "the pleasure has been all mine."

She had barely set her cup down when another Lord was seated and making introductions. "Lady Troyes, may I present Leone. He has just been accepted into the King's Guard," his father beamed proudly. Genevieve peered over his shoulder, if anyone was less aptly named it was Ser Leone. Scawny and sickly looking, she wondered how he would be able to bear the weight of the King's Guard's armor, never mind the rigors of training.

"That truly is a great honour, how fare you with it?" Ser Leone paled and looked as if he were about to lose his supper. He stood too fast, knocking the bench over and fled. Genevieve's eyes widened in surprised while his father made hasty apologies and went quickly after his son.

"You really need to teach me how you do that..." She heard the smirk in his voice.

"I did nothing. I promise you. I've been perfectly behaved all through this night."

"Find anyone to your liking?" Chretien picked up a loaf of bread and pointed across the room to Andre. "How 'bout him?"

"I found him rather...equine," she said.

"I'm sure he wouldn't have minded a ride..." She glared at him. "Lord London, " he continued, "what did you think of him?"

"Lord London knew this was Ilshenari silk. In fact, he knew more about my dress than I did and kept asking to feel the sleeve. He also inquired about seeing my toes."

"Hm. And that one over there?" Genevieve turned around in the chair pretending to search for her father.

"Ask any tavern wench around and I suspect she would know him too," Genevieve made a face. Chretien pointed to another lordling. She glanced over, "You could take him in a sword fight, are we going to play this game all night?"

"I think you're too picky."

"And I think it's my heart to give to whomever I choose." She rubbed her temples. "Tell Father that I suddenly felt ill and went back to my room, tis half the truth anyway." Chretien watched her leave as did most of the people in the Great Hall.

Genevieve Troyes · Adventurer Joined: 09 Sep 2012 Posts: 26

Silken Words

"Him? HIM?!" She threw her arms up in exasperation. "You can't be serious."

"And what is wrong with Lord Sanglier?"

"Oh nothing at all except, let's see..." she chewed her bottom lip, "..he's about as wide as he is tall. I can always tell what he's had for his breakfast because he wears it in his beard and his breath is slightly sweeter than that of a hellhound!"

"You will pick someone to marry, or I shall pick for you. Am I understood?"

Without pause his daughter shot back, "then I pick Gerard."

Her father's brows went up in surprise. Could something finally be this easy? Lord Troyes found a fleeting moment of peace before he realized that was an impossibility. The smug expression on his daughter's face confirmed it. "And who is this Ser Gerard?"

"He's the stablehand," Chretien nonchalantly said as he entered the room.

Lord Troyes turned to acknowledge his son standing in the doorway and then back to his daughter.
She noted that his neck was slowly turning pink...and then red... and the color was creeping up onto his face.

"You said pick, "she shrugged, "I picked."

"You know bloody well what I meant!" her father roared. "You will not twist my words around! You will pick someone, appropriate – to marry, or I shall pick for you!" He stormed out of the room nearly knocking Chretien over.

"That went well, " Chretien snorted. "Gerard is the stablehand, right?" He took a bite out of the big, red apple he was holding and threw the other to her. She snatched it out of the air. "I'm not sure, he is either the stablehand or the kitchen boy. I was just proving a point."

She turned the fruit over in her hands, running her thumb along the skin and then brought it to her lips, tasting it. The apple was crisp and juicy. She closed her eyes savoring its scent and flavor. "It matters not," she sighed, " I don't get to pick. I get to choose from a list of the bloated, widowed, braying, lisping, middle-aged, white-bearded, toe-liking lot that father thinks would be most beneficial to his own wealth."

"So what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to have a calm, rational talk with our Lord Father," she said and then added, "though probably not tonight."

Genevieve Troyes · Adventurer Joined: 09 Sep 2012 Posts: 26

Just Swords...

Chretien had left hours ago, and yet sleep was far from her. She had paced the length of her room so many times that she could have walked to the next town and back. She could neither still her feet nor the thoughts spinning in her head.

How was it that something so insignificant, something so innocuous at the time - could shape the person you would eventually become?

Genevieve paced and thought about her first love. She had never seen anything quite like him before or since...

******

I want to come too! Me too! Me toooooo!" Genevieve twirled around her father, spinning in circles until she was dizzy. "Papa, pleeeeeeeease!" her small hand now tugged on his doublet, vying for attention. She turned, still holding a fistful of his shirt, "Mommy, please tell Papa I can go too!"

Lady Troyes looked at her daughter and then at her husband. "Take her Christoph, what harm is in it? She'll be good. Right?" Genevieve looked up at her mother, who then narrowed her eyes and tried to look stern. Both ended up laughing instead and she turned her attention back to her father.

"I'll be good! I promise, real good. Pleeeease!" she nodded furiously, flaxen curls swinging to and fro, still holding his doublet. Her father knelt on the floor, green eyes met grey. "It is no place for a young lady to be," he said and whereas her mother failed miserably at looking stern, her father excelled at it. Genevieve held his face in her hands and pleaded one last time. "Please Papa," he sighed and she knew she won.

"I can go! I can go!" She kissed his cheek and hopped around the room excitedly then stuck her tongue out at her brother.

Awww," he whined, "do we have to take her? She doesn't belong there anyway, she's just a baby."

"I am NOT a baby!" she stopped whirling and stomped her foot. "I'm..." she thought about it, "five!"

"We are out-numbered and out-matched Chretien, someday you will understand." He smiled and winked at her mother. "Come now, let's go!"

Genevieve Troyes · Adventurer Joined: 09 Sep 2012 Posts: 26

...Just Swords

Genevieve's eyes widen as they stepped into the smith's shop. Everywhere, everywhere she looked there were racks full of swords. Swords of all kinds and all types: big ones and little ones, long ones and short, thin bladed and thick, curved and straight. They hung on the walls, they were laid out on tables, they were all over the shop and gleaming in the morning light.

She tipped her head way back and looked up at the vaulted ceiling. Shields of every shape and size hung from the crossbeams on leather straps, some turned lightly in the breeze. Some fancier ones were enameled, the colors rich and vibrant. She marveled at it all.

Genevieve walked down the first row slowly. The stone walls of the shop were sooty and blackened and the floor was hard packed dirt in some areas. It seemed that in every available space or spot there were crates and chests and boxes. They were stacked into corners and piled under tables. Genevieve smiled. She liked this place a lot, it felt cozy.

Young Lady Troyes wound her way around the shop exploring every nook and cranny until she finally reached the back. As she cleared the final rack of swords she saw him and gasped. He had to be the tallest man she'd ever seen, surely he must be a giant! She stood gaping at him.

"Here she is," her father said. Chretien rolled his eyes. The smith wiped his hands on a cloth and walked over to her bending down low. His arms were the biggest she'd ever seen on anyone too but she tried not stare.

"You must be Jenny, I'm Eric," he smiled and she melted. Then he did something she never expected, he lifted her straight up with complete ease, as if she were as light as a feather, and twirled her around in the air. She laughed as her heart pounded wildly in her chest and then he sat her on a shelf so that they were eye to eye.

"So tell me, Jenny, what do you think of my shop?" She felt her face getting hot. "I...I think it's very pretty, " she said. The smith laughed,"That is something I can honestly say I've never heard before - but do you know what I think?" She shook her head no, frozen by his gaze and his dark eyes. "I think that you are the prettiest thing to ever be in my shop." He kissed her nose, the hair on his chin tickling her cheek and then set her on the floor again.

"I have something for you too," he turned and took a miniature sword off the table and presented it to her. "Perhaps one day, you will be a princess knight!" He laughed his deep, wonderful laugh again. Genevieve took the toy sword timidly and for the first time in her brief life, had nothing to say.

Eric fastened the tiny sword belt around her waist. Even though she held it up with one hand it was still too big for her and the sword touched the ground. "You'll grow into it soon enough," he winked.

Her father and the smith concluded their business. One hand remained on the belt trying to hold it up and the other was in her father's hand. As they walked toward the door the sword dragged behind her making a line in the dirt. Genevieve turned to see Eric one last time. She watched him over her shoulder until he disappeared from her sight and vowed that she'd never wash her nose again.

Genevieve Troyes · Adventurer Joined: 09 Sep 2012 Posts: 26

Blades and Blood

"Hello Cobb," Genevieve stopped to scratch behind the cat's ear. He closed his golden eyes and turned his head into the palm of her hand. "Who's a good boy?" One eye slowly cracked open and he meowed."Where is your master today?" She paused to look up at the small cottage for any sign that Joren was home.

Cobb lightly tapped her wrist with a paw drawing her attention back to him. She kneaded behind his ears and down his back. Gen looked at the smokey grey cat and laughed. "I still can't figure why they call you the furry demon you're perfectly behaved with me." If a cat could look indignant then that was the expression this one currently wore on his feline face. Cobb stood and turned, offering her a full view of his tail and hindquarters and sauntered off. "There's a good start to the day,' she chuckled, "I've managed to offend a cat."

"It's not a hard thing to do, offend a cat." Genevieve looked over her shoulder. "Stefan!" He smiled at her and she threw her arms around him. "I had forgotten how quiet you can be.." she narrowed her eyes.

"Well, it makes for bad hunting if your prey hears you plodding through the woods. What brings you here?"

"What is it that always brings me here," she asked plainly.

He stretched. "Ah yes, me."

Genevieve rolled her eyes, "Grab your sword and let's go."

"So bossy today," he chided.

She looked up at Stefan, who had changed so much since their first encounter, and grinned. He never would have dared to say something like that to her five years ago. In fact, he wouldn't look at her. He always had his eyes downcast like some servant.

"Your father isn't here, so I'll practice on you – and you need it more than I do." He laughed and linked his arm through hers as they walked toward the house.

"Love the outfit by the way," he said staring straight ahead.

"I walked right out the gate with no one giving a second glance." She pulled the cap off her head and her hair tumbled down her back. "It was easier than I thought."

"Well no one would think to look for the Duke's daughter in boy's clothes. Long sword or short?" He opened the door wide as they stepped inside.

"Short."

Genevieve Troyes · Adventurer Joined: 09 Sep 2012 Posts: 26

Blades and Blood

"Watch the table," he pointed with his chin. "Da's going to put new hilts on those blades, be careful where you set your hand." They were outside and Gen glanced down at the table she was leaning against. Two double-edged blades were embedded, lengthwise, in the wood. She didn't give it a second thought.

"Promise me something," she was fiddling with the ties on her shirt, "no holding back today. Come at me with all you have, I want to see if I can handle it."

"Are you sure you want me to do that?" his voice trailed off. "You're about a year or two away from being a grandmaster. Besides, would I go easy on you?"

They both grinned at the joke. Stefan had initially hated being partnered with her. He had thrown every fight, and she easily disarmed him even though she barely knew how to hold a sword. He passively refused to enagage her because she was a girl, or because of her father, or both.

The turning point had come one day when they were both thirteen. Genevieve was already in a sour mood because it was the anniversary of her mother's death. She had wanted to forget, if only for a little while, and Stefan was not cooperating. Finally, frustrated by it all, she threw the wooden practice sword to the ground and charged him. Joren had to pull her off his son kicking and screaming, the tears streaming down her face.

"You packed quite a girly punch," he said as if reading her thoughts. "I've lived in fear of you all these years." The grin faded. "Stance Three," he stated.

They moved into position and it began.

Genevieve Troyes · Adventurer Joined: 09 Sep 2012 Posts: 26

Blades and Blood

They stalked each other, moving in a circle, each waiting for the other to strike first.

"Know your opponent by watching him closely. Never take your eyes off him and you can anticipate how he will move and counter it," his eyes never left hers. "Pay attention to your surroundings, never let yourself be cornered or trapped. Expect anything, know when it's time to run." She nodded.

They moved slowly around the yard.

"And above all, do not let emotion prevail. That is..." he stopped talking and looked over her shoulder at someone or something. Genevieve turned her head to follow his gaze when she realized almost too late that it was a trick. She turned back as Stefan swung and barely had time to block him.

"Now that was dirty play."

"Didn't you say, 'come at me with all you have'? Or you weren't serious?"

Genevieve's cheeks colored. I can't have it both ways. I can't tell him not to treat me differently and then expect otherwise. "You're right, I did. And I meant it."

She brought her blade around and his came up, the steel sung in the crisp air. Long gone was the deference in his eyes. It was just him, her and the swordsong.

Genevieve Troyes · Adventurer Joined: 09 Sep 2012 Posts: 26

Blades and Blood

The steady sound of metal scraping metal went on and on.... How long had they been playing at this? Genevieve had no idea but she was certain of one thing – she was getting tired.

The shirt clung to her back and the hair that framed her face was damp with sweat. Stefan's hair was plastered to his head and his shirt was soaked through. He may have looked worse but he wasn't slowing down either.

She concentrated, trying hard to remember everything he said as they fought. Know your opponent by watching him move. That one was easy. Several times he feinted left but something in his manner told her it was a false move. She parried the blows. The first time there was genuine surprise on his face. By the third attempt he smirked and gave up.

"Tired?"

"Not at all."

"You can yield."

"So can you." They both grinned.

Each had drawn back a little and they were moving in a small circle again. She was grateful for any respite, no matter how short.

"I have a question," he said, advancing. "Is this going to be a hobby for you," he twirled the sword in a small cirlce, "or do you actually think you can put it to some use? I hope you don't fancy yourself to be some knight. You are the duke's daughter." He took several more steps forward, she took several back.

"I mean," he continued, "that people will think you're a silly little rich girl with silly little notions." She faltered. He swung and advanced a few more feet. Her brow furrowed first in confusion and then in anger. She realized, all too late, that the house was right behind her and there was nowhere to go. He had cornered her.

Blind with rage, she swung at him anyway and swung wildly. He nodded as if he expected this and caught her blade easily, throwing her off-balance. She fell back against the table and howled in pain. Stefan thought it a scream of frustration and the grin spread wider on his face. He lowered his sword. "What did I tell you about ..."

"I yield!" She screamed and dropped the weapon to the ground. He knew then that something was wrong. Genevieve brought her hand from behind her back and it was covered in blood. "Merde." She could feel it start to dampen the waist of the long pants she wore.

Stefan's sword joined hers in the dust. "Give me your hand," he grabbed it searching for a wound.

"It's not my hand that's injured," she said giving him a weak smile. He spun her around roughly, causing her to bite back another scream and pulled up her shirt. "I'm getting the healer." He pulled his own shirt over his head and pressed it against the small of her back. "Hold this here."

Then he yanked both hiltless blades out of the wood and threw them across the yard, cursing.

"Stefan, listen to me..." she took a deep breath. "You have to get the healer from the town and bring him back here..." He started to protest. "..and not the healer from the castle. Do you understand me?"

"Like bloody hell I am, the castle is closer," he started to walk away.

"You owe me for this!" she yelled at his back. He froze. "From the town!" He growled and changed direction, running across the field and hopping the fence in one leap. Genevieve pressed the shirt harder into her back and waited.

Genevieve Troyes · Adventurer Joined: 09 Sep 2012 Posts: 26

Blades and Blood

Stefan had never run as hard or fast in his life. He vaulted over the paddock fence and threw himself headlong into the woods. Why the hell did I listen to her? I could have been returning with the healer right now. He wove in and out of the trees, ducking under low-hanging branches and jumping over the fallen ones. Stefan threw his arms up more than once to shield his face as he tore through bramble and bush rather than try to find a way around it. Branches scraped and ripped the skin on his chest and arms but he didn't feel a thing. Time was important. How much of it did he have? The pounding of his heart matched the dull thud of his feet as he raced on to the town.

This is all your fault the voice in his head spoke up. You should've never tested her temper with that comment. You knew what would happen and yet you still did it. Why? The unwelcomed answers came in a flood : because of the way she was toying with the laces on her shirt , because of the way she looked at you and smiled, because you couldn't resist a pair of grey eyes begging you not to hold back...

The thought of never seeing her smile again spurred him onward with renewed strength. He broke through a thick patch of trees and narrowly avoided a roll down a steep embankment. Stefan regained his balance at the last possible second and slid on the mulch and pine needles to the bottom. An avalanche of orange and yellow leaves, dirt and rock preceded him to the base of the hillside. He pitched forward crashing to his knees and with great heaving gasps filled his exploding lungs with precious air. He forced himself forward, the back of the tailor's shop was no more than twenty yards away.

Genevieve Troyes · Adventurer Joined: 09 Sep 2012 Posts: 26

Blades and Blood

The cat slunk around the corner of the house. The One He Liked was seated at the table, maybe she had treats for him. He walked slowly to her and stopped. His ears flattened against his head, nose to the wind. He knew this metallic smell.

Cobb turned to go but the girl smiled at him and he crept closer, ears still back, wary. He jumped onto the table, mewling. She offered a hand to him and he gently licked the back. The One He Liked was saying something before she slid off the chair and fell onto the ground. Cobb hopped down next to her and meowed again, tapping her with a paw. The One He Liked didn't move.

******

The people in the square gave the wild-eyed, shirtless man a wide berth. Stefan had no misconceptions as to how he probably looked as he half-walked half-ran to the healer's house. He threw himself against the heavy oak door and it slammed into the wall. A second after that came the sound of breaking glass.

"You," he rasped, "are coming with me now." He collapsed onto a chair. The woman in the corner didn't move. She stood gaping at him for several long seconds. "NOW," he roared. That brought her to life. "Bring what you need for stitching. Bring potions, salves – all of it. The wound is from a blade if that helps."

He looked to the left and saw a young girl picking up pieces of a ceramic bowl. Stefan held his head in his hands, breathing deeply. He made it. He did it. He had the healer and they would be on their way back ...except... that...there was no way back. An anguished scream ripped from his throat and he punched the wall next to him. The novice dropped what she had already picked up and started the process over again.

Stefan stumbled to his feet. "I'm coming right back," he paused in the doorway and looked over his shoulder, "be ready."

Genevieve Troyes · Adventurer Joined: 09 Sep 2012 Posts: 26

Blades and Blood

A horse. He needed a horse, it was the only way. He looked around the square and saw one tied to a post nearby. He crossed the plaza, untied the reigns and led the animal back to the healer's.

"Stop! Thief!"

Stefan stopped and turned. Perhaps it was because he stood a head and a half taller than the other man, perhaps it was the half-crazed look in his eyes, or maybe because the man recognized the name Stefan snarled at him - but the squat fellow backed-off, hands up and palms out, nodding and telling him he could have the horse for as long as he needed it.

The novice was standing wide-eyed in the door as he walked back with the animal; the healer just outside of it. He pulled himself into the saddle and offered his hand to her. The woman looked at him blankly and shook her head no. Stefan clentched his teeth.

"What is the matter?"

The woman found her voice. "We are healers, " she stated, as if that explained it perfectly.
"We do not ride beasts, we simply...wander..." her voice trailed off.

"And what is your name?" He was surprised at how calmly he asked this question.

"Tess."

"Ah, Tess. I understand. Can you give me your bag, please?"

She nodded, lifting the leather strap off her shoulder, and held it up for him to take.

Stefan grabbed her by the arm and pulled her up and across the saddle. He held the reigns tight in one hand and the screaming healer with the other as he took off down the road.

Genevieve Troyes · Adventurer Joined: 09 Sep 2012 Posts: 26

Blades and Blood

(note: I accidentally posted this with the ending cut-off, reposted it with the last bit)

Cobb's hackles were all the way up and his claws were out. He looked like a perfect caricature of a paper Hallowe'en cat just minus the color. His golden eyes darted back and forth closely watching the stranger and Stefan as they crept forward. The smokey grey cat hissed, showing a row of sharp teeth and took a swipe at the healer trying to get near Genevieve. He missed but he caught the other one on the hand.

"Damn cat," Stefan jerked his arm back, "I didn't get this far to have her die now." Cobb watched the familiar one disappear around the side of the house and turned back to the other. He hissed again and pawed the air. The healer backed up.

Adrift. It was a sweet, calming peace as if she were being carried along by water... floating, unfettered. Was this a dream? If it were, Genevieve didn't want to wake. She wanted to stay in this warm embrace, to enjoy the dreamy drifting in a world painted white... but something kept interrupting this blessed peace.... faint echoes just along the edge of the world, hollow voices murmuring that wouldn't be silent....

"Circle to the right, he's watching you." Tess nodded, keeping her eyes on the cat. The cat kept his eyes on Tess. It was just enough of a diversion for Stefan to throw the burlap sack over Cobb and carry him away.

... and then pain. Pain like a thousand icy daggers digging into her flesh. She gasped and her eyes flew open. The evening stars were in the sky and she was in Stefan's arms. He looked like he was about to collapse himself.

"You look terrible," she smiled weakly at him.

"And you look absolutely beautiful to me, you have no idea...." his spoke it quietly his face awash in relief and exhaustion. "Where?" he said. She looked up at him confused.

"Put her on the bed if you have one in the house."

Stefan carried her as carefully as he could manage knowing each step for her was agony. He watched her face contort and then watched how she tried to hide it from him.

He awkwardly managed to get her onto the cot and then sat on the floor by her head. The woman took jars and vials and bandages from a pack and lined them neatly in a row on the small table.

"Not exactly how I always imagined that moment," he muttered.

"Hmm?" She was struggling to keep her eyes open, afraid that if she returned to the dream, she would never find her way back again.

"Nothing," his fingers gently pulled the strands of hair away from her face. "Gen, never ask me to do something like that again, " his eyes met hers.

She furrowed her brow and started to speak, then decided against it.

"See, you're impossible." He closed his eyes leaning his head back against the wall. "Even now..."

Genevieve turned to face him. His body was a riot of cuts and red slashes. There was a fresh wound on his hand where tiny beads of blood were growing.

"Stefan, I...." she was interrupted.

"Do you have any liquor?" They both turned their heads at the same time, each forgetting someone else was in the room.

"Give it to her," came the quick, clipped response. "The stronger the better."

"Noooooo!" Genevieve's eyes widened in horror. "I can't go back tonight smelling like liquor."

It was Stefan's turn to looked surprised? Aghast?

"Going back? " His voice was low and full of fury. "You aren't going anywhere tonight, or for a few days." She started to protest. "And that's final," he growled.