Sherwood Shenanigans, Part III of III

[queenofmay]

It takes all her will power not to run. Every faintly quickened, but not running, step toward her room. Which she knows anyone she passes will take as her running away from the Sheriff's hands. When it is far more directed in running to.

To the door of her room, which she locked without slamming. To the pile of clothes hidden under her mattress, the candles not even lit. To her Night Watchman costume, which goes on, as the dress gets thrown on the bed. It could be dealt with later. Coiling her hair quickly, as her mask dangled from a strap between her pressed lips. Her hair might end up far more knotted, but that could be dealt with later, too.


Then Marian was back at her door, beginning to push the mask up past her chin, as she looked down the dark hallway to the left.

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[queenofmay]

She does, have to close it, closes it. Giving herself only the leave of a few seconds to lean her shoulder against the door, as the stalls are suddenly quieter. When it is suddenly only her. No Caspian. None of the three horses. No Robin.

There are only horses shifting and shaking their tails in lazy circles, and Nottingham Castle. She doesn't try the door, even if she looks toward it. If only letting her self get as far as her shoulder, before she stops indulging the urge.

He's safe. They are all safe. It is the most she can ask for.

Marian shook her head, tugging the silk back up, over her mouth and her ears, reaching back behind her head to tighten it, before pulling the cloak hood back up over her hair, as well. Giving a last look toward the horses, and making a note to come back here tomorrow night. To see if Sorely is here, as well, and consider other plans that might open up.

Then she's only a shadow, making her way back through the stables and across the darkened hallways and stairs of her once childhood home.