queenofmay: (Horse: Jumping--Riding Hard)
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Marian scrambled out her door the moment she saw it, all grace lost with her plunge into the sea and barely regained with the lead from Will, hoping without any realistic expectation to out run the weight which crushed the inside of her being.

Hating him, as much as you could while utterly rejoicing you'd watched a love one achieve their final and best dream, that it was still there on the other side of the door. Everything was still there. The feel of the ocean on her skin and hugging him and of being sure this could not, would not be the end.

And the fact those things did not change grief.

Nor did it change the sea soaked gown and her father dictating, as she deftly avoided looking him in the eye for fear he'd see how stricken she'd been, to her about the tenant she needed to see.

She agreed, hastily and perhaps even part-rudely, grabbing the thick white cloak and thinking only one thing as she dashed out the door and into the attached stable.

Escape.

Lineave, going as fast as they could from the moment she was prepped and Marian was astride, took her in the direction, opposite of the tenant, toward Sherwood.

Her bower. Her safety net. Her endless home.

Her, first and last and best, Sanctuary.

(no subject)

Date: 2007-07-23 05:47 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] outlaw-bold.livejournal.com
"If you do not count Much's prattling on about being a lord or Alan's incessant nonsense, then yes, it is quiet."

What else can he say? That there has been a wary and tense truce in the forest since the day they destroyed the black powder? If it is quiet, it is only because Gisborne has been hunting them less fiercely than usual, and that worries him.

What are they up to, the Sheriff and his lapdog? He fixes his gaze on Marian, wondering. "Have you heard any news from the castle, lately?"

Of course she hasn't. If she had, she would have spoken sooner--and yet his curiousity provokes the question.

(no subject)

Date: 2007-07-23 06:05 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] outlaw-bold.livejournal.com
He watches as her eyes flutter away, wondering what on earth the connection might be, unless...

She couldn't still be upset over Gisborne's disappointment, could she?

A friend, she'd said. A friend she'd lost, and speaking of the Sheriff had reminded her, or else her face would not have fallen and her clear eyes would not have turned inwards...?

No, it couldn't be. He stifles the thought at once, setting it firmly aside to its proper place, nodding though he does not yet step away from the mare.

Once, their goodbyes would have been full of smiles and tender words and promises of seeing the other the next day. Now, they are simply reminders of business together.

He cannot dwell on it; this is not the time for sentimentality; still, his voice is a trifle more gentle than it might otherwise have been.

"I don't like it when it is this quiet," he says. "I'm sure they're planning something. You will keep a close watch?"

(no subject)

Date: 2007-07-23 06:23 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] outlaw-bold.livejournal.com
"It sounds as though you might have a party invitation soon." He smiles as he says it, though, reassured by her words and byt the knowledge that Marian would know, if any would, whether the Sheriff were up to something.

Just like that, her emotions and thoughts and worries are shunted aside, placed away for her to deal with later, and he is filled with admiration for her strength of mind, for her will.

"You ought to go and see that tenant."

(no subject)

Date: 2007-07-23 06:34 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] outlaw-bold.livejournal.com
"You have to be careful," he says, seriously, holding on to the mare's bridle, and then his cocky smiles shines brilliantly up at her.

"I've heard stories about those thieves. Real bandits, by the sound of them.


"Marian..."

He searches her face, and what he sees there makes his eyes drop momentarily before he meets hers once again. "I'm sorry about your friend."

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May 2014

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