when the party's over

[Ariadne Boroughs]

She’d known it was coming, of course she had. But she’d had too much time to let down her guard. Her husband had been gone for another week before he returned. She’d been gone, out with the twins, by the ocean collecting seashells. They’d returned home chatting and laughing, carrying their pails and spades. It had been a glorious day, and despite the sand lingering in her shoes and somehow in her mouth, she felt beautifully alive. Such a rare feeling, for her. She’d kept them at the coast longer than planned, desperate to hold on to the passion that slipped through her fingers like the dry sand.

She’d known the moment she stepped into the house that he was home. The energy was different when he was there–stiffer. Like the house itself had straightened its hair and buttoned its shirt all the way up to the throat. Her smile faded as she caught sight of him standing at the top of the stairs. If looks could kill…

“Run along, you two,” she chided the twins, kissing the top of each golden head. “Give your pails to the nanny, I’m sure she can find a good place for them until tomorrow. And wash up for supper!”

The twins groaned, but they ran off as they were told, slowing to a prim walk past their father before speeding up to sprint off to their bedroom. Neil descended the stairs with all the grace and dignity of royalty, looking properly betrayed and righteously angry. She ought to feel guilty. She should be ashamed of what she’d done, of what he was about to confront her with. But she didn’t give one single flying fuck what he thought of her. She didn’t fill with guilt or shame, but with disgust. So this was what it took for her own husband to care what she did.

She didn’t wait for him to ask her to go to the study, she stalked her way across the foyer with sharp, hard clicks of her heels against the floor and held the door open for him, her face as hard and cold as a gravestone. He brushed past her like she wasn’t even there and made it all the way to the desk before he whirled on her, just as the door clicked shut.

His face had turned an interesting shade of violet. She almost laughed.

“I take it you’ve heard about my party?”

“YOUR PARTY?” he erupted, spit flying from his mouth as he did. He raised his hand, and she flinched. That seemed to catch him, and he turned to put his hand on the desk for a moment instead before he turned back to her. Now his voice was soft, but the violence lingered around the edges, prying at her nerves.

“Your party is the least of my concerns, Ariadne. Throw all the parties you damn well please. You know that’s never been a problem. What is a problem, is when you make a fool of me in front of dozens of guests, by throwing yourself at some garden variety scoundrel.”

“Throwing myse–” She started to protest but he raised a hand to silence her.

“When we met, I thought you had some sense in that pretty head of yours. But if I didn’t know better, I’d think you’d gone ‘round the bend! Scandalous parties, chopping off your hair, and now this? It’s obscene!”

That did it. She went from disgust to hatred. Her lovely lips twisted as she fought to contain the sheer force of the emotion. She wished she could crush him beneath her heel like the cockroach he was. All that rage! Finally some passion! And he didn’t care about her, about how she felt, about their relationship…he cared about appearances.

She felt something run down her cheek and brushed her hand against it. She was surprised to find that hot tears were flooding down her cheeks. And then she laughed. Oh, but not with mirth, just dry, humorless understanding.

“I hate you.” It was quiet, barely audible. Neil’s head snapped toward her, and he clenched his jaw. She could see the vein in his throat throbbing.

“Excuse me?”

She raised her head, looked him right in the eye. “I. Hate. You.” She drew out each syllable with finality. “You’re a pompous, unfeeling, disgusting man, and I hate you. I should never have even considered your proposal.”

He drew away from the desk, up to his full height, and got in her face. His fists were clenched at his sides.

“I’m sorry, I must have misheard you. What did you say?”

She could hear the threat, but she refused to back down.

“I said–”

He didn’t even let her finish before the back of his hand slammed into the side of her face. This was no reflexive action–this had meaning and power behind it. Tall though she was, Ariadne’s thin frame was thrown to the side by the blow. She caught herself on the bookshelf before she could hit the floor. She clenched her jaw tightly, refusing to cry out. A deep breath through her nose and she forced herself to stand upright and turn to face him. He was panting, and his usually perfect hair had been tossed wildly with the motion. She set her shoulders back and raised her chin.

“Was that all you needed?” Her voice was as cool as the morning breeze.

He stepped out of the way of the door, and she took herself out of the room. She headed for the foyer, where her own desk was (along with the bottle of cognac she knew it contained). She passed the servants on the way, carrying out a garland of new boughs, to celebrate spring. She’d all but forgotten she’d had a party planned tonight. She caught one by the arm.

“The party’s canceled. You can…just get rid of that. Don’t worry about cleaning up anything that can survive the night, just… Make sure people know it’s canceled. Send out notes to all the invited guests. Tell them…tell them I’m unwell.”

“Yes’m.”

That evening, her husband was gone again. He hadn’t even bothered to stay for dinner before returning to the castle. She’d made sure the children were fed and sent them to bed early, with permission to stay up reading as long as they liked. They almost didn’t notice that she was upset.

As the sun set, she wandered through the ballroom, and out the wide doors onto the patio. Half the tables were still out, decked with garlands that hung haphazardly, abandoned before they’d been properly hung. She started towards them but found herself dropping heavily to a seat on the top step after she nearly tripped. Perhaps she’d had more to drink than she thought. Things were feeling a little fuzzy, but she was still upset…so not enough, yet. Crickets chirped, and only the light of the thin sliver of moon and the open doors behind her lit the landscape. The skeleton of a party picked clean.

The sob wracked her chest before she had any idea it was coming, and she clutched the neck of the bottle of cognac tightly as she pressed her other hand over her mouth to muffle the sound. The force of it curled her whole body forward, clenching her into a ball there on the steps. For a few long minutes, she was alone, crying her heart out. Mourning the loss of the life and love she never had.

Somewhere to her left, towards the drive, a twig or something snapped. Someone was there. She sat up sharply, looking accusingly towards the noise as if being irritated would stop them from seeing the state she was surely in with her makeup running down her face and an ugly black eye making her look like someone else entirely.

“Party’s canceled,” she called bitterly to the shadow. “Believe me, there’s nothing good here tonight.”

[Theo Davore]

Out of all his foolish ideas, this was probably the worse thus far. Theo knew better than to ever go back to that manor despite how well he had done the last time. He'd managed to pick clean quite a few nobles, and although the sum had been decent, it wasn't nearly enough. A part of him wondered if it would ever be enough to satiate Xilas' mood. Yet, the risk of getting caught doing so again was not what made this a very dumb idea- it was her.

He'd thought about the mistress of Willow's Edge several times since. She was this huge question mark, an enigma; she didn't seem to act like many of the women of her status should. There was something beautifully sad about her, too, that he couldn't manage to pinpoint, only knew was there when he had looked in her eyes. His curiosity was pulling him back there, knowing there was a party this evening. Whether or not he had actually been invited, he never received notice that it was canceled.

Not that it would have stopped him.

The estate seemed rather quiet when he arrived, so he avoided the front door and found his way towards the back, to where he recalled the ballroom patio where he had easily slipped into the crowd to mingle and instantly act like he had been there for hours. Only, the closer he got, the more he began to realize that there really was no party; just remnants of one, it seemed. Had he missed it? Certainly he had gotten the time right?

And there she was, seated upon the steps. It was difficult to see much of her face in the dim from that distance, but he knew it was her. And he knew something seemed off.

"That's a pity," he answered, stepping out from the shadows. His hands came up immediately as if to show he meant no harm or offense for his sudden appearance, and he slowly took steps closer. "I came all this way..." The closer he got, the more he was able to see. Yes, she was crying, and he couldn't be sure if it was the shadows, or if that was a dark ring around her eye...

[Ariadne Boroughs]

Ariadne recognized his voice immediately--Theo Davore, the one who'd been the source of tonight's drama. Or, not the source, but perhaps the spark that had finally triggered her sanity to go up in smoke. She felt as if it had been inevitable--she'd just been waiting for the right thing to set her off, and the burning tension between them had been more than enough. Her heart leapt into her throat for a moment as he stepped into the puddle of light flowing out from the house, and she remembered the feeling of dancing in his arms. It sank just as quickly once she realized that he could probably see her, too. Broken down and bruised, drunk on her own back steps. Hardly the glowing socialite he'd been interested in before. Merely her ghost remained.

She laughed, just once. "You really are a master of terrible ideas, Lord Davore. And terrible timing, too." She'd invited him back, she knew. She hadn't known whether it would really happen, though. He'd been more hesitant than she, all along. She'd wondered several times over the last week if perhaps he'd have more sense than she could. Apparently not. He must be as addicted as she was to that energy, the unidentifiable current between them from the moment he'd tried that conman's smile on her.

With a sigh, she swiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her loose cardigan, not caring if it got ruined. She could get another. She was more interested in cleaning up her face, so it was at least slightly less obvious that she'd been sobbing like a child. Grown women didn't bawl, they wept, silently and with dignity. Or at least, ones wiser than she did. It was probably too late, but that wouldn't stop her from trying to gather up whatever dignity she might have left to clothe herself in.

"Well, since you're here…" she began, acting as if she were still mulling it over. "I suppose you're welcome to what's left of our party tonight. That is, my company and...well, less of a bottle of cognac than there probably ought to be." She smiled as she held out the bottle up for him to see, although it didn't reach her eyes.

Should she tell him why the party had been canceled? Ashamed as she was of the way she'd been found, she didn't want to frighten him away so soon. He'd come back. That had to mean something, didn't it? She wasn't entirely sure what she wanted it to mean. Needed it to, perhaps. But she did know that already, in one simple action, he'd shown more interest in her and her wishes than her husband ever had.

"What do you think? Is that enough reason to stay?"

[Theo Davore]

The way he found her then should have been the second red flag. Dancing the way he had with a married woman of very high status had been the first. He shouldn't be here now, he shouldn't have seen her there looking broken and defeated because Theo had a problem with staying out of things he knew he shouldn't get involved in. Ariadne's tears were undeniable, and the closer he got, the more evident that bruise became. It halted him immediately, that sane voice at the back of his head telling him to keep out of it.

Right now, he should find a way out and never return. Never see her again.

That would be a pity, too, wouldn't it? His brow furrowed lightly, thinking about it, and suddenly remembering that immediate draw, the energy that had surrounded them from the moment he first set eyes on her. There was this tightness in his chest- it might have been common sense, something he normally lacked, but Theo was hesitating. He wasn't very keen on possibly damaging such a vibrant soul as hers.

Those eyes swept over the house behind her, as if expecting to see someone peering out from one of the many windows. This was a bad idea. His mind kept telling him this, but he didn't seem to be listening to reason as of late. Or, well...ever, honestly. And the smart thing to do would be to politely decline and leave.

'What do you think? Is that enough reason to stay?'

Instead, he was approaching closer until he was lowering himself to sit beside her on the steps. Theo never claimed to be a smart man.

A small grin curled up one corner of his mouth as he looked to the bottle of cognac before his gaze drifted to her face. Most of the mirth disappeared from his features, and he was trying to stop himself from asking the inevitable. Yet, he was doing it anyway. "Is that-" he was talking about the bottle. "Because of this?" All he had to do was gesture towards her cheek, but instead, he was reaching out delicately to take her chin between his fingers, and angled her face towards him to inspect the developing mark.

[Ariadne Boroughs]

Ariadne's smirk returned for a moment as he sat down next to her. She was pleased, she couldn't deny that. Even if it meant that he could see the state she was in, she was fairly certain that Theo Davore was the only person she would have allowed this close to her tonight. Even her children, her own flesh and blood, would have been pushed away. What was it that made him different?

She dropped the smile as she followed his gaze from the cognac to her face. Her immediate instinct was to turn away, to hide her troubles as she'd been raised to do. But he turned her face toward the light, and she didn't stop him.

Was the drink because she'd been hit? The question amused her, and she had to press her lips into a thin line for a moment to stop herself from bursting into insane giggles. She'd definitely had enough to make her giddy, but she'd still been planning more cognac before she'd been interrupted. The giggles nearly got past her, but she shut her eyes for a moment to seal them once and for all. After she'd stifled them, she opened her eyes and shook her head gently, not enough to break free of his hand.

"No, he can hit me all he likes. That's hardly what matters. It sounds mad, I know, but I couldn't care less about what he does." She sighed and raised her eyes to the night sky, considering her answer as the night breeze ruffled her short-cropped hair. It was difficult to put into words what bothered her. She wasn't lying--she didn't care if her husband beat her. She didn't care if her face was bruised, not really.

And, really, her husband being a soulless worm wasn't the real problem either. It was part of the issue, certainly, but that wasn't the reason she was drinking. That was deeper, an emptiness she'd tried to feed with everything from desserts to dancing. The cognac, champagne, wine, none of it filled it...but it did help her forget, sometimes.

"No, the cognac is because it's either that or throw myself off the parapet. I don't ever feel alive in this godforsaken house, so I may as well be drunk if I can't be properly dead."

She brought her eyes back down to meet Theo's and smiled brightly. "Have I frightened you off, yet?"

She couldn't quite tell if she hoped he'd run, or if she wanted him to hold her tighter. She was sure she was losing her mind but hadn't it all been coming to that, anyway?

[Theo Davore]

There were so many red flags rising up just then. Some were even blatantly waving right in front of his face and he was stupidly ignoring them. They could be hitting him in the head and he'd still act like he wasn't seeing them. But this was dangerous. Theo was quite aware of her station and of her marriage, and that should have been enough for him to move on to another target.

He didn't, and he didn't completely understand why.

The con-man shouldn't care about the woman, he hardly knew her. However, that didn't mean he liked hearing that a husband was knocking around his wife, no matter the reason. A part of him didn't feel sorry for what had transpired at her last party. What might have happened again at this one.

'No, he can hit me all he likes.' Yes, that did sound mad, and Theo was quite obviously questioning her sanity yet figured it was mostly the drink.

He released her face as she turned her eyes to the sky. His own gaze didn't follow, and instead studied her profile in silent curiosity. It was not uncommon for Tresterian women to fall into such sadness and despair...but he couldn't help wonder why it had happened to her, especially after how spirited she had seemed.

Then she gave him an answer, and his blood ran cold.

When Ariadne looked back to him, he was already still watching her, looking a little stunned. But no, he hadn't run off yet. "Tell me..." he found himself saying before he could stop. He shouldn't be asking anything. "Why...do you feel this way?" Why did any highborn woman married to a man she probably love feel miserable and trapped in her own home? Stop acting naive, Theo.

[Ariadne Boroughs]

"Tell me..." Ariadne's eyebrows rose but she kept quiet and waited expectantly. "Why...do you feel this way?"

Well, that was quite a question.

Ariadne pursed her lips and dropped her gaze to the cognac, swirling it around the bottle. Why? There was so much to say she hardly knew where to begin. How did one explain the tightness in her chest that had settled in when she wasn't looking? The desperate panic she felt when she realized she was becoming just as bland as every other smothered wife in the country? How could he understand without living it?

"Imagine a bird. Imagine it lives in a cage." She held up her hands at about shoulder width, illustrating. "Every day, the cage gets just a little bit smaller. The bird doesn't notice at first, not until the walls are too tight to fly around inside...but soon the bird can't unfurl its wings at all." She drew her hands slowly together so that her fingertips met and formed a cage. "And then it's being crushed alive. The bird is meant to be free, it's meant to soar, but it can't--" She glanced up at him, then crunched her hands into fists. "It's too late, there isn't any room to escape. The bird is as good as dead."

She took a swig of the cognac, then offered it to Theo.

"I just feel like...Like a plant without sun, a bird without wings. I'm suffocating here, no matter how beautiful I make it. I thought I could survive, with the twins to give me some kind of purpose, a direction… but that isn't enough. They're not mine, they're their own. I can't drag them down with me. So instead I'm turning into a ghost. She sighed heavily and leaned against the stone post that held up the railing beside her.

"I've been craving…" She shook her head, unable to pin it down. "Something. A reason to live, I suppose." She shrugged. "With that, I could do anything, be anywhere--be anyone!--but without energy, without passion in my life...I'll cease to exist." She gestured 'poof' with her long fingers, imagining that she vanished in a cloud of smoke.

[Theo Davore]

He really didn't know what he expected to hear. Unlike a lot of men, Theo was not oblivious to the affects of this misogynistic society. In fact, he lived in the "underground" and knew a great amount of strong and capable of women trying to fight against the system. He admired them for it.

Perhaps that was why he had been immediately drawn to this woman. There had been this defiant air about her just luring him closer without giving him a way to fight it. Or, maybe, he simply hadn't wanted to. It was the very thing that brought him to the manor tonight. Sure, he told himself he had to work and expected a party, but that voice at the back of his mind told him something different. He just wasn't willing to let it speak any louder.

This was a job, and it would have to remain so. Even if what she was telling him could break the heart of even the most emotional poet.

It would break his heart if he let it.

Theo took the bottle as it was offered, but didn't take a sip from it. Instead, he was just watching her closely, his brow furrowed in deep thought and concern. Ariadne claimed she couldn't even survive this life with and for her own children. He was struggling to figure out if she was being dramatic or that was actually a valid reason to be this way. It wasn't his place to question her love for her children, especially when he had none of his own. 'They're not mine, they're their own. I can't drag them down with me.'

The thief remained quiet for a long moment. The marchioness might think she had finally scared him off, and yet, he remained seated there simply studying her in the moonlight. He was strangely fascinated by this tale of sorrow- he couldn't help it.

"Then...we must find you wings so that you can fly to the sun," he finally said, his voice ever so quiet. Setting the bottle aside, he drifted a little closer. "Close your eyes." Theo would wait until she complied and only continued to speak when she did. Somehow, his voice managed to drop even lower, and he watched her still. "You have these magnificent wings, this freedom you so desperately seek. Imagine it, even for a moment. It's no longer cold, but warm; so very warm. Everything around you is warm and bright, and it wraps itself around you..." Then, he spoke in a near whisper, but she would be able to still hear him as he sat there beside her. "You have this one chance to go anywhere you wish, or be whatever you want...tell me, Ariadne, what do you choose? What does your freedom look like?"

[Ariadne Boroughs]

Ariadne watched him, waiting for him to confess that she'd gone too far. But he didn't. Instead, he picked up her metaphor and ran with it. Curious where he was going with this, she did as he asked, letting her eyes fall closed and shaking some of the tension out of her shoulders as she waited for the next instruction.

You have these magnificent wings, this freedom you so desperately seek. Imagine it, even for a moment. It's no longer cold, but warm; so very warm. Everything around you is warm and bright, and it wraps itself around you..."

She genuinely did imagine it, herself with wide white wings, flying close to the sun where its warmth radiated through her feathers. She drifted aimlessly, far above the estate where she had been a prisoner. She could even imagine the tiny horses riding across the grounds like ants. Everything was warm and bright. She was free.

His next whisper sent a chill across her skin. "You have this one chance to go anywhere you wish, or be whatever you want...tell me, Ariadne, what do you choose? What does your freedom look like?"

She hummed softly as she considered her answer. Even like this, she couldn't quite picture it or...or maybe she could. But the notion her brain came up with frightened her a little. It was insane. The answer to his question wasn't him sitting right there next to her. Here she was, trying to get her freedom, to be purely herself...so why was it that she was latching so quickly onto him? Needing someone scared her nearly as much as that great void that had been threatening to swallow her for so long. She tried to get around it as if that gut feeling was just a roadblock between her and this elusive 'freedom.'

"Being free is...being free is just that. It's being able to make my own choices, and to have what I say, what I feel, matter. No more masks, no more fake smiles. Maybe...maybe what I'm looking for is more a feeling than a place. I just want--" Her voice cracked as more tears threatened. She wanted someone to give a damn. Her sisters couldn't be there for her all the time, and it just...it wasn't the same. What she was looking for just didn't exist. Not in the real world. Not for her.

She took a sharp breath and shook her head, running her hands down her face and wiping the last remains of her ruined makeup from it. "I'm being stupid. I'm supposed to be able to do this on my own. Why am I the only one who feels like this? I have everything I'm supposed to. I just don't know why it all feels so empty."

[Theo Davore]

He shouldn't still be here. He shouldn't be doing a lot of things, and yet, Theo couldn't seem to carry himself away or part from her side. He wasn't supposed to care about anything she said unless it was helpful for his own purposes. Well, perhaps in a way it was, but he currently wasn't thinking about his debt, he wasn't thinking about the fact that Xilas could hang him for his insolence. Right now, he was only thinking about the marchioness and her tale of woe.

There was a spark inside her- he knew it, he swore he saw it. It was just a matter of fueling it, guiding it until it was a blazing fire. Until she could finally feel alive and worthy of this life.

Theo studied her expression, watching as the emotions changed, seeing them soften the hard contours of her lovely, angular face. She really was desperate, wasn't she? She really did feel lost, and he wished he didn't understand that feeling. Whereas she seemed to feel trapped in this life of luxury, he hadn't felt free until he had it, taking it from a lonely and tired baroness. If it was any consolation, though, Theo actually had adored the woman. He had never known his true mother, and she embraced him as her own son (if only because he had been that convincing). Still, he knew this feeling she spoke of and strived to find, and he shouldn't want to help her.

But he was going to, wasn't he?

Of course you are, you damn idiot, the voice at the back of his mind nagged. And Xilas will see you hang. Yet, living day by day is what he did. And if you didn't take chances, you weren't truly living.

'I just want-' "I know," he said quietly, the understanding seeping into his tone. She didn't need to finish that sentence, and yet he didn't know how to either. Theo turned to face towards the manor grounds, resting his forearms upon his knees. "You're not the only one, Ariadne," he confessed quietly. "Sometimes you strive for something- an item, a person, a life, whatever the case may be- because you feel like it's what you need. And yet, when you have it...there's this emptiness that festers and grows." He stopped talking, rubbing the back of his neck in soft embarrassment.

It was a long moment before he was regarding her once again, a hint of a smile on his lips. "But, you still have the ability to find it. The night is still young. Every night could be yours and yours alone." Once her children were in bed, whenever her husband decided to depart from her side...it left just her. Who was to say she couldn't take these dark hours and make them her own?

Theo fell silent, seeming to contemplate something before that smile of his turned into a sly grin. "Have you ever been to Windport at night, Lady Boroughs?"

[Ariadne Boroughs]

The night was hers? She didn't understand. Certainly, she had the time to herself--that was why she'd been out here, trying to drink herself into oblivion. But how was that any better than being surrounded by empty nothings during the day? Was there anything she could do in the dark that she couldn't in the light of day?

She was about to ask when a grin returned to his face, sparking something somewhere between excitement and absolute terror in her ribcage. What was he thinking? And whatever it was...was she really bold enough to do it? She'd been too much a coward to fling herself off the parapet...would this be any different?

"Have you ever been to Windport at night, Lady Boroughs?"

Ariadne raised an eyebrow. The village? No, she hadn't, and to be frank she rarely went there in the daytime, either, despite how close it was. But would that little place truly be so different at night? "I can't say I have, no. Did you have something in mind?"

[Theo Davore]

With her husband gone and her children in bed, she was by herself in the evenings. The night was hers to do whatever she wished- whether that was to wallow in her tears and drink the hours away, or make something better of it. In the dark, in the shadows, she could be whomever she wanted to be, do whatever she wished to do without the light of the stuffy Tresterian society looming over her.

And Theo was rather curious what that Ariadne would be like.

"Visiting Windport," he answered her question, as if it had been so obvious. The thief slowly rose up to his tall height to gaze down at her with that ever present grin. "If you're feeling adventurous, that is." It was inappropriate of him to ask, he knew, but he'd already danced with her and even kissed her back in front of others. This was honestly an innocent request.

"I'll give you twenty minutes to freshen up and meet me at the side of the manor," Theo said, gesturing with a cant of his head towards the direction he had come from and where his horse was patiently waiting. "I won't be offended if you do not show, and I will leave quietly..." He began to back up slowly. "If you do decide to come along, dress warmly." That grin widened just a little bit more before he was turning around to leave.

[Ariadne Boroughs]

A slow smile grew on the marchioness's face as she watched him rise and explain his plan. An adventure, hm? Alright, he had her attention--not that he'd lost it for more than a moment since the first time he smiled at her.

"I'll be there in ten," she called quietly after him, already climbing to her feet.

Somehow their conversation had sobered her a little, and her steps were more surefooted as she moved silently back into the house and up to her rooms. She shed her clothes and cleaned her face first, not bothering with putting on more makeup. He'd already seen her with it running down her face, so being free of it could only be an improvement. Besides, her signature dark lip would only be one more thing for the locals to recognize. Better to stay a bit understated, for the moment.

She selected a dark dress and an underbust corset she could manage without bothering a servant, dressed quickly, and tugged on fur-lined boots and a dark cloak. A quick glance in the mirror had her stopping short. She looked like another woman; her once slicked-back hair fell soft around her temples, and without their harsh liner her eyes were softened as well, sorrowful, perhaps. Her lips were pink and full, no longer forbidding. All her protective walls, every red flag to ward people away, they'd been taken down. Goosebumps skittered and rippled down her arms, and she dreamily raised her fingertips to meet those of her reflection. Was this who she was?

The chiming of a clock in the hall woke her from her reverie, and she hurried out of the room and down the back stairs, making her way to the side of the house where she found a horse and a familiar figure still waiting.

"You know, I half expected you to have vanished. Just a figment of my imagination, perhaps," she commented mildly as she drew close, speaking just loud enough for him to hear. "For once I'm glad to be wrong."

[Theo Davore]

She didn't seem the type to visit Windport very often, so he wasn't concerned about the "wrong eyes" seeing them. He, on the other hand, was very fond of the village...considering that was where he had been born. That was a secret, of course, since he was supposed to be a baroness' long lost son and all. No one there recognized him anymore, either.

That smile on his face became as wide as the Cheshire Cat's when she agreed. Then, he was slipping away to tend to his horse. Theo hoped she didn't mind the lack of carriage. A single horse was much more discreet if he wasn't brazen enough to go somewhere by foot. The thief used to not care, but upon being "adopted", well, he'd become a little spoiled in certain regards.

Okay, and maybe he had gotten a bit lazy as well.

He was stroking the grey mare's snout when he heard Ariadne's gentle approach. At her words, he offered an amused expression from over his shoulder. "I keep my promises," he told her. Not that he had actually promised outwardly, but he had silently to himself. And Theo Davore always kept his promises...which was usually why he rarely made any.

Turning, he offered to help her up into the saddle before nonchalantly climbing up behind her. He playfully scooted an inch closer, his chest pressing against her back. "It's a bit cold, marchioness, so a bit of cuddling might be in order." Theo chuckled at himself. He only half meant it, aiming to cheer her up, but he was just a natural flirt that such words came automatically (even if he wasn't hoping for a money loan). Regardless, he only needed one arm to steer the complacent mare, and kept his other one to himself; resting against his thigh and ready to steady her if need be.

[Ariadne Boroughs]

Ariadne chuckled. Well, she'd come this far already, no sense in half measures. "As you wish." She let herself melt into Lord Davore's chest, even going so far as to wiggle her shoulders a little to make her point. "Just let me know if it becomes a distraction," she teased, the smug smirk on her face coloring her tone.

You know, perhaps she ought to have run off with a dashing party crasher a long time ago. Her very bones were beginning to hum with the thrill of danger--equal parts fun and fear.

But no, she couldn't have done it sooner; she wouldn't have been persuaded by just anyone with a handsome face and winning smile. It was something about this man, in particular; an understanding, perhaps, that ran beneath the surface. It wasn't just the escape that made it worth it. It was the fact that she'd vomited all her fears, her depression, her near suicide, and he'd understood. He hadn't flinched away from the bitter reality of what went on behind her glittering façade.