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Post by Oliver Strathmore of Mercia on Nov 28, 2011 3:28:22 GMT -5
Edmund laughed with Yassia at the idea of having a gypsy lover. Even until now, he never really understood why Oliver was so taken by that nomad. “I wouldn’t trade the comforts of a castle for anything either. I just did’t see why my brother took it to a point where father had to make him choose between her and his title. I’m just glad Oliver saw reason in the end,” Edmund remarked nonchalantly as he led Yassia around a corner of the castle towards the stables. There were quite a number of fine-looking thoroughbred horses being taken cared of by able stable hands. The caretakers paused when they saw Edmund, and greeted him and the princess when they passed by. Edmund cordially nodded his head in return. When Yassia spoke about having an elder brother, Edmund looked at her with genuine interest. “I hope he wasn’t as handful as my own brother. Tell me about him,” he said with a smile.
”Well I hope for the world that there are not many more princesses having to go through the same ordeals.”
“While I admire your courage, I do agree with you and do not wish such an ordeal to any princess, or to anybody for that matter,” Edmund replied. From their conversation so far, Edmund could see that the princess he saw in Yassia was a product of these experiences. She’s probably of the same age as Oliver, but she acts a great deal more mature than his own brother does sometimes. This maybe perhaps owing to the hardships that she went through in her life. She was a woman in the truest sense of the word, the kind of woman Edmund desperately wanted to rule Mercia beside him one day.
“I am fortunate to never have been in a situation where my heart was in conflict with my head. Both your heart and your head spoke the same thing that time, so that was indeed a convenient decision for you to make. But have you ever experienced being conflicted? Did you listen to your heart or your head?” It was an honest question, and Edmund was keen to know exactly how Yassia would react if put in such a predicament. In a way, this conversation was some sort of an interview. He wanted to know more about Yassia as much as he could. He wanted to see if they were ever compatible at least. Earlier, he was rather disappointed that she showed traits so much like those of his brother, but as their talk continued on, he saw that she could be just as level-headed and reasonable as he was. That was a good thing.
To have her look at him like that, her beautiful eyes locking his gaze, her soft voice like music to his ears, it tugged at his heart, and Edmund was entranced that he didn’t even notice she had not addressed him by his title. Not that it mattered to him. He was just mesmerized, and he knew right this moment, his heart and his head were singing the same tune. He didn’t hear much of what she was saying, and it wasn’t until she squeezed his hand did he snap out of his momentary trance. “I understand, Camelot does have their own problems to take care of first. But what kind of help do you need exactly?” In that moment, Edmund knew that he would give Yassia what she wanted and needed, whatever it may be.
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Post by Oliver Strathmore of Mercia on Nov 27, 2011 3:36:12 GMT -5
Edmund resisted sounding off on Yassia's expressed affinity for the forest. Oliver had been quite a thorn on his father's neck during his rebellious teenage years when he would just run off to the forest and not come home for days at a time. Was Yassia of the sort? He can't have a queen who would prefer the rugged discomfort of the jungle more than the luxury and cosiness of the castle. He needed a queen who would grace the halls of Mercia with her beauty and play the genial host their guests. "You know you sound just like my brother," Edmund said chuckling, trying not to show his slight dismay in the fact. "I never really understood the lure that the forest held for Oliver until I found out he had a gypsy lover who practically lived in the jungle. Have you had a similar experience? Is that why the dangers could never keep you away?" Edmund asked trying to be playful and curious, to understand why Yassia thought that way. He had initially expected her to be like every other princess out there who prefer the pomp and pageantry of the courts. Well, when the time comes, Edmund knew he could find a way to make Yassia change her mind.
"As you say, princess, but you couldn't take that away from me now. I don't meet princesses like you everyday," Edmund said gently, sounding a bit apologetic. The tone in Yassia's voice told Edmund he had stepped on fragile maybe even sacred grounds, and he needed to tread carefully. He had after all invited her to Mercia to woo her, not to alienate her. From her words, it seems Yassia was all about marrying more for love than for duty. Edmund can certainly find a way to charm her in his own way. Had he not charmed other women, women from all walks of life, before? Surely, Yassia would be an easy conquest. He already have her here. All Yassia needed was a push in the right direction to make her realize his intentions and reciprocate it.
When she apologized, Edmund stopped walking and rested his hand over hers. "There is nothing to forgive and there is nothing for you to apologize for, princess. You should have never been forced into a union not of your liking. Nothing but misery and sadness will come out of it." Part of him was glad that she knew how to stand her ground for he needed a strong queen. But another part of him was worried that she might just be too stubborn to see reason when the time comes for him to make his intentions known. Edmund definitely had his work cut out for him with regards to Yassia indeed.
"Now it is my turn to ask for forgiveness. I realized I was already stating the obvious. Had I known that you crossed the seas, risked your life to find help...well, I would have easily understood your predicament. Forgive me, princess." Edmund was sincere this time, looking her in the eyes when he apologized for his tactlessness. He can be quite thick at times, but Yassia's tone had left nothing to the imagination. Edmund knew he had crossed the line. "I can't promise you much, not yet until I have spoken to my father, but I will do all I can to help you. Tell me about your mother's relatives here in Albion. I can at least send out word to help you find them." That much he could do for her, and hopefully earn him some points from her in that department.
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Post by Oliver Strathmore of Mercia on Nov 27, 2011 0:39:39 GMT -5
Caitrin had been a 'very dear friend' of Yassia. What a crazy happenstance that was! Of all the people in Camelot who could have helped Yassia get settled in, it had to be someone he knew quite well, someone from Mercia. Was there a sign here, a meaning of sorts that he ought to know about, that he ought to heed? He hadn't met Griff yet, but from what Yassia just said and from the look on Caitrin's face when she had told him about her fiance, Griff seems like a great fellow. He had to admit he was looking forward to meeting the man, and making a friend out of him. Anyone who could make Caitrin happy and earn Yassia's admiration must definitely be worth connecting to. Yassia's admiration. Since when did he start considering her opinion of people? Somehow, somewhere between their talk in her chambers and their arrival in the courtyards, it just happened. Oliver was starting to get a little worried at how Yassia never ceased to figure prominently in his thoughts. The fates it seems are quite keen on playing with them just when he had vowed to push her away. He just hoped he can control himself, keep himself away from her, throughout the journey. He nodded when Yassia said Caitrin and Griff were made for each other, and turned his head to look at her. There was a smile on her face, and Oliver's traitorous heart wished that that smile had been for him.
As they descended the steps towards the courtyard, Oliver followed Yassia's gaze to where Caitrin was, and saw a man trying a bit too hard to compose himself as he greeted his father and brother. A small amused smile tugged on the corner of his lips when he realized this must be Griff. To the casual eye, Griff looked very comfortable as he presented himself. But to the keen eyes of a hunter, Oliver could see that Griff was anything but. He caught the fleeting look of annoyance that had crossed Griff's face when Caitrin introduced him, and decided to save the man from anymore unnecessary discomfort.
"May I present my fiancée, Lord Griflet Aubert."
"A pleasure to meet you, sire."
"The pleasure is all ours to have such good friends joining us on our trip back home," Edmund responded a tad too courteously to Griff. The Crown Prince wasn't sure what to make of Caitrin's betrothed, so he reserved the judgment for later.
“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting for too long.”
"Oh, you're worth waiting for, Princess," Edmund replied as he gave Yassia a small bow in return. Oliver couldn't resist rolling his eyes at his brother's all too obvious effort to get in Yassia's good graces. "Good morning, father, brother," he cheerfully greeted his family after Yassia did, patting his brother on the shoulder when she proceeded to greet Caitrin and Griff. Oliver inwardly smiled at the look of surprise on his brother's face when he saw him arriving with Yassia. "I chanced upon the princess on my way here and offered to help her with her things," he reasoned as he handed Yassia's bag to a servant. Let the pretending begin, Oliver told himself.
Following Yassia, Oliver greeted Caitrin with a bow and a kiss on her hand before turning towards Griff. "You must be the man who had stolen the Lady Caitrin's heart. I'm Oliver. It's nice to meet you." he greeted him with a smile and held his hand out for a firm friendly shake. "You have to forgive me if the invitation to Mercia came at such a short notice. When Caitrin told me she was getting married, I just couldn't resist planning a party of sorts back home to celebrate such a wonderful event. You will love Mercia..." Then a mischievous glint shone in his eyes and Oliver leaned closer to whisper something to Griff, although it was still loud enough for Caitrin and Yassia to hear. "I don't know about Caitrin's family though. That's why I specifically asked that you come along so you can see for yourself before you officially get yourself hitched to her wagon," he teased with a wink. It was all in good fun. Oliver knew there was no more stopping these two from tying the knot.
A slight commotion up front caught Oliver's attention, and he turned to see King Arthur descend the steps to meet his father and brother. It was mighty gracious of him to personally bid the Mercian party farewell.
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Post by Oliver Strathmore of Mercia on Nov 26, 2011 12:59:09 GMT -5
Edmund liked the way she laughed. It was so carefree and uninhibited. If he didn't know any better, Yassia seemed to have enjoyed the journey to Mercia more than he did. For him, a lot of things had gone wrong during the trip. Most of them took him away from Yassia. He had also become sick halfway through it, that he was mostly relegated to the carriages for he was too sick to ride. It was a tad bit shameful for him, but then again the physician's orders where orders. And no matter how much he wanted to have ridden on his horse, he was too dizzy, his stomach too queasy to sit up properly. Thankfully, a good night's rest and the full stock of remedies from the castle had healed Edmund quickly and nursed him back to the pink of health in no time.
"Thank you. Some would say it's quite a bleak place with all the forest all around it, but it's home," replied Edmund with a smile. He was quite proud of it in fact. The forest surrounding the castle served to camouflage it from oncoming hordes in the event of a war. It is well-manned and patrolled by Mercian troops. "We are using the forest to our advantage. It protects us and hides us from our enemies at the same time. The forest itself is a weapon against the uninitiated." While Edmund knew they had fortifications added to the forest, it was Oliver who knew exactly what and where they were. His hunter of a brother was only too keen to supervise putting them up himself, feeling all at home there than in the castle. "Oliver is probably out there checking them all one by one. He loves the forest more than the walls of the castle I tell you," he remarked with a chuckle, sounding amused at his brother's preference for the jungle than the comforts of the castle. Edmund and Oliver were total opposites, but Oliver was only too willing to give Edmund whatever he liked that they almost always get along quite well.
"Of course, and it is quite brave of you to have gone through such hardships. Only a strong woman could have survived that and I admire you," Edmund replied, somehow taking his words back. He did admire Yassia for her courage, but still that doesn't mean that he totally liked what she did. He hoped she wouldn't be so stubborn when she becomes queen, he told himself. His queen.
Edmund listened attentively to her tale, and somehow understood now what she had to leave. "Do you not like the son?" Edmund asked with a sly smile. Then his look turned serious. "But with you gone from Ailantha now, your uncle still got what he wanted, right? You practically offered the kingdom to him on a silver platter." Edmund was not seeing her rationale in this. Perhaps he had missed something here.
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Post by Oliver Strathmore of Mercia on Nov 26, 2011 12:24:33 GMT -5
Oliver oddly felt comforted by the words of this servant when she told him that his father would appreciate his effort. It wasn't because he expected his father to be, it was because the servant seem to want to comfort him, seem to care for him to ease his worries. Of course, Oliver getting all wild and crazy with his thoughts. She was a servant. It was her duty to please and appease her masters. She would never say anything unpleasant against the king, especially against the king, or it would be her head. Her next words confirmed all that. Indeed, Lord Bayard's a strict ruler, but there were times when Oliver just couldn't see him as fair and impartial. More often than not, Oliver feels like his father it seems is always out to get him. For sure, he knew that Edmund was the favorite son, and his brother need only do little to earn praises from his father while Oliver himself had to toil long and hard to get the old man's approval. It was no wonder why Oliver just had to defy him every now and then, and just leave the castle to go on his hunting trips. Tonight, Oliver was trying to get into Lord Bayard's graces, but he was doing it more for Mercia than for his father. The peace treaty with Camelot would mean a lot to the people of Mercia who had known nothing but war for centuries now. An era of peace was what everybody needed, to heal, to start anew. Oliver was determined to see this pact through.
"Cara. such a lovely name. Do you know that it means 'beloved' or 'dear'?" Oliver mused as he closely watched her pour wine into his goblet. "So if I call you by your name, I might as well have called you 'beloved'," he added with an impish little smirk. She was dangerously close as she moved to put the glass in front of him, brushing his arm in the process. Oliver felt a sliver of electricity race up his arm, but he made no effort of moving away or reacting in any obvious way. He was liking the view and the proximity as it is now. A move might only disrupt the current dynamics. It also didn't hurt that she smelled quite sweet...intoxicating, like he was being drawn in to her. It must be the smell of the fine wine, but Oliver was too pre-occupied at gazing at the sight before him to notice where it came from. This was definitely a very welcome respite after hours of poring over those maps and lists.
He took a sip from his wine, and couldn't help the small smirk that appeared on the corner of his lips when she excitedly recognized Camelot from the many maps strewn all over the table before him. Not a lot of servants were educated enough to know how to read maps, and she certainly impressed Oliver when she practically showed him she could. "Have you been to Camelot before?" he asked curiously. This should be interesting. None of their people had set foot in Camelot for a while now. If Cara had knowledge about the place, then she could prove to be helpful to him and to the kingdom in general.
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Post by Oliver Strathmore of Mercia on Nov 26, 2011 11:51:44 GMT -5
The day was bright and sunny, and Edmund was glad that it was for it afforded him the chance to spend it with Yassia, showing her around the kingdom. Somehow, he wanted her to see it for herself, to see what awaits her in Mercia. It was like showing her a part of himself. This was the place he called home. His family was here. His people were here. He grew up here, learned all he needed to know about life and becoming king in this very place. He wanted her to see that, wanted her to see him all comfortable in his element. Perhaps when she does, Edmund told himself, she'd look at her with more than just the trademark courtesy and gratitude that a guest would give her host. He wanted more. He wanted her.
"That's good to know. I wouldn't want want you feeling too ill at ease after having dragged you miles away from Camelot," Edmund replied with a smile. He wanted to make an impression, that was certain. So he took advantage of every opportunity that presented itself now that they were strolling the courtyards. Servants and commoners stopped in their tracks to bow before him, and Edmund was only too happy to greet them back.
Yassia's words about traveling on the road and forgetting to live in comfort caught Edmund's interest. He still couldn't imagine her traveling from Ailantha, crossing the seas practically all by herself. "A beautiful princess like you should be lavished with all the good things in life. You belong in these rich and opulent castles, princess. Life on the road, a hard life, is not the life for you," Edmund told her. He had no intention of belittling Yassia's journey, but it may as well have sounded like that without him knowing it. All he was thinking about was telling her that she belonged to the castle, not the roads. While Oliver would have lauded her for her strength and effort in taking risks and facing the dangers of coming to Albion, Edmund was sounding like he was discouraging her, that it was a reckless move on her part.
"Had affairs become so dismal in Ailantha that you have to leave your own kingdom and travel this far?" Yassia had told him, his father, and Oliver a bit about her reasons for coming to Albion. Edmund was more curious now to know more.
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Post by Oliver Strathmore of Mercia on Nov 26, 2011 4:25:03 GMT -5
.:Name of Character:. Edmund Eadric Strathmore de Mercia
.:Nick Name:. Edmund
.:Age:. 26
.:Race:. Mercian
.:Status:. Royalty
.:Portrayed by:. Justin Hartley
.:Strengths:. excellent swordfighter, brave, charming, cunning
.:Weaknesses:. a bit egoistic, hotheaded, spoiled
.:Magic Abilities:. None.
.:Birthplace:. Mercia
.:Family:.
Father: Lord Bayard, King of Mercia
Mother: Lady Adelaide, Queen of Mercia
Brother: Oliver Leofric (25)
.:Occupation:. Crown Prince of Mercia
.:Current Location of Residence:. Castle of Mercia
Notes about Edmund:
Edmund is Oliver's total opposite. He doesn't have a way with words like Oliver does. He just speaks his mind out without thinking of its effect on the other person.
He is well meaning though, just tactless. Subtlety is not his strongest point.
While Oliver sees rainbows, everything is either black or white for Edmund. It is either this or that, not both, and not anything in between.
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Post by Oliver Strathmore of Mercia on Nov 26, 2011 0:00:59 GMT -5
The castle of Mercia was abuzz with both business and excitement as the king and his two sons arrived home from their trip to Camelot the night before. They had guests in tow in the person of Princess Yassia of Ailantha, Lady Caitrin de Archer, a Mercian noble who had long stayed in Camelot, and her betrothed Sir Griflet Aubert. The queen, Lady Adelaide, had all welcomed her husband and sons herself, and had made sure the guests were well provided with the fine accommodations and superb service in the castle.
Today, a feast of a lunch had been prepared. Lady Adelaide had insisted that they all have lunch together as her own way of officially welcoming their guests to Mercia, and as a simple thanksgiving of sorts for her husband and sons to have returned home safely. It had been quite a hearty meal with family and friends around. As soon as the meal was over, they had all broken up to go about with their respective businesses. Lord Bayard had proceeded to the council chambers to get appraised with matters of the kingdom while he was away. Prince Oliver had respectfully excused himself with word that he was heading to the training grounds.
Prince Edmund himself had immediately rushed to Princess Yassia’s side only to have his mother beat him to it. "We are so happy to have you here with us, Princess. Please make yourself at home. If there’s anything you want, anything at all, do not hesitate to come to me. You can’t imagine my happiness when last night’s advance party had told me of our women guests. I am so glad you and Lady Caitrin had accepted my sons' invitations," Lady Adelaide told Yassia as the older woman gave the princess' hand a gentle squeeze. She was a fine woman, elegant and yet motherly. There was a strength about her as well that made her look all at home and in control in a family mostly made up of men and in a kingdom as stalwart and military stiff as Mercia. Lady Adelaide was a woman who knew her way with men without having to sacrifice her femininity in the process. In fact, it seems she knows just how to use her womanly wiles to get what she want from the men in her life.
“And me. Princess Yassia can always come to me as well, mother,” Edmund had interjected with a courteous smile as he stepped beside Yassia.
“Of course, Edmund. Now you be a gracious host, and show the princess around. I will see you at dinner tonight, my dear,” she said as she turned and made her way towards Caitrin and Griff.
Edmund offered his arm for Yassia to take, and started leading her out of the hall. “Have you had a good night’s rest, Princess? Were your chambers to your liking?” he asked her with a tender smile.
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Post by Oliver Strathmore of Mercia on Nov 21, 2011 20:22:24 GMT -5
Oliver nodded, pensive, as Yassia continued to tell him about how her brother's death had affected her, had brought her to where she was now. It was always sad to know that recent circumstances have been brought about by previous sad ones. No matter how magical or beautiful things right now are, it can't help but be tainted by the fact that her brother's death had brought her here. Oliver didn't know whether he should be thankful now or not. He didn't want her to be sad, but then he probably wouldn't have met her had it turned out otherwise. "I am so sorry for your loss," he told her as he gave her hand a gentle squeeze, reassuring her. "I wish you didn't have to go through so much pain." There was only so much Oliver could say to comfort her. Perhaps the only consolation they could get out of it was that Yassia still remained strong and steadfast throughout her ordeal. If she remained this way, Oliver knew she could survive anything and everything that life throws her way.
"What about a happy ending? That can’t be too much to ask for, yes?"
Oliver couldn't help but smile. Who wouldn't want a happy ending? People may not say it out loud, but they all want the rest of their life to be as happy as can be. However, looking at their situation now, the chances of them staying together and making a happy ending of their own was next to nothing, if not nothing at all. He couldn't be with her no matter how much his heart ached to spend every moment of his life with her. A free woman such as Yassia can never be forced to conform to the set rules and traditions of palace life. She would hate it, and Oliver cannot have that. And then of course, there's the matter of his father being nitpicky about the women he and his brother would marry.
Getting drunk in her kisses and the feel of her warm body against his was such a welcome respite on an otherwise cold and tiring night like this. Never had Oliver expected to "catch" this kind of reward when he had decided to come hunting in the Forest of Balor, and he was unbelievably joyous like never before. His body ached for her. He wanted to touch her, feel her, know more about her in so many ways others can only wish and imagine. And Oliver, too, would willingly offer himself to Yassia. Everything she wanted, he would give her. He had thrown all caution to the wind hours ago. All he wanted was to be one with her.
”I want you too, but I can’t… please accept that. Not further… I can’t…”
Then of course, she was a woman with her own wishes and principles. She was her own person. Oliver respected and cared for that person more than anything right now. The look on her face when she told him she couldn't go further devastated Oliver as well, but he understood. "Don't frown, sweetheart. Knowing that you want it as much as I do is more than enough for me. And I don't know how to thank you for already making me very happy tonight," he tenderly replied before feathering a soft kiss on her lips. This was truly a blissful moment for him, where everything just seemed so right, so perfect. His heart soared through the leaves on the trees and out to the clear night sky above in joyful release. This in itself was already a wonderful gift that he would forever be grateful for.
He gave Yassia a smile and leaned back on the log even as he guided her to lie comfortably against him. He took her hand and wove his fingers through her own. "I dread the morning, because I'm not ready to let you go just yet," Oliver spoke more to himself than to Yassia. He could already feel the slight ache in his chest at the thought of seeing her go, but he knew it was inevitable. He needed to prepare himself. He heaved a deep and heavy sigh as if trying to let all the pent up emotions out of him. "I will not forget you. Whatever tomorrow brings, I will always cherish you, Yassia." It felt like he was already saying goodbye, and he felt like he was being stabbed a million times. "You think you will remember me just as much? Even with all the men that you will continue to meet in your journeys?" he asked teasingly as he cocked his head to look at her, an impish little smirk playing on the corners of his lips.
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Post by Oliver Strathmore of Mercia on Nov 20, 2011 21:44:11 GMT -5
"G-good."
That was it. That sealed it all then. Yassia was content to bury the past. And Oliver knew he had to as well. He had to admit it had all been lip service on his part. No one would know what he felt inside, the torture that he was subjecting himself to...and will continue to subject himself to. He can continue to hold on to the memory of their past without showing any outward signs of letting it control him. It should be easy, right? At night, in the solitude of his room, he can let go and relive the wonderful memories he had with Yassia. He would imagine her laughing at his jokes, bantering with him, lying in his arms, kissing him. He would gladly torture himself every night like this, and then put up a bold and unaffected face the morning after. No one would know. No one would care. That was the only way he knew he could survive all this. Dammit! Why had Edmund had to beat him to her? Sure, he had known Yassia first, but it was Edmund who had publicly staked a claim on her, or at least to their father. Oliver had been so consumed by anger that night that he had lost that chance, that opportunity to rekindle the past with her. And it was all too late now. There was no going back.
She met his eyes, and for a moment, Oliver thought one of them might break, but it was over not too soon after. Yassia had looked away just as he had stepped back. Those were conscious efforts on their part to completely put a lid on the past. The things you have to do for your people. The things you have to sacrifice for the happiness of others. For a moment there, Oliver wished he had not made that vow to her. Oliver wished he was still the carefree, devil-may-care son of Mercia, for then he would snatch her away and take her far where no one could follow them--whether she wanted to or not. But no, he can never do that to her or to his family. He can never have the happiness that he so longed for all his life.
He gave her a small nod when she thanked him for taking her bag, and was starting to make his way towards the door when Yassia mentioned Caitrin and Griff. He turned to look at her, his eyes questioning but twinkling at the thought of her knowing his good friend, the Lady Caitrin de Archer. "You know Caitrin and Griff?" he remarked as casually as he could, trying to hold back his curiosity, as he opened the door and held it for her.
Oliver wasn't quite sure what to make of this information, but part of him was glad that they both have a friend in Caitrin. She hadn't mentioned knowing Yassia, but then again, he hadn't exactly told her who his nomad lady was. He wondered if Yassia had told Caitrin about him, but then dismissed the thought. Oliver doubted Yassia would tell anyone about their encounter in the woods. It was all just a game to her, wasn't it? Oliver made a mental note to talk to Caitrin as they started making their way out of the room, down the hallways towards the courtyard where the rest of the party was readying for the trip back to Mercia.
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Post by Oliver Strathmore of Mercia on Nov 20, 2011 6:29:39 GMT -5
Even as Yassia reassured him that she was fine with him telling her that particular drama in his life, part of Oliver told him she wasn't quite at ease about it. Did he just tell her in so many words that there can never be anything serious between them? Did his story about his gypsy lover just showed her that there was no place for nomads in his life? Oliver felt so stupid at already stomping down something that had just barely grown between them. He had no such intention even though he knew it to be the truth. Selfish and hurtful as it may be to admit it, but this moment right here with Yassia was only going to stay here, nothing more. And it hurt him to admit it.
He had to come clean. Something was telling him to at least explain himself, to not let his own hopes up too high. While he cannot tell her who he was exactly, at least he can be truthful about that which was going on between them. Moreso now that she was telling about her heart, how it had been repeatedly stabbed and yet never really in peril. He understood the part about her body, her will, her strength, her virtue being put on the line. He can only imagine what she had gone through in all her travels. Life on the road is not exactly a relaxing walk in the gardens. Dangers lurk in every corner, and lucky is the man or woman who can survive each day living like that. He admired her bravery and courage. He admired her. And he owe it to her to be forthright about whatever it is that was going on between them.
"You killed nobody, Yassia. Life is cruel, but as you said everything happens for a reason. What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger," he told her, reassuring her. She had already lost so much, she can't have the burden or guilt of their deaths in her hands as well. That was already taking more than enough beating than was necessary. It was not healthy. Oliver can't have her thinking like that. "Take strength in the fact that you're still alive despite everything. Life has something else, something wonderful in store for you to have come this far. Hang in there."
When she parted her lips and welcomed him, it felt like the most wonderful thing in the world to have happened to him. It was extraordinary and yet it was so natural. Not forced or coerced. Like it was the natural, normal progression of things. It felt like all of the world connived to bring him and Yassia here together. It felt like the meeting of souls that have been endlessly in search of each other. Oliver kissed her deep. He kissed her hard. He savored the taste of her lips in his own, and reveled in its sweetness. He willingly let himself go and sway in rhythm of the dance that their lips and their hearts were deep into.
Their hearts. Oliver knew his own heart would take a beating once they part, but it had to be done. There was no future her for them. He can't subject her to the same pain he had subjected Laurelin. He will have to take this gift as it was given to him now--a temporary respite, a reminder of all the good things in life. The least he could do to cushion the pain was to face it head on, to face it bravely. But not right now. He was too weak to fight the welcome torrent of emotions that were swimming inside around him. He wanted to bask forever in the happy wonderful feeling they brought him. "I want you, Yassia. I want you like I've never wanted anyone in my life before," he spoke breathlessly when they broke the kiss for air. "I know I sound like some random stranger who's just trying to get lucky with you...it's just...I want you to know you can end this anytime you want to, and I won't stop you. I will respect your decision, I will respect you." He wanted to reassure her that he was no pervert, and that his intentions are pure and honorable. How it was possible to feel so strongly for someone he had just met was beyond him, but he was grateful for it happening anyway. It was too beautiful a feeling to just throw away.
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Post by Oliver Strathmore of Mercia on Nov 19, 2011 22:25:50 GMT -5
What was he doing hurting her like this? What was he doing hurting himself in the process as well? Oliver was never a masochist, he doesn't take pleasure in the pain, but responsibility and duty had to take precedence over everything else, even over his emotions. Especially his emotions. It would all turn out well in the long run, Oliver was telling himself. Sacrifices had to be made for the greater good--for his brother, for the kingdom of Mercia, and if Yassia wanted to, for Ailantha as well. Oliver had to take comfort in the fact that his sacrifice would bring about a union that would be beneficial not only for his people but for Yassia's as well. By then, she would be happy. And if she was happy, he would be, too.
“What else? We have not seen each other ever before in our lifetime. Nothing happened.”
Oliver felt his jaws clench at her words yet again. Yassia was pushing him to admit, to revisit their past, a past that Oliver was trying so hard not to take control over him. If he would give in to all the wonderful feelings of that moment, he knew he would never be able to hold himself back. Heavens! That moment was perhaps the singular most unforgettable moment in his life. He had quite a lot of those, but his first with Yassia will forever be etched in his mind. The magic of that moment could never be paralleled by anything else. There will never anything quite like it in his life. He didn't know what it was back then, but he knew now quite clearly what it was. There was no doubt about it. It was love. In the most plain and simple words, love. He loved her. And looking at her now, he knew he love her still. He wondered if she had loved him just as much, if she felt the same way -- truly, madly, deeply. Regardless, it was his love that was making him keep his distance. Yassia would get nothing from him. She would be better off with Edmund, who Oliver knew would also love Yassia, maybe not as much as he does, but Edmund would take care of her.
"Nothing happened." Against his will, Oliver agreed and admitted to the most outrageous lie he had ever told in his life. He may have lied many times before to his father, his brother, to friends. He had lied to Yassia about his identity first time they met. But none of those lies come close to this one right here. To admit that nothing had happened between them was tantamount to renouncing his feelings--his love--for her. Outwardly, Oliver may show and tell her that he doesn't have feelings for her, but inside he was just as angry with himself as he was with the stars for making things turn out this way, for being so cruel as to toy with them and their feelings like this.
He shook his head when she casually accepted the hint that he was giving her about Edmund, like it didn't matter at all. Why was she making it hard for herself when she could have the world served to her on a silver platter if she'd choose Edmund? Oliver knew she was stubborn, but as a dutiful princess she should have automatically jumped at the chance to save her kingdom this way.
When Yassia swayed as she slung her rather heavy bag over her shoulder, this time Oliver hadn't held himself back. Instinctively and surprising even himself, he immediately found himself rushing to her side and reaching his hand out to take the bag from her. His hand had settled on her dainty shoulder, and Oliver felt electricity surge up the length of his arm and all over his body at the unexpected contact. He stopped and looked at where his hand was settled, and an onslaught of images and their accompanying emotions came to him--of their fateful encounter in the forest, of him treating her wound, of her lying against him, of their kiss. Moments had ticked by and when Oliver found himself looking at Yassia, his face dangerously close to hers as he just stood there rooted on the spot. He knew his eyes held a pleading--for her to understand why he was doing what he was doing, for her to know that he was doing this for her and not for himself. Please, Yassia... The man--that man who loved her--called out to her. Resisting the urge to pull Yassia to him and just wrap her in his arms, Oliver finally caught himself and lifted the bag off her shoulders, and then stepped back a bit. "I got this one," he offered, sounding all gentle but formal again. Then he held his hand out to give her her dagger, which she hadn't taken from him when he offered it to her earlier.
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Post by Oliver Strathmore of Mercia on Nov 18, 2011 7:38:20 GMT -5
"I do have a name, you know."
And what a beautiful name it was indeed. Had he not basked in the tender feeling her name had brought him once before? Had he not whispered it with all his heart when they kissed? Had he not called it out perhaps a million times over in his sleep and in his dreams? Yassia Remei. No name had ever sounded so sweet to him. Everything beautiful in his world was contained in that one sweet name, in that one sweet woman who owned such a rare and exquisite name. As much as he wanted to say her name, to feel it roll delicately against his lips again, Oliver just couldn't bring himself to say it without as much as an emotion. He can never say her name and make it sound like he didn't care the least. He couldn't betray himself like that. It was best that they keep matters between them now as formal as he possibly could.
"Or would that be too informal, using it even if we're alone in the same room, Oliver?!"
He inwardly winced at the way his name sounded on her lips and at the harsh accusation she had thrown at him. "Yassia..." he had began to say in a surprisingly pleading tone, but then stopped himself. He knew his eyes had unintentionally betrayed him and he quickly looked away, towards the windows where everything was bright and clear outside, just so she could not see the hurt and pain that had flashed momentarily in his eyes. His name had sounded so endearing in her lips once before, but now, it sounded anything but. Clenching his jaw, Oliver took a deep breath to control the torrent of emotions inside him before looking back at her. He can't lose control. Not now. He can't allow himself to break down. He had to see this through till the end.
"if no one should know what we've been through, then acting too formal could arouse suspicion as well"
"Then let us keep it light and free then like acquaintances do," Oliver said as nonchalantly as he could. I'm sure we can do it. We've only just met each other at Arthur's coronation and birthday party, did we not?" How conniving and heartless did that sound? Oliver tried but failed to suppress the hint of malice from his voice when he said those words, and he kicked himself mentally. Did he just not promise to keep himself and his emotions in check today? It was taking a great deal of effort for him to be in control when it comes to Yassia.
Trust her to react so strongly to his seeming declaration to have her choose Edmund. Still Oliver couldn't help but listen as she went on to tell him about the plight of her kingdom. He was unexpectedly intrigued and curious. Partly because it was a rather disturbing story, but mostly because it involved her. She was fighting for her kingdom...with her life. The only surviving daughter of the ruling family had fled the strife in her own land for her own safety. And to find help. How brave and courageous of her to undertake such an ordeal.
It was the reason she had traveled to Albion as she had told him, his brother, and his father a couple of nights ago. Now, there was not a doubt that Edmund liked her. He is the Crown Prince of Mercia, and Mercia has one of the strongest armies in all of Albion. The centuries-old war with Camelot was proof of that. Yassia only need to reciprocate his brother's affections, and Oliver was pretty sure Edmund would find a way to help her out. Oliver was starting to believe Yassia, and he wanted to help her. But there was only so much he could do. Edmund could give her so much more. As much as he wanted to tell her what she and Ailantha could get from "choosing Edmund," Oliver though was not in the mood to play matchmaker that way. She will have to figure it all out for herself.
"I'm sure that you will find the help that your people need. If you would just open your eyes, princess, you'd realize that you don't even have to work that hard to get it," he replied rather cryptically, and wondered how far would Yassia go to save her kingdom. Would she enter into a marriage to get it? Well, Edmund was no troll. He's a fine gentleman, a good-looking fellow, and heir to the Mercian throne. If Yassia doesn't have feelings for him now, she will learn to love him soon when she gets to know him more.
Yes, this strange monologue that was going on inside his head was all for the sake of convincing himself that Yassia was truly better off with his brother. No matter how painful it was to let her go like that, he had to keep this suffering to himself. There was just no place in for him here with Yassia now. At least, not anymore.
"The caravan is waiting for us at the courtyard. It should be ready to leave Camelot anytime now. Are you all set?" Oliver said as a way of breaking the hopeless and pointless train of thought that his mind was taking him. The sooner he can get out of the room, the sooner he can breathe freely.
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Post by Oliver Strathmore of Mercia on Nov 17, 2011 12:32:21 GMT -5
It all seemed surreal all that was happening to him right now. One minute, he was having the time of his life exploring the forests for the first time. The next, he was crying in pain after hurting himself sliding down a ravine. He had thought it was going to be the worst day of his life. Not only had he wasted a new opportunity, he had even hurt himself in the process. And yet, it seems the stars were not yet done with him. A group of strangers were carrying him off to heaven-knows-where offering to treat and take care of him. It was all hard to take in for a young prince who had barely had his taste of life outside the castle. He knew he ought to be thankful that someone had found him. These folks seem well-meaning. But he couldn't shake off the fact that he was helpless in an unfamiliar territory with total strangers who can do anything they want wtih him. And there was nothing he could do about it.
"Shhh, its ok. We not trying to harm you, we're just trying to help you. We're nearly there. Just hold on."
Then he felt small tender hands holding onto his finger, and talking to him, reassuring him, in her tiniest yet confident little voice. Then the little girl laid her fingers on his forehead and ran them through his hair in the gentlest of touch, and Oliver felt seemingly reassured.
He could hear faint whispers of an ongoing conversation, but in his feverish state, he couldn't make sense of them. And he just let it go. Right now, they seemed to be keen on helping him, and Oliver was going to just let that thought cheer him up and keep any fears at bay. Then the girl was gone, and there was only a man and a woman. And Oliver didn't know how long it had taken, but they had fixed him up. He had moaned and cried in pain, but it was over all too soon. Oliver felt himself drifting in and out of consciousness as he just totally let himself go. There was nothing he could do anyway. It was best not to fight anything anymore.
"What's your name?... Are you hungry? Thirsty?"
From the farthest corners of his mind, he heard her voice again, the little girl. And he felt like he was being pulled back to the surface, not forcefully, but willingly. But the pain that continued to throb against his ankle was just pulling him just as hard back to unconsciousness. Oliver didn't know which one to obey. His mind wanted to respond to the girl, but his body was too weary.
"Oliver..." came the faintest sound from his lips. His mind, or whatever part of it that was still awake, searched back to the earlier conversations. He knew he heard the little girl's name from the woman. Laura? Lorelei? He tried as hard as he could to remember, but it seemed the more he exerted his mind, the more his body was winning the fight. He lifted his hand a bit towards her hoping she would understand the gesture, but before Oliver could do anythng else, the body totally won over. He felt his mind being pulled back down and then everything just went black.
-----
"Laurelin! Better hide cause here I come!"
Oliver turned around after having counted down from a twenty with his eyes closed against the bark of a huge tree. It was a warm sunny day out in the woods, and Oliver and Laurelin were playing their usual game of hide-and-seek...like they always have been since the day their paths crossed five years ago. At twenty, Oliver knew only too well that he was getting too old for this child's game, but he couldn't resist not playing it with his friend every time they meet year after year after year. And obviously, she was better at this than he was. Having lived most of her life in the forests, she knew every nook and cranny. Oliver almost always ended up being the it, but he wasn't complaining. It sometimes takes a while, but he always manages to find Lau wherever she might be hiding.
He started moving around and searching the immediate vicinity for his friend. A couple of minutes after, he had trekked farther away from the tree, but still found no sign of her. Five minutes more, and still there was no sign. But Oliver wasn't giving up. At least not yet. One time he was it, Oliver had to search for a good 30 minutes before he found Laurelin. And she was hiding quite well indeed. Oliver had playfully threatened not to play the game with her again if she keeps doing it to him. After that, Laurelin it seemed didn't try so hard to hide well anymore. Oliver almost always manages to find after just a couple of minutes of searching.
Ten minutes had now passed and there was still no sign of her. Instead of getting irritated though, Oliver was starting to get worried. Laurelin had promised him not to hide that long anymore. For her to be nowhere to be seen after too long a time, something had to be up, Oliver thought. He felt his heart beating rapidly in nervousness at the thought of something bad happening to Laurelin. And then he started to trace the path towards where her people were camping this year. Surely, she would be there. Would she?
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Post by Oliver Strathmore of Mercia on Nov 17, 2011 12:31:55 GMT -5
Oliver wanted nothing more than to get this hopeless conversation over and done with. Not because he didn't want to anymore, but because he couldn't bear to look at her like this. She was all so calm and composed, and yet so tensed, so distant. Right now, she was nothing like the woman he had met before. She was nothing like the woman who had succumbed to his kisses, melted in his arms, and just surrendered herself to him. And it hurt him to the core to know it was him who caused all this. It was him who pushed her away. It was all his fault. It was all his doing.
But there was no turning back now.
"I appreciate your understanding, princess," he replied just as stiffly back. Perhaps it was better this way. This responsible and business-like way of talking to her, dealing with her was obviously better than lashing out at her. Or so Oliver thought it was. At least this way, their emotions were totally not in play. Their emotions were all pushed down, buried way below to even be given the time of day. Yes, Oliver told himself, it was better this way. No emotions. Nothing.
”Well, I don’t quite know what Edmund has to do with any of this, but I shall apologize to him.”
But who was he fooling really? He knew only too well that no matter how hard he tried, his heart is just one big traitor. No matter how hard he tried to rein it in and lock it all up in a cage, slivers of hurt and pain would always manage to slip through the cracks. If only he could take her away. Away from everything. Away from everyone. Away from Edmund. If only.
"Did you not hear what I just said? My brother, the Crown Prince of Mercia, likes you. One word from you, Princess, and he'll come running to your door in an instant," Oliver said hoping Yassia hadn't noticed the irritated edge in the tone of his voice. He didn’t like it that he had to repeat himself, because he didn’t like what he was repeating. He hated the thought of Yassia speaking to Edmund to apologize. He hated the fact that Edmund was very much smitten at Yassia that he would easily forgive her in the blink of an eye. He hated the idea of Edmund going all crazy even just at the mention of her name. He hated the thought of seeing them together again. And the hate was so strong inside that Oliver had to fiercely grip the hilt of the dagger in his hand to try and regain control. He knew exactly what this feeling was, and he knew he couldn't allow it. He can't be jealous. He can never be jealous of Edmund and Yassia.
"Do what you think you must do, Princess, but I sincerely hope you do the right thing this time...and choose Edmund." Did he really just tell her to forget him? To forget everything that had happened between them? If it hadn’t been so idiotic of him to insult her that night, this right here was definitely madness. But then again, it had to be done. Even though Oliver knew he will always remember all the beautiful and wonderful things that they once shared, Yassia must forget about them. Yassia had to think that it was all over between them now, so Edmund would be able to take his place. Yassia deserved Edmund. She needed Edmund. Not Oliver. "If you make him happy, he just might give you whatever it is that you wish for." Yes, Edmund was indeed in the position to grant any princess whatever it is that they want and dream of. All the jewels in the world. The love of a doting and devoted husband. A kingdom. They all want that, don’t they?
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Post by Oliver Strathmore of Mercia on Nov 15, 2011 22:15:21 GMT -5
Her words hit him again, to the core, to the gut...to his heart where it hurts the most. She may not realize it, but Yassia knows too well to strike him where it stings. She knew his weakness. She was his weakness. If only he could tell her that, if only he could stop holding himself back and just tell her everything that he was feeling right now. But he was Prince Oliver. He had made a vow a year ago to a nomad woman, to her, that he would be mature and responsible. It may not hold water to anyone, but it meant a lot to him. And here he was. He was being responsible. He was fixing things up as much as he could, and keep his own emotions in check. Edmund had staked his claim on Yassia. And Oliver was going to respect that, the dutiful second Prince that he is. Telling Yassia his feelings would only make matters worse. And besides, what use would there be to it? After he had destroyed everything between them, after he had thrown their past out of the window, what good is there bringing it up, putting them back together? He was sure Yassia had thrown her own memories of him out of the window as well.
Oliver let out a small relieved breath when Yassia had stepped back and opened the door for him. He didn't know he had been holding his breath waiting for her answer to his small plea. Without pause, he stepped inside her room just in case she might change her mind. Now standing there, he knew he should have taken advantage of the opportunity to survey her quarters, to examine her dwelling place here in Camelot, and glean more about herself from it. But he had eyes for nothing and nobody else but her. His attention was riveted to the lady standing there all rigid and seemingly composed...all regal and still heart-achingly beautiful.
"I understand how my words have pained you. I take them back if I could, but you're right, the damage has already been done." Oliver noted her reference to arrows and the significance it held for both of them. His arrow had wounded her on that fateful hunting trip, and it had been the start of everything beautiful in his life. Turns out now, the arrows had taken on a totally different and painful meaning.
The tension inside the room was suffocating him. He didn't like one bit of this "talk." All he wanted right now was to take her in his arms, kiss her, and just forget the world again. But he couldn't. He wouldn't. He needed to get his message across to smooth things out for their benefit and the benefit of others around them. He had already acknowledged that he had been wrong in lashing out at her, it was time to tell her about his brother.
"Edmund must not know. Nobody, but my friends, knows about our meeting in the Forest of Balor. And even they have been sworn to secrecy," he said squaring his shoulders this time, and being all diplomatic and business-like about it. There was no other way to say it but bluntly, straightforward. This had to be done. For the good of his brother, the Crown Prince. For the good of the kingdom of Mercia. "He adores you. It was a mistake for you to leave him during the dance to seek me out. Please don't do anything of the sort again. For your own good." He wasn't sure if Yassia would listen to him, but at least he had warned her. He had done his part even though it tore him up inside. He had done his duty as a son, brother, and prince of Mercia. He had taken responsibility as he had promised her he would.
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Post by Oliver Strathmore of Mercia on Nov 15, 2011 2:27:15 GMT -5
”Who dared to hurt you that much?”
He had managed a chuckle at her bold question. Normally, he would have stepped back and refuse to answer a rather private question, but Oliver was feeling none of that at the moment. Matters of the heart was not private when it comes to her. Somehow, the earlier offering of his heart had made him want her to know what it had been through. Whether she realized or not that he had meant it, Oliver was determined to let her in about that part of his past.
"Me," he replied simply. "I played with fire and I got burnt. It was all my fault." That was true. He had defied his father and went on to have a clandestine affair with a wanderer, a total no-no for a prince like him. When his father found out, things had gone the wrong turn for both him and the girl. His only consolation was she had loved him enough to still want to remain friends. "I had a gypsy lover once. She was the most carefree and freedom-loving woman I have ever met, and I fell madly in love with her." His time spent with Laurelin had always been the sunshine to his otherwise dreary and boring palace life. It was no surprise that he had easily attached himself to her as his means of escape, rebellion. "I didn't realize until later that I only enjoyed the good times with her. My father didn't approve. When he found out, he told me to leave her or else..." Oliver paused. His father had threatened to disinherit him, to strike him out of the family if he continued to be stubborn. "I might as well have easily turned my back on her." It hadn't been that easy of course, and the events had all been muddled and hazy in his head as he didn't want to relive them again. Why he was suddenly gushing out all of this to Yassia now was beyond him. For a moment, Oliver had lapsed into a silent and thoughtful reverie, looking out towards the shadows before them. When he shook himself out of it, he looked apologetically at Yassia. "I'm sorry, I didn't meant to tell you about all the drama in my life. You bewitched me to do so, didn't you?" he added with an impish smirk, hoping to lighten up the moment.
Then he paused and looked her in the eye. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to ask her the same private question. He hoped she wouldn't mind him asking it, although he wouldn't force her if she didn't want to reveal her story. "What about your heart?" He couldn't hear nor feel the beating of hers as he was afraid to unnecessarily disturb the wound over her left shoulder. He would have to take her word for it.
But the kiss, the kiss all made up for every pain and suffering that he had brought upon himself in the past. This kiss was all that mattered right now. And it may be too soon, but Oliver was already too tempted to ask Yassia to run away with him. Oh, if only. If only he hadn't made that vow to be mature and responsible earlier, then he would have probably taken her away with him, and he would have easily left his friends and his life behind. But no, part of him was telling him to set his life straight from here on out. He didn't know what it was but somehow it was Yassia who made him want to do it. Instead of wanting to run away like he almost did with Laurelin, Yassia was somehow telling him to go back and be a good prince...and everything will be better.
As better as it was right now. He felt her soft lips respond to his own passionate kisses, and Oliver felt the fire continue to consume him. It was good kind of fire. It didn't burn. It warmed him up and wrapped him in a comfortable cocoon where he wanted to stay forever with her. Boldly, he teased her lips with a flick of his tongue, teasing them to open for him. He wanted more of her, and no matter what he was going to do, he knew he can never get enough. "Yassia," he moaned through the kiss as he gently but firmly lured her in, willing her to open up to him more.
ooc: Pfft! It’s still awesome to me. 
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Post by Oliver Strathmore of Mercia on Nov 15, 2011 2:20:12 GMT -5
It was obvious that she wasn't the least bit amused at the sight of him, and Oliver couldn't blame her. After what he had put her through, it'd be a miracle if she doesn't throw a dagger his way again. He knew he had messed up big time by reacting too strongly to her revelation. It had been uncontrollable. In his dreams, he had put Yassia on a pedestal where nobody and nothing could touch and disturb. She was his pretty little nomad and she will live forever in his dreams where they could be together forever. To have that dream shattered just like that was too much for him to take in at that time. He had not been prepared for the what reality had brought him. It caught him unaware and he had immediately shut himself up and lashed out at anybody who dared try and get through him. That was what he had done to Yassia, the princess. He had put up walls and relentlessly attacked her until she would surrender.
And it seems, she did surrender. He had been victorious in that part. After throwing that dagger, she had turned and stopped fighting. He should have felt happy, right? He should have rejoiced? But the loss only broke his heart to a million more pieces. He doubt it'd ever be put together again. Looking at her now, there was nothing but contempt on her face as he tried to start negotiating his truce. Negotiate. How mediocre that sounded. Was that all this was going to be now? A negotiation? A compromise to keep the peace between them so the rest of the world would not have to know? But how Oliver wanted the world to know. If only he could turn back time, if only.
"Continue if you must, what else am I apart from a heartless player, a liar and a harlot? Have you overlooked something?"
Oliver winced at the sharp biting tone of her voice despite the admirable composure that she exuded. It not only sliced through his skin, but it also pierced through his heart, his already broken and wounded heart. And it hadn't even her fault to begin with. He had brought this upon himself, and he must do his best to fix it...or at least to keep it on the down low from everybody else.
"I was out of line. I shouldn't have said those words to you," Oliver said gently, looking as straight as he possibly could into her eyes, feeling remorse. He knew he was at fault, and yet somehow he couldn't apologize just yet. Part of him was still a little too proud. She, too, was partly to blame as well.
When he could hold her gaze no more, he cast his eyes down to the dagger that was still in his hands, and he absentmindedly caressed the hilt and the blade as he searched for more words to say. Obviously, this was awkward, and to stand there outside her door was risking being seen by Edmund. He had thought to ask her to let him into her chambers so they could talk properly, but he knew she probably would rather have him taken away by the guards. But still it wouldn't hurt to try. "Please let me in. I promise I will not take long."
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Post by Oliver Strathmore of Mercia on Nov 13, 2011 21:17:52 GMT -5
“If I may be so bold, you do look in need of a break indeed, Sire, you must have been working for hours.”
"I have. You know my father is never easily pleased. I've given him two drafts and he always manages to find something wrong with them," Oliver blurted out with a chuckle not caring who he was talking to. He needed an outlet anyway. And besides, Oliver was actually more comfortable talking to the servants than to the nobles. He knew all too well how important it was to make friends with the very people who make and serve your meals.
He finally put the quill down and leaned back in his seat for a little rest, and stretched his legs out under the table. He reached his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, massaging it. He could feel a headache coming. It wouldn't hurt to take a few minutes break to keep that inconvenience at bay for the time being. This draft was almost done anyway. He just needed to check it one more time to make sure he doesn't miss anything.
"I'm almost done, but who am I to refuse such a perfectly timed break." This servant was only too gracious to offer him this respite, and Oliver would be a fool to refuse a well-meaning gift. If anything, he ought to be thankful to her. "Would you be so kind as to pour me a glass, umm...?" He looked at her trying to remember her name, but it seemed to escape him. He vaguely remember seeing her around the castle a few times, but she seemed to be more relegated to the kitchens as he hadn't seen her much up and about serving. Which is a shame really, looking at how attractive she is, Oliver mused. If he hadn't known her to be a servant, Oliver could easily mistake her for a noble woman with her fine features and a very lovely face.
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Post by Oliver Strathmore of Mercia on Nov 13, 2011 21:15:32 GMT -5
Oliver was now closely inspecting the dagger in his hand. And it brought to mind the memories they've shared a year or so ago once again. How he had told him about her brother teaching her how to throw a dagger. How he had teased her about it. How she had bantered back. It was all in jolly good fun. So much unlike the bantering that had happened two nights ago. Although both occasions were full of heightened emotions, they were still completely different from each other. One was of joy, the other of anger. Despite that, Oliver knew he can never really have enough of Yassia. Whether he was kissing her or ducking her daggers, he couldn't help but always think about her. All his thoughts were filled with images of her and their time together. No matter how he tried, he can never shake them off so easily.
His head lifted in attention when she heard her groveling on the other side. Oliver suppressed a small chuckle at the thought of Yassia all in a huff thinking it might be a servant knocking on her door. He imagined her cheeks all flushed, her eyes turning into slits, her lips pursed together in annoyance. Even in that picture, he still found her irresistibly beautiful, and would have loved to be the one to turn her annoyed face into a smiling one...with a kiss or two.
But then of course that was wishful thinking.
"You..."
How his heart leapt with joy inside his chest at the lovely sight standing there before him. But as soon as it did though, it halted mid-air as Oliver saw the look on her face. The small smile immediately turned into a worried frown. Had she been crying? Her eyes were still slightly puffed and swollen despite the efforts she did to conceal them. To others it may not be that obvious, but Oliver only knew her too well to not see it, knew how this face looking at him now was nowhere near the face that had been etched in his mind since they first met.
Oliver moved a step forward and his hand instinctively held the door open just in case she might slam it on his face once she regains her composure from the shock and surprise of seeing him. He was actually hoping for the best but expecting the worse, just to be sure. "I came to return your dagger," he started, his voice low and humble. He took one long and heavy breath while trying to find the right words to say next. Right now, all Oliver really wanted was to take her in his arms and comfort her, to tell her that everything would be okay, and that he would do everything to see her lovely smile once again. But that wouldn't be true. Oliver knew he had to keep his distance from here on out. "Yassia, we need to talk. Please...don't turn me away," he implored her, his voice carrying a pleading tone as his eyes did, too.
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