Date: 2021-02-07 09:42 pm (UTC)
persecutetioncomplex: (vi)
From: [personal profile] persecutetioncomplex
[She's never thought she'd interest anybody; if she ever had that sort of hope, her father had crushed it thoroughly, early on. If any duke ever gave her the time of day, she assumed it would be a radically older, desperate one, who was in some backroom agreement with the Count.

Here, with the type of handsome young man who would sooner put an arrow in her father's throat than give him the time of day?

Inconceivable.]


I. Um.

[When he pulls back, her knees immediately give out. His jacket slips through her fingers and she lands, sitting stunned on the ground.

Still staring up at him, and steadily growing redder and redder as her brain scrambles to catch up with... current event. Her own hand rises to her mouth, unconsciously mirroring him.]


C-Cl... Claude...?

Date: 2021-02-07 10:07 pm (UTC)
persecutetioncomplex: (ix)
From: [personal profile] persecutetioncomplex
[It feels like the next few seconds bunch and jump, like pages stuck together and then speeding ahead in the story. One moment he's there, he's... taking his jacket off...?!]

I-I...!

[And then he's apologizing, and then he's gone.

And she's still here, swathed in a man's jacket—the jacket of the man who just kissed her—the chill of the pavement slowly seeping into her legs.]


...I don't... u-understand...