Elizabeth was waiting in the common room, warmly dressed, though she'd yet to put on her bonnet, and sporting the hair combs that Robin had sent her. She was absently perusing one of the letters he'd sent her, still not entirely over how freely men and women exchanged letters at Hogwarts. Lizzy was also slightly puzzled as to why Robin had sent her hair combs. She was delighted with them, but terribly unsure as to what the were supposed to mean.
She glanced up over the letter and spotted Robin. "Mr. Goodfellow! I trust you are well, sir, and ready to leave?" Lizzy tucked the letter into the pocket of her spenser, after telling herself that adding poetry at the end of a missive did not hint at any tender feelings on the writer's part. She had always been of the opinion that one good sonnet could drive away love forever, if it was written properly.
At the bottom of the stairs, Robin caught sight of Lizzy and stopped for a moment, his breath quite literally gone. She was so lovely. Not a beautiful that conventional wisdom would ascribe, rather something in the way her head tilted when she spoke, or her lips quirked up into a smile, or her eyes sparkled. Something about the way she carried herself, her very presence... Well, it was easy to see why Darcy was in love with her.
Darcy was in love with her. Shit. Swallowing hard, Robin forced his wayward thoughts back in line. All well and good to admire the form of a woman. Hell, he'd been doing it since women had forms to admire. A bit of a lustful thought, a sly innuendo, a quick flash of skin - these were how he operated. They were his comfort zone. The way a Puck related to mortals. 'Love' was for humans, fucking for Pucks. That's the way it worked
( ... )
Elizabeth blushed and accepted the rose with a laugh. "I thank you, sir! I shall grow quite spoiled with all the gifts that you shower upon me." She touched one of the hair combs and smiled up at him, rather touched by his gesture, and his blush. "But I do thank you, sir. I cannot hope to repay your kindness." Lizzy accepted his arm, and added, "Or your gallantry. I shall be delighted, sir. On we go!"
She awkwardly put her bonnet on, as she was holding the rosebud in one hand, and Robin's arm with the other, and smiled again. Rather playfully, Lizzy continued, "And I find myself once more at a decided disadvantage. Where are we going, my dear Mr. Goodfellow? What delights lie in store?"
((He's something, that's for sure. :p And he's only adorable because of Lizzy's inherent coolness. I just wish I knew what in the world he was up to. Although, I think he feels the same way. XD))"Oh, come now," he grinned widely at her. "A few baubles are scarcely enough to turn your head. Though you flatter me to think I might do so. I simply..." here he hesitated, uncharacteristically at a loss for words. "I simply enjoy seeing you smile," he finished after a beat, his eyes locked on hers for a moment before he looked away, the corners of his eyes crinkling with his smile
( ... )
Elizabeth blushed as he helped her with her bonnet. She must have been imagining it, but she swore that, when his thumb accidentally brushed her cheek, he blushed as well
( ... )
Lizzy's blushes were driving him mad. Normally he would know quite well what might cause a young virgin in his company to flush most becomingly - usually it was his words or his hands or his lips that were behind it. But these blushes were something quite different. An unknown quantity. And they both made him want to grin like an idiot and run away as quickly as he could.
He settled, instead, for simply storing away that image of her in his mind's eye. For what reason and purpose he refused to contemplate, even with himself. Perhaps it was the knowledge that all he would have of her - all he would allow himself of her - would be a few stolen memories
( ... )
Elizabeth laughed, to diffuse the praise. "And you, sir, overestimate it. I thank you though. I am highly sensible of the compliment, particularly from someone whom has seen as much of humanity as yourself
( ... )
Filiolus in Olympus, EGO sum perfectus.*A phrase he hadn't uttered in a thousand years or so; not since he'd faced an army of hellish beings on a frost-glazed battlefield with only a sword in his hand and a mere handful of humans behind him. Somehow, though, in the light of Lizzy's smile, it seemed appropriate
( ... )
Lizzy was amused at how Robin seemed so at home with the tea service. She stirred a spoonful of sugar into her own cup and took a sip.
She glanced over the rim of her teacup at him as he leaned forward, before setting the cup down with a smile. "I must agree with both you and Miss Evans. I have never tasted better. But, sir, I shall now be forced to bore you with my list of very lackluster accomplishments. Would you care for a cake first? I must confess a very sincere desire for a scone and clotted cream." She selected one, and offered the tray to him. "I may claim the usual occupations. I sing and play the piano- forte very ill, embroider, also very ill, trim bonnets, not quite so ill, arrange flowers, and read. I must confess an enjoyment of dancing but I prize intelligent conversation above all else."
"Cake," the Puck said with obvious relish, "is one of the greatest inventions of the human race. A well made dessert covers all manner of sin. Or, in some cases, leads to them." He gave Elizabeth an impish grin, his tone light and teasing, no trace of seduction. Simply a joke, shared between friends.
Helping himself to a ladyfinger, Robin listened to Elizabeth, devouring her words with as much appetite as he showed for the refreshments. "Dancing is one of my passions," the Puck confessed. "And I must admit to now wishing our current location sported musicians so I might enjoy a turn around the dance floor with you. But reading - ah, such is the past time of the scholars and that luminaries. Whom do you enjoy, Miss Bennet?"
Elizabeth had taken a sip of tea before Robin had spoken, and nearly choked on it. She somehow managed to set the cup down and hide her laughter behind her napkin. After a moment she replaced the napkin in her lap and smilingly said, "My dear Mr. Goodfellow, you would lead me to believe that cake has led to some of mankind's greatest tragedies. I have heard of some deserts being 'sinful', but I never before considered such a description to be literal."
She spread clotted cream over her scone with a smile. "I do thank you for your offer, though I doubt that the other diners in the tea room would be particularly happy if we danced a gavotte while they were trying to pour tea. But I am fond of novels, and I do enjoy Shakespeare. There are several philosophers I enjoy, though I leave Fordyce to my sister Mary. And you, sir? What, pray tell, does a Puck do to occupy his free time?"
"Ah, but my dear Miss Bennet, they have!" Robin said soberly, eyes twinkling in mirth. "You have no idea of the civilizations laid to waste for the want of a good sponge cake. Think of what a perfect tart might have done for the legions of Nero, or a delicious sorbet for the tragedy in Rome. A good cake makes one feel at home, satisfied, comforted. It's hard to harbor ill will when one is confronted with sensations such as those
( ... )
She glanced up over the letter and spotted Robin. "Mr. Goodfellow! I trust you are well, sir, and ready to leave?" Lizzy tucked the letter into the pocket of her spenser, after telling herself that adding poetry at the end of a missive did not hint at any tender feelings on the writer's part. She had always been of the opinion that one good sonnet could drive away love forever, if it was written properly.
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Darcy was in love with her. Shit. Swallowing hard, Robin forced his wayward thoughts back in line. All well and good to admire the form of a woman. Hell, he'd been doing it since women had forms to admire. A bit of a lustful thought, a sly innuendo, a quick flash of skin - these were how he operated. They were his comfort zone. The way a Puck related to mortals. 'Love' was for humans, fucking for Pucks. That's the way it worked ( ... )
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Elizabeth blushed and accepted the rose with a laugh. "I thank you, sir! I shall grow quite spoiled with all the gifts that you shower upon me." She touched one of the hair combs and smiled up at him, rather touched by his gesture, and his blush. "But I do thank you, sir. I cannot hope to repay your kindness." Lizzy accepted his arm, and added, "Or your gallantry. I shall be delighted, sir. On we go!"
She awkwardly put her bonnet on, as she was holding the rosebud in one hand, and Robin's arm with the other, and smiled again. Rather playfully, Lizzy continued, "And I find myself once more at a decided disadvantage. Where are we going, my dear Mr. Goodfellow? What delights lie in store?"
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He settled, instead, for simply storing away that image of her in his mind's eye. For what reason and purpose he refused to contemplate, even with himself. Perhaps it was the knowledge that all he would have of her - all he would allow himself of her - would be a few stolen memories ( ... )
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She glanced over the rim of her teacup at him as he leaned forward, before setting the cup down with a smile. "I must agree with both you and Miss Evans. I have never tasted better. But, sir, I shall now be forced to bore you with my list of very lackluster accomplishments. Would you care for a cake first? I must confess a very sincere desire for a scone and clotted cream." She selected one, and offered the tray to him. "I may claim the usual occupations. I sing and play the piano- forte very ill, embroider, also very ill, trim bonnets, not quite so ill, arrange flowers, and read. I must confess an enjoyment of dancing but I prize intelligent conversation above all else."
((Reposted for a typo.))
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Helping himself to a ladyfinger, Robin listened to Elizabeth, devouring her words with as much appetite as he showed for the refreshments. "Dancing is one of my passions," the Puck confessed. "And I must admit to now wishing our current location sported musicians so I might enjoy a turn around the dance floor with you. But reading - ah, such is the past time of the scholars and that luminaries. Whom do you enjoy, Miss Bennet?"
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She spread clotted cream over her scone with a smile. "I do thank you for your offer, though I doubt that the other diners in the tea room would be particularly happy if we danced a gavotte while they were trying to pour tea. But I am fond of novels, and I do enjoy Shakespeare. There are several philosophers I enjoy, though I leave Fordyce to my sister Mary. And you, sir? What, pray tell, does a Puck do to occupy his free time?"
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