(no subject)
Women who have many lovers are frequently
those with a strong homely streak. They like a man in the house.
- Ilka Chase
His name was Ilya, and he had dark hair, bright blue eyes and a dancing smile and, if she chose to think about it, he was both the reason why she stayed in Pscovette so long and why she eventually left.
Pscovette was a lovely little place; an old walled town with a history and a river, cobblestones and only a few radios. The folk were short and dark-haired, although no one glanced at the taller, fairer northerners. Traders came every now and then, enough so that people didn't shut their doors against strangers but not so much to liven the town.
It was small and quiet and, in her own way, Fiona fell in love with it.
She rented a garret and called herself Anouk - it'd been an alias she'd used before, and she'd always liked the quiet exoticism of it. Anouk Piotrevna spent her days drawing, mostly. Down in the town-square, drawing and painting with quick watercolours the faces of the people she now lived with. Sometimes they'd pay her, normally they didn’t.
She kept to herself, mostly. Oh, if anyone approached, she’d be nice enough; joking and smiling and talking with all the skill of a courtier. But she wouldn’t go out of her way to talk, to get to know anyone else. Fiona wanted to be by herself, catch her breath and do what she wanted. And, just possibly, try and sort out what exactly she had meant by ‘I love you’.
Time ran quick in Pscovette, two months to Amber’s (Arden’s) day, so she started missing Julian long before he even thought of missing her. Only natural, really, for the two of them had never approached whatever it was that they had from the same angle. They had been in sync, briefly, before she had run back to Shadow and before he had dumped Mary Anne. Mary Anne, who sometimes Fiona thought of as a friend and other times hated with the jealous, sulky anger of a lovesick girl.
Not that realizing that’s what it was made Fiona feel any better, of course. So she wrapped herself up in the persona of Anouk, fielded questions about the time where Julian stayed and sketched in the quick, easy and dreamy style that Brand always poured scorn on. No matter, her manic-depressive younger brother wasn’t there and the townsfolk grew fond of her as she stayed for month after month.
His name was Ilya, and he had dark hair, bright blue eyes and a dancing smile that her smile in return on a day where she just felt like crying. She hadn’t noticed him at first, but gradually she grew aware that the squire’s middle son strangely found plenty of things to do in the town square whenever she was there. Wrapped up in her own confusion and loneliness, the normally astute Fiona didn’t notice that she slowly grew used to him being there, that she slowly started looking forward to their conversations.
The same day that Fiona had woken up red-eyed and miserable after a nearly sleepless night, Ilya was late. She twisted the pencil in her hands, bit her bottom lip and tried to ignore the sharp disappointment inside her.
“Are you all right, Anouk?” A man’s voice said, and when she looked up she broke into a smile. Jumping to her feet, she reached out and kissed him lightly.
“I am now.”
Ilya raised an eyebrow, grinning. Slowly, as if he wasn’t sure he was allowed to, he rested his hands on her waist.
“So, you missed me?”
Anouk glanced down and Fiona answered, “Yeah, I did.”
“Well…” Ilya said softly, and leaned down to kiss her again.
That could have been that, if Anouk were real. Ilya was a good man, kind and generous with an easy smile and a quick wit that made her smile. She felt comfortable around him, enjoyed his company and felt safe in his arms. She liked having him around, missed him when he wasn’t there.
But he wasn’t, and never could be, Julian. And because Anouk was really Fiona, that was the problem and would continue to be the problem. She wanted Julian to be the one who was around, Julian to be the one whom she could run up to and hug if she felt like it, Julian to be the one whom she woke up with.
One night, Ilya said, “Marry me.”
One night, Anouk answered, “I can’t.”
One night, Fiona packed her things and left without a word. Because Ilya was a good man, and she didn’t mean to hurt him that much. She just loved someone else who was currently playing to a different script, that was all. So, homesick and tired, Fiona did what countless other women have done throughout the worlds…
She went back to her mother’s.
those with a strong homely streak. They like a man in the house.
- Ilka Chase
His name was Ilya, and he had dark hair, bright blue eyes and a dancing smile and, if she chose to think about it, he was both the reason why she stayed in Pscovette so long and why she eventually left.
Pscovette was a lovely little place; an old walled town with a history and a river, cobblestones and only a few radios. The folk were short and dark-haired, although no one glanced at the taller, fairer northerners. Traders came every now and then, enough so that people didn't shut their doors against strangers but not so much to liven the town.
It was small and quiet and, in her own way, Fiona fell in love with it.
She rented a garret and called herself Anouk - it'd been an alias she'd used before, and she'd always liked the quiet exoticism of it. Anouk Piotrevna spent her days drawing, mostly. Down in the town-square, drawing and painting with quick watercolours the faces of the people she now lived with. Sometimes they'd pay her, normally they didn’t.
She kept to herself, mostly. Oh, if anyone approached, she’d be nice enough; joking and smiling and talking with all the skill of a courtier. But she wouldn’t go out of her way to talk, to get to know anyone else. Fiona wanted to be by herself, catch her breath and do what she wanted. And, just possibly, try and sort out what exactly she had meant by ‘I love you’.
Time ran quick in Pscovette, two months to Amber’s (Arden’s) day, so she started missing Julian long before he even thought of missing her. Only natural, really, for the two of them had never approached whatever it was that they had from the same angle. They had been in sync, briefly, before she had run back to Shadow and before he had dumped Mary Anne. Mary Anne, who sometimes Fiona thought of as a friend and other times hated with the jealous, sulky anger of a lovesick girl.
Not that realizing that’s what it was made Fiona feel any better, of course. So she wrapped herself up in the persona of Anouk, fielded questions about the time where Julian stayed and sketched in the quick, easy and dreamy style that Brand always poured scorn on. No matter, her manic-depressive younger brother wasn’t there and the townsfolk grew fond of her as she stayed for month after month.
His name was Ilya, and he had dark hair, bright blue eyes and a dancing smile that her smile in return on a day where she just felt like crying. She hadn’t noticed him at first, but gradually she grew aware that the squire’s middle son strangely found plenty of things to do in the town square whenever she was there. Wrapped up in her own confusion and loneliness, the normally astute Fiona didn’t notice that she slowly grew used to him being there, that she slowly started looking forward to their conversations.
The same day that Fiona had woken up red-eyed and miserable after a nearly sleepless night, Ilya was late. She twisted the pencil in her hands, bit her bottom lip and tried to ignore the sharp disappointment inside her.
“Are you all right, Anouk?” A man’s voice said, and when she looked up she broke into a smile. Jumping to her feet, she reached out and kissed him lightly.
“I am now.”
Ilya raised an eyebrow, grinning. Slowly, as if he wasn’t sure he was allowed to, he rested his hands on her waist.
“So, you missed me?”
Anouk glanced down and Fiona answered, “Yeah, I did.”
“Well…” Ilya said softly, and leaned down to kiss her again.
That could have been that, if Anouk were real. Ilya was a good man, kind and generous with an easy smile and a quick wit that made her smile. She felt comfortable around him, enjoyed his company and felt safe in his arms. She liked having him around, missed him when he wasn’t there.
But he wasn’t, and never could be, Julian. And because Anouk was really Fiona, that was the problem and would continue to be the problem. She wanted Julian to be the one who was around, Julian to be the one whom she could run up to and hug if she felt like it, Julian to be the one whom she woke up with.
One night, Ilya said, “Marry me.”
One night, Anouk answered, “I can’t.”
One night, Fiona packed her things and left without a word. Because Ilya was a good man, and she didn’t mean to hurt him that much. She just loved someone else who was currently playing to a different script, that was all. So, homesick and tired, Fiona did what countless other women have done throughout the worlds…
She went back to her mother’s.