"Oh!" Cuthbert cried out, catching the scene just as he let the Compound door swing shut behind him. He ran down the steps and offered his hand.
"Are you all right?" It was just a little fall, and like as not more embarrassing than painful, but sometimes, those little unexpected accidents- stubbed toes, grazed knees- were surprisingly nasty. With the other hand, he bent to scoop up her book, sparing a glance at the cover before returning his focus to her.
Her pride is hurt more than anything else, which is fair enough that she has scant any pride left. The remants of it are charred and scattered in a place she will name, so instead it winces, the surprise doing her more harm than anything. Ophelia sighs, a silent sign that she had known better and acted anyways as she pushes her hair out of her face, the long blonde wave likely to blind her and cause another spill.
"Aye, I do fair well," she answers with a nod, taking her book back, tutting slightly. "I did move too soon. Tis my own undoing, thank ye though for returning this."
Hearing her speak came as a surprise, as Cuthbert had been on the island-- ye gods, was it nearly a year?-- without hearing anyone but Cesario speak as they did at home. In fact, as she pushed her blonde hair out of her face and aye'd and thank ye'd him, he couldn't help but think of Susan.
"You're entirely welcome," he said. Bert glanced down the path and considered leaving her to her book, as would've probably been polite, and reconsidered. "Though if you'd thank me, lady, I'd have you remember my name in the event you find yourself in mortal peril again. Cuthbert Allgood," he said, dropping to a crouch and offering her a smile in addition to his outstretched hand.
Ophelia tilts her head, smiling at his gesture and his name. Names can give away a lot about a person or tell nothing at all. She curtsey's slightly, taking his hand and giving it an awkward shake.
"Are you all good or does thine name spin ambitions?" she inquires, both curious and playing at the same moment. "Alas my perils are rather small these days, thou would be out of luck, Sir Allgood."
Ah, people falling. Cheap entertainment at its finest. Jaye stood in the clearing between the Compound and the boardwalk, offering a snort of amusement and that's it.
Ophelia stands with a quiet groan before taking the final step and picking up her hat. Turning around she sees Jaye and is not surprised by the reaction. Some people are just the way they are, and she had been the one to tempt fate.
"Clever," Jaye replied. She kind of wished she had a drum just to make the rim shot noise, but Ophelia DEFINITELY wouldn't appreciate that. "You want me to ask a doctor to ice your butt for you? They're probably bored."
Like everyone else, every day on this dumb fuck island.
"Would they? Or would they stick me just for something to do?" Ophelia bats her eyes her eyes, smiling sweetly and feigning innocence. The act dissolves and she laughs, shaking her head.
Like an alarum is Ophelia's cry, and though the pup at Viola's side shies uneasily away from the book (which, with pages fluttering and flapping, doth like a wounded bird land upon the ground), the girl makes haste to put herself at the lady's side.
"Nay," Ophelia shakes her head, wincing slightly but all together fine. Her patience is frayed and her side hurts a bit, but all fo that is nothing. Planting her feet firmly, she stands tentatively. "Just a bit of a foolish accident."
"I am glad of it," Viola says, retreating momentarily to retrieve the lady's effects. "The... that is, that thou'rt uninjured; not that thou didst fall..."
Ever is it so with Ophelia, rushing to her aid without hesitation, protecting first and thinking only of the lady's by-your-leave after. Ophelia is a woman grown, after all: same as she, and perchance she needeth not any rescuing.
"Here, madam: thy hat and thy book," Viola announces, offering both to their owner. "Fortune be thanked that it were this one..." (and here she doth indicate the spindly-legged hound pup, shyly holding his ground) "...and not Sir Toby that thou didst affrighten; he at least cannot find the words to abuse thee for 't."
"Thank ye much," Ophelia says with a bob of her head, grasping tightly to the things as if she might accidently let them go once more. She doubts that she would, but accidents do happen more than she would like to admit.
Her face softens as she spies the tiny dog, bending slightly to get a closer look. "Aye, he is much the better than Sir Toby. Is he good natured or merely playing?"
"Nay, not bad at all," Ophelia answers with a slight shake of her head. All that pains her is a gentle ache and that is a minor thing. "Thank ye for asking."
"Aye, there is. but your concern would be mighty." Ophelia laughes, touched by the thought of it in a way that is small and sweet. She likes the idea of people wanting help others.
Seeing Ophelia still does, and probably always will, give Geoffrey an odd feeling of uneasiness. Here on the island she's just a girl like any other but to Geoffrey she represents the way the line between fiction and reality is sometimes more blurred than he wants to admit.
He grabs the book she's dropped first, then her arm second. "I think you'll live," he says. "Anything torn or broken?"
Standing up, she feels a bit creaky but for the most part whole. Her sense of foolishness and superstition has just gained marks, gaining ground and sowing seeds, but now it isn't flowering yet.
"I should hope so, but nay, nothing at all. Just sore," she assures him, with a sigh. "I was wait, I did move too soon."
"You fell on your face, you mean," says Geoffrey. "Happens to the best of us. If we're lucky, in just such a dramatic fashion." He hands the book over once she's got her balance. "You don't seem to be bleeding."
"Exactly," Ophelia nods, touching her face gingerly and with much more drama than is due. It is an air put on from watching others and their manners. "That is good, for I would not choose to be bleeding from a fall alone."
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"Are you all right?" It was just a little fall, and like as not more embarrassing than painful, but sometimes, those little unexpected accidents- stubbed toes, grazed knees- were surprisingly nasty. With the other hand, he bent to scoop up her book, sparing a glance at the cover before returning his focus to her.
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"Aye, I do fair well," she answers with a nod, taking her book back, tutting slightly. "I did move too soon. Tis my own undoing, thank ye though for returning this."
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"You're entirely welcome," he said. Bert glanced down the path and considered leaving her to her book, as would've probably been polite, and reconsidered. "Though if you'd thank me, lady, I'd have you remember my name in the event you find yourself in mortal peril again. Cuthbert Allgood," he said, dropping to a crouch and offering her a smile in addition to his outstretched hand.
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"Are you all good or does thine name spin ambitions?" she inquires, both curious and playing at the same moment. "Alas my perils are rather small these days, thou would be out of luck, Sir Allgood."
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"Smooth," she praised.
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"Nay, rocky."
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Like everyone else, every day on this dumb fuck island.
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"Twould be something."
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"Ophelia," say'st she. "Lady. Be thou harmed?"
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Ever is it so with Ophelia, rushing to her aid without hesitation, protecting first and thinking only of the lady's by-your-leave after. Ophelia is a woman grown, after all: same as she, and perchance she needeth not any rescuing.
"Here, madam: thy hat and thy book," Viola announces, offering both to their owner. "Fortune be thanked that it were this one..." (and here she doth indicate the spindly-legged hound pup, shyly holding his ground) "...and not Sir Toby that thou didst affrighten; he at least cannot find the words to abuse thee for 't."
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Her face softens as she spies the tiny dog, bending slightly to get a closer look. "Aye, he is much the better than Sir Toby. Is he good natured or merely playing?"
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"There is little I could do were it otherwise, in truth," he added wryly.
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He grabs the book she's dropped first, then her arm second. "I think you'll live," he says. "Anything torn or broken?"
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"I should hope so, but nay, nothing at all. Just sore," she assures him, with a sigh. "I was wait, I did move too soon."
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