Though he does his best to leave her be, Sylvain finds himself acutely aware of her presence for the rest of the night. He knows where she is- tracks how she moves through the guests- even when he is trying not to. He was already seen leading her in from a quiet moment outdoors, he doesn't need to press his presence onto her any more than that. He doesn't want to risk any of his reputation rubbing off on her and filling eager ears with gossip. She has enough to deal with without all of that. The joy of her company is not worth burdening her.
Still he catches himself looking for her, even just from the corner of his eye, and their eyes meet once or twice. Knowing that she has looked for him is just the encouragement he needs to not stop, to choose not to shake off the mantle of fluttering joy. He's like a giddy preteen, he thinks to himself with a shake of the head.
He stays about longer than she does, and sleeps in later the next morning. He breaks his fast in a daze, waking slowly because of wine and sluggishness. He considers keeping away of the stables, pretending he doesn't remember the offer or something similar. It makes him a little ill to consider it. Besides, if she decided he was best avoided, it would be easy enough for her to choose not to come, or to claim duty and chores kept her from showing.
So he dresses and combs his hair and approaches the stables, pockets full of morsels for his horse. He hears the sounds of brushing and the soft murmuring before he sees her, and when he does he feels his heart twang like a bowstring. His face pulls into a crooked smile. She's even more radiant than she was the night before, dressed in practical riding clothes, her hair bound up in a twisted braid.
"Is this one yours, then?" He asks, his voice gentle as he looks over the horse.
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sforzinda
yes!
Date: 2022-01-22 10:56 am (UTC)Though he does his best to leave her be, Sylvain finds himself acutely aware of her presence for the rest of the night. He knows where she is- tracks how she moves through the guests- even when he is trying not to. He was already seen leading her in from a quiet moment outdoors, he doesn't need to press his presence onto her any more than that. He doesn't want to risk any of his reputation rubbing off on her and filling eager ears with gossip. She has enough to deal with without all of that. The joy of her company is not worth burdening her.
Still he catches himself looking for her, even just from the corner of his eye, and their eyes meet once or twice. Knowing that she has looked for him is just the encouragement he needs to not stop, to choose not to shake off the mantle of fluttering joy. He's like a giddy preteen, he thinks to himself with a shake of the head.
He stays about longer than she does, and sleeps in later the next morning. He breaks his fast in a daze, waking slowly because of wine and sluggishness. He considers keeping away of the stables, pretending he doesn't remember the offer or something similar. It makes him a little ill to consider it. Besides, if she decided he was best avoided, it would be easy enough for her to choose not to come, or to claim duty and chores kept her from showing.
So he dresses and combs his hair and approaches the stables, pockets full of morsels for his horse. He hears the sounds of brushing and the soft murmuring before he sees her, and when he does he feels his heart twang like a bowstring. His face pulls into a crooked smile. She's even more radiant than she was the night before, dressed in practical riding clothes, her hair bound up in a twisted braid.
"Is this one yours, then?" He asks, his voice gentle as he looks over the horse.