Post by Elizabeth on Sept 19, 2014 16:18:32 GMT -5
Running in heels was pretty hard.
Elena careened around the corner of an alleyway. Thanks to her high-heeled sandals, she ran flopping side-to-side in a wild gait. She remembered reading once about a kind of lizard that could run on water, and she figured that she probably looked just like one.
She considered removing her sandals to maneuver more easily, then immediately decided otherwise. There was no way that she would ever step on these streets barefoot. She tried not to think about the fact that her pretty, heeled sandals were stepping through street muck, but she was awfully glad that she had footwear in the first place. She’d rather be caught and killed (either by a guard, or by that drunk, homicidal drow, whoever got to her first) than step through this stuff.
She abruptly realized that, if caught and killed, she’d probably end up lying face-down in the muck anyway. Death wasn’t so bad; getting slum-slime all over her lovely robes (and possibly---ick! on her skin too) was the real fear.
Elena resolved that she would try to die in a relatively clean place, and so started to feel much better about things.
She continued to run, heels be damned, and thought of the time when she got this particular pair of sandals, and the man who gave them to her.
-----
Elena had not yet become a priestess of Athika when her mother had set her up with Camillus Schorel.
Camillus was "every woman's dream," or at least that's what Elena's mother called him. An athletic nobleman of twenty-five with a strong jawline that put the faces of lesser men to shame, Camillus was the son of a family friend (mother knew everyone in Blackdawn) and was proposed as an "ideal match" for Elena. And not just for his looks or his connections; the rumors were that Camillus was climbing the military's ranks with incredible speed. He was apparently a cavalry officer of incredible ability, really good at riding horses fast, or stabbing people, or something.
Elena had read many fairy tales about young girls betrothed to princes and the like who escaped their forced-marriage situations and found their true loves and finally lived happily ever after in golden castles. She thought that the girls in those stories were as dumb as bricks; the princes were often pretty good choices and a lot easier to find than that "true love". If nothing else, the girls in the stories could at least see how good the princes were in bed, first.
She did not so much mind her mother's meddling in her love life. The one, compelling downside to this setup was that Elena could not imagine being with only one man, forever. She happened to like men, that is, in the plural, and by the age of eighteen she was already responsible for more than one questionable rumor about the Rocdon family. Fortunately, her mother (prior to meeting her father) had been the source for rumors of her own long ago, and that had not hurt her chances for a prosperous marriage. Nor was Elena's less-than-chaste reputation hurting her chances, either.
In fact, when Elena and Camillus first met at one of the countless high-class parties her parents threw, Camillus fell for Elena immediately. It was obvious. He spoke with the other ladies, sure---but he was quick to seek out Elena whenever she happened to wander off a little throughout the evening.
The other women were not taking it well. They were catty like that---especially Fabia.
Fabia Ryder was Elena's age, the daughter of a noble, and a noted socialite. She seemed to be at every party (invited or otherwise) and although Elena rightly noted that Fabia was quite lovely, and had no problems of her own with the lady, Fabia had decided long ago to have it out for Elena. The green-eyed (in metaphor only; her eyes were actually blue) tramp had always been more than a little envious of Elena's ability to scurry off with hordes of men and yet never acquire a bad reputation. The men just liked Elena too much---she was too cute, too charming, too sweet. For most, she was impossible to dislike. But Fabia surely would have preferred to see Elena's head on a pike.
Particularly now that Camillus was charmed by Elena. If only Fabia had asked, Elena would have given him to her; there were hundreds of other men in the city, of course, and frankly Elena had always preferred the rougher and grittier type.
Camillus smiled at Elena; his eyes twinkled in the torchlight which gave a low, romantic glow over the whole party. "I cannot help but notice that you like to move around."
Oh, so he had noticed her flitting about whenever he was not looking. Elena returned his smile. "I like to be active."
Yes, the flirting wasn't the best. Fabia certainly thought so---she was standing about ten feet away, watching, absolutely seething.
But the flirting was working, anyway. "I have had enough of the party for tonight," Camillus said. "Please accompany me."
"I would love to."
When Camillus offered his arm to Elena, she took it, and positioned herself so her body was touching his, quite seductively. Given that she was wearing the flimsiest of silk, which covered but somehow barely contained her breasts, Camillus could have felt everything if only he had moved his hand across her, just a little. But he was too much of a gentleman to do that.
About this time was when Fabia got a wicked idea. One of the older ladies at the party had been knitting in a chair, and had since fallen asleep, drooling a bit. Fabia trotted over and retrieved one of the long, sharp, knitting needles.
Elena and Camillus strolled towards the exit together, quite oblivious to most things, although Elena caught the sight of her mother and father looking on approvingly, and her mother giving a wink.
In hindsight, Elena realized that perhaps that's why she didn't see the trap Fabia had made for her.
Fabia had planted the knitting needle on one of the stone steps outside, pointing upwards. It was a really rather stupid idea, but Fabia wasn't known for her brilliance.
By sheer dumb luck, or fate, however, Elena stepped right on it. The needle went through her little cloth shoes like a hot knife through butter, and stabbed Elena right in the foot.
Fortunately for her, Elena was able to react in time to avoid putting any more weight on her step, and the needle did not, in fact, go through her foot. It did, however, cause her foot to bleed, which proceeded to ruin the pretty shoe.
Camillus immediately swept into gentlemanly action to save the day. He removed Elena's shoes---both of them---pulled out a handkerchief, and expertly bandaged her foot. He then picked her up so she was lying in his arms, and carried her down the steps. He was indeed quite athletic.
Elena cuddled into Camillus, laying her head back against his shoulder, gazing up at him appreciatively.
Fabia, distraught because her plan had utterly backfired, stormed back into the party.
Camillus carried Elena through the noble district on a "walk." Eventually, they went by a shop specializing in ladies' footwear. In the window was a pair of pretty, high-heeled sandals. Camillus carried Elena into the store immediately and, despite the outrageous cost, bought them for her.
Elena told him that he need not do so, but thanked him for his sweet offer.
But he insisted. "It is the least I may do, Miss Rocdon, since it is because of our walk that your shoes were ruined."
Maybe he was worth marrying, after all.
Then one week later, Camillus had to march out. Apparently there was some trouble on the border. The army and cavalry was needed there---and although she received many letters from Camillus, Elena eventually stopped hearing from him, and the word was that he had perished leading the cavalry through a mountain pass...or maybe that he was stationed somewhere, far away, and word could not yet reach Blackdawn.
-----
Elena stumbled to a stop. She didn't recognize this part of town, and for all she knew, she might have been running in circles.
She looked down at her feet.
The sandals had held up well, but the heels were covered now with a thin layer of muck.
Elena careened around the corner of an alleyway. Thanks to her high-heeled sandals, she ran flopping side-to-side in a wild gait. She remembered reading once about a kind of lizard that could run on water, and she figured that she probably looked just like one.
She considered removing her sandals to maneuver more easily, then immediately decided otherwise. There was no way that she would ever step on these streets barefoot. She tried not to think about the fact that her pretty, heeled sandals were stepping through street muck, but she was awfully glad that she had footwear in the first place. She’d rather be caught and killed (either by a guard, or by that drunk, homicidal drow, whoever got to her first) than step through this stuff.
She abruptly realized that, if caught and killed, she’d probably end up lying face-down in the muck anyway. Death wasn’t so bad; getting slum-slime all over her lovely robes (and possibly---ick! on her skin too) was the real fear.
Elena resolved that she would try to die in a relatively clean place, and so started to feel much better about things.
She continued to run, heels be damned, and thought of the time when she got this particular pair of sandals, and the man who gave them to her.
-----
Elena had not yet become a priestess of Athika when her mother had set her up with Camillus Schorel.
Camillus was "every woman's dream," or at least that's what Elena's mother called him. An athletic nobleman of twenty-five with a strong jawline that put the faces of lesser men to shame, Camillus was the son of a family friend (mother knew everyone in Blackdawn) and was proposed as an "ideal match" for Elena. And not just for his looks or his connections; the rumors were that Camillus was climbing the military's ranks with incredible speed. He was apparently a cavalry officer of incredible ability, really good at riding horses fast, or stabbing people, or something.
Elena had read many fairy tales about young girls betrothed to princes and the like who escaped their forced-marriage situations and found their true loves and finally lived happily ever after in golden castles. She thought that the girls in those stories were as dumb as bricks; the princes were often pretty good choices and a lot easier to find than that "true love". If nothing else, the girls in the stories could at least see how good the princes were in bed, first.
She did not so much mind her mother's meddling in her love life. The one, compelling downside to this setup was that Elena could not imagine being with only one man, forever. She happened to like men, that is, in the plural, and by the age of eighteen she was already responsible for more than one questionable rumor about the Rocdon family. Fortunately, her mother (prior to meeting her father) had been the source for rumors of her own long ago, and that had not hurt her chances for a prosperous marriage. Nor was Elena's less-than-chaste reputation hurting her chances, either.
In fact, when Elena and Camillus first met at one of the countless high-class parties her parents threw, Camillus fell for Elena immediately. It was obvious. He spoke with the other ladies, sure---but he was quick to seek out Elena whenever she happened to wander off a little throughout the evening.
The other women were not taking it well. They were catty like that---especially Fabia.
Fabia Ryder was Elena's age, the daughter of a noble, and a noted socialite. She seemed to be at every party (invited or otherwise) and although Elena rightly noted that Fabia was quite lovely, and had no problems of her own with the lady, Fabia had decided long ago to have it out for Elena. The green-eyed (in metaphor only; her eyes were actually blue) tramp had always been more than a little envious of Elena's ability to scurry off with hordes of men and yet never acquire a bad reputation. The men just liked Elena too much---she was too cute, too charming, too sweet. For most, she was impossible to dislike. But Fabia surely would have preferred to see Elena's head on a pike.
Particularly now that Camillus was charmed by Elena. If only Fabia had asked, Elena would have given him to her; there were hundreds of other men in the city, of course, and frankly Elena had always preferred the rougher and grittier type.
Camillus smiled at Elena; his eyes twinkled in the torchlight which gave a low, romantic glow over the whole party. "I cannot help but notice that you like to move around."
Oh, so he had noticed her flitting about whenever he was not looking. Elena returned his smile. "I like to be active."
Yes, the flirting wasn't the best. Fabia certainly thought so---she was standing about ten feet away, watching, absolutely seething.
But the flirting was working, anyway. "I have had enough of the party for tonight," Camillus said. "Please accompany me."
"I would love to."
When Camillus offered his arm to Elena, she took it, and positioned herself so her body was touching his, quite seductively. Given that she was wearing the flimsiest of silk, which covered but somehow barely contained her breasts, Camillus could have felt everything if only he had moved his hand across her, just a little. But he was too much of a gentleman to do that.
About this time was when Fabia got a wicked idea. One of the older ladies at the party had been knitting in a chair, and had since fallen asleep, drooling a bit. Fabia trotted over and retrieved one of the long, sharp, knitting needles.
Elena and Camillus strolled towards the exit together, quite oblivious to most things, although Elena caught the sight of her mother and father looking on approvingly, and her mother giving a wink.
In hindsight, Elena realized that perhaps that's why she didn't see the trap Fabia had made for her.
Fabia had planted the knitting needle on one of the stone steps outside, pointing upwards. It was a really rather stupid idea, but Fabia wasn't known for her brilliance.
By sheer dumb luck, or fate, however, Elena stepped right on it. The needle went through her little cloth shoes like a hot knife through butter, and stabbed Elena right in the foot.
Fortunately for her, Elena was able to react in time to avoid putting any more weight on her step, and the needle did not, in fact, go through her foot. It did, however, cause her foot to bleed, which proceeded to ruin the pretty shoe.
Camillus immediately swept into gentlemanly action to save the day. He removed Elena's shoes---both of them---pulled out a handkerchief, and expertly bandaged her foot. He then picked her up so she was lying in his arms, and carried her down the steps. He was indeed quite athletic.
Elena cuddled into Camillus, laying her head back against his shoulder, gazing up at him appreciatively.
Fabia, distraught because her plan had utterly backfired, stormed back into the party.
Camillus carried Elena through the noble district on a "walk." Eventually, they went by a shop specializing in ladies' footwear. In the window was a pair of pretty, high-heeled sandals. Camillus carried Elena into the store immediately and, despite the outrageous cost, bought them for her.
Elena told him that he need not do so, but thanked him for his sweet offer.
But he insisted. "It is the least I may do, Miss Rocdon, since it is because of our walk that your shoes were ruined."
Maybe he was worth marrying, after all.
Then one week later, Camillus had to march out. Apparently there was some trouble on the border. The army and cavalry was needed there---and although she received many letters from Camillus, Elena eventually stopped hearing from him, and the word was that he had perished leading the cavalry through a mountain pass...or maybe that he was stationed somewhere, far away, and word could not yet reach Blackdawn.
-----
Elena stumbled to a stop. She didn't recognize this part of town, and for all she knew, she might have been running in circles.
She looked down at her feet.
The sandals had held up well, but the heels were covered now with a thin layer of muck.
