[FIN] Distressed Damsel in Disguise {Allison and Marie}

[LoveByLetters]

Oh, how dark the woods! Oh, how cold the night! Her hands are shaking, shaking, and a fine tremor is running through her body, and it was only some time ago that she was able to stop crying, possibly only because she had no tears left. Her face is raw from the crying, and her throat so tight she can hardly breathe, and every time a bramble pricks her she hiccups with pain and terror. Every story which she has ever heard of wolves comes back to haunt her now, driving her on and hurrying her steps, as over and over again she replays the stories that she's heard recently -- of people and towns disappearing, of great big wolves and the pale and frightening men who are allied with them. No matter that most of those stories take place in small towns far from here, no matter that there are plenty among the noble sort that continue to scoff (while their servants leave out bowls of milk). In this particular moment, on this particular day, one Rosemarie Tumbriel believes.

She can hardly remember how she got here, got all this way from Palisade, got all the way to the tree she'd been unable to stop thinking about, and then -- and then -- then she was lost in the night, the horse she'd ridden here on gone as well, the pack of things she'd thrown together proving either useless or easily lost. She was no fighter, no gypsy, to know how to travel like this! She does not know where to go, how to find her way, and the only smart thing she has done on this journey left her almost in tears at the indignity, at the impropriety of it all.

Because stumbling through the forest, the little wooden token still in one hand, Marie is wearing trousers. It's a horrible, terrible thing she's done, to pin up all her beautiful hair under a shapeless cap, to don a boy's clothing, and she hates every itchy, uncomfortable moment of it. The trousers feel wretched, clinging in odd places and loose in others, and the simple linen shirt, vest, and jacket are not enough to make her feel like she is actually clothed. No matter that along with every woman she has mouthed breathless curses about her corsets -- she misses them now! If anyone sees her she will just die, she swears she will die of embarrassment, and yet she wants nothing more right now than to find someone, anyone, so that she knows she's not alone in the world.

In the darkness, she may well stumble into Allison's garden .. or Allison may stumble across her. And it will be hard not to spot Marie for what she is, for she is so terribly uncomfortable in her masculine garb and it does not in the least suit her; her hips are too soft, her face too sweet, her hands as smooth as any milkmaid's.  

[Nyx Argyros]

A pair of dark, glowing eyes watched the stumbling, fumbling human with undisguised glee. Pale as the rest of the beast was, those eyes might appear to be suspended in the snow, and might appear frightening, even to one who was not already distraught. Assuming one could spot them in the first place, of course. Their owner was very quiet, and was watching from behind.

Ever so slowly, ever so stealthily, the grimalkin crept closer, closer, closer, until she was right behind the stranger in her territory. Then, she let out a deep, very un-feline growl in hopes of scaring the stranger.

Inside a cottage that was just out of sight from the pair, one Allison Driscoll sat up from her work with a suspicious frown upon her lips. She was getting a distinct impression of smug satisfaction from her familiar. A smug feline was rarely a good thing, but when Hecate was the one who seemed so pleased with herself, it was especially troublesome. Much of the time, Alice took her own perverse pleasure from the grimalkin's antics, but sometimes, the feline could be quite cruel. She only hoped that this was not one such time.  

[LoveByLetters]

It is about this time, as Allison frowns, that a scream splits the air -- high and piercing, it cracks on the final note and descends into what could, with some amount of prompting, become a hysterical sob. Outside in the snow, her thoughts full of wolves, Marie had reacted to the growl the only way she knew how: instinctively letting loose with an ear-piercing shriek, then tripping over her own boots in the snow in a failed attempt to get away from it. She manages to turn around halfway, dumping herself into the snow, which is such a shock that it will (fortunately for Allison and Hecate) cut off the remainder of her scream.

Identifying the origin of the growl will be no help whatsoever, since Marie is in such a state that a kitten could probably have unduly frightened her; should Hecate pace forward she will scramble back with a little mewl of her own, in purest terror. Should Allison emerge into the snow, she will find Marie transfixed in her fright, a slender, tallish girl -- though nowhere near Allison herself in height -- who is, despite her stolen clothing, obviously a girl under the breeches and vest and coat. Another one from the Tree, perhaps, judging from her desperate state.  

[Nyx Argyros]

"Oh, for the love of..." Alice hurried into her cloak and boots, then went outside and walked the short distance to the source of the piercing scream only to find her familiar positively aglow with delight as she played with her new toy. It squeaked every time she moved closer, wasn't that just wonderful? The hedge witch sighed, torn between resignation and irritation...and perhaps a little of her own humor.

It was such a pitiful sight. Alice had no doubt that the poor thing would jump at her own shadow, she was so clearly distraught. It was painfully obvious that she was utterly out of her element. No doubt lost, since she was stumbling about at night. The odds were good that she was on her way back from the Tree. It would not be the first time one of them had landed on her doorstep. Even if it were not obvious just by looking at her that the girl was harmless, Alice knew that she could have no ill intentions. Not if she had made it this close to her home. It was warded to the teeth with not only her own protective charms, but also with all the combined might of her ancestors. It was a safe place, her cottage, and apparently, it was also going to serve as an inn this night.

"Get up, girl," she said. "The big, bad grimalkin isn't going to eat you."  

[LoveByLetters]

If Marie had had any breath left, she'd have shrieked again at the appearance of Alice: with her attention so fixed upon the grimalkin, she had not even noticed the other woman's approach. Only when the hedge-witch speaks does Marie's attention shift to her, causing her to flinch noticeably and make another strangled squeaking sound, her voice now since gone a bit hoarse. " .. it -- it isn't?" She hiccups back a sob of relief at having found another human being, at the fact that the terrifying creature apparently won't hurt her -- and then the hedge-witch's greeting penetrates and her cheeks flush with brilliant color.

"I'm .. not a girl," she whispers, as she pushes herself shakily to her feet and brushes the snow off of her herself best that she can. The words are so laughably false that even she seems embarrassed just to utter them; she may be wearing a boy's breeks and coat, but that doesn't make her male anymore than hiding her hair under her cap makes it short.

"I'm sorry," she gulps after a moment, though whether it's an apology for falling at Alice's feet in the dark night or for her hilariously obvious lie is hard to tell. " .. I'm lost, and I don't -- I'm .. I don't know where to go."  

[Nyx Argyros]

Hecate's ears perked up at the sound of another shriek. Would it still make noise? She ventured closer to find out, batting at a leg for good measure.

For her part, Alice gave the girl a flat look. "Oh, yes. A fine, young lad you make. And what lovely hair. I suppose that's the latest fashion." She could understand the pretense, but really. If the sorry thing was going to lie, she could at least do it when her hair wasn't falling out of her cap. And she ought to try it on someone who hadn't just heard her scream...several times.

"That much is obvious," Alice informed her, completely without sympathy. "But you won't be getting anywhere at night in this snow, unless you plan to tumble into your grave."  

[LoveByLetters]

Hecate's swipe at her leg earns him a little yip of fear, as Marie stumbles back and very nearly falls again. This whole thing is awfully distressing, and she's already made repeated vows that the moment she gets back to the warm, solid walls of her home, she's never leaving Palisade ever again!

"I'm not -- it isn't -- it .. I --" Finally, fumbling over every word she tries to utter in the face of Alice's complete and utter lack of sympathy for her plight, she makes a heroic effort to fight back the sobs she very much wants to indulge in. Like many ladies of her type, Marie can tell when those tears will have no effect, and is able by dint of great effort to hold them back. She does sniffle, although that may be from the cold as much as anything, as in the selection of her outfit she did not seem to take the cruel weather into account. " .. I'm terribly sorry miss," she finally says in a whisper, as if Alice is another courtier like herself, as if all can be solved if she simply resorts to the courtly manners that she is more comfortable with. " .. I'm not supposed to be here, and I don't wish to get in trouble. Can you tell me where it is safe to be, if not here? I don't know where I am."  

[Nyx Argyros]

Satisfied that the girl was finally intelligible, if nothing else, and tired of listening to her yelps Alice waved off her familiar. Hecate sniffed indignantly and walked past Marie, deliberately brushing the girl's leg with her tail in the process. Clearly, the grimalkin was walking away because she was bored with her new toy, not because Alice had said anything. Nope. That would be unbecoming of a queen such as herself.

"You have just crossed onto my land, which is as safe as you are liable to get," she said. "And we are very near Oldcastle."

She eyed the girl. From her manners, she was clearly not a commoner. Of course, that much was obvious anyway, as she lacked all common sense. Regardless of her station, Allison was not impressed. "I hope you aren't harboring any notions of making that trek tonight."  

[LoveByLetters]

This time Hectate gets only the barest squeak of fear, mostly because Marie is by this point out of breath and unable to muster anything else. The cold and her own screaming seems to have frozen the air in her lungs, and they ache, more than she would have imagined were possible. Alice's words fill her eyes briefly with tears, but once more a series of sniffles manages to hold them back -- she thinks longingly of her maid, her dressing table, her great big feather bed! And here goes more of her pride, for she knows that she cannot go farther, not in the snow, not dressed as she is, but to ask .. to beg a favor from a commoner .. oh, the shame of it! She's never going to tell anyone about this, ever!

" .. if you could but give me a place to sleep, I should be most grateful. I will pay you, Miss, if you could help me."  

[Nyx Argyros]

Alice was not certain whether she ought to be more amused or offended at the offer of money. She was not necessarily above taking it, but it was a rare thing. Most of those who stumbled upon her doorstep were too poor to offer coin. Instead, they traded favors. The arrangement suited her well enough, for she had little need of coin, but it did offer certain luxuries that were more difficult to obtain otherwise. Perhaps she would take the girl up on her offer, after all. Alice would not have left her in the cold anyway, but the girl did not need to know that.

"Come along, then," she said, leading the way back to her cottage. It was a cold night and she would prefer to be indoors and back at work.

Hecate got there first, of course, and her dark eyes glittered from her place in front of the door, but Alice swept inside and shed her winter gear before heading over to the kitchen. It was not a particularly large cottage, but neither was it tiny. Two doors led off of the main room, which housed the kitchen, dining room, and living space. It was a warm and cozy place. Homey would perhaps be the ideal word. However, it was doubtless far beneath the girl's usual standards. She would simply have to make do.  

[LoveByLetters]

She had stumbled quickly after Alice, relieved and mortified in equal measures. Once instead the cottage she hesitates just inside the door, perhaps a bit dazed -- has she ever even seen the inside of a cottage like this? Or any place so small and yet meant as a home? Shuddering once, she moves clumsily to take off her own outer coat, which has become damp from the snow, obviously unused to undressing herself. Still, she will manage to get the coat hung up without help, and underneath it she is even more obviously out of place in her current garments. Even the loose shirt and vest cannot hide hips that years of corsets helped shape.

Once she has removed her dripping coat and boots, she will trail hesitantly into the room, to stand in front of any open fireplace -- she hasn't the faintest idea what is expected of her now, if anything. " .. thank you, Miss," she says in a whisper, plainly grateful at least for the warmth and relatively safety of the house ..

.. even if it is also apparently the home of a demon-cat. She gives Hectate a very fierce look to try and warn her away, when she thinks Alice is not watching.  

[Nyx Argyros]

Hecate managed to look smug and haughty all at once - a feat pulled off with such finesse that only cats and the greatest of courtiers possess - and perched herself atop the mantle. Clearly, the grimalkin was not the least impressed with the cold, wet, human.

Quite used to this sort of arrangement between her familiar and their guests, Alice ignored the childish hostility between the two. Hecate either doted or incited trouble, and clearly she was set on the latter in this case. Instead, she busied herself in the kitchen, mixing herbs into some kind of tea and setting it aside to steep while she pulled dishes from the cupboard and set them at the table.

"I am Allison Driscoll," she said, as though answering a question that had not been posed. "And what shall I call you?" The eyes that glanced up at the girl glimmered gold in the firelight.  

[LoveByLetters]

Those are uncanny eyes, thinks Marie distantly, though she has not yet made the connection between the grimalkin's presence and Allison's status as a woman. It's beautiful, yes, and she can only imagine how that would rile some of the young nobles who are her peers -- but uncanny, too.

"You may as well call me Marie," she says after a moment's hesitation, and now that she is safe and starting to thaw there is a little bit of amusement in her voice, directed primarily at herself. "I had thought myself very clever, Miss Driscoll, to borrow someone's breeches, but it seems that clothing cannot make a man out of one." Reaching up, she will begin to unpin her hat, underneath which her hair has been tightly braided and neatly coiled around the top of her head. She will set her hat down near the fire -- but deliberately away from Hecate -- and then begin to unbraid her hair, sticking the pins into her pocket.  

[Nyx Argyros]

Well, at least the girl could realize that much. Perhaps there was some small hope for her intellect yet. "From a distance, it might suit your purpose well enough," she said, but even that was questionable. This Marie was so overtly female that even exhausted her way of moving was clearly feminine. No man exuded that particular quality of grace. Anyone who was looking for it would be able to spot it. Of course, most took things at face value. To the average traveler the girl might pass on the road, breaches on a slight body meant a young lad off on some errand or another.

"Here," she said, offering Marie a steaming mug flavored with herbs and honey. "It will help prevent you catching ill, and help your body recover from the strain you have put it under."  

[LoveByLetters]

She pauses in her unpinning, her hair now freed from the careful crown but as yet not completely unbraided. She looks wholly different with her hair fallen around her face, both younger and somehow more comfortable -- though there are girls who hanker after the freedom of breeches, Marie is not one of them. She longs for her skirts, her corsets, her lace and her satin, such that even this little bit of femininity, feeling her hair on her neck and cheeks, reassures her.

"Thank you," she says, her gratitude more genuine than it has ever been when uttering those words: she cups her hands around the mug with a sigh for the warmth of it. "I am sorry for my intrusion .. I have never done anything like this, I hardly know why I did it. I suppose it has been all those terrible stories about the wolves, and it was like I had caught a fever, and I could not stop thinking of it." She blows gently on the surface of the drink, taking a cautious sip, and the scalding warmth gives her a pleasant shiver. Her explanation has the air of a confession, offered absent-mindedly as if she feels she must offer some kind of excuse to this woman, as if it is suddenly important to her what the somber Allison thinks. "I had to go find the Guardian's Tree."