[PRP] A Lonely Traveler {Marie & Antoine}

[LoveByLetters]

The slim figure walks beside the road, the thin coat pulled tight around their body, wisps of brown hair escaping here and there from underneath a neat little cap that once perfectly matched the coat. Considerable adventures have dulled the color of both coat and cap since that time, in the same way that mud has now forever altered the color of the leather boots that -- once as fashionable as the jacket -- are probably doing little to protect the traveler from the chill. And yet they slog along, weary but determined, for some innate sense has told them that the city is very nearly in sight, and they are determined to reach it before morning. At night there is a better chance of going unseen, and that is very, very important just now ..

But if someone does see the lonely traveler, there are several things that a quick and clever eye would notice. For one, underneath the coat and vest lies a waist a bit too trim to belong to a man; only years of strict corseting could create a subtle curve even beneath the looser garments. There are hints at the back of the head, under the cap, of hair which has been pulled up into some kind of a braid, as if it is too long to fit underneath a cap otherwise. And there is of course the face, even in misery, even lacking its ordinary paints and subtle touches of powder, which is just a bit too sweet, too soft, to be truly masculine.

At least, Marie thinks as she trudges along, the road is mostly empty -- she had been torn, initially, wanting to walk as far away from the road as possible to lessen the chances of being seen. But it had been hard going in the bushes and the bracken, and she had been constantly terrified of losing sight of the proper path, and so in the end she had worked up the courage to walk right along beside the road.

The weight of the totem seems heavy in her pocket, and she touches it occasionally to reassure herself that it is still there: all this for a trinket, a little bit of nothing .. and yet perhaps, if the stories are true, this will lead to something that will make her feel much better about all those nasty, nasty rumors.  

[Cynnybun]

The bumps in the old road between Palisade and Oldcastle made the carriage rattle as it went along, which in turn made Antoine sigh. He knew that the driver couldn't really do much about it, but it was nonetheless irritating. The doe that lay on the floor of the carriage obviously agreed with him, judging by the little huff she gave and the twitch of her cloud-gray ears. Antoine chuckled and reached down to place his palm on her muzzle, and Babette nosed at his hand affectionately, making the little bell tied to her ear jingle softly.

But as they went back toward Palisade, there was a slight figure on the side of the road as they passed, which made the young male blink and perk up. "Harley, stop the carriage," he called, watching out the window as the figure grew a bit smaller before the carriage came to a stop. He climbed out of the little rolling box and pulled his coat tighter around himself, letting out a groan against the bitter chill. Babette followed closely, her movements seemingly perfectly choreographed and smooth. The doe tilted her head at the strange figure that was approaching, and Antoine could feel surges of both curiosity of wariness traveling along their connection. He patted Babette's head soothing, before calling out to the traveler.

"Hello zere! What are you doing out by yourself at zis hour?" He asked, noticing how relatively small this person was. Was it a young boy? No, the limbs were too lithe and Antoine could see just the faintest of curves at the waist under that jacket. "Mademoiselle, please, let me give you a ride back to Palisade," he urged, gesturing to his coach. What would a young lady be doing out by herself at this hour, let alone on the path from Oldcastle to Palisade by herself?  

[LoveByLetters]

Marie notes the coach that passes her, distantly grateful that it is going so quickly; perhaps the occupants will not see her, or if they notice her will not think to care. This awful little adventure of hers has given her a greater sympathy for certain persons of lower classes, whom until now she did not often think of -- what must it be like, for instance, to have a coat this thin all the time? She touches the totem in her pocket, sighs, and keeps trudging along until all of the sudden a man's voice seems to come out of nowhere.

She'd heard the coach, but she hadn't noticed that it stopped, nor that it had disgorged its passengers. Antoine's voice therefore startles a sudden squeak of surprise out of her, following which she immediately claps one gloved hand over her traitorous mouth. As if she could protest that she's no sort of mademoiselle after a sound like that! Oh, oh, she is never ever ever wearing pants again after this! Ever!

The flush creeps up on her, even in the darkness visible as two bright spots on her cheeks as she slowly takes her hand away from her mouth. " .. oh, I shouldn't, you are so terribly kind, but -- " She is mortified; her voice is weak, and she is afraid that he will carry this story of her back to all the world. She cannot let that happen, even if it means walking alone all this way! But then she stops suddenly, as she sees beautiful little Babette behind him, and the sight makes her cry out with relief. "Oh! Oh! You would understand, you would! Look at her, what a beautiful little darling .."