dreamingflowers — Roleplayer Guild

Floure

A wealth of raven locks spilled out over the pillow underneath her head. Pale eyes were looking up at the wooden beams of the ceiling, worry drawing down her features into a frown. She was safe.......for now at least. The town of Alonso wasn´t very different from the other small hamlets she´d passed on her wayward journey. A useful difference however was the mixture of ordinary common folk and travelers from all over the provinces. It made her less of an attraction. No one would give her a second look if she snuck out of the young farmer´s barn, and come the morning she wouldn´t be on the lips of every housewife in the village. It was the easiest and most safe method of finding a place to spend the night, next to a preferably handsome farmer, blacksmith or whoever cared for her company. 

At times like this, where she was alone with her thoughts, the uncertainty of her future could drive her to madness. The caravan she grew up in was no longer her safe haven. Floure had no idea where they were, what had happened to them after that Midsummer eve, or if they were even still alive. She dreaded to think about her family no longer breathing the same air as her, but the possibility seemed more likely every day. She had put as much distance between her and the place where she´d last seen them, fearing whoever or whatever had attacked them would come back for her. Distance never mattered, they always knew of a way to pass on a message. Why had no one sent her a letter?, a sign?, a whisper in the night. It had been dishearteningly silent. 

Floure slipped out of bed quietly, holding the bedding to her chest, tying them around her body as a make shift dress. Somewhere in the corner of the room she'd gathered her belongings. She rummaged through a bundle of tangled up clothes to uncover a small wooden box, taking it with her back to bed. Every trinket that spilled from the box conjured up its own memory and emotion. An old deck of frayed playing cards, used many times by her revered grandmother, a small glass bottle of precious jasmine oil gifted to her by an equally precious sister, a silver comb with swirling vines and flowers. The contents of the box made her smile and soon her mood was lifted.

The sheets next to her moved, someone stirred and shifted. Then suddenly she felt a pair of soft lips follow an invisible trail of kisses up her arm. A strong arm wrapped itself around her shoulders. 
"What are you smiling about?" His boyish voice was a strange match for his mature physique, but it was also endearing in a way. 
Floure dabbed a little jasmine oil on her neck, the back of her ears and the insides of her wrists. The sweet floral scent immediately surrounded her, casting its enchanting spell.

"Were you thinking about last night?" The young man continued in a husky voice, sniffing the scented air. Floure bit her lip trying not to laugh. She didn't even remember his name much less what they had or hadn't done. She'd slipped a sleeping potion in his drink after they kissed, so whatever he thought had happened was a figment of his imagination. Maybe she gave him a bit too much, hallucinations were a common side effect after all. Floure slid out of his embrace and safely put her keepsakes back in the box.

"Don't get any ideas" Floure said with a cheeky smile on her face. He tried to pull her back to bed, grabbing onto the end of the sheets she had wrapped around herself. His efforts were clearly in vain, she had no intention of coming back. He groaned and fell back onto the bed, faking defeat. Triumphant Floure continued on her way when a sudden forceful tug nearly made her fall over. She whipped her head around, the beginnings of an angry frown on her usually sweet face. Any anger however quickly disappeared when she stared back into the handsome face of the young blacksmith. He had scruffy brunette hair, warm brown eyes, and the beginnings of a light beard. His body betrayed his trade. Strong muscular arms, skin flecked with small scars where he'd accidentally touched hot iron, calloused hands from working the rough material.  

"I have to go, there's something going on outside" She explained, trying to be serious seeing his disappointed face, which was not unlike that of a young puppy dog. 

"Will I ever see you again?" He sounded sad all of a sudden. Floure found herself feeling remorseful. He'd given her a place to stay, drawn her a bath, put food in her belly. How did she repay him? She had cheated him out of his fun. Biting her lip she kept her back to him, thinking on her answer. She quickly gathered up her clothes and got dressed. As she made her way to the window, the blacksmith jumped out of bed, afraid this beautiful girl would be gone forever if he didn't stop her. 

"Hey....a..at least let me make you some breakfast." He stammered, frantically trying to find his clothes. Floure gazed through the window, a soft drizzle was muddying her view, but she could tell there was some sort of event taking place on the square. There were three cages lined up with people inside. They were surrounded by men in uniforms and a crowd of whispering towns folk. The gallows were looming up behind them. A chill ran down her spine, the sight filling her with a sense of dread. Floure wrapped her shawl around her head, shivering. 

The blacksmith came up behind her giving her shoulders a reassuring squeeze. 
"Don't worry, those are not for you"

She turned around to face him, finding his wide eyed, slightly fearful expression amusing. Floure smiled while she took of one of her necklaces, drawing the string over her neck and down her long hair, careful not to get it caught. It was a braided cord of blue silk with a shell pendant filed down into the shape of a heart. She attempted to put it around the blacksmith's neck but even on her toes she couldn't reach the top of his head. He bent down with a nervous laugh, the pendant resting right in the centre of his chest. Floure put her palm on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. 

"I'll come back one day....." She said, sounding wistful. Maybe this time she'd fallen in love a little bit too, but he would probably be another broken promise. Sad but true.

She tugged on the necklace to bring his face closer to hers and gave him a kiss on the lips. The blacksmith closed his eyes in delight, but when he opened them again she was gone.
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