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"Maîa, just pick one..." Leonidas entreated. He hated to hover. He was too tall to hover. People passed by with curious looks and craning necks. It made him feel like a specimen on display.
'Shush.' His mother, Amalia, clucked her tongue at him. She fluttered a hand at him in dismissal. 'If you're so busy, go on and entertain yourself. I can manage perfectly well.'
"I am not leaving you to carry all this back home." Leonidas had to juggle a large basket of vegetables so that he could look around the bag of grain atop it and glare at his mother. "And stop talking like I have a choice. You bamboozled me into this."
As a piece of sacking fell into his mouth, Leo spat it back out, sending a little plume of rice dust into the air. He felt several bits of the fluff land on his eyelashes and had to blink several times.
'I did no such thing,' his mother insisted. Her nose was in the air and her throat full of an arrogance entirely at odds with her caring nature. A sure sign she was teasing with a half-truth. 'I simply mentioned the exact distance between the market and the house.'
"And that we'd run out of both grain and marrow?" Leo added. From then, it had been impossible that she'd be going to purchase their weekly goods by herself. Leonidas wasn't having it. Working as a seamstress every day had done enough damage to her wrists. He wasn't about to let her carry heavy goods a half-mile on top of it.
Though, a few weeks ago, Leo had been more than thankful for the great distance between the main market square of the capital and their little home in the furthest districts of the Outer Circle. Amalia had known nothing of the attack on the market until her son had returned, covered in sweat, soot and his own blood.
As was her habit, she had put aside all panic until after she had tended to him (despite his best protests). But he'd heard her praying for longer than usual that night and there had been a redness to her eyes as she had come to their sole bed. Leonidas was no idiot. He knew that his mother worried for him. But there were few jobs better paid than working with the Athenian Guard. And the limited number that were, were usually posted in government buildings; buildings that owed their funding to the nobility. Particularly the Antonis. Even if he could read and write, Leonidas had little hope of landing such a position.
So, military work it was. And his mother had to trade food on the table for a worried heart.
Swallowing, Leo tried to distract himself with the teasing banter mother and son had begun. As Amalia smelt and tested the feel of yet another squash fruit, he shook his head and sighed dramatically. He then tutted as she pursed her lips over some oranges. And began to jiffle from foot to foot when she insisted on haggling down the price of goats milk.
'Will you just stand still?' she scolded with a smile as if he were three years old.
"But Maaia..." he whined in return, for his own part. "Hurry uuuup, I wanna go playyyy."
Amalia only reacted with a quick elbow to his side. Unfortunately, this sent parcels and packages in all directions and Leo was forced to play juggler if he was to keep them all from the floor.
"Ma!"
'Oops!'
With their best efforts, everything was accounted for and resettled in Leo's arms. With the exception of a handful or so of rice. Which Leo was fairly certain had fallen down the inside of tunic and was now sitting, stuck above the cloth cinch at his waist. Fantastic.
"It's fine, it's fine..." he reassured his mother who was desperately trying not to laugh. "I've got it - just... just get the milk and let's go back. I now have an itchy belly and rustle when I-"
Leonidas was cut off mid-sentence by his own surprise. Despite the number of people in the Agora, the number of faces that were passing by in every direction, his gaze had latched onto one, single colour. A pretty, golden hue that gleamed for a moment in the sunshine. The tint of that gold had been familiar. It conjured up a feeling of softness in his mind, the scent of soot and pretty fragrance. It had brought his head around and the full image of its owner into view.
It was her.
The girl he had met - for want of a better word - at the marketplace. When the fires had been set and the attacks made on the nobility. He had carried her to a side street, leaving her in the company of her ladies maid. For a moment, Leo tried to remember what she'd been wearing that day. But his mind, not focused on the details in the moment, could only place her in different hues. The same dress, simply shaded in a different colour with every try. It was her hair that never changed. Her hair that he remembered, brushing up against his nose as he had carried her through the crowd.
'Who is that?' his mother's voice interrupted his leering as only a mother could. Leonidas instantly shook his head, turning away from the pretty girl.
"No one," he said.
'If she's no one how did you know who I was asking about?'
Leo's mouth opened and closed without a sound. Never a good liar, he stuttered, swerved and eventually gave up on trying to hide his interest in the woman.
"She's pretty and caught my eye. Satisfied, Ma? Just..." If he had a free hand, he would have hurried her along. Perhaps clamped his fingers around her head and turned her in the appropriate direction. "Let's please go. I look like your paid lackey over here."
Besides, it wasn't as if the pretty blonde was going to recognise him. Whether his height had him standing out or not, the face of the soldier who had helped her had probably been filed under the same category as every other servant and slave's features; the category marked Miscellaneous and Unimportant. No sense in mentioning anything further to his mother, of all people.
JD
Leonidas
JD
Leonidas
Awards
First Impressions:Slender; Prominent cheekbones, bright blue eyes, tendon-heavy hands.
Address: Your
"Maîa, just pick one..." Leonidas entreated. He hated to hover. He was too tall to hover. People passed by with curious looks and craning necks. It made him feel like a specimen on display.
'Shush.' His mother, Amalia, clucked her tongue at him. She fluttered a hand at him in dismissal. 'If you're so busy, go on and entertain yourself. I can manage perfectly well.'
"I am not leaving you to carry all this back home." Leonidas had to juggle a large basket of vegetables so that he could look around the bag of grain atop it and glare at his mother. "And stop talking like I have a choice. You bamboozled me into this."
As a piece of sacking fell into his mouth, Leo spat it back out, sending a little plume of rice dust into the air. He felt several bits of the fluff land on his eyelashes and had to blink several times.
'I did no such thing,' his mother insisted. Her nose was in the air and her throat full of an arrogance entirely at odds with her caring nature. A sure sign she was teasing with a half-truth. 'I simply mentioned the exact distance between the market and the house.'
"And that we'd run out of both grain and marrow?" Leo added. From then, it had been impossible that she'd be going to purchase their weekly goods by herself. Leonidas wasn't having it. Working as a seamstress every day had done enough damage to her wrists. He wasn't about to let her carry heavy goods a half-mile on top of it.
Though, a few weeks ago, Leo had been more than thankful for the great distance between the main market square of the capital and their little home in the furthest districts of the Outer Circle. Amalia had known nothing of the attack on the market until her son had returned, covered in sweat, soot and his own blood.
As was her habit, she had put aside all panic until after she had tended to him (despite his best protests). But he'd heard her praying for longer than usual that night and there had been a redness to her eyes as she had come to their sole bed. Leonidas was no idiot. He knew that his mother worried for him. But there were few jobs better paid than working with the Athenian Guard. And the limited number that were, were usually posted in government buildings; buildings that owed their funding to the nobility. Particularly the Antonis. Even if he could read and write, Leonidas had little hope of landing such a position.
So, military work it was. And his mother had to trade food on the table for a worried heart.
Swallowing, Leo tried to distract himself with the teasing banter mother and son had begun. As Amalia smelt and tested the feel of yet another squash fruit, he shook his head and sighed dramatically. He then tutted as she pursed her lips over some oranges. And began to jiffle from foot to foot when she insisted on haggling down the price of goats milk.
'Will you just stand still?' she scolded with a smile as if he were three years old.
"But Maaia..." he whined in return, for his own part. "Hurry uuuup, I wanna go playyyy."
Amalia only reacted with a quick elbow to his side. Unfortunately, this sent parcels and packages in all directions and Leo was forced to play juggler if he was to keep them all from the floor.
"Ma!"
'Oops!'
With their best efforts, everything was accounted for and resettled in Leo's arms. With the exception of a handful or so of rice. Which Leo was fairly certain had fallen down the inside of tunic and was now sitting, stuck above the cloth cinch at his waist. Fantastic.
"It's fine, it's fine..." he reassured his mother who was desperately trying not to laugh. "I've got it - just... just get the milk and let's go back. I now have an itchy belly and rustle when I-"
Leonidas was cut off mid-sentence by his own surprise. Despite the number of people in the Agora, the number of faces that were passing by in every direction, his gaze had latched onto one, single colour. A pretty, golden hue that gleamed for a moment in the sunshine. The tint of that gold had been familiar. It conjured up a feeling of softness in his mind, the scent of soot and pretty fragrance. It had brought his head around and the full image of its owner into view.
It was her.
The girl he had met - for want of a better word - at the marketplace. When the fires had been set and the attacks made on the nobility. He had carried her to a side street, leaving her in the company of her ladies maid. For a moment, Leo tried to remember what she'd been wearing that day. But his mind, not focused on the details in the moment, could only place her in different hues. The same dress, simply shaded in a different colour with every try. It was her hair that never changed. Her hair that he remembered, brushing up against his nose as he had carried her through the crowd.
'Who is that?' his mother's voice interrupted his leering as only a mother could. Leonidas instantly shook his head, turning away from the pretty girl.
"No one," he said.
'If she's no one how did you know who I was asking about?'
Leo's mouth opened and closed without a sound. Never a good liar, he stuttered, swerved and eventually gave up on trying to hide his interest in the woman.
"She's pretty and caught my eye. Satisfied, Ma? Just..." If he had a free hand, he would have hurried her along. Perhaps clamped his fingers around her head and turned her in the appropriate direction. "Let's please go. I look like your paid lackey over here."
Besides, it wasn't as if the pretty blonde was going to recognise him. Whether his height had him standing out or not, the face of the soldier who had helped her had probably been filed under the same category as every other servant and slave's features; the category marked Miscellaneous and Unimportant. No sense in mentioning anything further to his mother, of all people.
"Maîa, just pick one..." Leonidas entreated. He hated to hover. He was too tall to hover. People passed by with curious looks and craning necks. It made him feel like a specimen on display.
'Shush.' His mother, Amalia, clucked her tongue at him. She fluttered a hand at him in dismissal. 'If you're so busy, go on and entertain yourself. I can manage perfectly well.'
"I am not leaving you to carry all this back home." Leonidas had to juggle a large basket of vegetables so that he could look around the bag of grain atop it and glare at his mother. "And stop talking like I have a choice. You bamboozled me into this."
As a piece of sacking fell into his mouth, Leo spat it back out, sending a little plume of rice dust into the air. He felt several bits of the fluff land on his eyelashes and had to blink several times.
'I did no such thing,' his mother insisted. Her nose was in the air and her throat full of an arrogance entirely at odds with her caring nature. A sure sign she was teasing with a half-truth. 'I simply mentioned the exact distance between the market and the house.'
"And that we'd run out of both grain and marrow?" Leo added. From then, it had been impossible that she'd be going to purchase their weekly goods by herself. Leonidas wasn't having it. Working as a seamstress every day had done enough damage to her wrists. He wasn't about to let her carry heavy goods a half-mile on top of it.
Though, a few weeks ago, Leo had been more than thankful for the great distance between the main market square of the capital and their little home in the furthest districts of the Outer Circle. Amalia had known nothing of the attack on the market until her son had returned, covered in sweat, soot and his own blood.
As was her habit, she had put aside all panic until after she had tended to him (despite his best protests). But he'd heard her praying for longer than usual that night and there had been a redness to her eyes as she had come to their sole bed. Leonidas was no idiot. He knew that his mother worried for him. But there were few jobs better paid than working with the Athenian Guard. And the limited number that were, were usually posted in government buildings; buildings that owed their funding to the nobility. Particularly the Antonis. Even if he could read and write, Leonidas had little hope of landing such a position.
So, military work it was. And his mother had to trade food on the table for a worried heart.
Swallowing, Leo tried to distract himself with the teasing banter mother and son had begun. As Amalia smelt and tested the feel of yet another squash fruit, he shook his head and sighed dramatically. He then tutted as she pursed her lips over some oranges. And began to jiffle from foot to foot when she insisted on haggling down the price of goats milk.
'Will you just stand still?' she scolded with a smile as if he were three years old.
"But Maaia..." he whined in return, for his own part. "Hurry uuuup, I wanna go playyyy."
Amalia only reacted with a quick elbow to his side. Unfortunately, this sent parcels and packages in all directions and Leo was forced to play juggler if he was to keep them all from the floor.
"Ma!"
'Oops!'
With their best efforts, everything was accounted for and resettled in Leo's arms. With the exception of a handful or so of rice. Which Leo was fairly certain had fallen down the inside of tunic and was now sitting, stuck above the cloth cinch at his waist. Fantastic.
"It's fine, it's fine..." he reassured his mother who was desperately trying not to laugh. "I've got it - just... just get the milk and let's go back. I now have an itchy belly and rustle when I-"
Leonidas was cut off mid-sentence by his own surprise. Despite the number of people in the Agora, the number of faces that were passing by in every direction, his gaze had latched onto one, single colour. A pretty, golden hue that gleamed for a moment in the sunshine. The tint of that gold had been familiar. It conjured up a feeling of softness in his mind, the scent of soot and pretty fragrance. It had brought his head around and the full image of its owner into view.
It was her.
The girl he had met - for want of a better word - at the marketplace. When the fires had been set and the attacks made on the nobility. He had carried her to a side street, leaving her in the company of her ladies maid. For a moment, Leo tried to remember what she'd been wearing that day. But his mind, not focused on the details in the moment, could only place her in different hues. The same dress, simply shaded in a different colour with every try. It was her hair that never changed. Her hair that he remembered, brushing up against his nose as he had carried her through the crowd.
'Who is that?' his mother's voice interrupted his leering as only a mother could. Leonidas instantly shook his head, turning away from the pretty girl.
"No one," he said.
'If she's no one how did you know who I was asking about?'
Leo's mouth opened and closed without a sound. Never a good liar, he stuttered, swerved and eventually gave up on trying to hide his interest in the woman.
"She's pretty and caught my eye. Satisfied, Ma? Just..." If he had a free hand, he would have hurried her along. Perhaps clamped his fingers around her head and turned her in the appropriate direction. "Let's please go. I look like your paid lackey over here."
Besides, it wasn't as if the pretty blonde was going to recognise him. Whether his height had him standing out or not, the face of the soldier who had helped her had probably been filed under the same category as every other servant and slave's features; the category marked Miscellaneous and Unimportant. No sense in mentioning anything further to his mother, of all people.
Near the center of the city stood a house. Not just any house, but a grand house with grand gardens and a grand family. The Marikas were at this time simply one of many branches connected to the ruling family but their roots remained deeply intertwined with the crown. Elena's father refused to let the rest of the family forget such things, although his reminders were completely unnecessary so far as her mother Sera was concerned. His daughters seemed to have him spiraling into a whirlwind of fear that they would somehow shame the Marikas name and then their marriage prospects would be completely ruined. Once that happened, Elena suspected the man would find the nearest cliff and launch himself off it in drunken desperation. Of course, her father wasn't the sort of man to give up easily on a task, no matter how challenging. It was with all of this in mind that he kept the leash tight on his three daughters to the point of suffocation.
For how grand the house -manor was probably a more accurate term- was the air could be so stifling at times, which is why Elena's favourite haven was the gynaeceum, the area of the manor controlled by her mother. It was the only place that men were not permitted to enter unless under the most emergent of circumstances, and Elena spent a lot of time with her mother and servants there, enjoying it for the safety and good company. On this bright and breezy afternoon however there had been some discussion about attending the lower market as it was likely to be less busy and therefore more safe for the women to make their purchases. Anything to break up the monotony of the day was a welcome respite when the weather was so lovely, although Daniil would have likely laughed at how boring Elena was. The most daring of the Marikas sisters would have made far more exciting -read: possibly dangerous- plans for them, but she was out somewhere doing Zeus knows what.
Of course, Elena couldn't help but admire Daniil for her bravery. She was like a wildcat when she fought with their father, all hissing claws and teeth, giving as good as she got. Very much the vinegar to Elena's honey, the sisters somehow maintained a close -if not overly affectionate- relationship, Elena mused as she applied some lavender perfumed oil to soften her skin. She was wearing a muted grey-blue chiton because although it was difficult for a noble lady to completely blend in, they would attempt to do so. It would decrease their chances of being noticed by nefarious individuals during their time in the agora. Her gleaming hair was the only part of her that could not be masked, but it was worn with a simply braided style and the usual adornments were left in her wooden jewelry box.
So it was that Elena and a few of the servants made their way to the lower markets, several fanning off on various errands until there was but one with her. This companionship was to be short lived as they needed both eggs and various fruits, which were nowhere in proximity to each other, and soon enough the last had left Elena's side. The market was bustling with activity but it was not the crushing crowd of the spice festival. Her hands pretended to smooth down the sides of her garment to mask the sweatiness of her palms in an attempt to be discrete. Although her hands no longer stung with open scrapes, the scabs left on the heels of her hands were unsightly, and she had been hiding them using a sheer shawl to wrap over her shoulders and cover her arms. It also prevented her hands from wandering to touch all of the wonderful goods for sale, none of which she needed.
Before attending to her business, the courtier caught some notes on the breeze and moved toward a woman playing the lyre for coin. There was already a small collection in a leather purse at the musicians feet, well earned from the surprising quality of song she was eliciting from such a shabby instrument. The sound wafted through the market, lending a cheerful air to the entire agora. There were clusters of people coming and going of all shapes and sizes, busy just getting through the day. Her gaze wandered over the crowd without aim before pausing on an individual that stood a head over the rest.
It was him.
The crackling of flames and splintered wood rang in her ears. The scabs on her palms itched, and she smelled blood. She could feel the solidity of his armor, the sweat on the back of his neck, and the strength of his arms. It was a soldier -the soldier. His face was one she was incapable of forgetting. It had been the most unlikely of meetings in the most unlikely of circumstances, but he had been present in her mind countless times since that day. Her mouth fell open into a perfect 'o' shape for a second until it became clear that he was staring back at her as well. A hand reached up and ran over her hair as if to confirm no blood still marred it's blonde luminosity. Why she cared about her appearance at this particular moment was something the courtier didn't care to examine at present but she would surely contemplate to death later.
He looked far better now than he had the last time she'd seen him. His face was far more handsome without the mask of blood. By the gods, she'd forgotten how tall he was. He was much taller than everyone around him, towering above them all, even weighed down as he was by several parcels. He wasn't alone either, as made obvious when he turned to his companion, who was also looking at her. While the pair conversed, she took the opportunity to consider the woman equally, who was both beautiful and appeared about the same age as Elena's mother. Interesting, but not quite as interesting as the man who had once been Elena's rescuer. He seemed distracted, and not wanting to become an unwelcome intrusion for either of them, Elena allowed herself only a long look and a shy smile as she made her way towards the next stall, despite wishing very much for him to come over.
You want all of them, my dear?
"Uhhh.. yes, these will do nicely."
Her distraction was so great that the colours of the crowd all swirled together in her peripheral vision and it took longer than it should have to hear what the vendor was saying. Part of her mind was on the task at hand -exchanging pleasantries and purchasing pomegranates- while most of it was across the agora. Her task was a safe enough venture for a woman alone, although the lascivious grin of the stall owner made the hairs on her arms stand up.
"Thank you sir. My family will enjoy these tonight."
He held her hand for a few moments too long as she placed her coins in his palm, but Elena wasn't the daughter of a senator for nothing. Unwelcome attentions were not completely foreign to the young Marikas woman, so it was with practiced skill that she was able to eventually detach herself and manage a smile all the while. The man was clearly regretful at having to release her, and the look in his eye had Elena's heart beating faster and straightening her back uncomfortably. Sera would have been proud of her graciousness, while Daniil would have likely suggested punching the man in the face for overstepping the boundaries of propriety.
Peach
Elena
Peach
Elena
Awards
First Impressions:Delicate; Kind smile, golden hair, soft hands, full lower lip
Address: Your Her Ladyship
Near the center of the city stood a house. Not just any house, but a grand house with grand gardens and a grand family. The Marikas were at this time simply one of many branches connected to the ruling family but their roots remained deeply intertwined with the crown. Elena's father refused to let the rest of the family forget such things, although his reminders were completely unnecessary so far as her mother Sera was concerned. His daughters seemed to have him spiraling into a whirlwind of fear that they would somehow shame the Marikas name and then their marriage prospects would be completely ruined. Once that happened, Elena suspected the man would find the nearest cliff and launch himself off it in drunken desperation. Of course, her father wasn't the sort of man to give up easily on a task, no matter how challenging. It was with all of this in mind that he kept the leash tight on his three daughters to the point of suffocation.
For how grand the house -manor was probably a more accurate term- was the air could be so stifling at times, which is why Elena's favourite haven was the gynaeceum, the area of the manor controlled by her mother. It was the only place that men were not permitted to enter unless under the most emergent of circumstances, and Elena spent a lot of time with her mother and servants there, enjoying it for the safety and good company. On this bright and breezy afternoon however there had been some discussion about attending the lower market as it was likely to be less busy and therefore more safe for the women to make their purchases. Anything to break up the monotony of the day was a welcome respite when the weather was so lovely, although Daniil would have likely laughed at how boring Elena was. The most daring of the Marikas sisters would have made far more exciting -read: possibly dangerous- plans for them, but she was out somewhere doing Zeus knows what.
Of course, Elena couldn't help but admire Daniil for her bravery. She was like a wildcat when she fought with their father, all hissing claws and teeth, giving as good as she got. Very much the vinegar to Elena's honey, the sisters somehow maintained a close -if not overly affectionate- relationship, Elena mused as she applied some lavender perfumed oil to soften her skin. She was wearing a muted grey-blue chiton because although it was difficult for a noble lady to completely blend in, they would attempt to do so. It would decrease their chances of being noticed by nefarious individuals during their time in the agora. Her gleaming hair was the only part of her that could not be masked, but it was worn with a simply braided style and the usual adornments were left in her wooden jewelry box.
So it was that Elena and a few of the servants made their way to the lower markets, several fanning off on various errands until there was but one with her. This companionship was to be short lived as they needed both eggs and various fruits, which were nowhere in proximity to each other, and soon enough the last had left Elena's side. The market was bustling with activity but it was not the crushing crowd of the spice festival. Her hands pretended to smooth down the sides of her garment to mask the sweatiness of her palms in an attempt to be discrete. Although her hands no longer stung with open scrapes, the scabs left on the heels of her hands were unsightly, and she had been hiding them using a sheer shawl to wrap over her shoulders and cover her arms. It also prevented her hands from wandering to touch all of the wonderful goods for sale, none of which she needed.
Before attending to her business, the courtier caught some notes on the breeze and moved toward a woman playing the lyre for coin. There was already a small collection in a leather purse at the musicians feet, well earned from the surprising quality of song she was eliciting from such a shabby instrument. The sound wafted through the market, lending a cheerful air to the entire agora. There were clusters of people coming and going of all shapes and sizes, busy just getting through the day. Her gaze wandered over the crowd without aim before pausing on an individual that stood a head over the rest.
It was him.
The crackling of flames and splintered wood rang in her ears. The scabs on her palms itched, and she smelled blood. She could feel the solidity of his armor, the sweat on the back of his neck, and the strength of his arms. It was a soldier -the soldier. His face was one she was incapable of forgetting. It had been the most unlikely of meetings in the most unlikely of circumstances, but he had been present in her mind countless times since that day. Her mouth fell open into a perfect 'o' shape for a second until it became clear that he was staring back at her as well. A hand reached up and ran over her hair as if to confirm no blood still marred it's blonde luminosity. Why she cared about her appearance at this particular moment was something the courtier didn't care to examine at present but she would surely contemplate to death later.
He looked far better now than he had the last time she'd seen him. His face was far more handsome without the mask of blood. By the gods, she'd forgotten how tall he was. He was much taller than everyone around him, towering above them all, even weighed down as he was by several parcels. He wasn't alone either, as made obvious when he turned to his companion, who was also looking at her. While the pair conversed, she took the opportunity to consider the woman equally, who was both beautiful and appeared about the same age as Elena's mother. Interesting, but not quite as interesting as the man who had once been Elena's rescuer. He seemed distracted, and not wanting to become an unwelcome intrusion for either of them, Elena allowed herself only a long look and a shy smile as she made her way towards the next stall, despite wishing very much for him to come over.
You want all of them, my dear?
"Uhhh.. yes, these will do nicely."
Her distraction was so great that the colours of the crowd all swirled together in her peripheral vision and it took longer than it should have to hear what the vendor was saying. Part of her mind was on the task at hand -exchanging pleasantries and purchasing pomegranates- while most of it was across the agora. Her task was a safe enough venture for a woman alone, although the lascivious grin of the stall owner made the hairs on her arms stand up.
"Thank you sir. My family will enjoy these tonight."
He held her hand for a few moments too long as she placed her coins in his palm, but Elena wasn't the daughter of a senator for nothing. Unwelcome attentions were not completely foreign to the young Marikas woman, so it was with practiced skill that she was able to eventually detach herself and manage a smile all the while. The man was clearly regretful at having to release her, and the look in his eye had Elena's heart beating faster and straightening her back uncomfortably. Sera would have been proud of her graciousness, while Daniil would have likely suggested punching the man in the face for overstepping the boundaries of propriety.
Near the center of the city stood a house. Not just any house, but a grand house with grand gardens and a grand family. The Marikas were at this time simply one of many branches connected to the ruling family but their roots remained deeply intertwined with the crown. Elena's father refused to let the rest of the family forget such things, although his reminders were completely unnecessary so far as her mother Sera was concerned. His daughters seemed to have him spiraling into a whirlwind of fear that they would somehow shame the Marikas name and then their marriage prospects would be completely ruined. Once that happened, Elena suspected the man would find the nearest cliff and launch himself off it in drunken desperation. Of course, her father wasn't the sort of man to give up easily on a task, no matter how challenging. It was with all of this in mind that he kept the leash tight on his three daughters to the point of suffocation.
For how grand the house -manor was probably a more accurate term- was the air could be so stifling at times, which is why Elena's favourite haven was the gynaeceum, the area of the manor controlled by her mother. It was the only place that men were not permitted to enter unless under the most emergent of circumstances, and Elena spent a lot of time with her mother and servants there, enjoying it for the safety and good company. On this bright and breezy afternoon however there had been some discussion about attending the lower market as it was likely to be less busy and therefore more safe for the women to make their purchases. Anything to break up the monotony of the day was a welcome respite when the weather was so lovely, although Daniil would have likely laughed at how boring Elena was. The most daring of the Marikas sisters would have made far more exciting -read: possibly dangerous- plans for them, but she was out somewhere doing Zeus knows what.
Of course, Elena couldn't help but admire Daniil for her bravery. She was like a wildcat when she fought with their father, all hissing claws and teeth, giving as good as she got. Very much the vinegar to Elena's honey, the sisters somehow maintained a close -if not overly affectionate- relationship, Elena mused as she applied some lavender perfumed oil to soften her skin. She was wearing a muted grey-blue chiton because although it was difficult for a noble lady to completely blend in, they would attempt to do so. It would decrease their chances of being noticed by nefarious individuals during their time in the agora. Her gleaming hair was the only part of her that could not be masked, but it was worn with a simply braided style and the usual adornments were left in her wooden jewelry box.
So it was that Elena and a few of the servants made their way to the lower markets, several fanning off on various errands until there was but one with her. This companionship was to be short lived as they needed both eggs and various fruits, which were nowhere in proximity to each other, and soon enough the last had left Elena's side. The market was bustling with activity but it was not the crushing crowd of the spice festival. Her hands pretended to smooth down the sides of her garment to mask the sweatiness of her palms in an attempt to be discrete. Although her hands no longer stung with open scrapes, the scabs left on the heels of her hands were unsightly, and she had been hiding them using a sheer shawl to wrap over her shoulders and cover her arms. It also prevented her hands from wandering to touch all of the wonderful goods for sale, none of which she needed.
Before attending to her business, the courtier caught some notes on the breeze and moved toward a woman playing the lyre for coin. There was already a small collection in a leather purse at the musicians feet, well earned from the surprising quality of song she was eliciting from such a shabby instrument. The sound wafted through the market, lending a cheerful air to the entire agora. There were clusters of people coming and going of all shapes and sizes, busy just getting through the day. Her gaze wandered over the crowd without aim before pausing on an individual that stood a head over the rest.
It was him.
The crackling of flames and splintered wood rang in her ears. The scabs on her palms itched, and she smelled blood. She could feel the solidity of his armor, the sweat on the back of his neck, and the strength of his arms. It was a soldier -the soldier. His face was one she was incapable of forgetting. It had been the most unlikely of meetings in the most unlikely of circumstances, but he had been present in her mind countless times since that day. Her mouth fell open into a perfect 'o' shape for a second until it became clear that he was staring back at her as well. A hand reached up and ran over her hair as if to confirm no blood still marred it's blonde luminosity. Why she cared about her appearance at this particular moment was something the courtier didn't care to examine at present but she would surely contemplate to death later.
He looked far better now than he had the last time she'd seen him. His face was far more handsome without the mask of blood. By the gods, she'd forgotten how tall he was. He was much taller than everyone around him, towering above them all, even weighed down as he was by several parcels. He wasn't alone either, as made obvious when he turned to his companion, who was also looking at her. While the pair conversed, she took the opportunity to consider the woman equally, who was both beautiful and appeared about the same age as Elena's mother. Interesting, but not quite as interesting as the man who had once been Elena's rescuer. He seemed distracted, and not wanting to become an unwelcome intrusion for either of them, Elena allowed herself only a long look and a shy smile as she made her way towards the next stall, despite wishing very much for him to come over.
You want all of them, my dear?
"Uhhh.. yes, these will do nicely."
Her distraction was so great that the colours of the crowd all swirled together in her peripheral vision and it took longer than it should have to hear what the vendor was saying. Part of her mind was on the task at hand -exchanging pleasantries and purchasing pomegranates- while most of it was across the agora. Her task was a safe enough venture for a woman alone, although the lascivious grin of the stall owner made the hairs on her arms stand up.
"Thank you sir. My family will enjoy these tonight."
He held her hand for a few moments too long as she placed her coins in his palm, but Elena wasn't the daughter of a senator for nothing. Unwelcome attentions were not completely foreign to the young Marikas woman, so it was with practiced skill that she was able to eventually detach herself and manage a smile all the while. The man was clearly regretful at having to release her, and the look in his eye had Elena's heart beating faster and straightening her back uncomfortably. Sera would have been proud of her graciousness, while Daniil would have likely suggested punching the man in the face for overstepping the boundaries of propriety.
'And you’re still going to claim her as no one?'
Leonidas blinked as his mother came up to his shoulder. She was looking in the same direction he was, pointed in her state and shrewd in her tone. Having been raised in a tiny family of two, it was not unusual for Leo’s mother to read him like a book. Or, whatever the equivalent phrase was for two illiterate individuals.
“It’s nothing…” Leo murmured, despite having been caught in his distraction twice over. Both times with the same centre of gravity upon his focus. The pretty blonde.
No doubt noticing that his gaze was a little too fixated upon the young woman for teasing, Amalia’s tone shifted to something more serious.
'It should be nothing, little Leo…' she said, reaching out to squeeze at his arm. 'You watch yourself, there.'
Leonidas knew where these concerns were coming from. His own conception had been the result of a commoner aiming too high in the sphere of affection. Leo was only too aware that his mother had fallen in love with a man that could never return her passions. Not in any way that evolved into marriage or a shared future. Instead, she had been left with a baby to raise alone and no manor or wealth with which to support him. It had been a hard and difficult path that Leonidas bitterly resented had been forced upon his dearest mama.
Whilst he knew he was loved, Leonidas was more than aware that his own advent had been the catalyst that reduced his mother's life to a common struggle. Perhaps it was the avoidance of this future for another human being that had yet to see Leo take a woman to his bed. His children, if and when he had them, would be born to a secure household with two loving parents.
'Leo…?'
Blinking again, Leo realised he had been watching the blonde woman too closely as she purchased some pomegranates. It was this focus that allowed him to notice the way the vendor was focused upon her face. How his touch lingered on her hand. Leo might not have paid much mind if it wasn’t for the tension in her shoulders or the polite way she extracted her fingers with such deliberate care.
Leo frowned.
“I’ll be back in a second, Maia…” he said, setting their purchases down beside a familiar stall. “Watch the food for a second, will you?”
'Leo…' her voice had turned into a concerned warning now. There was even a thread of fear. She had never witnessed her son be so focused upon a female since he’d come of age. 'Leo!' she called again as he began to move through the crowd. But Leonidas did not stop. He parted the crowd with the length of his stride, pausing only a moment to smile at a vendor his mother knew, who called a greeting of well-wishes as he passed.
Quickly, he found himself behind the noblewoman, looking at her shoulder for the over-eager vendor to witness. Normally a pleasant man by nature and in expression, Leo suspected there was a defiantly out of character look on his face. For the vendor seemed suddenly very interested in another young woman toward the far end of his stall.
It didn’t matter that Leonidas would never be mistaken for the young woman’s escort. His tunic was a basic beige, without pattern or stitching. His sandals were brown leather, low quality and laced to the knee. One of the strands had a knot mid-length where wear had snapped the lace and he’d been forced to reconnect them. His arms, head and neck were bare, without cloak or adornment. The only piece of clothing with any kind of value was his belt - the black strap which he normally wore with his Guard uniform. There was rice dust on his hands, a piece of sacking fluff in his hair and one of his eyes still sported a splodge of purple bruise from his damaged nose in the fire. The edges of which were an attractive green.
Hardly the kind of man meant to accompany a fine lady - even one attempting to attract as little attention as possible. Instead, Leo probably appeared like her manservant or personal guard. Poorly attired perhaps, but at least large enough to scare off potential threats with a single look.
Once the vendor had been deterred, Leo quickly turned away, hoping that he might be able to extract himself from the situation before the pretty lady even realised he was there…
JD
Leonidas
JD
Leonidas
Awards
First Impressions:Slender; Prominent cheekbones, bright blue eyes, tendon-heavy hands.
Address: Your
Leonidas blinked as his mother came up to his shoulder. She was looking in the same direction he was, pointed in her state and shrewd in her tone. Having been raised in a tiny family of two, it was not unusual for Leo’s mother to read him like a book. Or, whatever the equivalent phrase was for two illiterate individuals.
“It’s nothing…” Leo murmured, despite having been caught in his distraction twice over. Both times with the same centre of gravity upon his focus. The pretty blonde.
No doubt noticing that his gaze was a little too fixated upon the young woman for teasing, Amalia’s tone shifted to something more serious.
'It should be nothing, little Leo…' she said, reaching out to squeeze at his arm. 'You watch yourself, there.'
Leonidas knew where these concerns were coming from. His own conception had been the result of a commoner aiming too high in the sphere of affection. Leo was only too aware that his mother had fallen in love with a man that could never return her passions. Not in any way that evolved into marriage or a shared future. Instead, she had been left with a baby to raise alone and no manor or wealth with which to support him. It had been a hard and difficult path that Leonidas bitterly resented had been forced upon his dearest mama.
Whilst he knew he was loved, Leonidas was more than aware that his own advent had been the catalyst that reduced his mother's life to a common struggle. Perhaps it was the avoidance of this future for another human being that had yet to see Leo take a woman to his bed. His children, if and when he had them, would be born to a secure household with two loving parents.
'Leo…?'
Blinking again, Leo realised he had been watching the blonde woman too closely as she purchased some pomegranates. It was this focus that allowed him to notice the way the vendor was focused upon her face. How his touch lingered on her hand. Leo might not have paid much mind if it wasn’t for the tension in her shoulders or the polite way she extracted her fingers with such deliberate care.
Leo frowned.
“I’ll be back in a second, Maia…” he said, setting their purchases down beside a familiar stall. “Watch the food for a second, will you?”
'Leo…' her voice had turned into a concerned warning now. There was even a thread of fear. She had never witnessed her son be so focused upon a female since he’d come of age. 'Leo!' she called again as he began to move through the crowd. But Leonidas did not stop. He parted the crowd with the length of his stride, pausing only a moment to smile at a vendor his mother knew, who called a greeting of well-wishes as he passed.
Quickly, he found himself behind the noblewoman, looking at her shoulder for the over-eager vendor to witness. Normally a pleasant man by nature and in expression, Leo suspected there was a defiantly out of character look on his face. For the vendor seemed suddenly very interested in another young woman toward the far end of his stall.
It didn’t matter that Leonidas would never be mistaken for the young woman’s escort. His tunic was a basic beige, without pattern or stitching. His sandals were brown leather, low quality and laced to the knee. One of the strands had a knot mid-length where wear had snapped the lace and he’d been forced to reconnect them. His arms, head and neck were bare, without cloak or adornment. The only piece of clothing with any kind of value was his belt - the black strap which he normally wore with his Guard uniform. There was rice dust on his hands, a piece of sacking fluff in his hair and one of his eyes still sported a splodge of purple bruise from his damaged nose in the fire. The edges of which were an attractive green.
Hardly the kind of man meant to accompany a fine lady - even one attempting to attract as little attention as possible. Instead, Leo probably appeared like her manservant or personal guard. Poorly attired perhaps, but at least large enough to scare off potential threats with a single look.
Once the vendor had been deterred, Leo quickly turned away, hoping that he might be able to extract himself from the situation before the pretty lady even realised he was there…
'And you’re still going to claim her as no one?'
Leonidas blinked as his mother came up to his shoulder. She was looking in the same direction he was, pointed in her state and shrewd in her tone. Having been raised in a tiny family of two, it was not unusual for Leo’s mother to read him like a book. Or, whatever the equivalent phrase was for two illiterate individuals.
“It’s nothing…” Leo murmured, despite having been caught in his distraction twice over. Both times with the same centre of gravity upon his focus. The pretty blonde.
No doubt noticing that his gaze was a little too fixated upon the young woman for teasing, Amalia’s tone shifted to something more serious.
'It should be nothing, little Leo…' she said, reaching out to squeeze at his arm. 'You watch yourself, there.'
Leonidas knew where these concerns were coming from. His own conception had been the result of a commoner aiming too high in the sphere of affection. Leo was only too aware that his mother had fallen in love with a man that could never return her passions. Not in any way that evolved into marriage or a shared future. Instead, she had been left with a baby to raise alone and no manor or wealth with which to support him. It had been a hard and difficult path that Leonidas bitterly resented had been forced upon his dearest mama.
Whilst he knew he was loved, Leonidas was more than aware that his own advent had been the catalyst that reduced his mother's life to a common struggle. Perhaps it was the avoidance of this future for another human being that had yet to see Leo take a woman to his bed. His children, if and when he had them, would be born to a secure household with two loving parents.
'Leo…?'
Blinking again, Leo realised he had been watching the blonde woman too closely as she purchased some pomegranates. It was this focus that allowed him to notice the way the vendor was focused upon her face. How his touch lingered on her hand. Leo might not have paid much mind if it wasn’t for the tension in her shoulders or the polite way she extracted her fingers with such deliberate care.
Leo frowned.
“I’ll be back in a second, Maia…” he said, setting their purchases down beside a familiar stall. “Watch the food for a second, will you?”
'Leo…' her voice had turned into a concerned warning now. There was even a thread of fear. She had never witnessed her son be so focused upon a female since he’d come of age. 'Leo!' she called again as he began to move through the crowd. But Leonidas did not stop. He parted the crowd with the length of his stride, pausing only a moment to smile at a vendor his mother knew, who called a greeting of well-wishes as he passed.
Quickly, he found himself behind the noblewoman, looking at her shoulder for the over-eager vendor to witness. Normally a pleasant man by nature and in expression, Leo suspected there was a defiantly out of character look on his face. For the vendor seemed suddenly very interested in another young woman toward the far end of his stall.
It didn’t matter that Leonidas would never be mistaken for the young woman’s escort. His tunic was a basic beige, without pattern or stitching. His sandals were brown leather, low quality and laced to the knee. One of the strands had a knot mid-length where wear had snapped the lace and he’d been forced to reconnect them. His arms, head and neck were bare, without cloak or adornment. The only piece of clothing with any kind of value was his belt - the black strap which he normally wore with his Guard uniform. There was rice dust on his hands, a piece of sacking fluff in his hair and one of his eyes still sported a splodge of purple bruise from his damaged nose in the fire. The edges of which were an attractive green.
Hardly the kind of man meant to accompany a fine lady - even one attempting to attract as little attention as possible. Instead, Leo probably appeared like her manservant or personal guard. Poorly attired perhaps, but at least large enough to scare off potential threats with a single look.
Once the vendor had been deterred, Leo quickly turned away, hoping that he might be able to extract himself from the situation before the pretty lady even realised he was there…
She had dreamed of him. Not dreams about him specifically -no, that would have been scandalous. No, although the young soldier featured heavily, her dreams had been centered on the attack in the agora. It was more than just the sheer blinding terror that had taken over her body. It was the face of the dead woman, the flames so close she felt as though they were licking her cheeks, the feeling of being crushed and kicked in the stampede. These were the feelings that haunted the young noble's dreams.
She wanted to go over and speak with him, if only to thank him again for his rescue at the spice market. The vendor reached across the table, his intention to re-capture her hand clearly projected. Elena prepared to accept the contact despite her skin crawling at the thought, because to pull away and attract attention would be unacceptable. This was supposed to be a trip to the market to get some necessary goods, with the imperative of not drawing attention. It was an unspoken agreement between Elena and her mother, to give the younger a break from the stifling air of their home and to prevent the older from being driven crazy by her. Part of the agreement was that it was necessary to blend in. Attention here could be dangerous.
She jerked away from the lecherous vendor, pulling back as if her hand had been burned. It was unfortunate that some men were not sensitive to the emotions of others, because this one continued to pursue her, leaning over the width of his table while she stepped back and tried to maintain a gracious expression. He was a persistent fellow, she'd give him that, and clearly could identify that she was a woman of money in spite of her simple attire. She picked up a pair of pomegranates with half a mind to throw them at his slightly bald head.
"Thank you for the fruit, sir."
Her verbal dismissal seemed to have no effect for a moment, but then to her surprise he suddenly pulled back. It was a bizarre but welcome change, one that Elena was happy to take advantage of by making a hasty retreat. She pivoted, turning on her heel with a grace born out of endless encounters with the higher echelons of society combined with the teachings of her mother, and found herself facing a piece of rough brown cloth.
"Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't see you." She pulled back with a hand to her mouth, a nervous breath of laughter escaping. "I was just-" The words to explain what she 'was just' died in her throat. The soldier was suddenly right in front of her, having somehow gotten from one side of the market to the other in the few moments her back had been turned. He looked much improved from their last encounter, with only a shadow marking one of his eyes to show for it. It made his already imposing figure even more so, and offered a possible explanation as to the merchant’s sudden interest in another woman at the other end of the table.
“It seems you have rescued me once more,” she called to him with a smile, sorry to see his back already turned to leave. She hoped that he would stop and face her once more, realising too late that if he didn’t there would be no way to call him back. She did not know his name or title to even address him properly. This was unusual, because it was not often she found herself amongst strangers, but Elena found herself not bothered in the slightest. His character was obviously sound or he'd have left her to be trampled at the spice market.
Her hand touched his arm as she stopped him for a moment, moving around to the front of him again. It was possible the Fates were working against her this day, for she didn't know what to do except gaze at him for a moment. His expression was so intense that she didn't even notice his state of disarray, and a silence fell between them for a long moment before Elena's social education abruptly kicked in. "I'm pleased to see that your injuries have healed. My mother always tells me that Apollo blessed my hair but forgot to also bless my feet." A good-natured laugh invited him to join in on the joke, and Elena hoped it would have the desired effect of putting him at ease. She was curious to see what he looked like when he laughed.
Normally very graceful and put-together, something about this man threw her off balance. He disturbed her equilibrium in a way she hadn't experienced before around the opposite sex. It was disturbing and left Elena at a bit of a loss for what to do. "I'd appreciate the chance to thank you properly for your assistance. Perhaps I could help you and your companion manage your goods? It seems your servants have left you a lot to carry yourselves. Unless there was something else you were looking for..." She trailed off and returned her gaze to his face from where it had wandered over the various vendors and the woman standing next to what must have been their pile of purchases. The hum of trade surrounded them as people gently milled past the pair, the breeze allowing strands of her hair to escape it's tidy braids and waft about her face.
Peach
Elena
Peach
Elena
Awards
First Impressions:Delicate; Kind smile, golden hair, soft hands, full lower lip
Address: Your Her Ladyship
She had dreamed of him. Not dreams about him specifically -no, that would have been scandalous. No, although the young soldier featured heavily, her dreams had been centered on the attack in the agora. It was more than just the sheer blinding terror that had taken over her body. It was the face of the dead woman, the flames so close she felt as though they were licking her cheeks, the feeling of being crushed and kicked in the stampede. These were the feelings that haunted the young noble's dreams.
She wanted to go over and speak with him, if only to thank him again for his rescue at the spice market. The vendor reached across the table, his intention to re-capture her hand clearly projected. Elena prepared to accept the contact despite her skin crawling at the thought, because to pull away and attract attention would be unacceptable. This was supposed to be a trip to the market to get some necessary goods, with the imperative of not drawing attention. It was an unspoken agreement between Elena and her mother, to give the younger a break from the stifling air of their home and to prevent the older from being driven crazy by her. Part of the agreement was that it was necessary to blend in. Attention here could be dangerous.
She jerked away from the lecherous vendor, pulling back as if her hand had been burned. It was unfortunate that some men were not sensitive to the emotions of others, because this one continued to pursue her, leaning over the width of his table while she stepped back and tried to maintain a gracious expression. He was a persistent fellow, she'd give him that, and clearly could identify that she was a woman of money in spite of her simple attire. She picked up a pair of pomegranates with half a mind to throw them at his slightly bald head.
"Thank you for the fruit, sir."
Her verbal dismissal seemed to have no effect for a moment, but then to her surprise he suddenly pulled back. It was a bizarre but welcome change, one that Elena was happy to take advantage of by making a hasty retreat. She pivoted, turning on her heel with a grace born out of endless encounters with the higher echelons of society combined with the teachings of her mother, and found herself facing a piece of rough brown cloth.
"Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't see you." She pulled back with a hand to her mouth, a nervous breath of laughter escaping. "I was just-" The words to explain what she 'was just' died in her throat. The soldier was suddenly right in front of her, having somehow gotten from one side of the market to the other in the few moments her back had been turned. He looked much improved from their last encounter, with only a shadow marking one of his eyes to show for it. It made his already imposing figure even more so, and offered a possible explanation as to the merchant’s sudden interest in another woman at the other end of the table.
“It seems you have rescued me once more,” she called to him with a smile, sorry to see his back already turned to leave. She hoped that he would stop and face her once more, realising too late that if he didn’t there would be no way to call him back. She did not know his name or title to even address him properly. This was unusual, because it was not often she found herself amongst strangers, but Elena found herself not bothered in the slightest. His character was obviously sound or he'd have left her to be trampled at the spice market.
Her hand touched his arm as she stopped him for a moment, moving around to the front of him again. It was possible the Fates were working against her this day, for she didn't know what to do except gaze at him for a moment. His expression was so intense that she didn't even notice his state of disarray, and a silence fell between them for a long moment before Elena's social education abruptly kicked in. "I'm pleased to see that your injuries have healed. My mother always tells me that Apollo blessed my hair but forgot to also bless my feet." A good-natured laugh invited him to join in on the joke, and Elena hoped it would have the desired effect of putting him at ease. She was curious to see what he looked like when he laughed.
Normally very graceful and put-together, something about this man threw her off balance. He disturbed her equilibrium in a way she hadn't experienced before around the opposite sex. It was disturbing and left Elena at a bit of a loss for what to do. "I'd appreciate the chance to thank you properly for your assistance. Perhaps I could help you and your companion manage your goods? It seems your servants have left you a lot to carry yourselves. Unless there was something else you were looking for..." She trailed off and returned her gaze to his face from where it had wandered over the various vendors and the woman standing next to what must have been their pile of purchases. The hum of trade surrounded them as people gently milled past the pair, the breeze allowing strands of her hair to escape it's tidy braids and waft about her face.
She had dreamed of him. Not dreams about him specifically -no, that would have been scandalous. No, although the young soldier featured heavily, her dreams had been centered on the attack in the agora. It was more than just the sheer blinding terror that had taken over her body. It was the face of the dead woman, the flames so close she felt as though they were licking her cheeks, the feeling of being crushed and kicked in the stampede. These were the feelings that haunted the young noble's dreams.
She wanted to go over and speak with him, if only to thank him again for his rescue at the spice market. The vendor reached across the table, his intention to re-capture her hand clearly projected. Elena prepared to accept the contact despite her skin crawling at the thought, because to pull away and attract attention would be unacceptable. This was supposed to be a trip to the market to get some necessary goods, with the imperative of not drawing attention. It was an unspoken agreement between Elena and her mother, to give the younger a break from the stifling air of their home and to prevent the older from being driven crazy by her. Part of the agreement was that it was necessary to blend in. Attention here could be dangerous.
She jerked away from the lecherous vendor, pulling back as if her hand had been burned. It was unfortunate that some men were not sensitive to the emotions of others, because this one continued to pursue her, leaning over the width of his table while she stepped back and tried to maintain a gracious expression. He was a persistent fellow, she'd give him that, and clearly could identify that she was a woman of money in spite of her simple attire. She picked up a pair of pomegranates with half a mind to throw them at his slightly bald head.
"Thank you for the fruit, sir."
Her verbal dismissal seemed to have no effect for a moment, but then to her surprise he suddenly pulled back. It was a bizarre but welcome change, one that Elena was happy to take advantage of by making a hasty retreat. She pivoted, turning on her heel with a grace born out of endless encounters with the higher echelons of society combined with the teachings of her mother, and found herself facing a piece of rough brown cloth.
"Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't see you." She pulled back with a hand to her mouth, a nervous breath of laughter escaping. "I was just-" The words to explain what she 'was just' died in her throat. The soldier was suddenly right in front of her, having somehow gotten from one side of the market to the other in the few moments her back had been turned. He looked much improved from their last encounter, with only a shadow marking one of his eyes to show for it. It made his already imposing figure even more so, and offered a possible explanation as to the merchant’s sudden interest in another woman at the other end of the table.
“It seems you have rescued me once more,” she called to him with a smile, sorry to see his back already turned to leave. She hoped that he would stop and face her once more, realising too late that if he didn’t there would be no way to call him back. She did not know his name or title to even address him properly. This was unusual, because it was not often she found herself amongst strangers, but Elena found herself not bothered in the slightest. His character was obviously sound or he'd have left her to be trampled at the spice market.
Her hand touched his arm as she stopped him for a moment, moving around to the front of him again. It was possible the Fates were working against her this day, for she didn't know what to do except gaze at him for a moment. His expression was so intense that she didn't even notice his state of disarray, and a silence fell between them for a long moment before Elena's social education abruptly kicked in. "I'm pleased to see that your injuries have healed. My mother always tells me that Apollo blessed my hair but forgot to also bless my feet." A good-natured laugh invited him to join in on the joke, and Elena hoped it would have the desired effect of putting him at ease. She was curious to see what he looked like when he laughed.
Normally very graceful and put-together, something about this man threw her off balance. He disturbed her equilibrium in a way she hadn't experienced before around the opposite sex. It was disturbing and left Elena at a bit of a loss for what to do. "I'd appreciate the chance to thank you properly for your assistance. Perhaps I could help you and your companion manage your goods? It seems your servants have left you a lot to carry yourselves. Unless there was something else you were looking for..." She trailed off and returned her gaze to his face from where it had wandered over the various vendors and the woman standing next to what must have been their pile of purchases. The hum of trade surrounded them as people gently milled past the pair, the breeze allowing strands of her hair to escape it's tidy braids and waft about her face.
The girl's voice had Leonidas' feet still. The soles of his sandals brushed against the dust under his feet and he bit his tongue a moment. He wasn't entirely sure if he had frozen because of the pleasant and familiar lilt of her voice or simply because he had been trained to behave so. He was common-born. She was elite. When she spoke, he listened. When she ordered, he obeyed. It didn't matter that he wasn't her direct servant. Antagonising a member of the upper classes was tantamount to stupidity. And just because Leo couldn't read, it didn't make him an idiot. And so, he stopped.
She spoke, at first, with breezy politeness, making her apologises for nearly colliding with his back. Then she must have caught a glimpse of his profile, or recognised his height, because she was touching his arm and moving to stand before him. Again, Leo bit his tongue.
'It seems you have rescused me once more...'
He wasn't entirely sure how to respond to that. Admit that he had and appear to be seeking a reward? Claim he wasn't and disagree with a lady of breeding? He settled for awkward silence, brushing his palms on the skirt of his tunic. For some reason, they had become warm and a little damp.
The girl seemed as out of sorts as he, not sure how to put her thoughts into words or perhaps just uncertain of how to communicate with the lower levels of society. Leo felt a ripple of warmth when he realised she couldn't quite look him in the eye; as if she feared offending him or saying the wrong thing. He'd never met a nobleman (or woman) who cared what he thought of their words. It was a bizarre experience.
'...my mother always tells me that Apollo blessed my hair but forgot to also bless my feet.”
Leonidas could care little for the injuries he'd taken that day at the central market. His bleeding nose hadn't been his most grievous injury - a burn on his hip held that honour - but it had certainly been his most spectacular. It was hard to ignore a man coated in crimson from the nostrils down. Healing, however, hadn't taken long. A few days of purple eyes and tender face and he was right as rain. The burn and smaller abrasions were actually more irritable, rubbing against the rough cloth of his clothes.
When she mentioned the blessing of the Gods, however, he couldn't help his natural reaction: looking at her hair. The long tresses of gold had been tied back that day, braided and kept away from her face. The fashion, however, was soft and a little loose - more common than the intricate patterns some high-class ladies like to twist their hair into. As such, the thick folds were able to shine in the sunshine.
Leo hadn't realised he'd been staring until silence fell between them again and he had to clear his throat. A little colour rose in his cheeks.
"I er... I can see why you mother says such things," he admitted without thinking of the flirtation the comment might be read as. He did not laugh at her joke but the corner of his mouth curled up a little, ready to smile, until he stamped down on the instinct. He cleared his throat again, his back straightening like a soldier called to duty. "But I do not think you are to blame for the chaos of the market place, my Lady. Unblessed feet or not."
Her kindness shone threw when the girl offered a means of thanks. She would not let his actions be relegated to simple duty but felt the need for gratitude. Again, it was rare for Leonidas to see such behaviour in the upper classes. Servants, soldiers, slaves... they were bred for their purpose and the completion of that purpose did not require thanks. At least, that was the mentality he had always known others to have...
'It seems your servants have left you a lot to carry yourselves...'
What felt like a little trickle of ice rolled down Leonidas' spine. All of the heat that was chased from his chest raced to his face. He could feel his cheeks burn, his shoulders turn tense with embarrassment.
But, of course... It all made sense now... She wasn't speaking to him as a lower citizen because she did not think him to be one. She was under the illusion that he had been born to a family worthy of servants, of all things. Perhaps she thought him the son of a baron or an extended cousin of a family of note - a child that had been inserted into the Athenian Guard for lessons in honour and responsibility. It was not uncommon. After all, what poor boy would work his way up to Lieutenant of the city's protectorship?
Swallowing, Leonidas glanced back at his mother but shook his head. He attempted to smile but he sensed that the expression fell flat.
"You are kind but that is not necessary," he said, head lowering and eyes turning to the floor in a moment of humility. "If I may be so bold as to tell a lady what to do, I would say not to think any more about it. You owe me nothing, my Lady."
Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, Leonidas wasn't sure what to now do. Did he dismiss himself from her company? Would she allow that if she was assuming him of more class than he was? Would she take offence if she ever then discovered the truth?
Get real, Leo... he reminded himself. When are you ever going to meet this woman again? A glance here or there on an open street? It wasn't as if the two of them would ever mix in the same circles. Despite his bloodline.
Despite his circular thoughts taking him back to the idea of simply leaving her where she stood, Leonidas found himself unable to step away. He could see his mother watching him from across the market with a glint of concern in his eye, but he could not bring himself to disregard the pretty blonde.
He opened his mouth, paused without knowing what to say. Closed it again. And then finally blurted -
"I'm Leo."
- with all the grace of a trained monkey.
He coughed and tried again.
"I mean... I am Leonidas," and he sketched a shallow bow.
JD
Leonidas
JD
Leonidas
Awards
First Impressions:Slender; Prominent cheekbones, bright blue eyes, tendon-heavy hands.
Address: Your
The girl's voice had Leonidas' feet still. The soles of his sandals brushed against the dust under his feet and he bit his tongue a moment. He wasn't entirely sure if he had frozen because of the pleasant and familiar lilt of her voice or simply because he had been trained to behave so. He was common-born. She was elite. When she spoke, he listened. When she ordered, he obeyed. It didn't matter that he wasn't her direct servant. Antagonising a member of the upper classes was tantamount to stupidity. And just because Leo couldn't read, it didn't make him an idiot. And so, he stopped.
She spoke, at first, with breezy politeness, making her apologises for nearly colliding with his back. Then she must have caught a glimpse of his profile, or recognised his height, because she was touching his arm and moving to stand before him. Again, Leo bit his tongue.
'It seems you have rescused me once more...'
He wasn't entirely sure how to respond to that. Admit that he had and appear to be seeking a reward? Claim he wasn't and disagree with a lady of breeding? He settled for awkward silence, brushing his palms on the skirt of his tunic. For some reason, they had become warm and a little damp.
The girl seemed as out of sorts as he, not sure how to put her thoughts into words or perhaps just uncertain of how to communicate with the lower levels of society. Leo felt a ripple of warmth when he realised she couldn't quite look him in the eye; as if she feared offending him or saying the wrong thing. He'd never met a nobleman (or woman) who cared what he thought of their words. It was a bizarre experience.
'...my mother always tells me that Apollo blessed my hair but forgot to also bless my feet.”
Leonidas could care little for the injuries he'd taken that day at the central market. His bleeding nose hadn't been his most grievous injury - a burn on his hip held that honour - but it had certainly been his most spectacular. It was hard to ignore a man coated in crimson from the nostrils down. Healing, however, hadn't taken long. A few days of purple eyes and tender face and he was right as rain. The burn and smaller abrasions were actually more irritable, rubbing against the rough cloth of his clothes.
When she mentioned the blessing of the Gods, however, he couldn't help his natural reaction: looking at her hair. The long tresses of gold had been tied back that day, braided and kept away from her face. The fashion, however, was soft and a little loose - more common than the intricate patterns some high-class ladies like to twist their hair into. As such, the thick folds were able to shine in the sunshine.
Leo hadn't realised he'd been staring until silence fell between them again and he had to clear his throat. A little colour rose in his cheeks.
"I er... I can see why you mother says such things," he admitted without thinking of the flirtation the comment might be read as. He did not laugh at her joke but the corner of his mouth curled up a little, ready to smile, until he stamped down on the instinct. He cleared his throat again, his back straightening like a soldier called to duty. "But I do not think you are to blame for the chaos of the market place, my Lady. Unblessed feet or not."
Her kindness shone threw when the girl offered a means of thanks. She would not let his actions be relegated to simple duty but felt the need for gratitude. Again, it was rare for Leonidas to see such behaviour in the upper classes. Servants, soldiers, slaves... they were bred for their purpose and the completion of that purpose did not require thanks. At least, that was the mentality he had always known others to have...
'It seems your servants have left you a lot to carry yourselves...'
What felt like a little trickle of ice rolled down Leonidas' spine. All of the heat that was chased from his chest raced to his face. He could feel his cheeks burn, his shoulders turn tense with embarrassment.
But, of course... It all made sense now... She wasn't speaking to him as a lower citizen because she did not think him to be one. She was under the illusion that he had been born to a family worthy of servants, of all things. Perhaps she thought him the son of a baron or an extended cousin of a family of note - a child that had been inserted into the Athenian Guard for lessons in honour and responsibility. It was not uncommon. After all, what poor boy would work his way up to Lieutenant of the city's protectorship?
Swallowing, Leonidas glanced back at his mother but shook his head. He attempted to smile but he sensed that the expression fell flat.
"You are kind but that is not necessary," he said, head lowering and eyes turning to the floor in a moment of humility. "If I may be so bold as to tell a lady what to do, I would say not to think any more about it. You owe me nothing, my Lady."
Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, Leonidas wasn't sure what to now do. Did he dismiss himself from her company? Would she allow that if she was assuming him of more class than he was? Would she take offence if she ever then discovered the truth?
Get real, Leo... he reminded himself. When are you ever going to meet this woman again? A glance here or there on an open street? It wasn't as if the two of them would ever mix in the same circles. Despite his bloodline.
Despite his circular thoughts taking him back to the idea of simply leaving her where she stood, Leonidas found himself unable to step away. He could see his mother watching him from across the market with a glint of concern in his eye, but he could not bring himself to disregard the pretty blonde.
He opened his mouth, paused without knowing what to say. Closed it again. And then finally blurted -
"I'm Leo."
- with all the grace of a trained monkey.
He coughed and tried again.
"I mean... I am Leonidas," and he sketched a shallow bow.
The girl's voice had Leonidas' feet still. The soles of his sandals brushed against the dust under his feet and he bit his tongue a moment. He wasn't entirely sure if he had frozen because of the pleasant and familiar lilt of her voice or simply because he had been trained to behave so. He was common-born. She was elite. When she spoke, he listened. When she ordered, he obeyed. It didn't matter that he wasn't her direct servant. Antagonising a member of the upper classes was tantamount to stupidity. And just because Leo couldn't read, it didn't make him an idiot. And so, he stopped.
She spoke, at first, with breezy politeness, making her apologises for nearly colliding with his back. Then she must have caught a glimpse of his profile, or recognised his height, because she was touching his arm and moving to stand before him. Again, Leo bit his tongue.
'It seems you have rescused me once more...'
He wasn't entirely sure how to respond to that. Admit that he had and appear to be seeking a reward? Claim he wasn't and disagree with a lady of breeding? He settled for awkward silence, brushing his palms on the skirt of his tunic. For some reason, they had become warm and a little damp.
The girl seemed as out of sorts as he, not sure how to put her thoughts into words or perhaps just uncertain of how to communicate with the lower levels of society. Leo felt a ripple of warmth when he realised she couldn't quite look him in the eye; as if she feared offending him or saying the wrong thing. He'd never met a nobleman (or woman) who cared what he thought of their words. It was a bizarre experience.
'...my mother always tells me that Apollo blessed my hair but forgot to also bless my feet.”
Leonidas could care little for the injuries he'd taken that day at the central market. His bleeding nose hadn't been his most grievous injury - a burn on his hip held that honour - but it had certainly been his most spectacular. It was hard to ignore a man coated in crimson from the nostrils down. Healing, however, hadn't taken long. A few days of purple eyes and tender face and he was right as rain. The burn and smaller abrasions were actually more irritable, rubbing against the rough cloth of his clothes.
When she mentioned the blessing of the Gods, however, he couldn't help his natural reaction: looking at her hair. The long tresses of gold had been tied back that day, braided and kept away from her face. The fashion, however, was soft and a little loose - more common than the intricate patterns some high-class ladies like to twist their hair into. As such, the thick folds were able to shine in the sunshine.
Leo hadn't realised he'd been staring until silence fell between them again and he had to clear his throat. A little colour rose in his cheeks.
"I er... I can see why you mother says such things," he admitted without thinking of the flirtation the comment might be read as. He did not laugh at her joke but the corner of his mouth curled up a little, ready to smile, until he stamped down on the instinct. He cleared his throat again, his back straightening like a soldier called to duty. "But I do not think you are to blame for the chaos of the market place, my Lady. Unblessed feet or not."
Her kindness shone threw when the girl offered a means of thanks. She would not let his actions be relegated to simple duty but felt the need for gratitude. Again, it was rare for Leonidas to see such behaviour in the upper classes. Servants, soldiers, slaves... they were bred for their purpose and the completion of that purpose did not require thanks. At least, that was the mentality he had always known others to have...
'It seems your servants have left you a lot to carry yourselves...'
What felt like a little trickle of ice rolled down Leonidas' spine. All of the heat that was chased from his chest raced to his face. He could feel his cheeks burn, his shoulders turn tense with embarrassment.
But, of course... It all made sense now... She wasn't speaking to him as a lower citizen because she did not think him to be one. She was under the illusion that he had been born to a family worthy of servants, of all things. Perhaps she thought him the son of a baron or an extended cousin of a family of note - a child that had been inserted into the Athenian Guard for lessons in honour and responsibility. It was not uncommon. After all, what poor boy would work his way up to Lieutenant of the city's protectorship?
Swallowing, Leonidas glanced back at his mother but shook his head. He attempted to smile but he sensed that the expression fell flat.
"You are kind but that is not necessary," he said, head lowering and eyes turning to the floor in a moment of humility. "If I may be so bold as to tell a lady what to do, I would say not to think any more about it. You owe me nothing, my Lady."
Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, Leonidas wasn't sure what to now do. Did he dismiss himself from her company? Would she allow that if she was assuming him of more class than he was? Would she take offence if she ever then discovered the truth?
Get real, Leo... he reminded himself. When are you ever going to meet this woman again? A glance here or there on an open street? It wasn't as if the two of them would ever mix in the same circles. Despite his bloodline.
Despite his circular thoughts taking him back to the idea of simply leaving her where she stood, Leonidas found himself unable to step away. He could see his mother watching him from across the market with a glint of concern in his eye, but he could not bring himself to disregard the pretty blonde.
He opened his mouth, paused without knowing what to say. Closed it again. And then finally blurted -
"I'm Leo."
- with all the grace of a trained monkey.
He coughed and tried again.
"I mean... I am Leonidas," and he sketched a shallow bow.
Even over the hubbub of buyers haggling prices, the voice of a noble was bound to carry. The man certainly heard her words, for they stopped him in his tracks. Maybe the Fates were with her after all. As a Marikas, Elena was accustomed to being obeyed, or at least listened to without question. Despite this, she had the feeling that this Athenian soldier could bolt at any moment, he seemed so ill at ease. His feet hardly stopped moving as he shifted his large frame from one leg to the other, and she had the feeling that he was taking note of everything happening in their proximity even while he conversed with her. Elena had been around soldiers before and none of them had behaved in such a manner around her, so she was at a loss to explain why this one seemed so ill at ease. Maybe the heat of the day was bothering him.
Or perhaps her contact had been too familiar for his taste, because his arm was a tight knot of muscle under her soft touch. Her hand was hastily removed, despite a flutter in her stomach at touching him. Neither of them seemed to know what to do, so at least she wasn't alone in that, and she wanted him to be more comfortable than he appeared at present. Her attempts at humour were usually successful in putting her father's guests at ease and in this moment Elena was thankful for the practice she'd had in this area. The corners of his mouth had turned up and Elena was sure he was about to smile, but the expression left as quickly as it had come, to her disappointment. Even more disappointing, he wasn't looking at her anymore but something over her shoulders.
It was hardly a consolation that he spoke agreeably on the subject of her joke. Her hand tucked an escaped strand behind her ear, the movement masking a small sigh. “Still, were it not for your skill I fear I’d have certainly been trampled.” He was being polite, nothing more. As such, her response was equally polite. Perhaps he would accept her offer to help him carry his parcels, but in that too she was rebuffed. In fact, it was obvious as soon as he reacted to her words that she’d made a grave error, albeit unintentionally. It was clear when his broad shoulders squared and tensed like he was preparing for battle, and he refused to meet her eye. The blood drained from the young noble's cheeks as his overly polite words of refusal -and dismissal- sank in. The mirth died in her eyes and the uncertain feeling had returned to her stomach once again at his tone.
Oh.
Oh.
Oh dear.
“I can’t help but feel that I have offended you," she offered, sensing that she was treading into dangerous waters. His rough, plain brown clothing, simple shoes, lack of adornments on his body. She had not noticed these things about him before, for her gaze had been focused on his eyes, his hair, his jaw. Now that she was looking, it was apparent that he didn't come from the upbringing as her. It was perfectly reasonable for him to have found offence with her assumptions. "It was rude of me to assume and I shouldn't have. My deepest apologies." A hand went over her heart and her eyes focused on the middle of his chest.
The conversation had left the young noble feeling foolish -a rare thing for her- and she decided it was time to make as graceful an exit as she could after such a blunder. She moved a step away, intending to bid him goodbye and pray the Gods never let her run into him again, but the young man was still speaking and whatever he was trying to say appeared to take a fair amount of effort. He told her his name, making the flutters return to Elena's stomach with a vengeance. She nodded politely, trying to hide the returned fluttering in her chest. Now she had a name to go with the face that had appeared occasionally in her mind, and Elena felt compelled to share her own name with him.
"I'm Elena. It's nice to be properly introduced, Leonidas." Her hand extended to offer him a handshake, a gesture of equals. It was just as socially correct as a kiss on the back of her hand or cheeks, which was how many of the nobles greeted one another. To Elena it mattered little where one came from, so the gesture seemed appropriate and would hopefully be familiar enough to the soldier -Leonidas- so as to not cause more discomfort. Leonidas seemed to not know whether he wanted to stay or go, he appeared so ill-at-ease. Elena was of half a mind to again bid him goodbye and return home to lick her wounds in peace, but the Marikas spirit wouldn't let her part ways from him like this. She gathered her courage and found herself caught in his intense blue-green gaze.
"Would you like to walk with me for a few minutes, Leonidas?" She blinked up at him, shocked by her own daring. "I have a pair of pomegranates to share, and with the day being so warm I could use some refreshment. I would like to hear more about you, and your work," she added hastily, looking somewhere around his midsection now. Her voice was hesitant and unsure to her own ears, although he would likely notice no difference. It seemed they were back to their initial awkwardness, at least on her part. If he refused, there was no way in Hades she would tell Myrine about this new, embarrassing encounter.
Peach
Elena
Peach
Elena
Awards
First Impressions:Delicate; Kind smile, golden hair, soft hands, full lower lip
Address: Your Her Ladyship
Even over the hubbub of buyers haggling prices, the voice of a noble was bound to carry. The man certainly heard her words, for they stopped him in his tracks. Maybe the Fates were with her after all. As a Marikas, Elena was accustomed to being obeyed, or at least listened to without question. Despite this, she had the feeling that this Athenian soldier could bolt at any moment, he seemed so ill at ease. His feet hardly stopped moving as he shifted his large frame from one leg to the other, and she had the feeling that he was taking note of everything happening in their proximity even while he conversed with her. Elena had been around soldiers before and none of them had behaved in such a manner around her, so she was at a loss to explain why this one seemed so ill at ease. Maybe the heat of the day was bothering him.
Or perhaps her contact had been too familiar for his taste, because his arm was a tight knot of muscle under her soft touch. Her hand was hastily removed, despite a flutter in her stomach at touching him. Neither of them seemed to know what to do, so at least she wasn't alone in that, and she wanted him to be more comfortable than he appeared at present. Her attempts at humour were usually successful in putting her father's guests at ease and in this moment Elena was thankful for the practice she'd had in this area. The corners of his mouth had turned up and Elena was sure he was about to smile, but the expression left as quickly as it had come, to her disappointment. Even more disappointing, he wasn't looking at her anymore but something over her shoulders.
It was hardly a consolation that he spoke agreeably on the subject of her joke. Her hand tucked an escaped strand behind her ear, the movement masking a small sigh. “Still, were it not for your skill I fear I’d have certainly been trampled.” He was being polite, nothing more. As such, her response was equally polite. Perhaps he would accept her offer to help him carry his parcels, but in that too she was rebuffed. In fact, it was obvious as soon as he reacted to her words that she’d made a grave error, albeit unintentionally. It was clear when his broad shoulders squared and tensed like he was preparing for battle, and he refused to meet her eye. The blood drained from the young noble's cheeks as his overly polite words of refusal -and dismissal- sank in. The mirth died in her eyes and the uncertain feeling had returned to her stomach once again at his tone.
Oh.
Oh.
Oh dear.
“I can’t help but feel that I have offended you," she offered, sensing that she was treading into dangerous waters. His rough, plain brown clothing, simple shoes, lack of adornments on his body. She had not noticed these things about him before, for her gaze had been focused on his eyes, his hair, his jaw. Now that she was looking, it was apparent that he didn't come from the upbringing as her. It was perfectly reasonable for him to have found offence with her assumptions. "It was rude of me to assume and I shouldn't have. My deepest apologies." A hand went over her heart and her eyes focused on the middle of his chest.
The conversation had left the young noble feeling foolish -a rare thing for her- and she decided it was time to make as graceful an exit as she could after such a blunder. She moved a step away, intending to bid him goodbye and pray the Gods never let her run into him again, but the young man was still speaking and whatever he was trying to say appeared to take a fair amount of effort. He told her his name, making the flutters return to Elena's stomach with a vengeance. She nodded politely, trying to hide the returned fluttering in her chest. Now she had a name to go with the face that had appeared occasionally in her mind, and Elena felt compelled to share her own name with him.
"I'm Elena. It's nice to be properly introduced, Leonidas." Her hand extended to offer him a handshake, a gesture of equals. It was just as socially correct as a kiss on the back of her hand or cheeks, which was how many of the nobles greeted one another. To Elena it mattered little where one came from, so the gesture seemed appropriate and would hopefully be familiar enough to the soldier -Leonidas- so as to not cause more discomfort. Leonidas seemed to not know whether he wanted to stay or go, he appeared so ill-at-ease. Elena was of half a mind to again bid him goodbye and return home to lick her wounds in peace, but the Marikas spirit wouldn't let her part ways from him like this. She gathered her courage and found herself caught in his intense blue-green gaze.
"Would you like to walk with me for a few minutes, Leonidas?" She blinked up at him, shocked by her own daring. "I have a pair of pomegranates to share, and with the day being so warm I could use some refreshment. I would like to hear more about you, and your work," she added hastily, looking somewhere around his midsection now. Her voice was hesitant and unsure to her own ears, although he would likely notice no difference. It seemed they were back to their initial awkwardness, at least on her part. If he refused, there was no way in Hades she would tell Myrine about this new, embarrassing encounter.
Even over the hubbub of buyers haggling prices, the voice of a noble was bound to carry. The man certainly heard her words, for they stopped him in his tracks. Maybe the Fates were with her after all. As a Marikas, Elena was accustomed to being obeyed, or at least listened to without question. Despite this, she had the feeling that this Athenian soldier could bolt at any moment, he seemed so ill at ease. His feet hardly stopped moving as he shifted his large frame from one leg to the other, and she had the feeling that he was taking note of everything happening in their proximity even while he conversed with her. Elena had been around soldiers before and none of them had behaved in such a manner around her, so she was at a loss to explain why this one seemed so ill at ease. Maybe the heat of the day was bothering him.
Or perhaps her contact had been too familiar for his taste, because his arm was a tight knot of muscle under her soft touch. Her hand was hastily removed, despite a flutter in her stomach at touching him. Neither of them seemed to know what to do, so at least she wasn't alone in that, and she wanted him to be more comfortable than he appeared at present. Her attempts at humour were usually successful in putting her father's guests at ease and in this moment Elena was thankful for the practice she'd had in this area. The corners of his mouth had turned up and Elena was sure he was about to smile, but the expression left as quickly as it had come, to her disappointment. Even more disappointing, he wasn't looking at her anymore but something over her shoulders.
It was hardly a consolation that he spoke agreeably on the subject of her joke. Her hand tucked an escaped strand behind her ear, the movement masking a small sigh. “Still, were it not for your skill I fear I’d have certainly been trampled.” He was being polite, nothing more. As such, her response was equally polite. Perhaps he would accept her offer to help him carry his parcels, but in that too she was rebuffed. In fact, it was obvious as soon as he reacted to her words that she’d made a grave error, albeit unintentionally. It was clear when his broad shoulders squared and tensed like he was preparing for battle, and he refused to meet her eye. The blood drained from the young noble's cheeks as his overly polite words of refusal -and dismissal- sank in. The mirth died in her eyes and the uncertain feeling had returned to her stomach once again at his tone.
Oh.
Oh.
Oh dear.
“I can’t help but feel that I have offended you," she offered, sensing that she was treading into dangerous waters. His rough, plain brown clothing, simple shoes, lack of adornments on his body. She had not noticed these things about him before, for her gaze had been focused on his eyes, his hair, his jaw. Now that she was looking, it was apparent that he didn't come from the upbringing as her. It was perfectly reasonable for him to have found offence with her assumptions. "It was rude of me to assume and I shouldn't have. My deepest apologies." A hand went over her heart and her eyes focused on the middle of his chest.
The conversation had left the young noble feeling foolish -a rare thing for her- and she decided it was time to make as graceful an exit as she could after such a blunder. She moved a step away, intending to bid him goodbye and pray the Gods never let her run into him again, but the young man was still speaking and whatever he was trying to say appeared to take a fair amount of effort. He told her his name, making the flutters return to Elena's stomach with a vengeance. She nodded politely, trying to hide the returned fluttering in her chest. Now she had a name to go with the face that had appeared occasionally in her mind, and Elena felt compelled to share her own name with him.
"I'm Elena. It's nice to be properly introduced, Leonidas." Her hand extended to offer him a handshake, a gesture of equals. It was just as socially correct as a kiss on the back of her hand or cheeks, which was how many of the nobles greeted one another. To Elena it mattered little where one came from, so the gesture seemed appropriate and would hopefully be familiar enough to the soldier -Leonidas- so as to not cause more discomfort. Leonidas seemed to not know whether he wanted to stay or go, he appeared so ill-at-ease. Elena was of half a mind to again bid him goodbye and return home to lick her wounds in peace, but the Marikas spirit wouldn't let her part ways from him like this. She gathered her courage and found herself caught in his intense blue-green gaze.
"Would you like to walk with me for a few minutes, Leonidas?" She blinked up at him, shocked by her own daring. "I have a pair of pomegranates to share, and with the day being so warm I could use some refreshment. I would like to hear more about you, and your work," she added hastily, looking somewhere around his midsection now. Her voice was hesitant and unsure to her own ears, although he would likely notice no difference. It seemed they were back to their initial awkwardness, at least on her part. If he refused, there was no way in Hades she would tell Myrine about this new, embarrassing encounter.
The woman was all things elegant and Leo was duck-footing his way around this conversation with all the grace of a hippo. He could sense it. He didn't have to be a nobleman, trained in the arts of social discourse to know that the young lady was uncomfortable. She flushed, she shifted. And he was the cause.
'I'm Elena...'
The name suited her. Vowel-heavy, soft and lilting. Leo's limited knowledge of the noble world he might have been born to meant that he'd heard of a few Elena's in the upper classes. Off the top of his head, he knew of a couple of baron daughters. Even one in the grand House of Marikas. But she was not dressed in regal finery enough for the longest standing bloodline of Athenia, so Leo assumed her to be of the former. Not as grand as he had first assumed but still far and above his own status.
When she held out her hand, therefore, Leo froze with uncertainty. As a lieutenant in the Guard, he was not a nobody. Not entirely. But he wasn't on par with the daughter of a baron. Her hand was something to be graced by only the finely bred. Leonidas didn't exactly agree with the theory that birth automatically equalled worth. How could he, when he had been given the blood but not the respect of the House of Antonis? But he was an advocate of saving his own skin. And this was the way the world worked. You offended those considered more worthy of you and your life wasn't worth a whole lot after that.
So... how not to offend a lady offering up her hand...?
Carefully, Leo reached up. He didn't fully take her hand, but lifted her fingers with his own; a gentle touch that offered no dominance and no possession. As if he were lifting a piece of fine silk or strand of beads. Extending a leg as was protocol, Leonidas bowed over the hand, hesitating for a moment as he wondered over kissing it. Instead, he chickened out. Only his breath brushed against the back of her hand.
"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, my Lady Elena," he greeted.
As he straightened, he released his touch upon her, her fingertips fell over the back of his hand and sent shivers up his arm. He swallowed.
Thinking he should part ways with her before he made even more of an ass of himself, Leonidas was surprised when the young woman ventured an offer of company: 'Would you like to walk with me for a few minutes, Leonidas?' Again, he was left with the awkward choice of disobedience or inappropriate conduct. Though, given their exchanges so far, perhaps the Lady Elena was not so concerned for such things...? And, if so, perhaps he was safe to engage in them with her... just a little?
"I..." Glancing over her shoulder once more, Leo spotted his mother waiting and watching. Her expression was one of sour worry. Concern flooded her eyes with darkness and her arms were folded across her chest. She was barely looking at Phineas, a friend of theirs from whom they always bought ground grain. "I... yes. Just... please," he raised his hands, palm out to the young lady. "Wait here a moment. I'll be right back."
With an awkward half-smile, Leo darted around the girl and then on through the crowd. It felt odd to leave her standing there behind him, unprotected from the world at large, but he knew that he would be only a few moments.
'Leo, what are you-'
"Phineas!" Leo called, interrupting his mother. For some reason, he was out of breath. Like the encounter with the young woman had somehow winded him. "I er... I need to do something. Would you help my mother with the heavy things? I'll come by later and help you take down your stall?" It was a fair exchange, given the man was two feet shorter than Leo and had always struggled with erecting and dismantling his store point. He was strong though and would do well in Leo's stead as a carrier.
'Sure, no problem,' the man agreed. 'I'm not closing up until sunset tonight though.'
"No problem, I'll be here then to help." The two men clasped arms in promise.
'Leo...' Again, his mother's voice held worry and Leo grinned at her, trying to ease her fears.
"It's alright, Maia. I'll be home later."
She tried to question him further but Leo ignored her as a child might his parent's reprimands. Instead. he took her hand in his and squeezed her fingers. Then leaned forward to place a kiss on her cheek.
"I'll be back later. Just don't let Garios fleece you for that citrus again and if Jaya comes by for the fencing tell her I'll be on it first thing in the morning."
It was clear to Leo that his mother was not happy. But her natural temperament was taking over, forcing her to keep her tongue still and her opinions to herself. She might stew and fear for him, but she would not corral or control him. She hadn't since he was small and he loved her all the more for it.
With a final word of thanks to Phineas and promises to be home an hour after dark, Leo was turning on his heels once more and hurrying back through the crowd. He was almost surprised to find the Lady Elena right where he'd left her. As if she were a figment of his imagination who might have disappeared in a puff of smoke the moment he had turned his back. He smiled nervously as he approached her again.
"I am all yours, my Lady," he vowed. "Where would you like to go?"
JD
Leonidas
JD
Leonidas
Awards
First Impressions:Slender; Prominent cheekbones, bright blue eyes, tendon-heavy hands.
Address: Your
The woman was all things elegant and Leo was duck-footing his way around this conversation with all the grace of a hippo. He could sense it. He didn't have to be a nobleman, trained in the arts of social discourse to know that the young lady was uncomfortable. She flushed, she shifted. And he was the cause.
'I'm Elena...'
The name suited her. Vowel-heavy, soft and lilting. Leo's limited knowledge of the noble world he might have been born to meant that he'd heard of a few Elena's in the upper classes. Off the top of his head, he knew of a couple of baron daughters. Even one in the grand House of Marikas. But she was not dressed in regal finery enough for the longest standing bloodline of Athenia, so Leo assumed her to be of the former. Not as grand as he had first assumed but still far and above his own status.
When she held out her hand, therefore, Leo froze with uncertainty. As a lieutenant in the Guard, he was not a nobody. Not entirely. But he wasn't on par with the daughter of a baron. Her hand was something to be graced by only the finely bred. Leonidas didn't exactly agree with the theory that birth automatically equalled worth. How could he, when he had been given the blood but not the respect of the House of Antonis? But he was an advocate of saving his own skin. And this was the way the world worked. You offended those considered more worthy of you and your life wasn't worth a whole lot after that.
So... how not to offend a lady offering up her hand...?
Carefully, Leo reached up. He didn't fully take her hand, but lifted her fingers with his own; a gentle touch that offered no dominance and no possession. As if he were lifting a piece of fine silk or strand of beads. Extending a leg as was protocol, Leonidas bowed over the hand, hesitating for a moment as he wondered over kissing it. Instead, he chickened out. Only his breath brushed against the back of her hand.
"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, my Lady Elena," he greeted.
As he straightened, he released his touch upon her, her fingertips fell over the back of his hand and sent shivers up his arm. He swallowed.
Thinking he should part ways with her before he made even more of an ass of himself, Leonidas was surprised when the young woman ventured an offer of company: 'Would you like to walk with me for a few minutes, Leonidas?' Again, he was left with the awkward choice of disobedience or inappropriate conduct. Though, given their exchanges so far, perhaps the Lady Elena was not so concerned for such things...? And, if so, perhaps he was safe to engage in them with her... just a little?
"I..." Glancing over her shoulder once more, Leo spotted his mother waiting and watching. Her expression was one of sour worry. Concern flooded her eyes with darkness and her arms were folded across her chest. She was barely looking at Phineas, a friend of theirs from whom they always bought ground grain. "I... yes. Just... please," he raised his hands, palm out to the young lady. "Wait here a moment. I'll be right back."
With an awkward half-smile, Leo darted around the girl and then on through the crowd. It felt odd to leave her standing there behind him, unprotected from the world at large, but he knew that he would be only a few moments.
'Leo, what are you-'
"Phineas!" Leo called, interrupting his mother. For some reason, he was out of breath. Like the encounter with the young woman had somehow winded him. "I er... I need to do something. Would you help my mother with the heavy things? I'll come by later and help you take down your stall?" It was a fair exchange, given the man was two feet shorter than Leo and had always struggled with erecting and dismantling his store point. He was strong though and would do well in Leo's stead as a carrier.
'Sure, no problem,' the man agreed. 'I'm not closing up until sunset tonight though.'
"No problem, I'll be here then to help." The two men clasped arms in promise.
'Leo...' Again, his mother's voice held worry and Leo grinned at her, trying to ease her fears.
"It's alright, Maia. I'll be home later."
She tried to question him further but Leo ignored her as a child might his parent's reprimands. Instead. he took her hand in his and squeezed her fingers. Then leaned forward to place a kiss on her cheek.
"I'll be back later. Just don't let Garios fleece you for that citrus again and if Jaya comes by for the fencing tell her I'll be on it first thing in the morning."
It was clear to Leo that his mother was not happy. But her natural temperament was taking over, forcing her to keep her tongue still and her opinions to herself. She might stew and fear for him, but she would not corral or control him. She hadn't since he was small and he loved her all the more for it.
With a final word of thanks to Phineas and promises to be home an hour after dark, Leo was turning on his heels once more and hurrying back through the crowd. He was almost surprised to find the Lady Elena right where he'd left her. As if she were a figment of his imagination who might have disappeared in a puff of smoke the moment he had turned his back. He smiled nervously as he approached her again.
"I am all yours, my Lady," he vowed. "Where would you like to go?"
The woman was all things elegant and Leo was duck-footing his way around this conversation with all the grace of a hippo. He could sense it. He didn't have to be a nobleman, trained in the arts of social discourse to know that the young lady was uncomfortable. She flushed, she shifted. And he was the cause.
'I'm Elena...'
The name suited her. Vowel-heavy, soft and lilting. Leo's limited knowledge of the noble world he might have been born to meant that he'd heard of a few Elena's in the upper classes. Off the top of his head, he knew of a couple of baron daughters. Even one in the grand House of Marikas. But she was not dressed in regal finery enough for the longest standing bloodline of Athenia, so Leo assumed her to be of the former. Not as grand as he had first assumed but still far and above his own status.
When she held out her hand, therefore, Leo froze with uncertainty. As a lieutenant in the Guard, he was not a nobody. Not entirely. But he wasn't on par with the daughter of a baron. Her hand was something to be graced by only the finely bred. Leonidas didn't exactly agree with the theory that birth automatically equalled worth. How could he, when he had been given the blood but not the respect of the House of Antonis? But he was an advocate of saving his own skin. And this was the way the world worked. You offended those considered more worthy of you and your life wasn't worth a whole lot after that.
So... how not to offend a lady offering up her hand...?
Carefully, Leo reached up. He didn't fully take her hand, but lifted her fingers with his own; a gentle touch that offered no dominance and no possession. As if he were lifting a piece of fine silk or strand of beads. Extending a leg as was protocol, Leonidas bowed over the hand, hesitating for a moment as he wondered over kissing it. Instead, he chickened out. Only his breath brushed against the back of her hand.
"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, my Lady Elena," he greeted.
As he straightened, he released his touch upon her, her fingertips fell over the back of his hand and sent shivers up his arm. He swallowed.
Thinking he should part ways with her before he made even more of an ass of himself, Leonidas was surprised when the young woman ventured an offer of company: 'Would you like to walk with me for a few minutes, Leonidas?' Again, he was left with the awkward choice of disobedience or inappropriate conduct. Though, given their exchanges so far, perhaps the Lady Elena was not so concerned for such things...? And, if so, perhaps he was safe to engage in them with her... just a little?
"I..." Glancing over her shoulder once more, Leo spotted his mother waiting and watching. Her expression was one of sour worry. Concern flooded her eyes with darkness and her arms were folded across her chest. She was barely looking at Phineas, a friend of theirs from whom they always bought ground grain. "I... yes. Just... please," he raised his hands, palm out to the young lady. "Wait here a moment. I'll be right back."
With an awkward half-smile, Leo darted around the girl and then on through the crowd. It felt odd to leave her standing there behind him, unprotected from the world at large, but he knew that he would be only a few moments.
'Leo, what are you-'
"Phineas!" Leo called, interrupting his mother. For some reason, he was out of breath. Like the encounter with the young woman had somehow winded him. "I er... I need to do something. Would you help my mother with the heavy things? I'll come by later and help you take down your stall?" It was a fair exchange, given the man was two feet shorter than Leo and had always struggled with erecting and dismantling his store point. He was strong though and would do well in Leo's stead as a carrier.
'Sure, no problem,' the man agreed. 'I'm not closing up until sunset tonight though.'
"No problem, I'll be here then to help." The two men clasped arms in promise.
'Leo...' Again, his mother's voice held worry and Leo grinned at her, trying to ease her fears.
"It's alright, Maia. I'll be home later."
She tried to question him further but Leo ignored her as a child might his parent's reprimands. Instead. he took her hand in his and squeezed her fingers. Then leaned forward to place a kiss on her cheek.
"I'll be back later. Just don't let Garios fleece you for that citrus again and if Jaya comes by for the fencing tell her I'll be on it first thing in the morning."
It was clear to Leo that his mother was not happy. But her natural temperament was taking over, forcing her to keep her tongue still and her opinions to herself. She might stew and fear for him, but she would not corral or control him. She hadn't since he was small and he loved her all the more for it.
With a final word of thanks to Phineas and promises to be home an hour after dark, Leo was turning on his heels once more and hurrying back through the crowd. He was almost surprised to find the Lady Elena right where he'd left her. As if she were a figment of his imagination who might have disappeared in a puff of smoke the moment he had turned his back. He smiled nervously as he approached her again.
"I am all yours, my Lady," he vowed. "Where would you like to go?"
One of the more remarkable things about people was that they had such a capacity to surprise you. Elena had thought she would give her name and be satisfied with that, but she was not. Who was this young soldier with both the pride to be offended by her words but also the affability to forgive when she wounded him? He seemed uncomfortable with her nearness, but their eyes had met across the market -he surely must have been looking at her. His obvious gulping for air communicated his discomfort and yet he continuously chose not to move away. Intrigued as she was, Elena needed to know more about him.
Leonidas's offered head tilt triggered a memory; after the pair had found the safety of a small side street at the spice market, Elena recalled that he had bowed before taking his leave. His attention to decorum in the midst of chaos had been admirable, if a little strange and unexpected. At the time the thought of a real introduction hadn't crossed her mind, which had still been dealing with the events that had unfolded. There had been no time for silly things like introductions and handshakes. After things had calmed and had a chance to digest what had happened however, there had been plenty of regret over not at least asking his name. It could be forgiven in such a stressful moment, but Elena had no intention of letting the opportunity pass a second time.
For a moment it seemed she had made yet another misstep by offering her hand. Her breath tightened in her chest. Leonidas inspected it as though he'd never been offered a handshake before, which was a ridiculous notion. As a military man the gesture should have been second nature and should not have given him pause. Elena considered that he might have taken issue with not the gesture, but who presented it.After all, there wasn't anything remarkable about her particular hand apart from perhaps the scabs on her palm. Oh, she half-hoped that he wouldn't accept it after all, if only to spare the embarrassment of him feeling its roughness. Injuries were unsightly for a courtier, especially a lady.
As his hand reached out to take hold of her own, Elena was finally able to release some of the breath she'd been holding. He was so delicate with his touch that she found it difficult to tell it his fingertips had reached her palm. It felt like the soldier had decided to see where this was going and he had finally committed himself by touching her for the first time. Her cheeks warmed at the way he gently took her fingers, leaning over her hand. It wasn't what she'd been expecting, but then, nothing about him had been what she'd expected. Was he about to kiss her hand? The fluttering in her chest was rising to a crescendo. The idea had never been so thrilling to the young courtier as it was at this moment, despite the potential scandal such a display could cause.
In the end Elena was disappointed he chose not to grace her hand with his lips, for if he had there was a very real possibility she'd have melted like a wax candle left too long to burn. Instead she found a sharp inhale escaping at the ticklish brush of his breath on her hand, feeling his almost-touch down to her toes. His fingers were warm and agonisingly gentle, so much so that before Elena could change her mind she deliberately allowed her fingers to trail more slowly over the back of his hand. Her sister Agathe had said the gesture would hold a man's attention and it wasn't a tactic Elena had ever used before -there had never been a reason for her to. There had never been anyone at court who piqued her interest the way Leonidas had.
The expression on his face indicated the extra touch had been unnecessary, because when Leonidas straightened he looked a little like he'd been struck by lightning, or perhaps had taken a blow to the head. Paired with what she suspected was perpetually tousled hair, the effect was oddly endearing. Most of the people the young courtier interacted with were highly skilled at masking their true emotions -and intentions. It was reassuring to have visual confirmation of her affect on him, not to mention amusing. It was likely that her expressions were just as transparent to him, and she hoped that he didn't mistake her amusement as making fun of him.
She'd never been so nervous and excited about a person for as long as she could recall, and although her invitation had been sincerely offered, Elena hadn't really expected Leonidas to accept. She wasn't certain whether he too was nervous or excited but the energy was contagious and she found herself at a loss for words. Fortunately, he asked her to remain where she was for a moment, which gave the young noble time to process his agreement and close her parted-with-surprise lips. The market sounds and smells filled her senses as she watched him move away. His height provided him great advantages in crowds, she mused. The length of his stride was larger than most men, and she could see his head over the people around him quite easily. They were traits that would provide a strategic advantage in combat, whether that was in the arena or on the battlefield.
The market was busy but not crowded, allowing the young Marikas room to stand and breathe while she waited for Leonidas's return. It also provided the unique opportunity to observe him without him knowing she did so. Curiously, he went over to one of the vendors first and spoke with the man for a long moment. At the conversations end the men shook hands, which was even more strange to the courtier. She wasn't sure what that was about, nor did she concern herself for more than a moment with trying to figure it out. Perhaps the pair had some unfinished business or previous agreement. Elena could not stop her eyes from wandering over the flexing of male muscle once more. Her eyes turned skyward, wishing she'd brought something with which to fan herself before they were pulled magnetically back to admire the appeal of broad shoulders and tousled hair.
The sun felt hotter than before. His apparent business with the male vendor done, Leonidas moved on to his companion, the woman whose unhappy expression marred her otherwise beautiful face. Whatever Leonidas said made the woman frown more deeply, a strange contrast to his grin. The beauty was not pleased and a feeling in Elena's stomach suggested she might be the cause. It was uncomfortable to watch, so she did not, turning her gaze to the musician a short distance away while she sorted her memories to see if the woman was familiar. She remembered nothing helpful but luckily wasn't given much time to further decipher their relationship before Leonidas was striding back through the crowd with a pleased look on his face.
As he darted back through the crowd towards her, a pleased smile broke over her face. Regardless of his companion's obvious disapproval, Leonidas seemed happy enough to be returning to her side. Their chance meeting was such an unexpected turn of events and Elena was unused to such excitement that she could hardly contain the fluttering in her belly. It was a good thing she had suggested sitting down in the shade somewhere because she was afraid it could burst out at any moment. He'd called her 'my lady'. Again! Her cheeks bloomed with colour and she returned his shy smile. Now there was no way Elena could tell Myrine, for this was a secret too great, too wonderful, too personal to share.
"You may call me Elena, if you want. All my friends and family do." She offered him a shy smile. Perhaps he would refuse to call her by her name given his military training, but she hoped not. She already enjoyed the way his voice caressed her name far too much. "I thought we could make our way towards the Naos if you're agreeable? There's a wall in the shade of an apple tree on the way that seems the perfect place to rest."
It was all spoken with the tone of a question rather than a statement, betraying her remaining insecurities around his companionship. The spot she had in mind wasn't far, only a few minutes brisk walk from their current location. It was also out of the way enough to be far from prying eyes that they would not have to worry about being a source of gossip and there was a beautiful garden with fountain nearby if they wished to walk further on. Turning to face the same direction as her new companion, Elena began leading them out of the market down a side street.
"Perhaps while we walk you might tell me about yourself. How long have you been a member of the Athenian Guard? I've heard the training on acceptance is very demanding." A neutral topic with a simple line of questioning. How easily the ways Elena's mother had taught her -ways of putting men at ease- came to her now. It was as easy as breathing to ask the questions she wanted, because her curiosity was genuine and so was her wish to remove the stiff set of his shoulders. There were many other things she wished to ask and know about him, but this was a safe place to start.
Peach
Elena
Peach
Elena
Awards
First Impressions:Delicate; Kind smile, golden hair, soft hands, full lower lip
Address: Your Her Ladyship
One of the more remarkable things about people was that they had such a capacity to surprise you. Elena had thought she would give her name and be satisfied with that, but she was not. Who was this young soldier with both the pride to be offended by her words but also the affability to forgive when she wounded him? He seemed uncomfortable with her nearness, but their eyes had met across the market -he surely must have been looking at her. His obvious gulping for air communicated his discomfort and yet he continuously chose not to move away. Intrigued as she was, Elena needed to know more about him.
Leonidas's offered head tilt triggered a memory; after the pair had found the safety of a small side street at the spice market, Elena recalled that he had bowed before taking his leave. His attention to decorum in the midst of chaos had been admirable, if a little strange and unexpected. At the time the thought of a real introduction hadn't crossed her mind, which had still been dealing with the events that had unfolded. There had been no time for silly things like introductions and handshakes. After things had calmed and had a chance to digest what had happened however, there had been plenty of regret over not at least asking his name. It could be forgiven in such a stressful moment, but Elena had no intention of letting the opportunity pass a second time.
For a moment it seemed she had made yet another misstep by offering her hand. Her breath tightened in her chest. Leonidas inspected it as though he'd never been offered a handshake before, which was a ridiculous notion. As a military man the gesture should have been second nature and should not have given him pause. Elena considered that he might have taken issue with not the gesture, but who presented it.After all, there wasn't anything remarkable about her particular hand apart from perhaps the scabs on her palm. Oh, she half-hoped that he wouldn't accept it after all, if only to spare the embarrassment of him feeling its roughness. Injuries were unsightly for a courtier, especially a lady.
As his hand reached out to take hold of her own, Elena was finally able to release some of the breath she'd been holding. He was so delicate with his touch that she found it difficult to tell it his fingertips had reached her palm. It felt like the soldier had decided to see where this was going and he had finally committed himself by touching her for the first time. Her cheeks warmed at the way he gently took her fingers, leaning over her hand. It wasn't what she'd been expecting, but then, nothing about him had been what she'd expected. Was he about to kiss her hand? The fluttering in her chest was rising to a crescendo. The idea had never been so thrilling to the young courtier as it was at this moment, despite the potential scandal such a display could cause.
In the end Elena was disappointed he chose not to grace her hand with his lips, for if he had there was a very real possibility she'd have melted like a wax candle left too long to burn. Instead she found a sharp inhale escaping at the ticklish brush of his breath on her hand, feeling his almost-touch down to her toes. His fingers were warm and agonisingly gentle, so much so that before Elena could change her mind she deliberately allowed her fingers to trail more slowly over the back of his hand. Her sister Agathe had said the gesture would hold a man's attention and it wasn't a tactic Elena had ever used before -there had never been a reason for her to. There had never been anyone at court who piqued her interest the way Leonidas had.
The expression on his face indicated the extra touch had been unnecessary, because when Leonidas straightened he looked a little like he'd been struck by lightning, or perhaps had taken a blow to the head. Paired with what she suspected was perpetually tousled hair, the effect was oddly endearing. Most of the people the young courtier interacted with were highly skilled at masking their true emotions -and intentions. It was reassuring to have visual confirmation of her affect on him, not to mention amusing. It was likely that her expressions were just as transparent to him, and she hoped that he didn't mistake her amusement as making fun of him.
She'd never been so nervous and excited about a person for as long as she could recall, and although her invitation had been sincerely offered, Elena hadn't really expected Leonidas to accept. She wasn't certain whether he too was nervous or excited but the energy was contagious and she found herself at a loss for words. Fortunately, he asked her to remain where she was for a moment, which gave the young noble time to process his agreement and close her parted-with-surprise lips. The market sounds and smells filled her senses as she watched him move away. His height provided him great advantages in crowds, she mused. The length of his stride was larger than most men, and she could see his head over the people around him quite easily. They were traits that would provide a strategic advantage in combat, whether that was in the arena or on the battlefield.
The market was busy but not crowded, allowing the young Marikas room to stand and breathe while she waited for Leonidas's return. It also provided the unique opportunity to observe him without him knowing she did so. Curiously, he went over to one of the vendors first and spoke with the man for a long moment. At the conversations end the men shook hands, which was even more strange to the courtier. She wasn't sure what that was about, nor did she concern herself for more than a moment with trying to figure it out. Perhaps the pair had some unfinished business or previous agreement. Elena could not stop her eyes from wandering over the flexing of male muscle once more. Her eyes turned skyward, wishing she'd brought something with which to fan herself before they were pulled magnetically back to admire the appeal of broad shoulders and tousled hair.
The sun felt hotter than before. His apparent business with the male vendor done, Leonidas moved on to his companion, the woman whose unhappy expression marred her otherwise beautiful face. Whatever Leonidas said made the woman frown more deeply, a strange contrast to his grin. The beauty was not pleased and a feeling in Elena's stomach suggested she might be the cause. It was uncomfortable to watch, so she did not, turning her gaze to the musician a short distance away while she sorted her memories to see if the woman was familiar. She remembered nothing helpful but luckily wasn't given much time to further decipher their relationship before Leonidas was striding back through the crowd with a pleased look on his face.
As he darted back through the crowd towards her, a pleased smile broke over her face. Regardless of his companion's obvious disapproval, Leonidas seemed happy enough to be returning to her side. Their chance meeting was such an unexpected turn of events and Elena was unused to such excitement that she could hardly contain the fluttering in her belly. It was a good thing she had suggested sitting down in the shade somewhere because she was afraid it could burst out at any moment. He'd called her 'my lady'. Again! Her cheeks bloomed with colour and she returned his shy smile. Now there was no way Elena could tell Myrine, for this was a secret too great, too wonderful, too personal to share.
"You may call me Elena, if you want. All my friends and family do." She offered him a shy smile. Perhaps he would refuse to call her by her name given his military training, but she hoped not. She already enjoyed the way his voice caressed her name far too much. "I thought we could make our way towards the Naos if you're agreeable? There's a wall in the shade of an apple tree on the way that seems the perfect place to rest."
It was all spoken with the tone of a question rather than a statement, betraying her remaining insecurities around his companionship. The spot she had in mind wasn't far, only a few minutes brisk walk from their current location. It was also out of the way enough to be far from prying eyes that they would not have to worry about being a source of gossip and there was a beautiful garden with fountain nearby if they wished to walk further on. Turning to face the same direction as her new companion, Elena began leading them out of the market down a side street.
"Perhaps while we walk you might tell me about yourself. How long have you been a member of the Athenian Guard? I've heard the training on acceptance is very demanding." A neutral topic with a simple line of questioning. How easily the ways Elena's mother had taught her -ways of putting men at ease- came to her now. It was as easy as breathing to ask the questions she wanted, because her curiosity was genuine and so was her wish to remove the stiff set of his shoulders. There were many other things she wished to ask and know about him, but this was a safe place to start.
One of the more remarkable things about people was that they had such a capacity to surprise you. Elena had thought she would give her name and be satisfied with that, but she was not. Who was this young soldier with both the pride to be offended by her words but also the affability to forgive when she wounded him? He seemed uncomfortable with her nearness, but their eyes had met across the market -he surely must have been looking at her. His obvious gulping for air communicated his discomfort and yet he continuously chose not to move away. Intrigued as she was, Elena needed to know more about him.
Leonidas's offered head tilt triggered a memory; after the pair had found the safety of a small side street at the spice market, Elena recalled that he had bowed before taking his leave. His attention to decorum in the midst of chaos had been admirable, if a little strange and unexpected. At the time the thought of a real introduction hadn't crossed her mind, which had still been dealing with the events that had unfolded. There had been no time for silly things like introductions and handshakes. After things had calmed and had a chance to digest what had happened however, there had been plenty of regret over not at least asking his name. It could be forgiven in such a stressful moment, but Elena had no intention of letting the opportunity pass a second time.
For a moment it seemed she had made yet another misstep by offering her hand. Her breath tightened in her chest. Leonidas inspected it as though he'd never been offered a handshake before, which was a ridiculous notion. As a military man the gesture should have been second nature and should not have given him pause. Elena considered that he might have taken issue with not the gesture, but who presented it.After all, there wasn't anything remarkable about her particular hand apart from perhaps the scabs on her palm. Oh, she half-hoped that he wouldn't accept it after all, if only to spare the embarrassment of him feeling its roughness. Injuries were unsightly for a courtier, especially a lady.
As his hand reached out to take hold of her own, Elena was finally able to release some of the breath she'd been holding. He was so delicate with his touch that she found it difficult to tell it his fingertips had reached her palm. It felt like the soldier had decided to see where this was going and he had finally committed himself by touching her for the first time. Her cheeks warmed at the way he gently took her fingers, leaning over her hand. It wasn't what she'd been expecting, but then, nothing about him had been what she'd expected. Was he about to kiss her hand? The fluttering in her chest was rising to a crescendo. The idea had never been so thrilling to the young courtier as it was at this moment, despite the potential scandal such a display could cause.
In the end Elena was disappointed he chose not to grace her hand with his lips, for if he had there was a very real possibility she'd have melted like a wax candle left too long to burn. Instead she found a sharp inhale escaping at the ticklish brush of his breath on her hand, feeling his almost-touch down to her toes. His fingers were warm and agonisingly gentle, so much so that before Elena could change her mind she deliberately allowed her fingers to trail more slowly over the back of his hand. Her sister Agathe had said the gesture would hold a man's attention and it wasn't a tactic Elena had ever used before -there had never been a reason for her to. There had never been anyone at court who piqued her interest the way Leonidas had.
The expression on his face indicated the extra touch had been unnecessary, because when Leonidas straightened he looked a little like he'd been struck by lightning, or perhaps had taken a blow to the head. Paired with what she suspected was perpetually tousled hair, the effect was oddly endearing. Most of the people the young courtier interacted with were highly skilled at masking their true emotions -and intentions. It was reassuring to have visual confirmation of her affect on him, not to mention amusing. It was likely that her expressions were just as transparent to him, and she hoped that he didn't mistake her amusement as making fun of him.
She'd never been so nervous and excited about a person for as long as she could recall, and although her invitation had been sincerely offered, Elena hadn't really expected Leonidas to accept. She wasn't certain whether he too was nervous or excited but the energy was contagious and she found herself at a loss for words. Fortunately, he asked her to remain where she was for a moment, which gave the young noble time to process his agreement and close her parted-with-surprise lips. The market sounds and smells filled her senses as she watched him move away. His height provided him great advantages in crowds, she mused. The length of his stride was larger than most men, and she could see his head over the people around him quite easily. They were traits that would provide a strategic advantage in combat, whether that was in the arena or on the battlefield.
The market was busy but not crowded, allowing the young Marikas room to stand and breathe while she waited for Leonidas's return. It also provided the unique opportunity to observe him without him knowing she did so. Curiously, he went over to one of the vendors first and spoke with the man for a long moment. At the conversations end the men shook hands, which was even more strange to the courtier. She wasn't sure what that was about, nor did she concern herself for more than a moment with trying to figure it out. Perhaps the pair had some unfinished business or previous agreement. Elena could not stop her eyes from wandering over the flexing of male muscle once more. Her eyes turned skyward, wishing she'd brought something with which to fan herself before they were pulled magnetically back to admire the appeal of broad shoulders and tousled hair.
The sun felt hotter than before. His apparent business with the male vendor done, Leonidas moved on to his companion, the woman whose unhappy expression marred her otherwise beautiful face. Whatever Leonidas said made the woman frown more deeply, a strange contrast to his grin. The beauty was not pleased and a feeling in Elena's stomach suggested she might be the cause. It was uncomfortable to watch, so she did not, turning her gaze to the musician a short distance away while she sorted her memories to see if the woman was familiar. She remembered nothing helpful but luckily wasn't given much time to further decipher their relationship before Leonidas was striding back through the crowd with a pleased look on his face.
As he darted back through the crowd towards her, a pleased smile broke over her face. Regardless of his companion's obvious disapproval, Leonidas seemed happy enough to be returning to her side. Their chance meeting was such an unexpected turn of events and Elena was unused to such excitement that she could hardly contain the fluttering in her belly. It was a good thing she had suggested sitting down in the shade somewhere because she was afraid it could burst out at any moment. He'd called her 'my lady'. Again! Her cheeks bloomed with colour and she returned his shy smile. Now there was no way Elena could tell Myrine, for this was a secret too great, too wonderful, too personal to share.
"You may call me Elena, if you want. All my friends and family do." She offered him a shy smile. Perhaps he would refuse to call her by her name given his military training, but she hoped not. She already enjoyed the way his voice caressed her name far too much. "I thought we could make our way towards the Naos if you're agreeable? There's a wall in the shade of an apple tree on the way that seems the perfect place to rest."
It was all spoken with the tone of a question rather than a statement, betraying her remaining insecurities around his companionship. The spot she had in mind wasn't far, only a few minutes brisk walk from their current location. It was also out of the way enough to be far from prying eyes that they would not have to worry about being a source of gossip and there was a beautiful garden with fountain nearby if they wished to walk further on. Turning to face the same direction as her new companion, Elena began leading them out of the market down a side street.
"Perhaps while we walk you might tell me about yourself. How long have you been a member of the Athenian Guard? I've heard the training on acceptance is very demanding." A neutral topic with a simple line of questioning. How easily the ways Elena's mother had taught her -ways of putting men at ease- came to her now. It was as easy as breathing to ask the questions she wanted, because her curiosity was genuine and so was her wish to remove the stiff set of his shoulders. There were many other things she wished to ask and know about him, but this was a safe place to start.
The young lady seemed a little surprised when Leo hurried off to speak with his mother but he was reassured when he came back to her through the crowd and found his smile returned. Her eyes bright and her hair golden in the sunshine, he found it hard not to notice little dimples appearing in her cheeks. It was probably very wrong to think of a fine lady as 'cute' but it was the word that came to his mind!
'You may call me Elena, if you want. All my friends and family do.'
The offer was sweetly meant but threw Leo into a quandary he was becoming fairly used to by now. This young noble lady was telling him to do all kinds of things that he had always been severely warned against. If not in person or by direct word then at least by osmosis, as the world around him operated in a particular manner. To a set of clear rules and boundaries.
Did she think him of a more elevated state than he was? She had alluded to servants earlier... Or perhaps she was just one of those 'odd' nobles who didn't care for social niceties and regulations. In which case, Leo was pleased. Because even as he lived his life by them in order to keep his head, he didn't much favor them either.
"I er..." he thought carefully about how to answer her suggestion as she gave him a shy smile that had his heart jump about in his chest. "I would like to follow through on that request, my lady, but I fear those who overhear might not be so allowing of it as you? I would not want to be the cause of any aspersions..." He hoped that was the right word. Aspersions meant rumors, right? The last thing he needed was his existence becoming to her what it was to the Antonis - a black stain on their otherwise gleaming record. "Perhaps I'll stick to 'my lady' for now. Unless it bothers you?" If it did, he was going to be very stuck but there it went.
When she offered up a suggestion for somewhere they might sit in the shade, Leonidas had no compunctions about opening up an arm to indicate the road ahead of them and gesturing for her to lead the way. He walked with her, trying to remember to keep to her side instead of two steps to her rear, where guards were often expected to walk.
'Perhaps while we walk you might tell me about yourself. How long have you been a member of the Athenian Guard? I've heard the training on acceptance is very demanding.'
Leonidas thought about this for a moment, nodding and smiling to a familiar vendor who passed them by as he considered his answer.
"It was... challenging. But I don't think it was as difficult for me as for some. I did the training a little late," he cleared his throat, not sure if he should admit to why his beginnings in the Guard were tardy compared to some of the other soldiers who enlisted as soon as they were legally able, "so I was already taller and bigger than the others who were joining at the same time. I've been in the Guard now for nearly nine years." It had taken him six of those to work up to Lieutenant.
As they walked, Leo felt a little odd talking about himself. No one had ever sought to know much about his life before. Especially not someone like a pretty noblewoman. It was a bizarre feeling. It made him feel the need to stand a little straighter and puff out his chest. But he resisted the urge to walk like a stuck-up peacock and, brushed the back of his hand over his nose and glanced at the woman beside him.
"What is it you do with your day, if I'm allowed to ask, my lady? I never did much know what fine ladies occupy their time with...?"
JD
Leonidas
JD
Leonidas
Awards
First Impressions:Slender; Prominent cheekbones, bright blue eyes, tendon-heavy hands.
Address: Your
The young lady seemed a little surprised when Leo hurried off to speak with his mother but he was reassured when he came back to her through the crowd and found his smile returned. Her eyes bright and her hair golden in the sunshine, he found it hard not to notice little dimples appearing in her cheeks. It was probably very wrong to think of a fine lady as 'cute' but it was the word that came to his mind!
'You may call me Elena, if you want. All my friends and family do.'
The offer was sweetly meant but threw Leo into a quandary he was becoming fairly used to by now. This young noble lady was telling him to do all kinds of things that he had always been severely warned against. If not in person or by direct word then at least by osmosis, as the world around him operated in a particular manner. To a set of clear rules and boundaries.
Did she think him of a more elevated state than he was? She had alluded to servants earlier... Or perhaps she was just one of those 'odd' nobles who didn't care for social niceties and regulations. In which case, Leo was pleased. Because even as he lived his life by them in order to keep his head, he didn't much favor them either.
"I er..." he thought carefully about how to answer her suggestion as she gave him a shy smile that had his heart jump about in his chest. "I would like to follow through on that request, my lady, but I fear those who overhear might not be so allowing of it as you? I would not want to be the cause of any aspersions..." He hoped that was the right word. Aspersions meant rumors, right? The last thing he needed was his existence becoming to her what it was to the Antonis - a black stain on their otherwise gleaming record. "Perhaps I'll stick to 'my lady' for now. Unless it bothers you?" If it did, he was going to be very stuck but there it went.
When she offered up a suggestion for somewhere they might sit in the shade, Leonidas had no compunctions about opening up an arm to indicate the road ahead of them and gesturing for her to lead the way. He walked with her, trying to remember to keep to her side instead of two steps to her rear, where guards were often expected to walk.
'Perhaps while we walk you might tell me about yourself. How long have you been a member of the Athenian Guard? I've heard the training on acceptance is very demanding.'
Leonidas thought about this for a moment, nodding and smiling to a familiar vendor who passed them by as he considered his answer.
"It was... challenging. But I don't think it was as difficult for me as for some. I did the training a little late," he cleared his throat, not sure if he should admit to why his beginnings in the Guard were tardy compared to some of the other soldiers who enlisted as soon as they were legally able, "so I was already taller and bigger than the others who were joining at the same time. I've been in the Guard now for nearly nine years." It had taken him six of those to work up to Lieutenant.
As they walked, Leo felt a little odd talking about himself. No one had ever sought to know much about his life before. Especially not someone like a pretty noblewoman. It was a bizarre feeling. It made him feel the need to stand a little straighter and puff out his chest. But he resisted the urge to walk like a stuck-up peacock and, brushed the back of his hand over his nose and glanced at the woman beside him.
"What is it you do with your day, if I'm allowed to ask, my lady? I never did much know what fine ladies occupy their time with...?"
The young lady seemed a little surprised when Leo hurried off to speak with his mother but he was reassured when he came back to her through the crowd and found his smile returned. Her eyes bright and her hair golden in the sunshine, he found it hard not to notice little dimples appearing in her cheeks. It was probably very wrong to think of a fine lady as 'cute' but it was the word that came to his mind!
'You may call me Elena, if you want. All my friends and family do.'
The offer was sweetly meant but threw Leo into a quandary he was becoming fairly used to by now. This young noble lady was telling him to do all kinds of things that he had always been severely warned against. If not in person or by direct word then at least by osmosis, as the world around him operated in a particular manner. To a set of clear rules and boundaries.
Did she think him of a more elevated state than he was? She had alluded to servants earlier... Or perhaps she was just one of those 'odd' nobles who didn't care for social niceties and regulations. In which case, Leo was pleased. Because even as he lived his life by them in order to keep his head, he didn't much favor them either.
"I er..." he thought carefully about how to answer her suggestion as she gave him a shy smile that had his heart jump about in his chest. "I would like to follow through on that request, my lady, but I fear those who overhear might not be so allowing of it as you? I would not want to be the cause of any aspersions..." He hoped that was the right word. Aspersions meant rumors, right? The last thing he needed was his existence becoming to her what it was to the Antonis - a black stain on their otherwise gleaming record. "Perhaps I'll stick to 'my lady' for now. Unless it bothers you?" If it did, he was going to be very stuck but there it went.
When she offered up a suggestion for somewhere they might sit in the shade, Leonidas had no compunctions about opening up an arm to indicate the road ahead of them and gesturing for her to lead the way. He walked with her, trying to remember to keep to her side instead of two steps to her rear, where guards were often expected to walk.
'Perhaps while we walk you might tell me about yourself. How long have you been a member of the Athenian Guard? I've heard the training on acceptance is very demanding.'
Leonidas thought about this for a moment, nodding and smiling to a familiar vendor who passed them by as he considered his answer.
"It was... challenging. But I don't think it was as difficult for me as for some. I did the training a little late," he cleared his throat, not sure if he should admit to why his beginnings in the Guard were tardy compared to some of the other soldiers who enlisted as soon as they were legally able, "so I was already taller and bigger than the others who were joining at the same time. I've been in the Guard now for nearly nine years." It had taken him six of those to work up to Lieutenant.
As they walked, Leo felt a little odd talking about himself. No one had ever sought to know much about his life before. Especially not someone like a pretty noblewoman. It was a bizarre feeling. It made him feel the need to stand a little straighter and puff out his chest. But he resisted the urge to walk like a stuck-up peacock and, brushed the back of his hand over his nose and glanced at the woman beside him.
"What is it you do with your day, if I'm allowed to ask, my lady? I never did much know what fine ladies occupy their time with...?"
Making their way down the street, the crowd began to thin. There were still people, but it was no longer as congested as the marketplace. For that, Elena was grateful. There were too many eyes at the market. This was better. And now Leonidas was actually able to look at her, although he kept lagging slightly behind as they walked.
His hair was sun-kissed, likely a hazard of his profession. The perpetual state of disarray of his hair seemed to be caused by the man continuously running his hands through it -like right now. She asked him to call her by her name, her informal name. She’d been truthful when she told him her friends and family used it, although it was a given that this only occurred in less formal settings. Her request seemed to amuse him, and at the very least it broke the tension between them. His gentle refusal came with a reminder that they were indeed uncertain who might be watching, or listening to them, and she nodded slowly at his words.
“Of course. It doesn’t bother me a bit. My apologies, sometimes I forget myself.” She tried to hide her pleasure at hearing him call her ‘my lady’ yet again. They took a dozen more steps before she felt compelled to ask another question. “Given that neither of us want to be the cause of any aspersions,” her tongue slipped carefully over the word, “what would be the best way for me to address you? Would you prefer Lieutenant?” His rank had been ingrained in her memory since the market attack. She’d certainly been close enough to his uniform for that much to have made it’s way into her memory. That he would care so much for how their familiarity would reflect on her was… sweet. Her chest warmed at his thoughtfulness.
Asking about his profession seemed to have been a good choice. Leonidas spoke at some length on his entry into the Athenian guard, and she listened with rapt attention, occasionally nodding along to indicate her continued interest. Nine years! She looked at him with fresh eyes, realising that he must have been older than she'd first thought. Despite the shadow of hair on his cheeks and chin, she’d thought him younger than herself. His boyish grin as he’d crossed the market to bid his companion farewell had given the impression of youth, but according to what he was saying now, he must have been older.
He spoke of his late entry, but she thought very little about the possible reasons that could have caused him to enlist so late. “I guess you’ve likely gotten used to the idea that you’re taller than most by now.” Her teasing tone matched her grin as she squinted and pretended to shield her eyes from the sun. “You’re certainly not difficult to keep track of in a crowd.” Her laugh echoed off the houses lining the nearly empty street, once again inviting him to join in.
It was the first moment Elena had felt completely at ease in his presence. It was nice.
His inquiries about how she spent her time were a bit strange, although Elena’s face didn’t show it. Men typically weren’t interested in the women around them at all, much less interested enough to ask questions about how their days were spent. Setting these facts aside, she responded with great enthusiasm. “I help my mother run the household, although she hardly needs me at all. Between her and my grandmother, they manage just fine. I run errands with the servants if they need an extra set of hands, and I spend some of my time sitting with my cousins, weaving. I’m much better than I used to be, and it’s so relaxing that I find myself getting lost in the work at times. I sometime attend court with my grandmother when she needs an escort. And if there’s time left over, I use the time to read.” It was too embarrassing to mention that her favourite things to read were tales and poems of adventure and romance, but she blushed at the unspoken thoughts.
They turned in unison to turn down the correct street. They were nearing the Naos now, the street gradually widening out to make space for the heavy foot traffic that filled the area at certain times of year. Nothing of note was happening today, so their path was likely to be quiet. “I thinking we can leave the path up here and find some shade from the sun. It shouldn’t be much further.” Being an Athenian guard meant he likely knew the entire area better than she, although she came this way regularly to pray. The fruit she had brought would taste all the better after their exercise.
There was a question that had been begging to be answered since they left the market. Part of her didn’t want to know the answer, but she was full of curiosity. “If you don’t mind me asking, who was the woman you attended the market with? She’s not… your wife, is she?” Too uncomfortable to look at him in this moment, she kicked a pebble with her foot, sending it along the path in front of her. “She was very beautiful, but she didn’t seem happy to be left there.” Her eyes scanned the area in front of them and they entered the outer gardens of the Naos.
Peach
Elena
Peach
Elena
Awards
First Impressions:Delicate; Kind smile, golden hair, soft hands, full lower lip
Address: Your Her Ladyship
Making their way down the street, the crowd began to thin. There were still people, but it was no longer as congested as the marketplace. For that, Elena was grateful. There were too many eyes at the market. This was better. And now Leonidas was actually able to look at her, although he kept lagging slightly behind as they walked.
His hair was sun-kissed, likely a hazard of his profession. The perpetual state of disarray of his hair seemed to be caused by the man continuously running his hands through it -like right now. She asked him to call her by her name, her informal name. She’d been truthful when she told him her friends and family used it, although it was a given that this only occurred in less formal settings. Her request seemed to amuse him, and at the very least it broke the tension between them. His gentle refusal came with a reminder that they were indeed uncertain who might be watching, or listening to them, and she nodded slowly at his words.
“Of course. It doesn’t bother me a bit. My apologies, sometimes I forget myself.” She tried to hide her pleasure at hearing him call her ‘my lady’ yet again. They took a dozen more steps before she felt compelled to ask another question. “Given that neither of us want to be the cause of any aspersions,” her tongue slipped carefully over the word, “what would be the best way for me to address you? Would you prefer Lieutenant?” His rank had been ingrained in her memory since the market attack. She’d certainly been close enough to his uniform for that much to have made it’s way into her memory. That he would care so much for how their familiarity would reflect on her was… sweet. Her chest warmed at his thoughtfulness.
Asking about his profession seemed to have been a good choice. Leonidas spoke at some length on his entry into the Athenian guard, and she listened with rapt attention, occasionally nodding along to indicate her continued interest. Nine years! She looked at him with fresh eyes, realising that he must have been older than she'd first thought. Despite the shadow of hair on his cheeks and chin, she’d thought him younger than herself. His boyish grin as he’d crossed the market to bid his companion farewell had given the impression of youth, but according to what he was saying now, he must have been older.
He spoke of his late entry, but she thought very little about the possible reasons that could have caused him to enlist so late. “I guess you’ve likely gotten used to the idea that you’re taller than most by now.” Her teasing tone matched her grin as she squinted and pretended to shield her eyes from the sun. “You’re certainly not difficult to keep track of in a crowd.” Her laugh echoed off the houses lining the nearly empty street, once again inviting him to join in.
It was the first moment Elena had felt completely at ease in his presence. It was nice.
His inquiries about how she spent her time were a bit strange, although Elena’s face didn’t show it. Men typically weren’t interested in the women around them at all, much less interested enough to ask questions about how their days were spent. Setting these facts aside, she responded with great enthusiasm. “I help my mother run the household, although she hardly needs me at all. Between her and my grandmother, they manage just fine. I run errands with the servants if they need an extra set of hands, and I spend some of my time sitting with my cousins, weaving. I’m much better than I used to be, and it’s so relaxing that I find myself getting lost in the work at times. I sometime attend court with my grandmother when she needs an escort. And if there’s time left over, I use the time to read.” It was too embarrassing to mention that her favourite things to read were tales and poems of adventure and romance, but she blushed at the unspoken thoughts.
They turned in unison to turn down the correct street. They were nearing the Naos now, the street gradually widening out to make space for the heavy foot traffic that filled the area at certain times of year. Nothing of note was happening today, so their path was likely to be quiet. “I thinking we can leave the path up here and find some shade from the sun. It shouldn’t be much further.” Being an Athenian guard meant he likely knew the entire area better than she, although she came this way regularly to pray. The fruit she had brought would taste all the better after their exercise.
There was a question that had been begging to be answered since they left the market. Part of her didn’t want to know the answer, but she was full of curiosity. “If you don’t mind me asking, who was the woman you attended the market with? She’s not… your wife, is she?” Too uncomfortable to look at him in this moment, she kicked a pebble with her foot, sending it along the path in front of her. “She was very beautiful, but she didn’t seem happy to be left there.” Her eyes scanned the area in front of them and they entered the outer gardens of the Naos.
Making their way down the street, the crowd began to thin. There were still people, but it was no longer as congested as the marketplace. For that, Elena was grateful. There were too many eyes at the market. This was better. And now Leonidas was actually able to look at her, although he kept lagging slightly behind as they walked.
His hair was sun-kissed, likely a hazard of his profession. The perpetual state of disarray of his hair seemed to be caused by the man continuously running his hands through it -like right now. She asked him to call her by her name, her informal name. She’d been truthful when she told him her friends and family used it, although it was a given that this only occurred in less formal settings. Her request seemed to amuse him, and at the very least it broke the tension between them. His gentle refusal came with a reminder that they were indeed uncertain who might be watching, or listening to them, and she nodded slowly at his words.
“Of course. It doesn’t bother me a bit. My apologies, sometimes I forget myself.” She tried to hide her pleasure at hearing him call her ‘my lady’ yet again. They took a dozen more steps before she felt compelled to ask another question. “Given that neither of us want to be the cause of any aspersions,” her tongue slipped carefully over the word, “what would be the best way for me to address you? Would you prefer Lieutenant?” His rank had been ingrained in her memory since the market attack. She’d certainly been close enough to his uniform for that much to have made it’s way into her memory. That he would care so much for how their familiarity would reflect on her was… sweet. Her chest warmed at his thoughtfulness.
Asking about his profession seemed to have been a good choice. Leonidas spoke at some length on his entry into the Athenian guard, and she listened with rapt attention, occasionally nodding along to indicate her continued interest. Nine years! She looked at him with fresh eyes, realising that he must have been older than she'd first thought. Despite the shadow of hair on his cheeks and chin, she’d thought him younger than herself. His boyish grin as he’d crossed the market to bid his companion farewell had given the impression of youth, but according to what he was saying now, he must have been older.
He spoke of his late entry, but she thought very little about the possible reasons that could have caused him to enlist so late. “I guess you’ve likely gotten used to the idea that you’re taller than most by now.” Her teasing tone matched her grin as she squinted and pretended to shield her eyes from the sun. “You’re certainly not difficult to keep track of in a crowd.” Her laugh echoed off the houses lining the nearly empty street, once again inviting him to join in.
It was the first moment Elena had felt completely at ease in his presence. It was nice.
His inquiries about how she spent her time were a bit strange, although Elena’s face didn’t show it. Men typically weren’t interested in the women around them at all, much less interested enough to ask questions about how their days were spent. Setting these facts aside, she responded with great enthusiasm. “I help my mother run the household, although she hardly needs me at all. Between her and my grandmother, they manage just fine. I run errands with the servants if they need an extra set of hands, and I spend some of my time sitting with my cousins, weaving. I’m much better than I used to be, and it’s so relaxing that I find myself getting lost in the work at times. I sometime attend court with my grandmother when she needs an escort. And if there’s time left over, I use the time to read.” It was too embarrassing to mention that her favourite things to read were tales and poems of adventure and romance, but she blushed at the unspoken thoughts.
They turned in unison to turn down the correct street. They were nearing the Naos now, the street gradually widening out to make space for the heavy foot traffic that filled the area at certain times of year. Nothing of note was happening today, so their path was likely to be quiet. “I thinking we can leave the path up here and find some shade from the sun. It shouldn’t be much further.” Being an Athenian guard meant he likely knew the entire area better than she, although she came this way regularly to pray. The fruit she had brought would taste all the better after their exercise.
There was a question that had been begging to be answered since they left the market. Part of her didn’t want to know the answer, but she was full of curiosity. “If you don’t mind me asking, who was the woman you attended the market with? She’s not… your wife, is she?” Too uncomfortable to look at him in this moment, she kicked a pebble with her foot, sending it along the path in front of her. “She was very beautiful, but she didn’t seem happy to be left there.” Her eyes scanned the area in front of them and they entered the outer gardens of the Naos.
