| Title |
| Summary: | Lady Adeliade d'Augustino regrets her choices in footwear. |
| Date: | 1865-09-10 |
| Related: | All related to the White Hall Raid of Septebre 1865 on Four Corners |
| NPCs: | {$npc} |
| Players: |
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These shoes.
She remembered the day she saw them, their soft, slam skin soles, delicate silk uppers. She remembered the lush red and how it looked against the pale of her feet, how she loved the way it drew attention when her dainty little toes poked out from under particularly long skirts such as those she was wearing today.
She had never anticipated running in them.
She had never realized how every stone and crack in the ally would press through those thing, manor house soles, would bruise feet that were made for fine carpets and nightly massages.
Every now and then she would catch a glimpse of those red slippers, as she ran with her skirts hiked up around her knees to give her a better stride. They looked darker now though. Was that from the mud? From the water? Was it Victor's blood?
She could hear them laughing behind her, those brutal beasts. If they had come upon her in the house. If they had come upon her in the garden. But no… they had to come while she was on her way home from the market…
Ahead though. Ahead the al'Sylenthar estate. She could see it… every gasp for air seared her lungs. Her sides throbbed and begged her to stop. Her legs were starting to feel numb. She forced herself on, yelling as she drew closer. "OPEN THE GATE! It's Lady Adelaide d'Augustino! Open the fucking gate!"
Across the street, she hurled herself at it full force. It would open, it would open. Alina would never leave her out here.
It didn't though. She hit it, solid as a wall. There was no sound from the other side. There was no movement.
"For the love of the One…" She gasped against the unyielding wood.
Lay down. Said her legs. Lay down. Gasped her lungs.
And she could hear them laughing. Coming.
If she ever saw Alina again, she vowed, she would mention that the al'Sylenthar lady is starting to get grey hair. And wrinkles. Oh so many wrinkles.
Yes. Holding tight to that thought she forced herself back off the gate. Made her legs start moving again.
There was a moment of light headedness and then pain down to the roots of her hair as a giant hand tightened in that copper coff, sending priceless pins and clips scattering around the street, that huge arm wrapping around her middle.
His rough voice seared her ear with promises that made her regret ever learning their barbaric tongue as he hauled her back the way she'd just run from.