Who: Abigail and Rena What: An evening out Where: Outside Madison's Pub When: Evening Rating: Low Status: Threaded, Complete
It's a rare evening alone, and Abigail finds herself sneaking out the back entrance of the brothel. She carefully closes the door behind her, pulling her hood up and wrapping her cloak close around her. The stars are out, the air crisp and clean and cool as she walks over well-traveled stones, careful of her step so as not to twist her ankle. It isn't always easy for a girl as naturally clumsy as she can be, but she makes her way down the road; most of the shops are closed up for the evening, though a few windows are lit by the candles inside. It's quiet out, and she can't help but enjoy the silence, taking comfort in its relative peace.
She crosses the bridge toward the center of town, nearly stumbling over a few uneven stones, and she hears all sorts of sounds as she finds herself approaching the pub. She slows, coming to a stop not far from the main doors of the inn-- a gentleman approaches her, asking if she's lost but she shakes her head, effectively sending him on his way.
She can't quite bring herself to go inside; she can't even begin to imagine the trouble she'd find herself in, not only with the madame, but from Thomas himself. She hears laughter from inside; closing her eyes, she can almost imagine his face, almost pick out his voice from the crowd.
It isn't the first time she's been here like this, but she could never bring herself to go inside. There's music- somebody has picked up a fiddle- and singing; she wonders if he sings along. There's a lot of movement, a lot of people- the business seems to be doing well and she couldn't be happier for him. She isn't even sure how long she stands there, telling herself to move, to take the first step toward the doors of that pub, to find him, but she cannot. No matter what she tells herself, she does not have the courage to walk inside and say hello. She's afraid of what she might find, afraid that he might throw her out and back into the lonely night.
There's the sound of a door opening, coming from somewhere above her. She looks up to the building and sees a trap door flip open on the roof, a man climbing out of it. She recognizes his form and gasps softly, wheeling around- what if he notices her? Her skirts settle back near her ankles and she grasps them as she begins to walk in the opposite direction, heart breaking just a little more with every step away from the inn.
She's paying little attention in her haste to get away and she trips on the stones, gasping softly as her hands come up to catch her. She's afraid she may have twisted her ankle, but perhaps it would be fine with just a little rest. Oh, the Madame is going to be so angry if she has- how could she explain it? She couldn't tell her that she'd been out- that she'd been here. Sitting up, her hands move to check her ankle and she hears footsteps approaching her from nearby.