5th floor
Daisy woke with a start. She strained in the darkness to hear, her heart pounding. Something was wrong -- but what? Vaguely, outside the castle -- castle? -- there was a ruckus. Movement. Courtiers, perhaps. Courtiers. Daisy reached out to pull back the curtains from around her bed when she stopped herself. Since when did she sleep in a four poster bed?
As she slid out of bed, however, her panic abated a bit. The room wasn't quite right, not really, but it was familiar: cold stone warmed by the low fire smoldering in the fire place. Fur rugs and coverlets and robes to help. She dressed without the help of her maid -- what maid? -- and pulled on her kirtle and cote then one of the sleeveless fur robes. Considerably warmer, Daisy shuffled out of the bedroom and into -- not the living room, but a kind of anteroom. The panic returned. Everything was wrong, but right, but wrong.
Uneasy, she paced the cold, stony space, mentally and physically wringing her hands. If only Robin Hood where here. That's all she could think of, over and over. If he were here, she would be safe; she would know he was safe. Everyone would be safe and she could go back to sleep...
But he wasn't here. That unavoidable fact plagued her until Daisy decided to find him. It was completely inappropriate, of course, for a lady of her standing to seek out a criminal --
Daisy shook her head, trying to get rid of the freaky daydream. Normally she quite enjoyed her medieval Renaissance fantasies but right now they weren't helping. She finally decided Rick might be able to help, even though she felt vaguely nervous about the sheriff, for some reason...
It took some effort to open the door -- the wood didn't quite fit into the jamb, as if it had warped from years of cold winters and wet summers -- but finally, she was in the corridor, and she could see both the plain plaster walls and more cold stone. Strangely, it was bothering her less and less.
Shuffling again -- the layers of skirts were kind of constricting, Daisy thought, and she wondered why she didn't just put jeans on -- she stopped at the room where Rick resided but the weird anxiety kept her from knocking. A woman at a man's door, at this time of night?