derrick. (purelyderrick) wrote in unforgivenrpg, @ 2010-08-23 14:27:00 |
|
|||
The excitement from being released was a fleeting feeling, one that did not last more than but a moment. From one prison to the next, Angelina thought, sighing. She was emotionally drained, physically sore, spiritually weak, and all around not doing her best, which certainly didn't put her in a mood for putting up with her newly announced fiance. Fuck Thomas Derrick. Fuck the AMP. Fuck Voldemort. This new society was certainly not an improvement by any means. That being stated, Angelina was still relieved she was somewhat free. She was relieved not to have fallen a worse state, permanent imprisonment, slave hood, death... Angelina despite her involvement with the Order, had managed to talk her way out of what could have been a much worse fate, denying her involvement with the war was anything beyond her volunteer work at St. Mungos. They couldn't, after all, prove otherwise. Angelina had been taken as she left St. Mungo's, not a captured rebel during any sort of skirmish, certainly helping lend a little bit of credibility to her story. Or, perhaps, they were particularly desperate for more Pureblood women? Escorted to her new home, to meet her new fiancé (whom she knew from school, but nothing further than Quidditch and House Rivalries), all Angelina wanted was a long, hot bath, a comfortable bed, and a lot of alcohol. Perhaps some good food, too, but her appetite hadn't really begun to return yet. She had nothing with her, but had found that her parents had been instructed (and followed up on) to owl some of her belongings to the Derrick estate, so at least she would have clean clothes to change into, and her own, familiar belongings. It wasn't much, but it was something. She sighed as Thomas gave her the tour of her new home, looked at him with such disdain and disinterest, it was if he was boring her to death literally. Back to the bath, bed, and alcohol desires. "Are we finished, yet?" she asked, an eyebrow raised slightly. "Where, may I ask, is my room?" Thomas was not much more pleased with this arrangement than Angelina was. He was loyal to the cause and to his Lord, but this was not how he had pictured settling down and starting a family when he was younger. He had always imagined that he would meet and fall in love with a lovely young woman - a redhead, perhaps. He had always had a thing for gingers - whom he would court and eventually propose to, followed by a lavish wedding and a handful of perfect children. He had never anticipated being forced to marry someone with whom he had little to nothing in common, someone who so clearly despised him. For his part, Thomas held no animosity for the woman he was betrothed to. Would it do any good? At any rate, she was quite pretty or would be once she’d cleaned up and he remembered vaguely from school that she had a bit of spunk to her. Perhaps being tied to her wouldn’t be so bad if he had a chance to prove that he wasn’t such a horrible man. He should have known the Gryffindor couldn’t let go of her ridiculous prejudices long enough to give him that chance, though. “Your room?” he questioned her, smirking slightly with amusement. “Were you under the impression that you would have your own quarters?” No, he wasn’t a bad guy by his own standards, but he could on occasion be a right bastard and right now he felt like giving as good as he was getting. “The master bath is this way,” he gestured. He was certain she would not be amenable to the idea of sharing his bed and his bath, but he also had a plan to hopefully convince her. No. No. No. No. No. Angelina Johnson was in a nightmare, obviously. He was... no... he wouldn't.. would he? UGH. She had no desire to be in this situation, but was he really expecting she'd be so willing to share a bed with him. She made a face of disgust at the thought, a string of curse words streaming through her head. Narrowing her eyes at him, she finally spoke, the disgust almost venomous in her words, "Excuse me?" He wouldn't dare. No. "Surely, this house is big enough to spare a room for me. We aren't married yet." Ugh. The master bath, on the other hand, well... that didn't sound so horrid. That, at least, she could shut the door and have some privacy in, and soak for at least an hour or two. Now that would be lovely. It wasn’t as though Thomas planned to rape the girl. He also wasn’t exactly expecting her to be willing, but it was something they might as well get used to. He didn’t know when they’d end up having to get married, after all. It seemed practical to get used to the idea of sharing a bed sooner rather than later. “It is not a question of space, Angelina,” he explained patiently. “We are to be husband and wife. We would do well to get used to the idea. It could very well be a matter of weeks before they are assigning us a wedding date. I would like to be prepared.” Honestly, he didn’t understand what the big issue was. It wasn’t as though he was unattractive. Many women would be thrilled to share his bed. At the mention of them being husband and wife, Angelina made face of disgust. She had no intentions of being anyone's wife before she was at least thirty, or somewhere close to it, much less marry some elitist Death Eater who thinks that this fucking society was normal or acceptable. Ugh. Angelina wondered, briefly, if she had made the right choice to deny her Order involvement and get landed into this programme over any other fate that could have befallen her, but it was the choice she made and the path she is on. "I'd rather not be reminded," she said, bitterly, half under her breath. "I am not accustomed to sharing a bed with a stranger, and I don't plan on getting used to such a thing, either." Angelina gave him a look of boredom and disdain, her head tilted sideways, her eyes rolling. She wasn't in the mood to play the part of a perfect wife to be. She's not that girl in the first place. Did he really expect her to? "If you don't mind," she said raising an eyebrow at him, as if to challenge him to say otherwise, "I intend on taking a long, hot bath. I will not emerge for awhile, as much as I'm sure you're dying for my company I do not think I’m up for such pleasantries tonight.." There was a bit of an attitude and an edge in her voice, that even if her words were not fighting words in and of themselves, their true meaning and intention was more than obvious. And when she emerged, she fully intended on sleeping on the couch if needed, she simply was going to not tell him that part. “Certainly.” Thomas’ smile was perfectly accommodating as he nodded his head at her request. He did not believe her desire to bath was an unreasonable one and he was only willing to push her so far during this first interlude between them. He would not merely bend to her wishes, but he would allow her a moment to believe she had won some small victory here. What Angelina did not know, of course, was that every comfortable surface (including the sofas) in his home save his own bed had been hexed to repel her, should she try to lie down anywhere else. Every door in the manor had been locked. She would spent her nights in his bed or she would sleep on the floor. Thomas was confident this strategy would result in her acquiescnece relatively quickly. Only an idiot would choose the floor over a bed. Besides, it was not as though he intended to touch her at this juncture. He was perceptive enough to know she would not welcome it and he intended her to want him by the time he attempted it. |