Florence Trumper stands by her champion (notachesspiece) wrote in wariscoming, @ 2011-07-17 10:17:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | florence vassy, freddie trumper |
Who: Freddie Trumper and Florence Vassy
What: Dinner. A dinner DATE. Stop the presses.
When: Sunday night, 7pm
Where: Starting at Florence's...we'll see from there?
Rating: TBD
Status: Incomplete
She honestly didn't know if she should be doing this.
There was no denying from the exchange that Florence had every intention of this being an actual date. But why? Because she missed him? Because she was lonely? She'd wanted out, she'd made that perfectly clear in Merano. And the last year of her life had changed her, in more ways than she'd have liked. Hell, if she was being fair, it hadn't even been that long since she'd been with Anatoly. Was it possible she was really as bad as Freddie had made her out to be? Bouncing from one to the other with barely a glance in between?
But no. That wasn't true, either. Long after she'd returned from Merano, giving Anatoly both her heart and her home, she'd still thought of Freddie. Hoped he was okay, hoping he was finding his footing in a world without the title he'd prized so much. That he'd possibly prized even more than he did her. And now? Oh, she still thought of Anatoly, too. Every now and then she'd see a flash of dark hair or hear an accented voice and want to stop. She wanted answers she knew he didn't have and she wanted the last year of her life back if it had meant nothing to him. But seeing Svetlana Sergievsky in person had changed her considerably. And those girls, those two little girls... He did love them, no matter what Freddie said. And, even if she did stand a chance with him in this new world, she wouldn't hurt those girls. If she was being honest, though, she was still angry. She wouldn't hurt those girls, and she wouldn't hurt herself.
Maybe that's why she was so wary as she chose her outfit for the evening. She'd promised herself she wouldn't get wrapped up in this again. In either of those men, so willing to put aside their lives for a game. Oh, she'd be kidding herself if she said she didn't love that game; if she said she didn't understand the passion for the pieces, the squares, the competition, she'd be lying. But not at the expense of the people who shaped her. And Freddie most certainly had done that. Despite the hell he'd put her through, she did know he'd loved her. Was that enough? Could that, plus the honesty they'd promised each other, be enough to start over?
The dress was simple but nice, she knew. No matter how casual they took the evening, it could still blend in easily. But moreso? It made her look good. She wasn't Freddie, she wouldn't use phrases such as 'win him back'. But she wouldn't deny wanting to make him see what could be his, if he could just treat her with respect. The arrogance of their first few years she was used to. The cruel words and the constant criticism? That was different. She left her hair down and wavy. Her makeup was subtle as always. She appraised the look several times before the clock in the flat hit seven. It wasn't over the top, and that's how she wanted it. If he didn't want her as she was, he didn't want her.
It didn't stop her from being nervous, though she'd never admit it to him. Yes, she'd met other blokes since she'd been in Kansas. Some were attractive, a few even sent second glances her way. But they weren't Freddie. They didn't have that hold on her that he'd had for years. If they could both just admit their mistakes, work through them, and move past them... Well. Maybe there was a chance.