Emeline awoke to pain in her leg. More specifically her foot, making her remember that last night's events were not a dream. Her heart leaps in her chest as she began to piece together the events. She had made a friend, someone who valued her for who she was and not what she could offer them. At least she hopes so, but whomever she met last night had certainly seemed genuine in their intent to meet with her again.

It outweighed the pain in her ankle, if only for just a moment as she put a hand up to her chest, feeling her heartbeat rapidly speed up as she blinks away tears from her face. She was glad to have finally found someone she could talk to, who would listen to her, and was as kind as they actually appeared, not simply laying on a veneer of falseness to gain her initial trust.

She had met with her odd admirer—if she could deign to call him that, and found that he was everything her fiancé was not. Kind, gentlemanly, generous—there were many words she could use to describe the man she met in the woods last night. If it was possible for her to introduce him to her parents, she would have done so straighway, consequences be damned. It was certainly better than living the lie she currently was. If only she wasn't already engaged to that pompous twat Rowland!

Yet, her new friend seemed to be a spirit, something otherworldly, from what she began to remember of last night. He certainly wasn't human—yet she felt no fear at all when she beheld his true form. Quite the opposite in fact; she was enraptured by his lanky form, rounded head with its stitched smile and empty sockets that seemed to pierce her soul. Stymied by his mannerisms and demeanor, she had found it quite hard to really speak with him.

A fact she regretted, as she wished to know more of him, or tell him more about herself. Well, at least she had tried and there was always next time, provided she could sneak out again. The thought of her parents or suitor catching her in the act made her blood run cold; a shiver running down her spine as she tries her best to slowly get out of bed.

It was hard with her twisted ankle, and she stifles a gasp of pain, lest she alert the house that she had been out last night. For where else would she have inflicted upon herself such an injury? Her room was locked from the outside after all, as part of her punishment for frightening her fiancé and subsequently the whole town with talk of demons and ghouls.

Sadly, she knew there was no way she could be seen in public with her new companion, not after the little witch hunt the village had put her through. Saying she was bringing monsters and demons into the town, no. She would not risk his safety for that; for if they caught him, she was unsure of what they would do to him.

She remembers as much from the meeting the village had, saying that if they found such a creature they would bring it to the church for them to study and exorcise. His endurance is probably much higher than a normal humans, but the thought of him being poked and prodded like some sort of animal—or worse, tortured—just for their pleasure because of his otherworldly nature, makes her heart ache horribly.

No, she would not have it; so their secret meetings would have to do for now, as badly as she wished to continue spending time with him uninterrupted. For after that simple meeting, as well as all the crazy events that led up to it, she found herself undoubtedly enamored with him—even though they had only talked with each other in person once.

She felt guilty about her feelings, and was not quite ready to admit them to her new acquaintance lest she scare him away with her forwardness. She really wanted someone to confide in, a true friend of sorts, yet she didn't want to worry him with her issues. Even if he had said it was alright, the young woman was not keen on pushing her problems onto her new friend. He might find her pathetic, or someone not worth actually spending time with.

Gods, if he left her, she wasn't sure if she could survive the coming days. She had no real friends or support to speak of. Her father had become more irate with her as of late, ever since the incident, and her mother had been more quiet and soft spoken than usual. Emeline would certainly journey into the woods again, yes—but then with a much crueler intent for herself than before. She only let out a sigh, shaking her head to clear herself of these thoughts, and the last remnants of sleep. She had better get ready for the coming day now; but first to leave her room and see if her parents were still incensed with her.

"Mother? Father? Are you awake?"

She asks toward her door, hoping they could hear her. She waits for a few moments, then walks toward the only other way she could leave. Putting her hand around the knob, she twists it to find it was unlocked. Emeline isn't too surprised; they often left it unlocked for her to go to the bathroom in the morning and breakfast, leading her back to her room afterwards and locking it. She steps through to the hallway, coming upon the stairwell that separated the floors of their home. Before an idea came to her.

Right. If she could just angle it correctly, then it would look as if she sprained her ankle during the fall. She cautiously takes a couple steps down the stairs, before purposefully misjudging one, letting out a small cry of half-feigned shock before tumbling down the stairs. It was a rough fall, the steps being wooden and all, her body aching as it slammed against the steps quite harshly. She does her best to look pained—not exactly hard, considering she is in agony at the moment. The fall had made her already sprained ankle throb and ache in discomfort, a gasp of pain escaping her lips.

"Hm? Oh, Emeline, have you fallen yet again down the stairs? We've told you to be careful for the upteenth time now!"

She hears one of her parents say—probably her father, she reasons by the tone and gruffness of the voice—feeling a tingle of dread reel up her spine. She wasn't sure if they would accept that she broke her ankle by tripping down the stairs. No matter what her father certainly would be angry with her for the state of her ankle. Not to say they were poor, but he certainly didn't make enough to send her to the doctor for a simple sprain. The most she could expect was for it to be straightened and bound. She simply sat up as gingerly as she was able, her round squinted eyes watching as her parents came into the hallway leading to the staircase.

"I-I'm sorry...I s-simply missed a step and—then everything tumbled out from underneath me."

"Mmmm...Well, we will have to go have that checked out. You can't show up looking like that!"

"Hmm? What are you talking about?"

She asks, though the growing pit deep in her stomach already knows what her father is going to say. Her father stares at her, a grimace in his feature as his eyes scan over her twisted ankle.

"To go see Lord Rowland, of course! Ever since that incident, I feel that the two of you aren't as close as you were before. And it has been a fortnight since you have last seen him. So we shall go out toward his manor, and perhaps the two of you spend some time together."

His tone was firm, brooking no argument. But the dread that settled in her stomach bade her to at least try and make an excuse.

"I see...But d-do you think he will be home? What if he isn't there when we come to c-call on him?"

"Oh, my dear child, we already sent him notice a few days ago. In fact, he sent notice of a carriage for us to leave today."

She winces at hearing the news, the dread and anxiety swirling inside her only growing.

"Huh? Why wasn't I told of this?"

"...Are you certain we had not discussed this already? We were going to see your fiancé for a while at his estate. I thought I had told you yesterday?"

She tilts her head pensively as she brought a hand to her chin. She doesn't really remember if her father had told her anything; it was possible he had mentioned it.

"Well, it's much too late to object. We are leaving sometime this afternoon, when the coach arrives to get us. Please go eat your breakfast and we will see to that sprain. Then we can get packed and ready."

The young woman nods, head hanging downwards as to not show the pure dismay in her features. Her father was right; it was much too late to do anything, so she should do as he said. She does her best to eat and walk with the ankle, trying not to put too much weight on it. It still hurts quite a bit though, and she retreats to her room in order to grab her walking cane. Using that as a crutch of sorts makes it more bearable.

She also scribbles out a short letter to her friend, hooking it into the windowsill so he will know to look for it if he comes to meet her again. She wasn't sure what would happen at her fiancés estate, nor how long they would be staying and she did not wish to worry her new acquaintance. She hopes the spirit wouldn't too cross with her; it's not as if she wanted to leave! After doing that, she quickly goes back to her father to see the town healer, seeing as it was the closest thing the small village had to an actual doctor.

The old woman who administered her treatment had kind eyes and a knowing gaze. It only took a few minutes for her to rub the afflicted area with herbs and then wrap in a cloth bandage of sorts, giving the pair extra plants to use if the pain came back. Emeline didn't need to say much for the elder to understand the distraught look on her face that she tried her best to hide from her prying father; before the incident she had gone to the woman for herbs for cooking and knowledge of things she'd rather not discuss with her parents.

The old lady was a trustworthy sort, or at least she seemed to be from what Emeline knew of her from spending time with the old woman. She had helped her mother when she was pregnant with Emeline after all. And they had often talked over tea, the old woman sharing her knowledge despite her family's protests of Emeline not needing to know of such things. Thanking the woman for her help, her father leads her back to the house and tells her to pack for her trip. She doesn't pack much aside from essentials; her drawing materials were locked up and she didn't want both her parents and fiancé to yell at her for 'wasting her time' as they would admonish her.

Leaving the house, with bags of her things in tow, she feels apprehension as she eyes the conspicuous carriage they would take her to her suitor's estate. She finds herself piled onto the carriage, her parents also seated across from her. She does her best to lay her wrapped and bound ankle on the seat, keeping it elevated as to help the healing process. Unable to do much else, Emeline stares out the window and watches the scenery. Just maybe she could get some inspiration for her art. Sadly it was impossible; the speed of the carriage combined with her poor sight making everything rush by in a blur of color.

Unable to do even that, her mind wanders to her new companion and how he might be faring. She hopes that her letter might come to him without incident. He was quite clever, it would probably take him no time at all to spot it. But she is worried about his reaction; he did seem to care for her more than he should, at least for someone who she only met a scant day ago. Yet it felt as if they were old friends, going by the ease at which she spoke to him and enjoyed his company. It made her heart lift every time she imagined his deep, comforting voice or slender, gentle hands clasped against her own...

Much too quickly for her liking, they arrive at her bethrothed's estate. It was a large house, tall and foreboding, made of stone, comprised of what she assumed were multiple floors and had harsh metal fences to keep intruders out. It made their house look like a straw hut in comparison. She could only stare in a mixture of awe and fear as they walk up to the large gate that surrounded the manor. A well dressed man greets them at the gate, his eyes worn and tired looking as he ushers them through the gate, across the well groomed gardens and inside the large house.

"Our lord has been expecting you. Please, let us take your belongings and show you to your rooms."

It only takes them a few steps before they come upon a set of stairs that branch off in the middle and lead to hallways with numerous doors. At the end of the right corridor was a door much more fancier looking than the others, which the butler announced was her fiancés room. Her room, Emeline quickly leaned, was only a few doors down from her fiancés; whereas her parents were placed in the opposite wing of the estate. It made her blanch, heart beating steadily against her chest as she knew he had most certainly done it on purpose and why. After setting their luggage down, barely giving them time to examine the foyer, the help quickly escorts them all to see her fiancé.

He looks at her as lasciviously as he always did, and it makes her skin shiver. He was such a uncouth man, staring at her so harshly she thought he was undressing her with his eyes. Nothing like her secret admirer, who treated her as if she was a precious gem and actually listened to her protests. How she wished she could run into his arms right now, and leave this place!

But it was simply impossible; she had to do as her parents told her. And if that meant spending a fortnight here, with this disgusting man, she had no real choice but to comply. She hopes that he doesn't try anything while she is here, but part of her knows him too well for that. He believes he owns her; the ring on her left finger seemingly proof enough for him already.

Of course he was too much of a coward to try anything too untoward while her parents were in the vicinity. So she suffers his presence, the four of them talking about pleasantries, how the trip was—all hollow sentiments really when asked by this man. He doesn't actually care; it's all an act to get her parents off guard, and unfortunately it works, the pair of them soon excusing themselves to give the 'pair of lovers' company. It isn't long before he finds his place at her side, his arm gripping her waist a little too tightly, his body pressed up much too close for her comfort, as he walks her away under the pretense of wanting to take her out to his garden.

Which Emeline finds at least that part is genuine, as he does take her to a place where the shrubbery and flowers are abundant, though their colors have started to fade to orange, red and yellow hues. They walk for a while, the young woman glad for the silence as she takes in her own thoughts. Though she soon finds him too close for comfort, his hand gripping her wrist tightly as she feels him pull her against him harshly.

She nearly crashes into his broad chest, before his hand pulls at her chin to tilt her head upwards. Fear strikes through her at this moment; she understands what he wants explicitly, thanks to her perusal of romance novels. Panicking, she brings a free hand to her face, covering his lips as soon as his chapped lips attempt to meet hers. He backs away at the feeling of her hand against his lips, the expression on his face one of pure anger and incredulity.

"W-what is this!?"

"..."

She is silent, having acted rashly to keep this man from claiming her first kiss. As that is what the act would have been, had she allowed it to continue. And she did not want this man, this horrible man, to be her first anything. Her head lowered, she doesn't notice the odd look Rowland gives her, his brows scrunched in contemplation before he shouts at her.

"Why did you stop me?"

"I...it's too soon…"

"No, it is not! We have been engaged for months now, and have met several times already. We are quite acquainted with each other by now!"

"I don't…"

Her voice fades, not wanting to speak aloud her true thoughts. I don't want to kiss you. Or marry you. Ever. He seems to sense something in her hesitation, wildly flinging an accusation into the air.

"Do you pine for the affections of another?"

"O-of course not, Rowland!"

"Then why will you not let me kiss you!?"

She flinched a bit at his loud and forceful tone. It wasn't that she cared that she was lying to him; she had never been good with loud noises or people quick to anger. It always frazzled her nerves and made her stomach become queasy.

This was no exception.

He didn't seem to sense her unease, or if he did the man certainly didn't care one whit, going on with his accusatory tone while pacing around her. She takes a deep breath, gathering her courage as she tries her best to stand tall in front of the man who had caused her so much anguish recently.

"I...it's too early for us to be so intimate. We don't know each other well enough..."

"Is that so…?"

He grabs harshly onto her wrist then, pulling her closer to him. Emeline is shaken, unable to break free of his grip because of his strength. For though he didn't look like much, he was certainly stronger than her petite full figure. She cries out, worried that he would hurt her, as he has certainly shown the capacity to do so before.

"Stop! You're frightening me! I'm not an object for your amusement!"

"Hmph! Where did this defiance come from so suddenly? You do know that you are mine, the ring having been on your finger for months now proving it! I won't take my new wife treating me as such!"

"I shall let you know now. If you do harbor feelings for someone else, I will find out and I will find them. They will feel my wrath a hundred fold; and you as well, for daring to consort with another! Why the thought would even cross your mind is beyond me; I am much better than any other lout you may come across in this drab hamlet. Then again, women are such fickle creatures, always chasing after whatever tickles their foolish fancy."

She shook in his grasp, knowing that he would most likely make good on his threat. His hold on her lessens somewhat, and she shakes a little as she feels his large and rough hand curl around her fingers. So unlike the delicate and careful touch of her otherwordly friend. Rowland then tugs her harshly, forcing her to follow him as he leads her back into his abode, giving her a look that told her if she was to protest he would make her pay. So that was his plan; to make them look like a happy couple for her parents. What an absolute cad!

The rest of the day passed rather uneventfully, aside from dinner. Where she had to endure him giving her looks as if to say 'play along' and his constant petting of her thighs under the table. His compliments to her were backhanded, as they always were, making her shake in her seat and blink away tears, lest she give her discomfort away. She was barely able to keep dinner down, her parents too enamored by the quality of the meal, much more lavish than anything they ever had to dine on before, and the pairs seemingly lovestruck 'affections' for one another making them not notice her inner turmoil.

She lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling of the unfamiliar room. The young woman did her best to try and contain her tears, despair coursing through her at knowing she would be here for a whole week at best. Already she was having such a wretched experience—and it was only the first day! So she sobs, quietly into her pillow, lest anyone hear her, hoping that eventually her tears give way to the onset of sleep.