Sabine was tired of Italy. She was tired of waiting around for her mother to bore of setting her up for ‘impromptu’ meetings; she was tired of her friends only visiting for brief stints while Cassian sulked; she was tired of wondering and waiting and wondering some more. There had to be more to life than this drudgery, surely?
Flopping backwards on her bed still in her nightgown (and refusing to change for the day despite the rather late hour of morning) Sabine stared up at the ceiling. Around her were a few scribbled pages of writing but she hadn’t strung three coherent sentences together in weeks. What ought to have been the prime of her life was devolving into a blur of societal events and faces she couldn’t place. Not against the contrast of the one she still couldn’t help think about, even a year later.
Rolling over onto her elbows, Sabine wondered what he was doing. Did he even remember her after all this time? If he did it was probably as that deranged debutant that was always getting into trouble and with the reputational consideration of a shrew. She groaned loudly and thrust her face into the pillow. This was why her mother was always saying she would never find a husband, not that Bean wanted one particularly. She really just wanted to know what it would be like to take Endymion and—
Perhaps she should write a letter.
Sabine sat up quickly, face warm, and forced herself to think through the implication. No, of course she couldn’t write a letter! What would she even say? Hello, remember me— the disaster debutant that was almost crushed by falling glass and then all but kidnapped you for an evening? Absolutely not. What was done was past. There would be no hope for any kind of future there, friendly or otherwise. Deciding she didn’t want to dwell on it any longer, Sabine stood and walked over to the Floo. Perhaps Reginald would be home if she came knocking. Or Poppy even, though she wasn’t sure exactly where that acquaintance fell anymore since Cassian had all but abandoned ties to England.
Thoughtful, Sabine made for her desk. She pulled out a box that remained to be unpacked from the most recent move and dug through it looking for her letters. She knew they were somewhere in here… her last correspondence with Poppy. Pale fingers wrapped around what looked to be an old shoe horn and Sabine’s face wrinkled. Where had this come from, she wondered? Before she could contemplate it any further however the sickening feeling of being pulled through time and space enveloped the startled redhead. Sabine swallowed a scream, eyes wide, as she disappeared into thin air. She could only hope that she didn’t land somewhere too public in this attire!
Flopping backwards on her bed still in her nightgown (and refusing to change for the day despite the rather late hour of morning) Sabine stared up at the ceiling. Around her were a few scribbled pages of writing but she hadn’t strung three coherent sentences together in weeks. What ought to have been the prime of her life was devolving into a blur of societal events and faces she couldn’t place. Not against the contrast of the one she still couldn’t help think about, even a year later.
Rolling over onto her elbows, Sabine wondered what he was doing. Did he even remember her after all this time? If he did it was probably as that deranged debutant that was always getting into trouble and with the reputational consideration of a shrew. She groaned loudly and thrust her face into the pillow. This was why her mother was always saying she would never find a husband, not that Bean wanted one particularly. She really just wanted to know what it would be like to take Endymion and—
Perhaps she should write a letter.
Sabine sat up quickly, face warm, and forced herself to think through the implication. No, of course she couldn’t write a letter! What would she even say? Hello, remember me— the disaster debutant that was almost crushed by falling glass and then all but kidnapped you for an evening? Absolutely not. What was done was past. There would be no hope for any kind of future there, friendly or otherwise. Deciding she didn’t want to dwell on it any longer, Sabine stood and walked over to the Floo. Perhaps Reginald would be home if she came knocking. Or Poppy even, though she wasn’t sure exactly where that acquaintance fell anymore since Cassian had all but abandoned ties to England.
Thoughtful, Sabine made for her desk. She pulled out a box that remained to be unpacked from the most recent move and dug through it looking for her letters. She knew they were somewhere in here… her last correspondence with Poppy. Pale fingers wrapped around what looked to be an old shoe horn and Sabine’s face wrinkled. Where had this come from, she wondered? Before she could contemplate it any further however the sickening feeling of being pulled through time and space enveloped the startled redhead. Sabine swallowed a scream, eyes wide, as she disappeared into thin air. She could only hope that she didn’t land somewhere too public in this attire!
Elliot Carmichael (attn: Endymion Dempsey)
© Fox