In Which Florian Makes a Bittersweet Reaquaintance

May 25, 1158

Over the course of his nearly twenty-three years, Florian had been woken by quite variety of sounds, ranging from his mother's comforting footsteps to the simultaneously pained and pleasured moans of the seasoned convict in the next cell taking advantage of his bitch, but never before had he heard one that so effectively cleansed his mind of his need for sleep, one so tragic and horrifying that--had he been anyone other than Florian--he might have succumbed to the sheer force of gravity and begged whatever trace of God was present in the room to stop the noise immediately, for he had seen the light and now had a newfound appreciation for all he knew.

It was the sound of a woman's quiet, yet tortured sobs.

Had he been deaf, he might have thought she was merely sleeping, curled up on the bench like a puppy on a corner rug, but the seductive elegy of her stifled cries brought into sharp light much evidence otherwise. He could see her tear-stained face, the quiver of her lips, the way her body trembled and shuddered with every breath she took...

Ordinarily, his initial instinct would have been to ask what the hell she was doing in his bedroom at this hour, or how she'd even gotten into his house in the first place, but even Florian could tell that in this instance, a more sensitive approach was required; something was horribly wrong.

"Thetis?" he whispered cautiously. "Thetis? Are you all right?"

Rubbing her eyes, she rose, slowly and shakily. "Florian..."

"What's wrong, Thetis?"

She merely shook her head--then, as if even that had been more than she could handle, she began to bawl.

"Thetis...?" he gently pressed once more, taking her in his arms with all the clumsy tenderness of a child trying not to crush a butterfly he had caught in his hands. "Thetis, please tell me what happened."

Oh, but he was being an idiot; clearly, the girl was in no state to speak. For now, he could only guess.

"Is it... Norwan?" ventured Florian, voicing the name with a distinct loathing reverence, as if it were the devil's own. "Thetis... did he rape you?"

A nod, followed by another fit of tears. Florian wasn't fully convinced, however. While Thetis claimed that Norwan had eased up on her sexually following the birth of the twins, Florian knew that every once in a while, the man did still like to shove her against the bed or the wall or the table and show her who her master was. Could Norwan have raped her today? Certainly--but that wasn't the only reason she was upset.

"Uh... more than once?"

Another nod; however, this still didn't seem sufficient. Perhaps he was only prying--he would let her tell him when she felt she was ready.

Suddenly, with surprising force for a young woman of her size, she had thrown her face into his shoulder. Startled, he leaned back in recoil; it had been quite some time since a feminine face had rested upon his bare flesh.

"Thetis...?"

"P-please... d-don't," Thetis stuttered. "Just... d-don't say..."

"What?"

"D-don't..."

"Thet--"

She silenced him with her lips and tongue, allowing him a bittersweet reacquaintance with that perfect kiss he had bestowed upon her over a year ago now, that indescribable work of art. Quickly it was that he lost himself in the depths of her mouth, ceased to exist for any purpose other than memorizing its entirety as his tongue explored every corner of it. This was not simply kissing--whatever this was, no word had yet been invented for it.

A painful searing sensation surged throughout him from the place on his shoulder blade where he felt the metallic touch of her wedding band. In that moment, it was not a ring, but a knife, a toxic dagger, its poison spreading from the source so long as it remained. Had the moment not been so delicate, he might have torn it off her, perhaps flung it out the window; surely such an act would not be a disservice to her.

"You can stay here tonight, if you'd like," he offered as their mouths finally parted. "I'll wake Goodwife Noth and tell her to ready the guest bedroom--"

Thetis whimpered in protest. "No... don't..."

"Well, you can't very well head home at this hour, can you? Silly girl. I'm sure the bed upstairs is much more comfortable than that bench, so--"

This time, Florian had cut himself off; in his defense, however, the progression of the centuries has sufficiently proven that many unsuspecting men are stricken suddenly mute upon seeing a woman remove her clothing.

He tried not to stare. As the minutes passed, his gaze traveled from her hips to the ceiling, from her thighs to the walls, from her breasts to the floor... finally, he settled on her eyes, that beautiful color of life he had always adored. "What do you want, Thetis?" he muttered at last, surprised at his own coherency.

Less surprising, however, was her answer. "I don't know."

"If I do this, I can't take it back, you know."

She nodded. "I know."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"I know."

"Are you sure this is a good time for you?"

She shook her head. "No... but we're both here, aren't we? We won't always be here."

She was half wrong; on some level or another, she, for one, would always be there.

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