OOM sorta -- Outside, a late-night chance encounter

[ikissdhimbck]

It's dark by the time Kate finishes with her evening chores in the stables. The 'time of year' -- or however time works here -- plus a cloud cover that threatens snow above, nudges the darkness deeper despite the fairly early hour.

She coos her goodbyes to Beaut, and then leaves the stables, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her long coat and hunkering against the cold. She makes her way up along the path, boots crunching in uncovered gravel and days-old snow.

The atmosphere tonight strikes her as strange, and frankly she's just ready to get back inside where it's light and warm and crowded.

.

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[ikissdhimbck]

She watches, transfixed, as the air seems to still on command, lips parted in question. But, before she can voice a word, his hand tenderly returns to her own, drawing all of her focus with it.

"Yes," she murmurs, swallowing to wet her suddenly dry throat. "It was one of my father's favorite pieces. 'The devil take the waltz, my only regret is for the coda...'"

She smiles, quoting Strauss' alleged reaction to the premier performance of the piece. Her father found humor in the account, and would sometimes mutter the words after practicing his violin.

[vojvode]

"Ah, very good. Well. My home is deep in the Carpathian mountains, overlooking a river. A river that runs down to the Danube before it turns towards the sea. It was the last line of defence against the Turk. The last -- frontier of Europe, if you will allow me the indulgence."

He leans in close to speak, as if he's sharing his innermost secrets with her.

[ikissdhimbck]

She breathes a soft, nervous laugh, tipping her head away from him demurely.

"I know a thing or two 'bout frontiers," she says. "Out in the wildernesses of Texas, though, granted it's not quite so wild as it once was, since the Indian wars.

"Your lands sound so much more intriguing."

[vojvode]

"Texas? Really? Mountains and desert plains both, then. I have only read about the New World, I have never been there."

He gives a contented little sigh as they walk.

"As it is, I have only just conceded to make London my home. The dawning of a new century is upon us, and I cannot afford to let it slip through -- my fingers."

[ikissdhimbck]

"It is the only home I've ever known," she says, finding it easy to slip into a more refined diction in his presence. Perhaps it's due to his title, or the intoxicating thrum of his own soft accent, but her breeding isn't so far behind her. "You feel so honestly... alive, out on those desert plains with nothing but dust and sky for as far as the eye can see. Nothing to hold you back."

Freedom.

She smiles wistfully.

"Who watches over Wallachia in your absence? Do you have family, to take the throne?"

[vojvode]

She is intoxicating, and he can't help but be drawn in.

"My kingdom is well attended, fear not, my dear lady. And it was the only home I had ever known -- the wildness of its forests and towering mountains, the savage beauty of its storms. It pains me deeply to leave it behind."

Again he gently squeezes her hand and leans closer.

"So much so that I brought a bit of it with me, that I might never forget the land that holds the bones of my ancestors."

[ikissdhimbck]

Again, she feels herself tremble under the weight of his gaze, the penetrating depth of his eyes such a stark contrast to the gentleness of his touch and the subtle closeness of his body.

"What is that?"

[vojvode]

He pauses at that tiny shiver and turns to face her. His free hand brushes that same errant strand of hair back, and tucks it behind her ear.

"Just a bit of earth. It might seem a strange superstition to one such as yourself, perhaps. But I carry it with me whenever I must travel. It soothes my dreams and -- eases my sleep."

[ikissdhimbck]

"Oh."

Another hard swallow, and when his gloved hand brushes the chilled cuff of her ear her emotions war amongst themselves over whether she should back away from him and his subtle advances.

"S'not strange," she murmurs, shaking her head gently. "I know what it's like. Homesickness. Being away from Texas is hard on my soul."

She doesn't end up moving an inch.

"But here -- the bar -- has been like a second home to me. Perhaps you'll grow to feel the same way, if you decide to keep comin' back."

[vojvode]

In the end, he is the one that creates distance again, a small and utterly proper smile on his lips.

"I haven't decided yet," he confesses, taking up their ambling pace again, as if there was nothing at all unusual about this late night encounter. "The mountains here are lovely though. And the moonlight on the snow does remind me of home."

He is quiet for a moment, before he continues, his tone a bit wistful.

"I suppose you've made friends here. You seem to me to be the lantern around which all the fireflies gather."

[ikissdhimbck]

"I--?"

She laughs again, quiet and lilting, color racing to her cheeks.

In fact, that is the way things always were back home, though she was much too invested in her children and her books to notice when people would stop and stare as she walked by, or the way the young men in town would find ways to see and speak to her (night classes were rarely ever filled with true academics). She was known as the "Angel of Green Lake," and she was loved by all.

Was.

"You're far too kind! I'm but one of countless patrons here, and hardly the centerpiece of anyone's world," she says with a bright smile.

Her voice drops, then; now it's her turn to speak as though imparting some deep secret.

"You may find, in fact, that I am quite the troublemaker here."

[vojvode]

Now it's his turn to laugh, a rich warm baritone that echoes through the glen.

"Now why does that not surprise me in the least? A woman who tends her own horses and takes a path through the forest after the moon has risen? Of course you are. I knew you were wild at heart the moment I looked at you."

His amusement is palpable, and perhaps it is some strange trick of the light, but his smile seems to have brought more colour to his own cheeks.

[ikissdhimbck]

Again, it is simply infections. She giggles long after his laughter has died back, shaking her head.

"I didn't realize I was so very transparent, but you're not the first to say so, so it must be true," she smiles. "Not all would consider that a good thing, of course."

[vojvode]

He watches her intently, his dark eyes glittering with mirth.

"Well, then. Damn them all to hell."

[ikissdhimbck]

The profanity catches her by surprise. She laughs.

"Indeed."

[vojvode]

He joins her again, his voice rumbling up from his chest in a proper belly laugh. Their voices ring down the path all the way to the back door of the bar.

"Oh Kate, my dearest Kate," he sighs, when he can breathe again. He takes her hand in his and draws it to his mouth, pressing a long, still chaste kiss to the back of her knuckles.

"I am afraid I must bid you good evening, and take my leave of you, as much as my heart aches for it. But I must beg of you, please let me take you for a walk again, some evening? I would love to hear more about your father and his violin. And Texas, of course."

[ikissdhimbck]

She's at a loss for words for a moment. He has been more than polite, and kind, and very sweet indeed. But agreeing to another walk with him feels almost like setting a date.

"Won't you come in?" she asks instead, brow knitted in concern. "It's cold out here."

[vojvode]

He steps back a bit, and sweeps a courtly bow.

"I have the memory of your laugh to keep me warm, my dear. Please, tell me you'll meet me here. Tomorrow night."

His eyes look upon her expectantly, and again, the whole of the night air seems to hold its breath.

[scurlock]

Over the years, Doc has found that the one thing that tends to identify a woman is her laugh. He's heard dozens of women laugh, and each voice has been different; each melody as individual as the lips it is sung from.

He knows Kate's laugh.




Doc is standing near the bar, out back -- having taken a walk with the intention of smoking a cigarette or two, before retiring upstairs for the evening. He's far enough off and deep in the shadow --


(It's dark out, tonight.)


-- remaining unseen. The long, black duster helps to absorb any hints of his presence that one might catch at a glance.

It's Kate. With someone else.



Laughing.

[ikissdhimbck]

The stillness in the air is palpable, and somewhere in the back of her mind it strikes her as strange. She feels almost weighted, in some odd way.

"Um."

She licks her lips, glancing around -- though, what she's looking for she couldn't begin to say -- and weighs her response carefully.

"Okay," she murmurs at length, smiling wanly. "Sure, I can... can show you around the grounds a bit. If you'd like."

There's a warning bell sounding in some distant part of her brain; something she should know, or remember, but it strays just outside of her reach.

[vojvode]

He dips his chin, his smirk broadening into a smile again. A velvety chuckle of delight lingers in the air between them, wiping away those thoughts.

"I shall count the moments, mademoiselle, jusqu'à demain."

He bows again, and turns to leave, but pauses.

"Oh I almost forgot..."

[scurlock]

When the man (nobody Doc recognizes -- it certainly ain't Ben Wade, even if the impressive headgear might remind him of the outlaw just a bit) turns away, Doc takes a half-step from the shadow, intent on approaching Kate and finding out just who it is she's been walking with.

But then he stops.

Doc does the same, wondering who it could be.

[ikissdhimbck]

She relaxes back into a chuckle, all of those nagging little thoughts suddenly leaving her mind.

She smiles, ducking her chin demurely as he bids her goodnight, and then glances up curiously again when he stops.

"Forgot?"

[vojvode]

He holds her gaze for a long moment, savouring the sound of her laughter.

"Beautiful Kate."

Eventually, he lifts his hand and the breeze rises, carrying the whisper of his thoughts to her.

Dream of me.

The fine powder of recent snow rises, swirls up with the breeze, eddies of white whispers, rising like a veil between them.

When the wind settles again, he is gone.

[scurlock]

His eyes narrow as the snow whips up and forms a blockade between his eyes and her form -- he can't see her, for a moment, nor can he see the gentleman with her.

When the icy crystals flutter and fall from the air, she's alone.

Doc reaches into his pocket for his cigarette tin, eyes roaming the woods as he lights another smoke, shaking the match out before he steps towards the bar.