Private RP (Lady Alainn)

[katuago]

Oren pursed his lips as he strolled down the cobbled streets of his kingdom's village, sighing softly as he stretched his hand, his breath white in the air at his exhale. He was having a wondrous time today, skipping his education classes and stealing sweet-rolls from the royal chef. He was certain his parents would punish him for either (and more likely) both. For now, however, he brushed his princely duties and punishment waiting for him when he returned home. But, really, can you blame him? It was such a nice day out, much, much warmer than the others, although still very much cold.

At least, it would have been nice if the weather wasn't so cold and the ground wasn't so slippery with melted snow and ice and Oren were wearing his traditional (not to mention warm) royal garbs rather than the flimsy civilian robes he donned in order to blend in with the crowd more easily. But he was not one to complain, simply content to be out of the castle as he fiddled a bit with the buttons on his robes. The things had been coming undone all day, and Oren had to fasten them continuously. Unfortunately, due to his distraction and lack of attention at the street in a crowd like this, it came as no surprise that Oren's typical grace and balance eluded him.

No sooner had he finally managed to fasten the last button on his robe and he looked up, he collided almost instantaneously with someone. It was anything but dignified, and his face had been crushed against the person's body, his nose throbbing a bit painfully when he managed to pull himself away sharply in order to apologize. However, it hadn't gone quite like he had planned it to. The prince let out a startled nose as he jerked back abruptly. However, before Oren had time to be embarrassed, his heel came into contact with a patch of melting ice on the ground, skidding forward along the slippery surface and sending him flying back.

"Oh--!"

 

[Lady Alainn]

Lorella Smithson was a rather large girl for her eighteen years of age with boulders for bosoms, hips that could knock down walls, and the ability to see eye-to-eye with most men in the village. She was the eldest daughter of the blacksmith and his pride and joy. If his tongs and steel could build a work of art, he often boasted that she would be the masterpiece. Although her father doted on her, she was often ridiculed by her peers for her large bones and buxom appearance and she took out these frustrations on Jabez as often as she could.

Spring was thawing the wintery world and dear old da caught a cold. As usual when these things happen, Lorella was sent to the shop next door to give Jabez his orders for the day. She had just finished scolding, mocking, and yelling at Jabez's deafness to her insults and stepped outside the shop when a boy smacked into her. Immediately, her fury unleashed on the poor lad.

"You stupid little boy!" she bellowed. "Watch where you're going, you clumsy oaf! You no good street urchin, I'll teach you to mind your manners around a lady!" Lorella picked up her skirts and was about to kick him when she found herself yanked back by the elbow. Whirling her head to see who had the audacity, her gaze travelled up and up until it rested on Jabez's grim face. He'd seen the commotion through the open door and threw his hammer aside, not even pausing to wipe his hands on his apron before coming to the rescue of the lad. Without thinking, he had reached out to her, and in her outrage, the kick redirected itself to his shin. The contact hurt her more than it did him and it flew her into a monstrous rage. By now others had gathered to watch the spectacle and Jabez could feel the stares and pointing fingers.

"How dare you lay your hands on me!" Lorella screeched. "Just you wait until I tell my da! He'll have your hide for coming onto me!"

Jabez wanted to run, to hide, but the spectators had circled them in.

"Here now, what's this?" a woman looking similar to Lorella, but older and not quite as massive, demanded upon exiting the house next door.