*The Verge of War* A Medieval Rp

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Athaid said:
Alfric stopped and turned around to face Fawn. He took the blade handle from her and held it out so that he could see her.
"Why?" He asked.
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Fawn didn't say anything for a minute as she turned her back to him. "Because--," she pushed the sleeve of her soiled gown slightly off her shoulder, "I asked you to. And since you are, or at least seem to be, a gentleman, you accepted it nicely. And if you would like to keep up your gentleman-like appearance, you will turn around so I may tend to myself without a stranger viewing," she replied.
 
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Alfric flushed red and quickly shut his eyes, turning his head away to face the wall. "What are you doing?" He stammered. "This is no place to undress."
 
Athaid said:
Alfric flushed red and quickly shut his eyes, turning his head away to face the wall. "What are you doing?" He stammered. "This is no place to undress."
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"I'm not about to undress, especially in front of you!" Fawn chuckled. "I just need to check my shoulder," she said as she felt along her left arm. There was a sticky substance that had nearly dried, which she immediately figured out to be blood. Since it was mostly dried she wasn't too concerned about a deep cut. Returning her sleeve to its proper position, she flexed her arm slowly, wincing slightly.
 
Alfric kept his eyes shut. He could feel his face burning, and felt completely idiotic. "You hurt your shoulder?" He asked, surprised. She hadn't complained about it at all. He only kept quiet about his own pain because he was a knight, and pain was a part of being a knight, but surely a maid would've. He felt guilty in part, that he hadn't noticed, and that he had no real way of helping. Perhaps she's over exaggerating, he thought.
 
"You can open your eyes," Fawn smirked. "But only if you want to. Because it's not a problem to me if you want to travel the remainder of the tunnel with your eyes closed." She ignored his question and simply pushed past him in the near dark.
 
Alfric blinked his eyes open, but he may as well have kept them shut. The light was terrible, and he could barely see half a foot in front of him. "We'll both be walking blind if we don't replenish the torch." He argued, furrowing his brow. "I'd rather keep what's left of my shirt, so how about you sacrifice something." The pain in his shoulder, the exhaustion, the scratchy throat, and the pounding in his head was really starting to get to him and he found his patience wearing thin. Fawn's attitude did nothing to help.
"How about some of that hair, you seem to be in no short supply of it." He spat, shoving the torch roughly into her hand.
 
Fawn ignored the extended torch while she pulled something from her sleeve. "Never know when these will come in handy," she said, handing him a simple handkerchief, "and don't fret, it's not been used. When that burns down, I've got plenty of fabric," she looked down disdainfully at the full gown.
 
Alfric avoided Fawns gaze as the torch burst into flames, throwing its rays all around them and lighting up the narrow passage way with ease. He turned briskly away from her and started off down the hallway, keeping his tongue firmly clamped between his teeth.
 
"If you want, I could tie up that arm of yours," Fawn called out to him as he stalked off. She knew she wasn't the only one in pain, thanks to the ill-designed rock door, and even though he hadn't said anything about it, it was obviously paining him.
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Edmund reprimanded himself when he realized that he was worrying over Fawn's absence. She was likely just off dancing, or maybe taking a walk. She may of even retired early to the guest room she was staying in. Despite those thoughts, he instructed a servant to go tend the fire in her room and see if she was there.
 
Alfric slowed his pace, he wanted to turn around and accept the offer, but he couldn't. Not now. "Try to keep up." He called back, quickening his step again.
 

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