- Doctor Who Season 3 (thank you, Chris!!)
- Sephora Brand Ultimate Blockbuster - Collector's Edition Palette + lip repulpant gloss (thanks Mom!)
- Heatable Aromatherapy Booties (I'm SERIOUS, you heat them up in the microwave and put them on your feet!)
- Handmade scarf and hat set
- Hoodie from Hawaii
- iPod to FM converter for my car
25 December 2008
14 December 2008
12 December 2008
10 December 2008
09 December 2008
01 December 2008
This week, I've gotten massive breakout-age… and I've no doubt it's from all the stress I'm putting myself through. I looked in the mirror after removing the witch's makeup for my Macbeth performance today, and winced at all the lurkers and ugly blemishes covering my face. You just can't hide all that. Today was the worst day of the week, I think... I mean, it was definitely the longest. I don't know what's going to happen officially later this week, but here's to hoping things aren't too crazy.
Here's what I have to do tonight:
- Town Hall Meeting – mandatory for Honors Council members, so I'll be there.
- Council meeting – following the Town Hall meeting will be the "hearing".
- 8 Government journals (for safety's sake. I need to get 8 done so I won't be overworked tomorrow).
- Write up my part for the Artists' Statement – Honors project group
- Start studying for Abnormal Psychology quiz
Ambiguous note of the evening: I am a little unnerved by something. Eh. I guess the topic of my French oral exam didn't help today. I'm just doing a lot of thinking.
Made 1st chair oboe, Symphonic band. That's good, it's what I wanted. Not too much work, but I still get to play more. Perfect for me. Plus, I have Kort and Amy in there with me. I'm just sad that Laurel and Anna can't be in there with us, too. C'est trop dommage. L
I'm really just trying to make it to the end of this week. Next week shouldn't be too bad. But… yeah.
What did I even start out wanting to write? I'm digressing like crazy here.
24 November 2008
Happy 100th entry, Blogger!
And boyo, do I have some awesome stuff to write for this one.
I'm going to start this off by saying I had a great weekend. For reeeeal. Laina, Jules, Bethany, and I all drove to Fort Smith on Friday afternoon. Her fam took us out to eat, and we went to see Twilight. Yeah, yeah, go ahead and judge, hahaha. We'd made a commitment to go, so I guess we had to. We got to the theater two hours early, though, so we were first in line. Def. It was pretty rad, because people would come in and stand behind us. …Well, it was pretty rad until these three bieyawcheng, peroxide-stained, leather-tanned girls line-jumped us. …I'm so serious. We were first in line, and they line-jumped us. How dumb can you be?? For real. We didn't say anything to them, but everyone in line behind us was getting pissed, too. Especially when the girls started complaining amongst themselves that there were some other people trying to line-jump them. Ugh. Idiots. We won out in the end, though. I'd been watching the ticket boy, and the second I saw his superior give him the green light to start taking Twilight tickets, I shoved Julie past the girls to the front again. Beth and Laina were pulled through the middle of the girls, which didn't please them at all. They spouted some snide remarks, to which we cheerfully cried "Thanks!" and ran away. Mature, I know, but what can you do? ;)
The movie was okay. Just that, okay. Julie put it well when she said it was the Reader's Digest version of the book. The colors and artistic aspects of the film were nice, but everything else was lackluster. I just hope they work a little harder to make the next movie more accessible as a movie and not a summary of what Meyer wrote. Just my opinion here, though.
On Saturday, we ate dinner in Rogers and shopped, then went to what was probably the best concert EVER. The Punch Brothers (featuring the late Nickel Creek's very own Chris Thile!) came to the Walton Arts Center in Fayetteville. I was practically bursting with excitement when we arrived, even despite the exceptionally disgusting Irish coffee I had at the Common Grounds coffeehouse beforehand.
The minute Chris and the rest of the band walked out on stage, we screamed and mad applause erupted… and Julie screamed, "I love your hair!" The little snot was loud enough for them to hear, hahaha. And Chris laughed and said he could sense sarcasm a mile away. We were tote serious, though. The violinist disputed that the comment was for Chris, of course. ;) It was pretty funny, and each time they came back on stage after breaks, a new person would yell that they loved Chris's hair. Ah, love. The concert was HAMAZING. The music was beautiful. Perfect. Chris's voice is every bit was gorgeous in person as it is on his recordings. And the rest of the band was incredibly talented. I was floored by the talent in the room.
After the concert, we got in line for autographs in the lobby, staying near the back. The amount of shaking I suffered was pretty much directly related to the proximity to Chris. I about died when I stepped up to the table, finally, and noticed his eyes were on me. "Hi…" I began. "My name is Bekah… um… and I have been a fan of your music for many years…" I lamely asked him to sign my CD booklet from his "How to Grow a Woman from the Ground" CD, and he obliged, writing "Thanks Bekah!" and signing. When Julie's turn came, however, she introduced herself as the girl who liked his hair. And got to run her fingers through it. His hair, I mean. AGHHH I died of jealousy right there, haha. She and the band seemed to be pretty buddy-buddy, and I was just basking in the proximity to one of my idols from waaaaaay back to junior high school.
Oh, and we managed a picture with Chris. Here y'are. I'm supposed to be getting two more from a very nice guy named John who took pictures of us with his own, much better, camera. I'll post those when I get them.
There's more stuff to say, but that stuff can wait 'til later. I'm just glad it's almost Thanksgiving! I get to see family (save a few, including my big brother *sigh*) and relax for a few days. ♥.
Later! -- Beks
16 November 2008
12 November 2008
10 November 2008
- Oboe Lesson (1 hr)
- Symphonic Band (1 hr, though we rehearse 3 hours a week)
- Cognitive Psychology (3 hrs)
- Physiological Psychology (3 hrs)
- Principles of Sociology (3 hrs)
- Senior Seminar: Issues in Global Economics and Environment (3 hrs)
- Stage Makeup (3 hrs)
05 November 2008
04 November 2008
02 November 2008
27 October 2008
23 October 2008
18 October 2008
14 October 2008
07 October 2008
02 October 2008
28 September 2008
“...Know you my son, Eoin?” When the girl nodded, Aoife’s ghost continued. “I have seen him here, and I have seen the way my husband’s parents treat him. My daughter sends for him even now, but you must do me one great favor. Spread word among the townsfolk that my husband’s parents are cruel, mean people, and let them know that they are not fit to raise their grandson. A time will come when he will need the support of the town to lift him out of that pit.”
“I will do so,” said Bridget with a little bow of her head.
Satisfied, Aoife’s ghost moved on to see her son.
Eoin, still quite young, suffered regular beatings under the hand of his grandfather. That particular evening, he was lying awake in bed, weeping over his bruises, when the ghost of his mother appeared. He nearly cried out in fright and roused his grandparents when he saw her, but her greeting was gentle, and finally he fell into her loving embrace.
“Don’t cry, my brave boy,” said Aoife in a tender, sad voice. “Your sister, Liadan, is sending for you as we speak, and I will return to you every night until you go to her.”
After that, Eoin was able to bear the hardships of living under his cruel grandparents’ roof with more patience. In town, rumors were circulating about Daniel O’Flaherty’s parents’ sins, and when the letter arrived from Liadan in
Reading the letter, the grandparents were loathe to let go of their good-for-nothing grandson, whom they had treated as little more than a servant over the past year. Perhaps they could act as if they had not received the letter at all.
Luckily for Eoin, the ghost of Aoife had anticipated this, being clever even in death. When Eoin overheard his grandmother’s shrill, unpleasant voice talking about how they would deceive their grandson, he did as his dead mother bid him and found Bridget in town. He told her of his grandparents’ latest wickedness, and she went straight to work.
Later that day, when Eoin was washing dishes from the midday meal, there came a knock on the door.
“Get the door, boy,” Eoin’s grandfather ordered. Drying his hands on his shirt, Eoin crossed the room and did as he was told. As soon as he saw what waited outside, a grin broke like dawn across his young face, and he turned to his grandfather. “Grandda, it’s for you,” Eoin told him and took a step away. His grandfather grumbled and pulled himself out of his chair to meander over to the door.
Eoin’s grandmother appeared from the hallway at that moment with an odd expression on her face. “I hear a commotion outside, Seamus, what is—” She never finished her sentence. The sight of at least half the townspeople gathered outside their front door had shocked her speechless. Bridget had done well; she stood beside the mayor, who wore a very stern expression on his wizened, bearded face.
“Seamus and Agnes O’Flaherty, get out here so that we might address you in open air, under the sight of God,” the mayor commanded severely, and Eoin followed his grandparents outside. “Today the mailman delivered you a letter from Liadan, your granddaughter, did he not?” When the O’Flaherty’s began to protest, the mayor cut them off instead by addressing Eoin. “Eoin, boy, come here. Let me see your arms.” The mayor examined the boy’s arms, then his back, and tutted unhappily. “See this?” He indicated to the others with him the bruises on Eoin’s body, and there were angry murmurs. The O’Flaherty’s looked around nervously.
“Eoin falls a lot, clumsy boy…” Seamus O’Flaherty’s explanation only made the crowd angrier, for Eoin had a sweet disposition like his mother and was well-liked among the townspeople.
“You have treated this boy with cruelty, but no longer. We know Liadan O’Flaherty has asked for her brother to join her. You will let Eoin go to her immediately, or suffer the judgment of the entire town.” The mayor’s words left no room for argument, nor did the expression on the townspeople’s faces. For the first time since his mother and sister had left, Eoin’s heart was filled to bursting with happiness.
No one saw the ghost of Aoife O’Flaherty after that, not even her children. Some weeks later, Eoin was reunited with his sister in
As for the remaining, wicked O’Flaherty’s of
27 September 2008
26 September 2008
The Love of a Mother
By Bekah Baugh
Daniel O’Flaherty married Aoife against his parents’ wishes. A placid, kindhearted creature with apple-red cheeks and strawberry-blonde hair, Aoife was well-loved by everyone save Daniel’s mother and father, who were formidable, cold people. She made a home with her husband and two children, Liadan and Eoin, in Kinsale. They had a modest house with a red door and green window boxes overlooking a lake on the far end of town. Liadan was already a young woman, and Eoin was seven and full of innocent life. Love thrived in the O’Flaherty home, and theirs was a happy existence.
Until, that is, Daniel fell. He and Aoife were out for an evening walk when his foot slipped. Their position was precarious, and before Aoife could react, Daniel fell to his death into a rocky ravine. Naturally, Daniel’s mother and father blamed their daughter-in-law for their son’s death, and Aoife was stricken with grief. Aoife was a gentle woman, and her heart ached that her in-laws suspected her.
The tension between Aoife and her in-laws grew until at last she told them, exhausted and heartsick, that she would leave Kinsale to make a new home in
For about a year, Aoife and Liadan took jobs as governess and nanny for a family in
Two weeks after Aoife’s death, a girl was walking back to Kinsale from a visit to an aunt nearby. It was evening, and the smell of summer-warmed wildflowers hung lazily in the air. The girl, whose name was Bridget, turned a corner and came across the ghost of a woman standing in the road. The woman’s hair, a pale gold in death, wafted about her in shimmering strands. Every part of her gleamed, and it seemed to Bridget the figure before her was not a threatening apparition.
“Evening, mum. Who are you, and why are you wandering?” Bridget asked her, unafraid.
“My name is Aoife O’Flaherty. Do you know me?”
“You were Daniel O’Flaherty’s widow, were you not?” The girl eyed Aoife’s glimmering figure speculatively.
“Yes, I was indeed. You need not fear me. I’ll do you no harm… Know you my son, Eoin?” When the girl nodded, Aoife’s ghost continued. “I have seen him here, and I have seen the way my husband’s parents treat him. My daughter sends for him even now, but you must do me one great favor. Spread word among the townsfolk that my husband’s parents are cruel, mean people, and let them know that they are not fit to raise their grandson. A time will come when he will need the support of the town to lift him out of that pit.”
“I will do so,” said Bridget with a little bow of her head.
Satisfied, Aoife's ghost moved on to see her son.
23 September 2008
22 September 2008
20 September 2008
19 September 2008
15 September 2008
14 September 2008
13 September 2008
08 September 2008
04 September 2008
03 September 2008
01 September 2008
Sometimes I hate myself for my own insecurities because they are just that: insecurities. They're stupid. More often than not, they're unfounded. Can't help it, though. It's just me.
Anyway, I ended up having a good weekend at home. It was good to be with my mom. My aunt Kathy, Mom, and I went to O'Charley's for lunch after church on Sunday-- excellent food always. Always and always. (sigh.) After a nap, I hung out with Amy's fam Sunday night. We ate at Zaxby's (that's right, Julie. Yummm). Matt was being a sweet li'l brother (little only by name, as he's about a foot taller than I am, the giant kid lol) and keeping me warm. I miss that family awfully. I wish we lived closer together.
Amy and I "girl-talked" for a while before Matt interrupted us, and we all hung out for a bit before they drove me home. Today... was really just me reading and packing up. I was planning on seeing Geoff this afternoon, but plans often don't pan out. Ryle hira! So here I am back at the dorm. Jules and Lains are playing Lord of the Rings in the living room. :) Ah, roommate bonding. I think I'm going to get a quick shower before finishing up my honors homework. I feel like a big grosslie.
btw, my room is finally a little homier. I brought my bookshelf, more pillows, a few paintings, a chair, and a lamp. Finally starting to feel like my room. S'about time, too.
Elua hold you in his hands,
27 August 2008
24 August 2008
Once again, I bought makeup today that I did not need, and yet wanted pretty badly. Story of my life. And my pocketbook.
I've been pretty worried about Geoff lately, and if he reads this, then meh! He's not been very assertive about seeing the doctor about his headaches, and I'm worried it's something more than just an ear infection... since his medicine doesn't really seem to be working its usual magic. If he doesn't get it taken care of, I might have to turn into Mom-Bekah and drag him to a doctor. He was a real sweetheart last night/this morning, though, and it might be a little too gushy to put this on my blog. Eh... read on at your own risk.
Managed to have a nightmare last night. This time it was a semi-apocalyptic type dream... fireballs raining out of the sky, destroying homes, buildings, lives, etc. People screaming, death everywhere, mayhem, mass destruction. That whole bit. It was disturbing enough to be able to wake myself up... but unfortunately it was also one of those dreams that grabs hold and doesn't let go. Whenever I'd fall back asleep, it'd pick back up where it left off, so I'd have to wake myself up again. I ended up texting Geoff, not really wanting to call and wake him up... and was pleasantly surprised he replied almost immediately. It was pretty much wee morning hours... and I think he was up because of his headache. But he stayed up with me and talked to me to make sure I was okay. Sweet boy.
Classes this semester are going to be okay, I think. MWF are freakishly busy, though... and I'm going to be working in Little Rock TTh. Only about 9 hours a week, unfortunately. Eh. Take out taxes from that, and it's not a very impressive paycheck. Laughing Stock will be fun this year, I think. I'm going to enjoy heading it up with Sam, who seems to have some great ideas for the leadership. I really don't have much to contribute to the team, in the end... just makeup and organizational skills. And all the encouragement and cheerfulness in the world. And networking. Smiling face. S'all we need, right? I hope so. I don't want to appear to be doing nothing. We'll see what we can get goin'.
Ack. First Farris Hall fire alarm of the year. Those alarms are seriously not cool. They will make us all deaf. Dumb idiots who designed those should be put in a small room with four of those, one on each wall, for five minutes. See how much they like it! Hmph.
Alright. It's bedtime. I've gotta get up early to go to the UCA PD to acquire a parking sticker (I was, sadly, remiss this year. ugh). Ciao.
16 August 2008
It probably wasn't wise for me to spend the money, but I've been wanting a docking station for ages now, since my old one went kaput on me.
This is the one I was wanting...
But, you know, I should've just splurged $10 more and gotten the iHome... it's a little prettier than the Jensen. :p
Anyway. I'm back in the dorm now. Ugh. Haha... I'm a little sad about it, and I'm a little sad that I'm sad about it, too. A little school-weary, I guess. This summer's experience with "classes" kinda burned me out. And I guess I've been feeling a little weird this week. Yesterday I moped around a bit (okay, never mind, pretty much the entire day). It was a slow day at work, and very quiet, and for some reason it really got to me. I got depressed, and not even just because of the prospect of moving back to school. There must have been something else bugging me, but I honestly can't figure out what. Maybe giving blood and being bone-tired just made me more susceptible to moodiness. Or maybe it's just me being moody. That doesn't happen very often, thankfully, so I wasn't too worried about it.
After buying those Punch Brothers tickets, I realized I had none of their music. So I downloaded some last night. Lovely, lovely music. I don't think we'll be disappointed at all.
Tomorrow my roommates (and the rest of the world) move in. It'll be nice to see everyone again, admittedly. I've missed them. I got to see Laina today, as I told her she could drop her stuff off at the room so she didn't have to haul it in tomorrow. Her hair is longer!!! Craziness.
Hok. I'm done.
I need foods. Like whoa.
14 August 2008
Aie, me... I kind of told him I wanted to stay here in my second new office (I've moved twice in the past week), but after talking to Mark this morning, I don't know if that's such a good idea. He said that... if I stuck with this new job as secretary/staff for the new major, it could build into a really good job for after I graduate school...
Which is what I was wanting from ASP.
I'd been planning on sticking with this job as long as possible so I could raise money for makeup school. I'd even been hoping to be able to keep this job, or get another one here, after I graduated for a year or so. That wouldn't be so bad, would it?
I don't know. It's what I want... but now I've got all this added stress on me. Mom told me I should think hard on whether taking it would be too stressful for me during school, as my schedule is always heinously hectic. The seeds of doubt planted, I'm terrified that if I took the job, I would fail in something... be it my job, schoolwork, oboe, friends, or extracurriculars (namely Laughing Stock, Ambassadors, and Council).
I told Mark I would think about it today... in the end, I might be moving over to Mike's old office after all. I don't know. We'll see. It just... makes me nervous, how the job, in Mark's opinion, seems to hinge on whether I take that office or not.
Other than that, things are going... really well. I've been dating a guy for about a month now, and I don't think I could be happier with the situation. He's quirky, sweet, intelligent, and he has honest blue eyes. What more could I ask for, really? Haha... Plus, he loves music. That helps. And he graduated from Honors at UCA. Which helps, too-- we kind of speak on the same level. We operate on the same wavelengths. It's weird... but in the end, a delightful surprise. Whatever I did to deserve a guy like him, I don't know... but I hope it lasts.
Moving into the dorm on Saturday. Mom'll be down to help me move. I bought 4 tickets for the Punch Brothers (Chris Thile of Nickel Creek's new band) concert in November. I also plan on buying a gorgeous orchid plant for my aunt as a surprise, but I'm still working on the details for that. Hopefully she'll be home on Saturday like we'd planned.
03 August 2008
28 July 2008
I'm sitting here at work, and I'm wondering how I will be able to make it through this week. I know I will. I always do. Just gets tough sometimes. When all you really want (need) is someone to tell you you're worth it, you aren't a failure, you won't break under pressure... and all you seem to get are the expectations bouncing back off you from the mirror you're looking at, demands on your time and energy and heart... that is what can become suffocating.
I worry too much. And here I was thinking I'd gotten beyond it, that I'd grown up and faced my own greatest downfall. I guess it's just going to take a lot more than that, isn't it? I'm not having nightmares regularly, that's a relief. At least I have better control about that part of myself. What I don't have control over is the obsessive part of my mind that grabs hold of an idea and won't let loose. It's just like the two characters that played "Gareth" in Brian Friel's Philadelphia, Here I Come.
Public. She's mad at me. She's going to talk to him about me. She's going to give me a bad grade. A bad grade would ruin my 4.0.
Private. Having less than a 4.0 wouldn't be the end of the world. It's normal.
Public. Yes, but one B...
Private. oh, gods, let it not be a C...
Public. ...could open the doors for more B's. I have to keep a 3.5...
Private. Not too hard. You survived two years of hard classes and still made it through with all A's.
Public. What if I'm losing my touch? What if I'm just so fed up with studying I quit? I have to get this degree.
Private. You will. Calm down.
Public. I CAN'T CALM DOWN, I HAVE TO THINK ABOUT THIS NOW, OR--
Private. Or what? You'll forget to think about it later? Hardly. You're going to be thinking about it no matter how much you think about it now. Besides, you're not thinking, you're worrying to the point of obsession. How is that going to help you?
Public. Yes, but--
Private. Yes, but! Yes, but! Your entire existence thrives upon "Yes, but--"s.
I'll fight with myself for a while until I can finally force myself to think about something different, but it always comes back to that. Always. Granted, I used to have a lot more ammo. Grad school. Getting an assistantship. All those things which are important in the academic world...
...that aren't as important to me now. Now that I'm set on going to makeup school, things are different. Well, not everything. As you can see, I still obsess about the little things. About grades and people's opinions. About my future. I don't think I'll ever stop obsessing about that. I'm too much of a "goody-goody". I like my gold stars a little too much. After all, without those gold stars to prove I've done a good job, who am I? Just another rather mediocre, unexciting, not-so-beautiful, not-so-extraordinary girl trying to find out what on Earth she's supposed to do with her life. That's normal, right?
Yes, well, I hate being normal.
08 June 2008
26 May 2008
21 May 2008
He awoke to find two large, sapphire blue eyes regarding him sternly. Startled, he tried to sit up.
“Don’t even try,” the woman warned just a moment too late, and he sank back onto the pallet with a groan. His head ached miserably.
“Who are you?” Joshua hated the tremor in his voice.
“Come now, that’s no way to thank someone who saved your life, is it?” Her harsh reply belied the twinkle of amusement in those remarkable eyes.
“I…” He was shaking now, curse it all! “I’m sorry. Forgive me for being rude, Lady… I just… Thank you.” It was lame, as usual. He was not a very well-spoken man.
“You’re welcome.” She rose from the floor where he lay to poke at a low-burning fire on the nearby hearth. “You may call me Ryeanna. Just what were you doing walking the back streets alone after dark, anyway? A man of your age, you should know better by now.”
His eyes followed her as she spoke, observing his newfound savior. She was a tall woman, trim and muscled. By the way she moved, he gathered she was a fighter. No, he knew that already from before—last night, was it? There were no windows in the room, so he couldn’t tell. She was Elvish, yes, with moonlight pale skin and wild charcoal hair.
Remembering himself, he cleared throat before answering. “I was coming home from a friend’s library. I thought it would be quicker to go that way. I know now how foolish it was…”
“Foolish, indeed. Do you not carry a knife about yourself? No protection for such a situation?” She turned back to look at him with a little frown marring her brow.
“I’m afraid not… I… I guess I don’t think much about personal safety.” He managed a weak smile.
“Aye. I could tell.” She set a kettle over the fire and came back to sit beside him. “I gave you my name. What is yours?”
“Joshua de Moselien, Lady, at your service. I am but a humble scholar.” He raised his right hand, fingertips hopelessly ink-stained, and gave a rueful smile.
“Under different circumstances, it might be a pleasure. You’re very lucky, you realize. Those men would not have left you alone even if you had given them your purse.” She was staring at him again, and it made him a little uncomfortable.
“Yes, I know. And… thank you again, for helping me.” Joshua blushed a bit, looking at the floor.
“And you are twice welcome. We will, of course, have to see about your self-preservation habits, though—or lack thereof. There won’t always be someone around to hear your call for help. Here.” She picked up a pillow and scooted closer. “Let’s get this pillow behind you so you can sit up a bit to drink your tea.”
Moaning softly, he pushed himself up just long enough to let her shove the pillow behind him. “I guess I got hit in the head…”
“There, and just about everywhere else. You’ll feel better once you get some tea in you.” She stood and went to the fire. “So, Joshua de Moselien. I suppose you aren’t from around here, are you?” She gingerly lifted the kettle from the fire and poured the steaming hot water into a plain ceramic teapot emitting a faint scent of herbs.
“No, Lady, I am not.”
“Just Ryeanna is fine. No need for formalities here.” She brushed her hair from her eyes and sat in a chair by the table. “How long are you going to be staying?”
He thought a moment, frowning in concentration. “A month? Maybe a little longer. I have a few connections here… I am… writing a book.” He saw her eyes glint with interest at the statement and waited.
“Oh? Are you? What about, if you don’t mind me asking?” She leaned back in the chair, indolent as a cat.
“Economics, philosophy, science. More philosophy than anything else, though.” He managed a faint smile, looking toward the ceiling.
“Sounds fascinating.” She tugged absently on the end of her long black braid. “How long have you been writing it?”
Joshua rubbed a hand over his face and sighed ruefully. “Two, three years. It’s not very good, but I tarry diligently on.” The woman grinned at him, and he felt his chest tighten. She was dangerous, this Ryeanna, he could tell already.
“Here.” Before he knew it, she was pressing a steaming cup of tea into his hands. “Drink up. I’ll be right back.”
“Wait, what time is it?” He belatedly sipped at the tea and winced. It tasted acrid.
Ryeanna paused at the door, looking back at him. “What time? Oh… well, it’s just before dawn. Or was, last time I checked.”
“What, don’t you sleep?” he couldn’t help but ask. The answering smile was enough to erase any embarrassment he’d experienced.
“Sure I sleep. I’m just an early riser.” She flicks her fingers at him, gesturing for him to drink his tea as she disappeared out the doorway. It was dark in the corridor outside, and he couldn’t imagine where she’d gone. Where was he? As he sipped, his eyes took in the whitewashed walls and cleanly swept floors of the room. The fireplace was small, and it struck him as odd there would be a fireplace in a room with no windows. The physics of the airflow and ventilation distracted him a moment before he forcefully yanked his mind back to the present.
It was an interesting situation to find oneself in, he reflected as he dutifully drank the tea. To be rescued from near-death by a beautiful woman, that was. Only he could be so foolish as to get caught in a back alley after dark. For the thousandth time since leaving home, he cursed his foolishness. And to be saved by a woman! Well, he couldn’t really be picky, and she did seem to be very self-possessed. He paused a moment, trying to remember what had happened the night before. Haziness tinged his thoughts, and he frowned, looking warily down at his cup of tea.
His blue-eyed savior appeared in the doorway then, a tray balanced between her hands. “Here we are… how are you feeling?” She set the tray on the table and looked at him appraisingly.
“Better, thanks… what’s in this tea?” It was more from curiosity than from caution that he asked, which he demonstrated with another placatory sip.
“Chamomile. And some other things, but mostly chamomile.” She grinned across the room at him, causing him to blush. “I know it tastes awful, but you need to get some more sleep. I might be up, but you still have a few hours before the rest of the world comes back to life.” He watched as she pulled a piece of toast from the tray and took a bite.
“Am I your captive then?” As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. Stupid, stupid words. He hoped the red in his cheeks wasn’t too visible in the firelight. But she just smiled and reached over to take his empty cup from him.
“For now, I suppose you are, Joshua de Moselien. At least until you sleep off that headache of yours.” After helping to remove the extra pillow from behind his back so he could lie down, she winked at him and patted his arm.
As he felt himself drifting to sleep, he watched her break her fast and couldn’t help but entertain a congratulatory thought. If one was ever to fall captive, one should definitely fall to someone like her.