Marcel didn't know how long he sat there, becoming wetter and wetter with the rain, and feeling more and more cold. He only remembered Nadia coming up to him and nudging him, which woke him up. Guilt flooded through him as he saw how cold and unhappy she looked, and quickly he got up, flinching as he lifted his cut-up hands off of the ground. Small trickles of blood had painted the spots where he had had his hands red, and he could feel the small pieces of glass embedded in his skin. But he didn't give it much importance as he reluctantly picked up the reins of the beautiful horse, and walked off with her through the rain, which was becoming progressively faster and harder. He was the only one on the street, along with his horse, who obviously didn't seem very pleased to be there in the cold and wet.
He left her in her stall, and after drying her off a bit with a cloth he found in the stables, turned and left the place, his steps leading to the bookstore. With nowhere else to go, he knew that that was his last resort. Antonia had no reason to be offended, or angry, for that matter. He had done nothing to her, and now that he thought it through, had no right to be mad. What he had done to Allegra had been bad, but with her, he didn't even understand.
The bell tinkled above the door as he opened it up slowly, and he slipped inside, closing the door behind him. He was soaking wet, and a puddle instantly formed on the floor where he stepped from his sopping clothes. As he looked around, seeing no one, a sigh escaped him. "Antonia?" he called out, voice hopeful as he waited for a reply. There was silence, and he wondered if anyone was there at all. He hung his hat and coat up on the coat hanger, and ran a hand through his hair as he padded towards the back of the store, in hope to find someone.
A crash sounded from upstairs, and he blinked, approaching the staircase and climbing up the creaky wooden steps, looking around for the source of the noise. He found Antonia at the end of the hallway, her hands full with a bucket, and a mop.
"What happened?" he asked, leaning up against the wall as he watched her expertly mop up the water that was on the floor, and place a bowl under the leak. Tap. Tap. Tap. The water drops sounded quickly, landing in the bowl she had placed. He looked around, seeing that there were many other bowls, some more full than others.
"There are leaks," she explained, turning away as she wrung the water into the bucket, mopping up another mess that was forming under the window. For a moment there was silence, and Marcel inwardly sighed as he realized she was giving him the cold shoulder. Not her too, he thought desperately. His head slowly rested against the wooden wall he lent upon, making a loud noise. Flinching slightly, he rubbed the spot he had hit, flinching as he saw his wounded hand in the light.
Antonia looked up as the noise sounded, and her eyes widened as she saw his cut up hands. "What happened?" she asked, instantly dropping the mop to go closer. She took his hand in hers, putting it into the light to see how badly damaged it was. There were pieces of glass embedded within, and she cringed as she imagined how painful it must be. "How did this happen, Marcel?"
He shrugged out of her grasp, folding his arms across his chest to hide his hands from her. "I fell," he said finally. "...On glass."
Antonia rolled her eyes, detecting the lie instantly. She turned away, reclaiming her tools as she opened the door to his room, looking around for leaks. There was only one, coming in from a crack in the window, and she sighed before putting a bowl there too. "You really should tidy your room more," she commented as she looked around, seeing that the bed had been hastily made, and the few things he had in random places in the room. A small desk was in the corner, which had a small picture frame there, which the glass had been shattered. The picture inside was of a woman, who was glaring at the camera as the person took the picture. Her clothing was very revealing, and she was obviously a prostitute. She remembered the day she had asked him who the woman was, and he had looked away, obviously looking very ashamed, muttering; 'My mother.' Obviously Marcel was trying to fix the broken glass, and how it had broken she was not going to ask. Glass pieces were everywhere on the table, and he had a simple bottle of clear glue, which she didn't expect to fix the problem.
Marcel didn't reply, just followed her as she slowly closed the room off, proceeding to the next one - her uncle's room.
"You will let me heal your hand?" she said after a while, her voice distracted as she silently made the bed, picking up pieces of paper that littered the floor.
He didn't respond, just shrugged. "It's fine," he said quietly.
As she glanced over at him, she could see that something was different about him; something wasn't right... Somehow, she knew that something had happened on that trail ride he had taken with that girl, and it made her angry to think that she may have hurt him.
--
Stella instantly turned around as she heard the door open. Her eyes brightened instantly as she saw who it was, and she ran for him, embracing him around the leg as she closed her eyes, feeling more joyful than she had in days. "Daelen!" she exclaimed as she finally pulled away. Her happy look was replaced by a cross one. "Where have you been? I haven't seen you in... in..." she fought for the right words, obviously trying to be angry with him, as she had seen others do before. Crossing her arms, she looked up at him, her expression still happy, however, and a look of admiration as she saw the crown upon his head. "Are you the king now?" she asked curiously, tipping her head to one side.
(Lol mine isn't as long as yours... Sorry I took so long; I got distracted..)
I have some up too, but I'm like a beginner in photography XD My sister is incredible though~)