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Tainted; [tag;; John Shilston]
Topic Started: Nov 14 2010, 07:12 PM (228 Views)
Mary Carey
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The English Mare
December 1511

Mary loved the holiday season. The parties, the dancing, the drinking. It was all relatively new to her, being a member of the English court. Of course, there had been parties in France, but the customs there were rather different. Her time there hadn't been particularly pleasant either. For great lengths of time, she had been outdone by her younger sister. How humiliating that had been. Even more so when she had been sent home before Anne, and then betrothed to William Carey. That betrothal alone had had a hand in tainting her outlook on this party.

There were so many handsome young men about, and it would be rather improper for her to pay any of them attention. But that just wasn't who Mary was. All her life, she had enjoyed the company of men. That was something that just couldn't be changed, no matter what he family said. They could call her stupid, and they could call her inconstant, but that wasn't going to stop her from being interested in certain individuals, and right now, that individual was Sir John Shilston.

Though he was married, he held a sort of appeal to her. She wasn't entirely sure what it was, but he was was rather interesting all the same. She stood amidst the crowd, watching him, as she had been for sometime now. Watching, and willing him to come toward her. Or else, she would have to approach him herself, and that would only cause another scandal. No, she would have to be patient. One learned that virtue it for a reason, did they not? Patience would certainly be tried here. Hopefully though, Mary thought, her patience wouldn't be all for naught.

((Ohmagod. That was absolute shit. I'm sorry! Bah. I should stop doing anything when I'm starving.))
[align=center] [size0]"Whereas one man might satisfy you, I've yet to find one capable of pleasing me to the extent I wish." - Mary

A true blue CISCUIT

Mary is in a grand total of 2 thread(s).
And could have 2 more.


[/align]
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John Shilston
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John wasn't sure how he'd lasted this long. Having been married to his wife for nearly ten years, the knight had, by miserable default, visited the beds of many different women. Mostly when the vivacity of his wife became overbearing, when his frustrations reached beyond his hand, and when the only solution seemed to be plunging in the arms -and, between the thighs- of whatever beautiful woman accepted him. Of course, he'd kept this from his wife.. his miserable, gregarious, embarrassing wife.. but she had to know. How could she not? They had lived at Court for years now, and if there were rumors about her, then there were certainly ones about him.

But in had been a long, long time since John had found refuge in another woman's embrace. Perhaps he'd been too distracted for such frivolous things, stretched to the point of virtually not caring about having to please a counterpart. His wife was hard enough, and with that mess to retire to, John seemed to have strayed from... straying. And now it was driving him mad. Anne, by the day, was gnawing at his very last nerves, and his son... god, the boy had been sick to the stomach for days, most likely a result from his mother's "secretive" adventures through Court. The past week had been a pounding headache and a constant thorn in John's side, and he sought to soon relieve it.

He had sent his wife from dinner early, using their mildly ill son as an excuse to retire to their chambers and, above all, leave him alone. Only minutes after she'd left his side, the knight had found his circle of comrades, shared a cup of wine, and was already bellowing in laughter and warmth from the alcohol. Every now and then his eyes would linger through the throngs of people, some dancing, some drinking and jesting, some discussing business... but there was one, one woman that constantly seemed to find his eye. Sometimes she'd disappear behind that of a passing courtier, but he'd always find her again, always find her with that same look on her face. She, too, seemed to have found him, and each time their eyes met through the distance, John would begin to waver from leaving his friends for the company of the vixen silently beckoning to him.

"Ah, I see you've found the Lady Mary Boleyn.." the knight had ignored whatever rest his comrade had said, but it had been just enough to have her name. Mary Boleyn. Yes, yes, he recognized her now. His eyes narrowed, studying her, the cut of her jaw, the length of her throat, the supple rise of her breasts... yes, Mary Boleyn was quite the beauty. Of course, the entirety of the English Court knew that. The French, too! The thought brought a humored grin to his villainous mouth; oh the Boleyn family.. "I think I'll have to see what it is she wants," he spoke deeply to his friend, still eying the mistress with an inquisitive gaze.

John parted quickly with his comrades, setting down his emptied cup of wine on the nearest table edge and carefully making his way to the fair-haired maiden. Perhaps if she hadn't noticed him, too, John wouldn't have bothered. But there was a strange glint in this woman's eye and a shine on her lips that he just had to figure out. "Lady Boleyn," he spoke clearly, smiling as he approached her and bent lowly at the waist. "I couldn't help but notice you across the room.." straightening his back, he extended his arm and offered an open palm. "Would you care to dance?"
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Mary Carey
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The English Mare
How long Mary stood there in the Great Hall, trying to hold the gaze of Sir John Shilston, she wasn't entirely sure. There were several times that it seemed as though he were rather content with the idea of leaving his friends, but each time, someone was always able to draw him back into the conversation once more. Frustrated, Mary touched her hair absentmindedly, in a cliche attempt to better her appearance. Why hadn't he come over yet? From the look in his eyes, she knew he was interested in her. He just had to be. Mary had even noticed one of his friends point her out to him. Even they seemed to know that she was quite a beauty and most certainly worth his time.

Of course, John Shilston was married, but there were always rumours speculating throughout the palace describing his various escapades with various women. It was no mystery that he wasn't one to remain faithful, although Mary couldn't recall hearing any recent gossip on the matter, which in part was a good thing. It probably meant that any past affairs that he had had were now over. Or he had managed to reconcile with his wife. Though Mary seriously doubted the latter.

She glanced up at him again, and noticed that this time, he was in fact, moving toward her. Smiling, Mary ran a hand down the front of her dress, smoothing it over before John reached her, saying her name with such a confident air, that she couldn't help the the slight flush that rose to her cheeks as he bowed and asked her to dance. "Sir John," she said, inclining her head. "I would be honoured to dance with you."

[align=center] [size0]"Whereas one man might satisfy you, I've yet to find one capable of pleasing me to the extent I wish." - Mary

A true blue CISCUIT

Mary is in a grand total of 2 thread(s).
And could have 2 more.


[/align]
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John Shilston
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To say the least, John was ultimately pleased that she had accepted him so welcomingly. Of course, she had kept nearly constant eye contact with him, but that was beside the point. The Mary Boleyn had spied him out herself, something John silently flattered himself with. Her features so fair and hand so soft, the knight could not resist such a maiden, selfishly or not. He smirked at her, dipping his head as he took her hand and led her further into the belly of Court's Great Hall. Whether or not eyes were on the pair John did not care; he had Mary Boleyn in tow, and for now, that's all his focus wanted to see.

In only moments he had found their place amongst the group of dancers, falling in perfect step within the graceful twists, turns, spins and leaps. John's hand were strong and steady on the Boleyn's waist, savoring every moment that the dance brought them close, often where he needed to lift her from her feet and twirl her elsewhere. She was so light, so refined in her steps that John couldn't help but admire whenever he could. His expression, though, remained stoic and plain, that of a gentleman unbound by his more primitive desires. The dark azure hues of his gaze never left hers, though, and were always there whenever she twirled again to face him. He smiled warmly, conveying his pleasure with her touch and dance and, if he didn't know any better, everything about her.

The knight hadn't noticed how much time had passed, but suddenly the group around them had dispersed and formed a spectating circle around what was John Shilston and Mary Boleyn. Realizing the attention, he grinned proudly and put even more a spring in his step and the solidity in his hands, putting on what was quite the show with the eldest Boleyn girl. It wasn't him, though, that had drawn such attention.. no doubt it was the agile, fair-haired maiden with her long legs and ample leaps that had drawn once again the eyes of admirers. John Shilston being one of them. Eventually a light sweat formed at the back of his neck, reminding him of just how easy dancing with Mary Boleyn seemed to be. But the knight was only human, and as the music waned so did they, and sooner or later John and his maiden were brought to an orderly halt.

"If I had known you were so good at dancing, Lady Mary," he smirked and bowed to her. "I would have found you long ago." Straightening his back, his eyes beamed into the lighter hues of hers as he drew closer, taking her hand into his so that he could place a soft -though steaming- kiss on the expanse of her knuckles. His eyes never left hers as he did this, the edges of his mouth turned upwards in a pleasant smile. "I can imagine you're rather parched, my Lady," he went on, extending an arm towards perhaps the more quieter outskirts of the supper gathering. "Come with me, yes? To fetch some wine?" John hardly waited for a reply as he began leading her to an empty table, loitered with only a few courtiers at each of its ends. He motioned to the seat and took the one across from her for himself, a grin still placid across his lips. "You've left me exhausted, I dare say."
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Mary Carey
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The English Mare
Waiting for Sir John Shilston, Mary quickly came to realize, was well worth the wait. As soon as he lead her onto the dance floor, there was a feeling that overcame her. One that said she by no means would Sir John go now that he was within her grasp. She smiled in spite if herself. Who said she wasn't a Howard? Who said she didn't have ambition? She most certainly did, if not for other things than political alliances.

Mary smiled as he spun her around and around, hardly noticing the crowd that had formed around them. Her eyes never left John's. Those deep blue, focused eyes. The rest of his face, however, remained unreadable. Despite the fact Mary would have given anything to know what he was thinking, that was never going to happen. It was doubtful this meeting would amount to anything either, but Mary would hope. Although, hoping often did nothing. No, if she wanted to see more of John Shilston, she would have to make it so herself.

She grinned when he complimented her, and gently kissed the back of her hand. "I thank you, Sir John," she said, "you yourself are quite the dancer as well." Mary then nodded as he continued on, inviting her to get some wine with him. Well. That was certainly an additive to the dance. Definite progress in her wanted affair, she decided.

"Yes, wine would be lovely, thank you." she said as he lead her toward an empty table. Mary sat gracefully down in the seat opposite him and smoothed her skirt over her knees. "That's quite a shame, for I was hoping to stay in your company a little longer. Unless of course, you would much rather retire to your chamber"
[align=center] [size0]"Whereas one man might satisfy you, I've yet to find one capable of pleasing me to the extent I wish." - Mary

A true blue CISCUIT

Mary is in a grand total of 2 thread(s).
And could have 2 more.


[/align]
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John Shilston
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John wasn't exactly sure what to think of the Mary Boleyn. The English Mare. She was beautiful, yes, a very fair dancer and overall a desirable vixen. But she was no maiden, per se, and knew those voluptuous breasts behind that constricting corset had been seen, felt and even tasted by many. Mary Boleyn was no rare jewel, he knew that, but there was a sort of softness about her that reminded him of a treasurable silk. A sort of silk he wanted to run his fingers across, bury his face in and ultimately seek temporary refuge beneath the oh-so-soft threads. Even a man like John could appreciate the finest of silks.

He eyed her carefully, surveying her flushed cheeks, the light sweat acting as a sort of sheen over her fair skin. Though his eyes were firm and consistent on her face, John's thoughts had taken him elsewhere. Off to hidden places with this Mary Boleyn on his arm, his more primitive instincts wild with victory. Victory? A single eyebrow arched skeptically at the thought. Perhaps it was overreaching, considering the English Mare as a prize, but... she was still a woman. A very, very pretty and desirable woman. Desirable for all the wrong reasons, maybe, but John Shilston wasn't just going to wave off a free gift. Worthy or not, Mary Boleyn wanted him. And he? Well, if things were going to be as easy as they were now, John wanted her, too.

Handing her a cup of wine, John took a generous sip from his own, his eyes never leaving hers over the silver goblet. He swallowed breathlessly, a smirk toying with the edges of his lips. "Retire? To my chambers?" He shook his head and chuckled, thinking of what was just behind those godforsaken doors... his miserable wife, his rambunctious child and the two maids he'd never remember the names of. The idea seemed hardly appetizing to a man like John. "There is nothing waiting for me there other than an angry wife and an attention-starved kid." He shook his head, a playful grin still across his villainous mouth.

"So I'm delighted to say that I believe you shall have my company for just a bit longer." John flashed a careful wink at her, finishing his cup of wine and sighing contentedly from the warmth. "Or do you want to retire to your chambers?" If the knight was just marginally crazier, he probably would have contemplated taking this fair-haired vixen to his own chambers, bursting through the door in a wild frenzy of disappearing clothes and moist mouths. He could picture the look on his wife's face, the surprise, confusion, and then finally the anger. Anne Shilston could be, much to his knowledge, a ferocious woman.. would she leave him to his mistress, as any good wife should? Or would she stand her ground and defend her "territory?" The idea nearly seemed taunting, begging to be tried.

But John wasn't that crazy. His wife wasn't apart of tonight's plans. Mary was.
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Mary Carey
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The English Mare
Mary accepted the cup of wine John handed her, and took took a sip, watching him as she brought the rim of the cup to her lips. He appeared to be doing the same, his eyes never leaving her as he drank. What Mary would have given to know what he was thinking at that very moment. He must be pleased to have her in his company, otherwise, he wouldn't have asked her to dance in the first place, and certainly wouldn't have offered to get her a cup of wine. And of course, his reputation proceeded him. Everyone knew of John Shilston and his onslaught of mistresses, and how there had been a wedge in their marriage from the moment they said 'I do.' There was nothing more conspicuous than their troubled marriage, and Mary knew if she continued down this path, sipping away at her cup of wine and laughing at his jokes, a visit to the knight's private chambers couldn't be far off.

Her thoughts were shattered though, at his very next sentence. John claimed that there was nothing waiting for him in his chambers, save his wife and son. He had no plans of returning there with here. At least not tonight. Mary's smile wavered slightly as she set her cup on the table and lightly traced her index finger around its rim. "Is your wife really all that bad, Sir John?" she asked, cocking her head slightly. Anne Shilston had a reputation, yes, but Mary didn't quite understand what it was exactly that bothered John so immensely. She had heard stories from various sources telling tales about different marriages and which ones fell apart and which ones prospered. Some personalities clashed, making living together and husband and wife unpleasant. Mary wasn't entirely sure what her marriage with William would end up being like, seeing as though she hadn't spent much time with him following their betrothal. She considered asking John what he thought of the matter, but realized how terribly inappropriate at this point in time. Especially now that he was posing her a question.

She was glad to hear him say that he could stay with her a bit longer. He had said so himself that he was delighted. Mary took another sip of her wine, before shooting John a playful grin as she replied to his question. "Retire to my chambers, Sir John? Why would I ever do a thing like that, if it means leaving a charming knight, such as yourself?" Mary shook her head. "No, I'm quite pleased to say I shall remain in your company for a time." Still smiling, she nodded at John's empty cup. "Would you like some more wine?"
[align=center] [size0]"Whereas one man might satisfy you, I've yet to find one capable of pleasing me to the extent I wish." - Mary

A true blue CISCUIT

Mary is in a grand total of 2 thread(s).
And could have 2 more.


[/align]
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