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It's Not What it Looks Like; tag JShils
Topic Started: Jul 3 2011, 07:33 AM (277 Views)
Anne Shilston
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*Late - 1508 John=26 Anne=22*

Many upon many nights had passed after that confrontation with her husband. There were naturally many arguments like it, but nothing as severe. Anne had learned her lesson that fateful night. Not only did she realise that she loved her husband, for whatever reason that may be she did not know, but she also realised that just maybe it was her fault as to why her womb had still been empty. And it would remain so for the next years to come. It took Anne into a downward spiral. Never knowing what was going to happen to her if she did not produce a child of any kind for her husband to claim his. And of course, he might even refuse the child if he suspected some other man had planted it in her womb. But she was passed all of that, at least she had tried. Flirting was still a part of her, but she never took it further. In fact sometimes she flirted on purpose, in front of her husband so he might get mad at her again. It seemed angering him was also a connection to their lust and even if he despised her greatly and ignored her most of the time, they were the moments when she could get him back to their bed so she could continue to attempt to have him plant a child in her womb.

But still, nothing. Until now. It took longer for Anne to realise. Normally some women took care to keep track of signs, but Anne had been disappointed time and time again, she forgot them completely. Eight years, eight years had passed and still no children to call her own. She had done her best to satisfy her husband, she was learning to obey him, just as she was learning to turn to God for help. If she wasn’t with her husband or flirting, then she would most likely would be in the chapel, praying to God, His son and the Mother. Asking desperately for her womb to be filled and so finally she would be completing her duty as a wife. And then by some miracle, as if they had all taken pity on her, and seen how much she had changed, she was told she was with child. Almost close to three months.

She was so over the moon that she rushed out to tell her husband, but she would have to find him first. On her way down the hallway, she bumped into some of her so called friends. She had been a little distant from them during these recent times and it was likely they despised her for it. So they decided to play one last trick on her. Unable to contain her excitement of her news, she told them. It was her worst mistake. Playing kind to her, they at least pretend to share her excitement, and because of it, she was ignorant to their ploy. They had seen her husband of course and they knew where he was. They did indeed know where John was, but the place they told Anne, was of course not the right spot at all. They waited until Anne was heading off, following their direction before scurrying off to inform the knight that his precious little wife hadn’t been going to the chapel all these years, but to the man he had caught her with that first time.

When Anne stepped into this man’s chambers, she was confused. What was she doing here? She didn’t even know he was back. She had wanted nothing to do with this man after that incident, so naturally she turned to leave. But this man was as coniving as the little bitches who had sent her here, one of them being his own wife. He would not let her go and he will not let her leave until he finally had the chance to sample the delicacy between her legs, as she had denied him all of these years. Of course, she and his prick of a husband was the reason he had been exiled for a time and he wasn’t allowed back until he had married. So the leader of the wolf pack had married the leader of the vixens, such a perfect couple they made. Anne wished she only knew that they would seek revenge from her in such a way. With her escaped blocked, she fought like a harpy, hurling everything within her reach at this pathetic man. Because he will have her, whether she was willing or not. But there was a difference now. Anne Shilston had something to fight for; her unborn child. But as she had learned after all these years with her husband and his temper, she knew quite well that she was no match for any man, a boy maybe, but no man.

That did not mean she would give up. She was carrying her miracle child and no way in Hell was she going to let it be harmed. She scratched, kicked, bit, punched. But even so he managed to set her on the settee, putting her in much the same position they had been in that first time when she had been willing. Whatever carnage he gave her though, she was quite used to it thanks to her dear husband. And then finally she went quiet, still. Not a defeat, but to let the bastard believe it was so, waiting patiently to catch him by surprise. And as he busied with his breeches, she carefully reached her hand out, trying desperately to reach something, anything that she could use.
[align=center]PLOT: :BIO: :TRACKER

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John Shilston
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Tonight was no different from the last. Or the one before that. Supper came, he went, ate, drank his wine, and left with a new woman on his arm. So, mayhaps the face of tonight's mistress was different, but still it as all the same to John. He made no different moves with her as he would the next, the same pulsations went through him as it always would, and the door closed the same way as every other one did. He left her chambers in the later hours, fixing the buttons of his doublet while walking down the halls and toward his own apartments. His footsteps were, for the most part, all he heard, save for the crackling of the lit torches on the walls as he walked. Those few he passed he gave little attention, and it wasn't until he came upon a group of familiar-faced women did he finally stop and bid them goodnight.

That hadn't been it, though, and how desperately John wished it was. He recognized them as Anne's old group of friends, ones he did not particularly like but, for the most part, condoned their company. Yet tonight their expressions were secretive, their variously colored eyes looking up at him as if they had something to tell him, but shouldn't. His eyebrows furrowed, his jaw tightening, and used the last bit of his manners to ask, politely, just what it was they had on their minds. One giggled, one glanced away and hid a smile, while the other only stared at the knight with a sly, almost evil smirk. Something was going on in those eyes, and as John waited impatiently for the answer, he could only think this could be nothing pleasant. "It's... your wife, Sir." John lifted his expression from its furrow into one of slight surprise, confusion as to what this vixen could possibly be talking about. "What about her?" He snapped, stepping deliberately forwards.

"She's... in there..." the blond spoke, turning slowly to point to an opened door only a few strides down the hall. He could see the dim light pouring out from it, but still this meant nothing. His gaze, growing more and more wild by the second, flickered back the woman's face. "With my husband.. Sir John, where do you think she has been every time she's visited the 'Chapel?'" She went on, shaking her head as if ashamed of even mentioning it. Her expression suddenly looked hurt, presumably upset over her husband and his affair. That, though, John did not care about. His jaw tensed, the vein in his forehead bulged, and without thought he quickly shoved past the group of women and stormed down the hallway, towards the open doorway with nothing less than rage flowing through him. He nearly yelled her name as he progressed, but knew that would only tear them from the tangle he was so ready to find her in for the. Last. Time.

Turning the corner into the room, he saw only the naked back of a man, haunched over two open legs and a woman that was, he already knew, his wife. Expression wild, John crossed the floor in only a second, curling a hand around the back of the man's neck and pulling him backwards towards the floor. On his way down, John landed his other fist right in the midst of the husband's nose, hearing that God awful crack and pulling back with blood on his knuckles. There was a loud crash following the man's collision with the floor, and in his cries of agony from a broken nose, John wasted no time in nailing the toe of his boot into his ribcage... making sure he stayed there. "Get your fucking ass up!" He shouted, glowering now at his wife as he reached for her wrist and yanked her to her feet. Kicking once more at her blasted lover, the knight pulled his wife from the chamber and out into the hallway, all for her friends to see.
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Anne Shilston
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Anne’s fingertips finally found something, a vase. But it was just out of her reach and her attempt to reach it made it fall off the table with a crash. As she watched the vase fall it felt like slow motion to her, as if all her hopes had fallen with it. But right at that moment as if it was fate, the man was torn away from her. She was in a daze, confused of what was now happening, but relieved that her nightmare had ended, or had it merely just begun? She blinked and soon realised her saviour was her own husband. She rejoiced but then her world came crashing down just as the vase had. Did…did he actually believe she had wanted this? Well of course he had, this was how he had found her the last time.

Relieved, scared, and hormones rolled into one made her burst into tears. She was shaking terribly. She just wanted out of this room and into her own, tucked away safely in her bed. The child, the child, she had to protect the child. When John yanked her to her feet, her free hand went to her stomach; a mother’s instinct to protect her unborn child. Oh this was meant to be a happy time! She was finally pregnant, finally. But now before she could share the good news with her husband, she was stuck in this mess. What happened, what had she done wrong? “John! Please, please it’s not what you think. He…he…he was trying to…”

Her words were cut off as her sobs continued. Why, why was this happening? She had tried to be good, tried to. She had never been in another man’s chambers until now. She was told her husband was here, she was told… Anne paused and realised that she had been dragged out into the hall. She blinked and wiped the tears from her eyes so she could try to focus. It was then she saw her so called group of friends, a couple of them just looked as shocked as she, more like ashamed, while the others had a smug look on their faces. The leader, the blond that had informed John on her whereabouts had the most evil grin on her face, and in that moment, Anne knew, she knew what, how this all happened.

Somehow breaking free from John’s grasp, she stormed over to the group and slapped the blond so hard the sound of it resonated up the hall. “You fucking bitch! I never, ever want to see you…any of you ever again!” When the blond attempted to hit Anne back, Anne grabbed her wrist in mid-air, inches from her face. She would take it from her husband, but from someone else, not a chance. “Go attend to your husband, you bitch, mine left him bloodied and broken on the floor.” With that Anne spun back around, paying true to her word as it would be the last time she would speak or see those women ever again.

But then she just stood there, staring at her husband, ignoring the blond rushing over to her husband on the floor of their chambers as the rest dispersed. He had saved her but he didn’t even realise that he had. She just wanted to die, no; she finally had something to live for, the something that she had been dreaming of ever since she was a child. To one day have her own family, her own children. And even though she had been married for eight years, it was only now that she had fallen pregnant.

All of a sudden she felt sick, the shock of almost being raped and then the mess that followed had taken their toll on her, not to mention that this woman was pregnant. A hand flew to her mouth as if that could stop any bile from escaping. She whimpered. “J-John.” But she couldn’t hold on, she tried to find somewhere, anywhere other than where she was, but there wasn’t much and there was no time, so she had been sick right there in the hall, almost getting it on her own husband’s feet.

She fell to her knees, gasping for breath, wishing and willing for this to be over. By some miracle one of her old friends, the guiltiest one had sent forth some servants to help with the mess, while two went to attend to the broken man in his chambers, one had stopped once she had seen poor Anne be sick. She cleaned up the mess as best she could, before hurrying off for a moment and returning with a bowl of water to finish the job, before wiping Anne’s face gently and handing her a cup of water. All the while the servant avoided John completely, she knew her place, but she also knew that she might have to ask the knight if his wife had gotten any on him. But instead, she rubbed Anne’s back soothingly before asking quietly. “How along are you?” Anne blinked, blushed lightly that the servant just knew and her husband could not. She glanced up at him, but then down to the floor and replied softly. “I…I only just found out.”

(Blame Mona, she encouraged some of this XD )
[align=center]PLOT: :BIO: :TRACKER

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John Shilston
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For a second or two, John actually pondered listening to the words she had to say. Though his hand never loosened its grip on her wrist as he towed her out into the hallway, there was something, something hardly recognizable that flickered through his mind, flickered enough for him to at least consider it. If only briefly. Alas, the moment she said it wasn't what he thought, the knight had lost any and all sympathy and completely shut her out. His jaw tightened and his face, as red as it felt, actually remained stoic -though angry- as they came into the hallway. His thoughts had returned to that night only three years ago, that night where he'd nearly beaten his wife into a bloody pulp after finding her with that fool now in a mess in his apartments. This night was no different, and even as Anne wrenched herself from his grasp to confront her former friend, John watched with little emotion. He took only a single step forward as the woman went to slap his wife, a gesture he would not tolerate, but stopped himself as he saw Anne had caught her wrist just in time before he himself had to.

With dark, seething blue eyes he watched the vixen hurry off into her chambers, her face wrought with genuine worry for the wellbeing of her husband. He arched a brow, but thought nothing of it as his gaze averted back to the stricken face of his wife. Her cheeks were suddenly pale, and when her hand had flown to her mouth and she muttered his name, John could only take a few steps towards her until the little remaining distance was blanketed in vomit. He quickly reversed his pattern and stepped backwards, his expression wide with surprise and disgust. His eyes flickered back and forth from the bile to her face, silently ravaging her with questions as a maidservant finally came to clean the awful mess. "Was that necessary?" God, she might as well of been a child with an upset stomach. He shook his head and wrenched his expression at the smell, horrid and rancid it was as the last of it was finally wiped from the floor.

"Far along?" He echoed, suddenly appalled before Anne could answer. "With what? With child?" It was as if he was humored, tickled at the blasphemous idea. "Anne is not -" "I've just found out." He paused. Stopped, was more like it. Hesitated. He was silenced. Completely shut down. He froze, the hand he lifted to ridicule the two women before him slowly falling limp to his side. He took a step back, a quick breath coming out of his chest as if he'd been forced. For long moments he stood there, appalled, surprised, confused and thoughtful all at once. His expression showed little else until finally, something began to chisel its way into the lines of his features. His eyebrows, slowly but obviously furrowed into the middle of his forehead, the lids of his eyes narrowing in suit and his lips, pursing and frowning as if in distaste. His hands had carefully curled into fists, and his jaw - slowly setting itself into a familiarly tense spot. This could not be.

Reaching out, John took hold of her wrist and yanked her once more to her feet, his breath already heavy and the vein in his forehead bulging. "Then I think it is about time we find the little bastard's father." He said this perfectly clear and loud enough for the maidservant to hear, hopefully to judge Anne as the whore she was, and without word he towed her down the hallways and corridors until they finally reached their apartments. He nearly tossed her into the room as he let go of her wrist, his expression fuming and movements quick while he helped himself to their wine. John gulped at it, hardly breathing as he slammed it, empty, back down on the table. Truthfully, the knight did not know how to react. Never had he felt so fucking angry.. yet so powerless. Hitting her would not change that demon in her belly, would not change that she'd conceived it, and even if he were to send her away, she would only be the mother of a bastard there. At least out of his sight, but still there. He could only hope God would take it in His power to punish this woman.

"How... dare you.." he spoke, lowly as he turned to glare at her. "Carry the child of another man. I should leave you in the same mess I left that fool of yours!" John took a step forward, every fiber of his being near buzzing. His eyelids narrowed, peering angrily at her. "I vow to you now, Anne," he went on, "I will find any way I can to get rid of you, and finally! I shall not have to call you my fucking wife!"
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Anne Shilston
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Anne did her best to ignore John’s words. “Was that necessary?” If she had let that get to her she would have likely started with the water works and that would make John all the more embarrassed with her. What an inconsiderate, selfish, good for nothing, whoring sex fiend of a husband! No an ass! Yes he was the ass of an ass to say such a thing to a pregnant woman after she was almost raped and broken off her connection to such worthless friends! If it weren’t for the servant appearing to come aid her, she would have broken down into tears. What an idiot of a husband she had! In fact all she wanted to do was cry…she wanted her mother. Oh why did she have to be so alone in the world? Her parents were dead; he husband did not want her, her so called friends were now her enemies and her brother? Well he was too busy being the Prince’s pet, doing God knows what with the mischief they got up to.

It is why she gave the servant a weak smile, she was the only one in the world who was helping her and for that she wanted to cry too. And then it could only get worse. Was her husband, her own husband laughing at her, at the thought that she could be pregnant? Oh she wanted to die! No…when he took her wrist and pulled her to her feet and insinuated that she was carrying someone else’s bastard that is when she wanted to die. How could he? How could he! She was finally pregnant with his child and this, this is what he comes up with? Believing her pathetic friends that she had been enjoying what was happening in that room?

And that poor servant! She was old enough to have a temper and children of her own, but knew she could do nothing as she watched the worse husband-of-the-year pull his wife away. Because she was a servant and shouldn’t be meddling in business that isn’t her own, unless of course she found someone to mention it to. Anne could only be shocked as she was pulled along down the hallway to their chambers. She felt ashamed, embarrassed that he was making such a scene about it, applying to all that were within hearing that she was a whore. Well maybe she might have acted like a whore in their first years of marriage, but she had changed and why couldn’t he see that? Well of course he only saw what he wanted to see. Because how could he not see that she was about to be raped! Any other husband would have let her cry in their arms and promise her ever lasting protection…but not hers, never hers.

Finally, tears did well up in her eyes as she was thrown into the room. She had to catch herself before she injured her unborn child. This wasn’t the way a husband should be treating their pregnant wife! He would not take this child from her either; this child was all she had left to hang on. And now, now she was angry. She turned to face him, her hands clenched at her sides eager to strike her husband as he had done many of a time to her. “How dare I? How dare you! After so many years of being childless, the first thing you do when you find out I am with child is accuse me of sleeping with another! I was being raped John! RAPED! But do you ask me if I am fine? No! Because rape doesn’t commune to you, because it is all just the same to you in that thick head of yours!”

She was unable to stop the tears now; they flowed freely as she stepped back and fell onto a settee, sobbing, with her head in her hands. For a moment she stayed like this, until she could compose herself again. She lifted her head, taking deep breaths as she tried to control her sobbing. With one hand she wiped her tears away as she looked up at him, her other hand resting protectively on her stomach. There wasn’t much of pregnant belly, but just knowing there was an unborn child in there, she had to protect it, even from its own father. “Send me away then…I will be better off on my own…me and my child don’t need you!” She then paused and stood up again, her eyes red from her crying. “Or better yet, beat me as you said you would, beat me and kill this child of ours so it shall never have to know how cruel its father is! It’s better off dead!”

She stepped forward, close enough for John to reach her, as if she wanted it. She then took his right hand and lifted it to her stomach, closing his hand into a fist, staring into his eyes with so much hatred, the most she had ever looked at him with. "Go on do it. Do it! Kill your own child, John! Kill it! Or are you too much of a coward now?" It was true that Anne never wanted this child to be taken from her, but she felt so much hatred for her husband at that moment, she would rather die than give this bastard a child.
[align=center]PLOT: :BIO: :TRACKER

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John Shilston
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John, simply put, had no idea what to do with himself. He felt he was about to burst at the very seams, at every pore and follicle he had on his body. His wife seemed so ugly to him now.. clouded in red, invisibly with child yet still so obviously. His stomach felt sick, and for a moment or two he thought he was going to empty his guts this time. Thankfully enough, though, he swallowed back the urge and quickly smothered it with more wine and, ultimately, more rage. He wanted to hit her, he wanted beat and kick and pummel whatever lack of soul this demon harpy had. But he was powerless to do so, and instead could only throw one thing after the other at the wall behind her. It all clanked, shattered or snapped in half, but still there seemed to be little relief to the crimson in John's face.

The knight paused, if only for a moment, as she blurted nonsense about rape. Rape? He stared at her, and then as if overwhelmed by a fit of insanity, threw his head back and laughed. Rape! Oh the thought was hilarious. Who would ever want to rape Anne Shilston? Better yet, who would ever need to? The woman was more willing than a feline in heat, and though the idea sickened him, he could not deny it. He had found her with that same man nearly three years ago, and though he knew her behavior had only subsided marginally, still his faith ran thin.. if at all. Anne would always be that awful, distasteful whore to him. A whore even he wouldn't bother to visit! John shook his head and laughed again, his smile malicious and evil as he shrugged off her accusal. Rape. Ha!

"You and your child," he echoed, emphasizing that he held no claim to the bastard in her womb. His eyelids narrowed and he refilled another cup of wine, downing it in nearly a single gulp. His expression twisted with utter disgust as she yelled at screamed for him to beat her, to kill the child she had finally conceived. He took a single step away as she closed in on him, and when she'd grabbed his hand and curled it into a fist, John was quick to take it back from her. He slammed down his cup, glaring down at his wife, and sighed heavily. "No." He stated, plainly and firmly as he crossed his arms before his broad chest. "Bring this bastard into the world, Anne.." he seethed, his voice low and fuming. "Pray God will take him, because I sure as Hell won't." He huffed and stared at her, willing every ounce of seriousness he had into that teary-eyed face of hers. "Instead of living with the relief that I spared this realm of another fatherless child," he went on, ignoring how incessant she was to insist he was the father. "I believe I will be content knowing you are to live with the horrors of having it." He smirked then, flashing a subtle wink at her before turning away and moving to the other side of the room.

"You shall make your own arrangements concerning travel and for your confinement. I care not what you do, Anne, or where you go or for how long." He placed his hands on his hips, his back faced to her as he peered down at the simmering fireplace. "To put it simply, you are on your own, save for the coffers and houses you have right to." Yes, he wanted her to know that until the end of his days, he would vehemently deny that blasted child in her belly. It wasn't his. It couldn't be his. God had willed it for so long to bless him without a child from her, so why would He choose now to give them one? Curse them one was more like it. "So, with that said," he went on, finally turning around to face her with his hands still placed on his hips and his shoulders squared. "I bid you luck."
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Anne Shilston
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Anne could just stand there and stare at her husband. How could he? How could he deny that the child, this child in her belly was his? Hadn’t he been noticing how much she had changed for him? No, he had to believe a group of whores over his own wife! What a pathetic husband he was! She felt betrayed, oh how she felt it. She was crushed, she felt like she could die. She shook, trembled as he left her standing there, continuing to deny any claim to her child, to their child.

And then she was angry. If he didn’t want anything to do with her, to do with their child then fine! He could go die in a gutter somewhere for all she cared. A husband was meant to be rejoiced of happiness that finally, finally his wife was bringing their child into the world, but no, not her husband, never. She felt like she was going to be sick again, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction now to show how weak and pathetic she was. No, she held it back, forced it down. The tears though she could not stop. They trailed silently down her cheeks. It was likely that he didn’t even see them with his back turned to her.

She was shaking again listening to her own husband disown her. This was not the reaction she had been expecting. What would her life be like in the future? Was she condemned to live out her life with her and her only child, while her husband found pleasure in between every other woman’s legs? Well she hoped that in doing so he would catch some disease and die! Maybe if anyone wanted her after that, her second husband would be kind to her and love her and the children she produced as equals. Not like this pathetic worthless husband she had now. She would be fine without him; her own brother had powerful connections and surely would find her a marriage more suited for his one and only sister.

Yet, the tears still flowed. Why did she have to love this man? He was surely her curse. She closed her eyes briefly, finally able to control her tears. She wiped them away with the back of her hand, before standing tall and proud. If John wanted nothing to do with her then so be it. “Fine, if that’s what you want. Don’t expect to see me ever again.” She spun and turned for the door, but she paused after opening it. She looked back at him, glaring at him with as much hatred as she could muster. “Go to Hell, John…go to Hell!” And with that she left her husband behind, slamming the door after her.

*Closed*
[align=center]PLOT: :BIO: :TRACKER

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Isabel Leigh
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Virtue alone is invincible.
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