thedispatch | (no subject)

(no subject)

William dropped down from his horse. It had been a long ride - from London straight down to the southern coast of England. But he'd barely stopped, only doing so when his horse refused to go further without rest and water. But each time, William did little more than tap his foot anxiously, trying to focus on anything but his thoughts of what happened the day before.

But now that he'd arrived, there was nothing else to distract him. The horse was forgotten as he walked towards where the English Channel extended out to what seemed like eternity. With the thick fog of the early morning, there was no telling just what was out there. William's breath was shaky as his gaze then drifted down. Beachy Head, a beautiful site for some, with the tall cliff towering over the shore line below. But for him, this day, it was his enemy - or perhaps his closes friend. Whichever the case, he was terrified.

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I certainly have no experience doing so.

[ Too bad the internet won't be around for another 200+ years. William reaches out with the intention of brushing the strands away from the opposite side of her face but pauses, realising he's doing yet another thing that may fluster her. ]

Is there some means of giving it a curl?

[ Grell blinks curiously at the reflection of his suspended hand. ]

Ah, yes!

[ While exclaiming so, her eyes wander about the vanity - and, by fortune, it seems his wife owned an iron.

She shifts to get up, so that she might grab the nearest candle, but forgets her limited mobility. Unable to bend her waist and swing her weight upward, her bottom plops right back down into the seat.

A hand hovering in front of her face in shame, she uses her other to gesture toward the candle and matches. ]

Will, could you please...

[ If William was one to laugh, he may have giving a short amused one at that. Instead he'll keep that thought of it being rather cute to himself. Instead his paused hand reaches to the items she's requesting. Assuming what she wants, he does her the favour of lighting the candle. ]

[ Expecting some form of teasing, Grell is quite relieved for the silence. He's even caught on to what she was asking for! She could just embrace him.

Glancing up at him with the briefest little smile, as she accepts the candle. Though, when she picks up the wand, she isn't absolutley certain what to do. Leaning over, she looks at the base, humming - and then, tilting the candle, she uses it to light the two wells that will ignite and heat the iron.

Looking to William, she's quite excited to have it working! ]

[ So far, she's figuring out more than he could. He's honestly proud of her, and glad to see her feeling the same. ]

Is there something I can assist with, then?

[ Not entirely sure where to start, herself, she isn't certain what to ask for- be he desires to be included, it seems, and she can't deny him of that... She must think of something! ]

Um, could you help me with the back, perhaps...?

I can try.

[ Standing, he moves behind her. He briefly runs his fingers through her hair before realising they will most likely need something to pin her hair up with. A decorative box sits atop the vanity and upon opening it, an array of hairpins are revealed. However, he may know where the pins are, but how to use them is another story.

A lock of hair is taken in hand and he holds it up, unsure of where he's meant to pin it. ]

I would assume we should raise it up before curling at all?

[ Lashes fluttering, she resists the shudder that threatens to run along her spine! His fingers feel so wonderful on her scalp. ]

Ah-- yes, I've often seen it started from the bottom...

[ Peeking into the box, she grabs one of the hinged clips. ]

You can use something like this!

[ Deciding that he's going to need a bit more hair to start, he gathers some up and attempts to pin the middle of the strands up towards the crown of her head. Already, however, he's shaking his head and taking it down. ]

Honestly, I should have payed more attention when Penelope was readying herself to go out.

[ Ah, Grell suddenly realises that she'd never even asked for his late wife's name - and now, she's uncertain of how to feel about it. Penelope, wife of Odysseus, a symbol of marital fidelity... She hates how ironic that is. ]

--Mm? [ She frowns. ] Don't fret, Will. We'll be learning this together.

[ Will is frowning quite a bit as well, because he really wants to know what he's doing and Grell's hair just doesn't want anything to do with helping him in reaching that goal. With a short huff, he's quickly losing patience. ]

[ Grell watches this with fingertips hovering over her lips. She feels a bit guilty for finding the situation endearing, as he's having such a hard time of it.

If he'll allow it, she'll take one of his struggling hands, and gently move it to rest along her cheek against her lips. A quiet sign of appreciation and consoling. ]

[ Though it's another tender, and arguably intimate, touch, he's reluctant to pull his hand away. He makes eye contact with her by way of their reflection and near immediately feels more at ease. The free hand takes hold of the hairpin and returns it to the box it'd been taken from. ]

I rather like it down. Perhaps just a simple curl is all it needs.

[ Relenting but also speaking quite honestly. ]

[ Smiling against his skin, her breath hitches with amusement. She thinks he's just given up. ]

I trust your judgement, Will.

[ And so, she'll allow his hand freedom, so she may pick up the iron! ]

So long as you agree.

[ Without any thought behind it, his knuckles graze along her cheek as he retracts his hand. Somehow her skin is still remarkably soft under the powder and blush she'd applied. Another brief thought he's push to the back of his mind for now as he reclaims his seat beside her. ]

[ Craning into his touch just so, her lashes are heavy over her eyes, breath shallow. She has to swallow down how deeply she pines for more. ]

I suppose we should wait to see what can be done with it, first...

[ Willing herself to focus with a deep inhale, she takes a stand to tentatively wrap around the iron. ]

[ William makes certain to watch, though he's a bit fearful she may burn herself on the hot iron. She has been rather clumsy around him, as of late. He keeps the thought to himself, though, as she also seems to be easily distracted by him. ]

[ Having dropped the strand too early, it holds only the faintest hint of a curl. She frowns, plucking another strand to try again. ]

I know that keeping it for too long will burn the hair...

[ At least she hasn't burned her fingers yet! ]

Shall I time each one?

[ He happens to have a pocket watch, which he retrieves from the pocket of his vest. ]

[ That gets a chuckle out of her. Such a serious and practical way to go about it-- and it doesn't surprise her at all! ]

Yes, that's an excellent idea.

[ Moments later, she drops another strand. Better, but still a tad loose. ]

So, perhaps ten seconds longer...?

I will start when the hair is fully wrapped, then?

[ He's already watching carefully so he can accurately clock the time. ]

[ Grell hums an affirmative, while her fingers separate out the next lock. ]

Yes, please.

[ Okay, her fingertips get just a touch too close this time, having her flinch with a quiet hiss. ]

[ As such, the sound she makes distracts William enough to totally interrupt any sense of timing he was doing. ]

Are you alright? I've told you to be careful, haven't I?

[ That scolding gets her to pout. The curl has already slipped out of her grip, so she sets aside the iron to reheat, meanwhile pressing the reddened skin to her lips. ]

It is more difficult than I thought, you know...

[ Muttering those words, she inspects the damage before showing him. ]

There, not too bad. See?

[ He scrutinises it probably more than he needs to. ]

It is going to hurt far more later.