Audrey had seen carriages before, mostly the plain sort, made from coarse drab fabrics that looked as comfortable as the roads they travelled. Mr Duvaux had a carriage parked discreetly nearby, a short walk and a few turns brings them to a dark velvet chaise, drawn by a magnificent dark stallion. The carriage blends into the night, like it is fashioned from smoke and shadows, built for stealth.
Mr Devaux nods, watchful and mildly interested as she reaches out to touch the smooth material, but hesitates and then drops her hand. She turns and looks expectantly at him and he opens the carriage door and motions for her to climb in, holding out his hand to help her up. Audrey climbs in quickly, seeming not to notice his offer of assistance, he follows, his ascent smooth, and settles beside her. The journey begins in a cryptic silence, made only more prominent by the uncanny smoothness of the ride.
Audrey watched the scenes change at impossible speeds, eyes shining like dewed violets in the moonlight as she gazes out of the carriage. She raises a hand to draw the curtains back a little further but is stopped short by the light touch of a hand on her wrist. She stares at that hand, surprised to feel the callouses that speak of experience, strength. It makes her wonder how an entitled man like himself acquired tells of hard labour such as these, perhaps he was a musician? Her eyes trail from his hand to his face as she receded deeper into her musings. She wonders again about the colour of his, they glow a mischievous ruby and boast a challenge -
"You've never been in a carriage before?" He half inquired, half chastised.
"Had I the finances to afford a carriage I would not have been at the place where you found me I assure you." She says, taking the bait. His eyes widen a fraction at her retort, soon replaced with a ghost of a smirk about his sensuous lips. Audrey drags her gaze from his lips.
"Where did you live?" He asks, causing her brow to wrinkle at his use of past tense.
"Two hours walk from the factory district."
She feels the latent scrutiny in his gaze intensify at her words but doesn't look up, turning her gaze instead onto the dark streets outside.
"How old are you?" He asks, to which she replies, "Nineteen."
"And your name?"
"Audrey Sutton," she sighs, suppressing a yawn. It is strange that she is suddenly so tired as she slept for hours at the coffee house, maybe it because she'd never been in a coach before? She held back yet another yawn.
"You can rest your eyes if you want, it is not a short journey."
She was in a strange vehicle with an equally strange acquaintance, and this was not her most comfortable resting situation. She thanked him for his concern and the compliment assuring him that she was okay before turning her gaze back out of the gap in the curtains.
Audrey stopped feeling so tired at some point, yet the journey stretches on some hours, and she starts to get weary. She and her mysterious stranger haven't exchange words since she almost fell asleep, yet she notices, out of the corner of her eye that he had not moved and inch since the silence settled. He sits with an unnatural stillness that isn't quite eerie, but is enough to warrant her attention. She doesn't know what to make of it. His expression is almost unbearable; however, she thinks she sees a troubled taint to his features, she can't be sure if it's her imagination.
The next time she surveyed him out of the corner of her eye, she was caught but she didn't avert get eyes like she wanted to, instead she held his gaze.
When a knowing smirk slides onto his face, she drops his stare, not understanding. She wonders wearily if this was how it would be from now on in this new life. She knows things will be different, but she isn't looking forward to not understanding the people around her, with an internal sigh she resolves to adapt by force.
