happyfalcon | Prompt: Masquerade

Anne rolled her eyes playfully at his reply. But, for the most part, she's of the same mindset. Despite the fact that they could be discovered at any moment, the only person that consumed her thoughts was Thomas. There was no Henry; there was no Thomas or George Boleyn.

At his reaction, she leaned down and brushed her lips to his neck once again, over his pulse point. All the while her fingers continued their work beneath his trousers. As she leaned and he tugged at her bodice, it more or less fell away. She gave a slight gasp as the cool night air hit her chest. Anne trailed her kisses up his neck to his jaw, occasionally even letting her tongue flicker against his skin.

"Thomas..." she whispered his name, nearly moaned it in fact. "Have you any idea how often you entered my thoughts in the palace? How often I lay in my bed at night thinking of you?"

It was indeed true. Though she had managed to maintain a decent front in public. But once the lights were low and Anne found herself alone, she found that she was unable to fight off thoughts of Thomas - being alone with him, listening to his poems in progress, even writing a few herself, stealing the briefest kisses and touches when they could.

A dozen conflicting thoughts flashed in Wyatt's mind. There was the wonder and amazement that they were truly here, together, and that she was allowing him this favour. There was the fear and sadness that this was a one-off, a farewell note before she'd slip away from him forever. With that came jealousy for the man who would have her instead. There was bitterness - why the hell have you put me through all this, if you want me as much as I want you?

His thoughts meant nothing; he wasn't in charge. And that thought let him go of all the others and simply feel her presence.

Biting his bottom lip, Wyatt let out a moan that left no suspicion of how he indeed felt having her hand working on him. It was dark but he could still see enough to admire her exposed breasts and his mouth formed a silent 'beautiful' when he caught her eyes again. It nearly killed him to have her move above him so that her nipples brushed him only so much. Wyatt splayed hands open against her back, bringing her as close as possible.

"I have no idea," he mumbled to her neck. Truthful it was, too. At first he had been angry at her, and wallowed in his own self-pity. Later he found no reason to wonder if she still cared about him. There was some solace in knowing she had cared once.

"But for relief of all my woe
It doth suffice that thou wert mine"

He let one of his hands fall down and squeeze her backside again.

"Tell me how often."

If asked that question, Anne would have answered easily enough: That she had done all that she'd done because she cared for him. That she wanted him to be happy, and that he wouldn't be happy if he was dead. Her father would most certainly have seen to that if he knew, if he suspected. So Anne had tried to force herself not to care, unsuccessfully.

However, Anne could really be accused of that same jealousy. Though Thomas swore he was going to divorce his wife, they were still married. Was it her lot in life to find herself matched with married men? Perhaps her bitterness over his marriage was the reason she'd been so cruel. Which didn't justify her actions, but still.

Could she be blamed for wanting Thomas all to herself?

Anne sighed as she felt him clutch her tighter. It felt too good to feel his bare chest beneath her breasts. Anne glanced up and moved to seize his lips with hers. Her free hand came up, cupping his jaw to deepen the kiss.

"'Wert'? As in past tense?" Anne let the question hang in between their lips. Was she teasing? Was she alluding to something else?

Either way, Anne moved on.

"Thoughts of you haunted me each night. Thinking of your touch, the way you kiss me, the way you hold me," Anne whispered. "Oh Thomas, how I longed to hear your poems again, to hear your words so lovingly penned and planned..."

Edited 2014-07-14 13:47 (UTC)

Wyatt didn't really know how to deal with his marriage. In a way he had taken an "out of sight, out of mind" approach and tried to erase it from his mind. Elizabeth hadn't been his choice of a wife. Of course, that was the same for everyone: a marriage was a union of two families, decided by parents. Love or affection had little to do with it. Oh - he hadn't exactly objected to her. She was fine to look at and there wasn't any other girl his mind was consumed with at the time. He had been young and the allure of the marriage bed was no small matter.

Unfortunately it had all gone wrong too soon. Before long Elizabeth was expecting their child and with that their relationship changed. Wyatt was proud of his son, no question about it, but he strongly felt Elizabeth wasn't pulling her weight in making the marriage work. Then came the suspicion that she had a lover.

A divorce was a possibility but not an easy one to get. Wyatt would have needed undisputable proof that she had been unfaithful. He didn't have that. So, by now he had resigned to the fact that separation was all that he was getting.

Elizabeth had never kissed him like Anne did. He felt powerless and exhilarated and totally lost in her when Anne held his face, unafraid to show her lust. Wyatt returned the kiss hungrily, hands trailing on her back.

Elizabeth had never cared for his poems like Anne did.
Elizabeth had never shaken his core like Anne did.
Elizabeth had never-

He was touched by Anne's words. Taking a deep breath, Wyatt pulled her hand away from beneath his trousers and laboriously rose up to a sitting position, Anne in his arms. He shrugged off the doublet and grinned. "You like my poetry, huh? Here's one for you:
Anne Boleyn,
I want you now.

Anne should have understood his dilemma with his marriage. She was a quick and clever woman, she could understand the circumstances well enough. But it was personal for her, personal because she wanted Thomas; so she wasn't exactly in her right and logical mind.

But there was indeed satisfaction in that he was here with her, while Elizabeth was off God only knows where. On the other hand, without a proper divorce, he could never truly be hers. And therefore, there was no escape route from Henry for her; at least not with Thomas.

God knows she had thought of this before, but Anne forced it from her mind now. This was not the moment to think of such things. She had him for now, he was hers in this moment. Anne didn't want to spoil it.

She let him move her hand and gave a soft giggle as he sat up with her in his lap. Anne's eyes glinted a bit as he spoke, and her fingers set about tracing invisible patterns on his chest.

"Oh come now, Thomas - surely you can do better than that," Anne smiled as both hands came up and once again pushed her fingers through his hair. Her body arched against his, her hips rolling a bit. "Especially after being apart for so long."

His eyes opened wide, an accomplishment of sorts, considering he had been nearly kissed senseless. Momentarily stunned, Wyatt didn't know whether Anne was making fun of him or not. His body ached for her and he knew he couldn't stand much longer. Wyatt tilted his head towards her right hand.

"There's nothing wrong with that poem but I can see how it should be acted out, not spoken out. Like this." He wrapped one hand around her shoulders and turned around, toppling her down onto his jacket on the ground. On top of her again, Wyatt kissed Anne quickly, then backed enough to fumble with her skirts, lifting all of those layers up and then positioning himself between her knees.

He had to curse the clothing again. It would have been so much better to undress fully but they didn't have all that time. Wyatt leaned in closer, kissing her right breast and collarbone. Hastily he pushed down his own trousers before his mouth found her neck again.

Anne had only been partially teasing him, but she was thrilled at his action afterwards. Her arms went around his neck as she returned his kiss. She reached down to help him hold up her skirts, she knew how frustrating her clothes could be, both to put on and to take off.

Anne arched her back and tipped her head to offer him more of her skin. Feeling the brush of his lips against her breast made the most lust-craving whine escape her throat. Her need was too great to deny now.

As he positioned himself between her legs, Anne bent her knees and actually maneuvered to wrap them loosely around his waist. Her hands ran down his back, her nails barely running along his skin.

"Thomas..." Her breath was heavy and ragged even now as she moaned for him. "Oooh...I need you..."

He would go to Hell for this.

Breathing hot and heavy, Wyatt kept kissing Anne's throat. His tongue trailed across that smooth skin until it reached the corner of her mouth, then inside it. He clutched his hand over her breast.

Breaking the kiss for a moment to catch breath, Wyatt glanced at Anne, his eyes dark and half-lid. Though she had her legs wrapped around him, he managed to lift his hips slightly, with the help of his knees pushing on the grass (and partly on the back of her dress), so that he could slide a hand between them, between her legs.

He didn't hesitate - God it was too late for that now. Reaching down enough, his middle finger sank inside of her. Wyatt kep his eyes on Anne, just to be sure her face didn't indicate any objection. Not that he thought it would but... he'd stop if that was the case. He swallowed and stroked her a few times, in hazy awe of how she felt.

But he was an impatient man now, more so than he wanted to admit. Hard already from her doing, he didn't need to do much else than guide his cock to where his hand had just been. Impatiently, yes, and hard, Wyatt drove his hips against her. He gasped and thrusted again, and again. Then his motions became softer, as did the expression on his face.

When his tongue again came to her mouth, Anne was only too eager to meet it. She took in the heat of his mouth, the faint taste of wine on his tongue. Her dark eyes locked with his as they both caught their breath. But as his finger slipped in, he stole her breath once again.

Her hips rocked up and down, wanting his digit in deeper. Each stroke of his finger coaxed a new moan and sigh from her. She should be quiet, lest they be discovered, but at such a time as this, she didn't care. Anne was far too consumed by the sparks of pleasure that ran through her with each of his movements.

She gave a greedy whine when his finger left her but soon her hand flew to her mouth to quiet her gasp. Her walls clamped tight around his cock the second he entered. Anne moaned with each thrust, feeling complete again as her hips rocked to match his pace.

There was not even the faintest hint of displeasure on her face, only the softest blush sparked of the heat between them and her coyest smile for which she was so well known. As his thrusts softened, Anne couldn't stop herself from moaning his name.

"A-Anne... Boleyn," he smiled, reaching a slow and steady rhythm that he enjoyed so much. He pushed himself deep inside the tight wetness of her, relishing in the way she met his thrusts each time, instead of backing away like some women did.

"You... feel... amazing. Like I rememb-." Wyatt swallowed the rest of the sentence, eyes falling shut, head nodding down. He brushed their noses together, smoothed some curls by the side of her head.

With eyes closed, Wyatt's hearing was more focused and Anne's satisfied moans soon had him moving faster, rougher, with hasty heat--

"Shh!" Wyatt clamped a hand over her mouth, freezing still. Somebody was laughing. The voice was some distance away but it was still potentially dangerous to them.

Good thing he had the sense to cover her mouth. Anne had been so absorbed by the heat of the moment that she'd forgotten where they were, and that there were indeed others lurking about. Anne's chest heaved as she both caught her breath and waited. Was the laughter getting closer or farther? It seemed to be getting farther away, but that could have been her own wishful thinking.

Fear gripped her for a moment, thinking of what would happen if they were discovered. She didn't necessarily fear for herself, it was Thomas she feared for. God forbid it was her brother with a woman, he often did the same things Anne did. They thought alike, which explained why they both got along and butted heads at the worst of times.

Anne subconsciously wrapped her arms around Thomas' middle. Somehow, holding him felt more secure - that he was safe in her arms and she was just as safe in his. As if, by holding him this way, she could protect him, even if she wasn't certain that she could.

Wyatt turned his head to the side and listened. His heart had jumped into his throat and he nearly dared not breathe. All he knew was that they must not be discovered. Anne must not be discovered.

There was some rustling in the trees but all human voices seemed have faded into darkness. He looked back at Anne, slowly removing his hand away from her mouth.

"I apologize. I didn't hurt you, did I?" he whispered and stroked her cheek gently. "I think they're gone, whoever they were."

Her hands around him felt good; Wyatt lowered himself down, to lie heavy on top of her and to bury his face in her hair spread all around her. The interruption had certainly taken a toll on his arousal. He probably could have done something about it but he much rather took advantage of her less intimate but more meaningful embrace that she granted him at the moment.

"You belong to me, Anne." He wasn't really sure why he said that.

Edited 2014-07-15 22:45 (UTC)

Relief washed over her as the voices faded and Thomas released her. Anne gave a soft sigh and her body relaxed, though her grip around him stayed strong. To feel his weight on top of her, even if they had been interrupted, was heavenly. As he buried his face in her hair, Anne did the same with his, nuzzling the top of his head.

Her eyes glinted mischievously at that last comment. She gave a soft chuckle.

"Do I? And just what makes you say that, Thomas?" Anne countered. Not that she was really about to argue. No, she knew better.

Of course her heart belonged to him. She knew this. And with all her heart and soul she wished that their situation was different. Was it so wrong that she wanted to be with him? To be able to hold him at their leisure instead of sneaking about. Though, to a degree, she did enjoy the forbidden nature of it all.

But so much fear clouded the pleasure this way.

"If anyone belongs to anyone, I would say it is you who belongs to me," Anne teased. "For how could a man keep a falcon caged?"

What made him say that? Heaven knows. Maybe he simply wanted that to be the case. When he had laid his eyes on Anne, fresh back from the French court... Wyatt had wanted her. By miracle, she had wanted him.

But they had never been able to be together in public, not in any way that mattered. Wyatt had visited Hever openly but moments with Anne alone were always in secret.

Why were they never given a proper chance? The answer to that was Thomas Boleyn. He was a force that stood in Wyatt's way more than anyone else, even the King or the Pope himself (for not granting him the divorce). It was such an irony that her father was also his namesake.

Wyatt stretched out to the side, his hand slung protectively over her chest. While chuckling at her comment, inside he felt a bit sad.

"I gladly belong to you, my love," he said and took her hand to kiss it. "Always. I'd never keep you caged."

With a sigh he added, "We should get going. Your father will be looking for you soon." Hopefully he hadn't already.

((OOC: Do we want to assume they knew each other as children? Hever and Allington Castle, where Wyatt lived, are about 20 miles from each other and their fathers were friends. I would be fine with that but if it's not at all what you like, I'm also fine with them meeting only after she comes back from France.

By the way, Elizabeth's (Wyatt's wife) mother's mother was a sister to Anne's father's father. But I guess everyone was related in some way :) ))

Edited 2014-07-16 09:10 (UTC)

'My love' - two little words and yet she could have melted in his arms that very moment. Why did he have to use those words, of all the others at his disposal? Did he know what effect his words had on her? Did he know that she felt the same, even if she hadn't said so aloud since this whole ordeal had began?

"You and that 'always' again," Anne maneuvered a bit to bring her hands up to frame his face. Her fingers trailing along the edges of his hair. "How can you know what the future will bring? That you would be content to call yourself mine forever more?"

Anne's thumb brushed against his cheek. Sadness filled her at the thought of leaving, at not being able to share this closeness anymore.

"You're right, of course," Anne sighed, leaning up to brush her lips softly against his.

But when she pulled away she had to pause again, looking into his eyes, unable keep her charade up any longer. "What happens now, Thomas?" Her tone almost begged him for the answer.

It was unfair, she considered herself a God-fearing woman, a good woman. So why was she cursed so, that she could not he with the man she wanted? The man she loved.

((ooc: Sounds good to me! It makes sense, at any rate. And that's just crazy! XD I'll say they must have been!!))

"Can't we write our own futures, Anne?" he replied, closing his eyes briefly at the feel of her hands touching his face. He knew they couldn't. It was a rhetorical question in order to hold onto a flicker of hope. Then he looked at her seriously. "Let me say always as many times as I choose, Anne. Don't... don't say I shouldn't."

It hurt him that she wasn't willing to make the same promise. He understood why she wasn't but it made things no easier to bear. They both knew that at moments like these, they spoke of dreams that would never see daylight.

Her question, however, did give him hope. He honestly hadn't expected it and his expression must have shown it. She wouldn't ask what was going to happen if she didn't want something to happen. Wyatt paused to think, tying up his trousers in the meantime and sitting up. He reached for her bodice, tossed aside in their heat, and handed it over, giving a nervous laughter.

"God, I don't know if I'm able to get you laced up properly in this darkness. And your hair..." He brought up a hand to push a curl behind her ear.

But back to her question. Wyatt licked his lips. Actually he didn't need any time to decide. "I still want to see you. Can I still see you?"

((ooc: I proofread twice and yet there's always some mistake after I click Reply...))

Edited 2014-07-17 10:04 (UTC)

Anne gave him a look and a soft sigh. If only they could - if only they really did have some semblance of control over their lives. If only they could make decisions for themselves that didn't require secrecy. Anne ran her fingers through his hair and paused at the ends.

"I simply...do not want you to be disappointed. And I fear you will be with me," it was a rare admittence of weakness. One she would never admit to anyone - but she knew with Thomas, she was safe. It was all right to express her real thoughts rather than tailor them and sweeten them falsely.

She reached for her bodice and held it up to her chest. Anne chuckled a bit at his words. She reached behind, recalling the movements of her maids in lacing it up, but she only managed to get it partway up. As he reached to push her hair, Anne leaned her cheek into his touch, seeking comfort in it.

How could she answer that? She wanted to scream 'yes' at the top of her lungs, throw her arms around him and have the matter settled. But things were not so simple. She did not want to see him suffer, and did not want to suffer herself.

Her dark gaze glanced up, light catching her eyes as she looked to him.

"How?" Anne's tone was a bit more desperate than she would have liked. If he had some idea, any idea how they could continue to see each other, Anne would gladly agree.

((ooc: Oh, my autocorrect will be the death of me yet!!))

Wyatt certainly didn't want to hear that but he kind of brought it upon himself for declaring to be hers forever. Therefore he couldn't fault Anne for speaking her mind. Putting on a brave face, he assured, "Do not fret about my feelings. My quill serves me well in taking the brunt of them."

His hand slid from her cheek to her neck, to hold her in place while his brain searched for the answer to 'how?' How indeed? Fingers unconsciously massaging her warm skin, he wondered if it was better to simply let things go. Prolonging their agony wasn't very wise.

But as he found himself crawling on his knees to move behind Anne to help her get dressed, his mouth was wording the opposite. "We'll think of something," he said and kissed below her shoulders before getting hold of the lacings. "Maybe... I could ask for another chamber, closer to yours. Now that I'm in Cromwell's good graces, perhaps I'll be allowed a room in a better part of the castle. I'd have to be discreet in asking and there's no guarantee-- done."

He had managed to tie her up but, "You better find a maid to fix that before you show yourself to everyone else." Hopefully there weren't any grass stains in her dress.

Wyatt grabbed his doublet, got up and offered his hand to pull her up, as well.

Anne sighed and shook her head a bit.

"How can you say such a thing? How can I not fret over your feelings?" It was a strange thing to her, that he of all people was telling her not to consider his feelings. But, then again, with how she had treated him, how cruel she'd had to be, it wasn't all that surprising. "I can only think of you and your feelings Thomas, I-"

No, don't say it. She couldn't afford to say it; to admit it aloud made it gospel and could not be denied after. But Anne could not fight the will of her heart. For all her fine acting, she could only keep it up for a limited time, it seemed.

As he kissed her skin and tied the laces of her dress, Anne pulled her hair over her shoulder to keep it out of his way. The movement of his fingers soothed her, and when he finished it actually startled her a bit.

She pondered his words - getting a closer chamber would only address a symptom of their dilemma. It would be a temporary solution but thet would still be stuck in the long run. What would happen when and if Henry got his divorce? What if her father grew too fed up with her giving Henry the run-around?

At this point, she felt trapped.

"Thomas..." Anne reached up and grasped his hand to stand up. Once she stood before him, she couldn't help but lean forward, her forehead pressed to his chest. "...I love you."

God in heaven, help her, for she could not help herself.

"Uh?" Wyatt pressed Anne close and rocked her in his arms. She loved him? That was something he had wanted to hear but for her to admt it now made little sense. Had she not just questioned the sentiment of his heart? Had she not wanted to make it known that in time he'd find her to be a disappointment? For Wyatt, saying he was hers always was as good as any declaration of love. Anne had shrugged it off by doubting that something would eventually come between them.

Women. They were fickle, turning with the wind. Wyatt knew what Anne wished him to reply now but he was unable to say it. Instead, he hummed in disbelief and voiced his concern about her admission.

"But not always?" There was a hint of lightness in his voice, to curb the sadness. Though he knew her to be astute enough to catch the latter tone as well as the former.

"Alas, I cannot give you what you desire. Or need." A chamber near her would be a temporary solution. He was married, maybe forever. If they, heaven forbid, just left London and everything else behind, he couldn't afford the life she was accustomed to.

Anne pushed against him a bit. Just to put some space between them. She stared hard into his eyes but she gave a slight sigh after a moment. After all that had happened, what had she expected? And given the moment, even she had to admit that her confession made no sense. Damn her traitorous tongue! But, there was no taking it back or playing it off now.

So Anne moved away from him, combing her fingers through her waves of dark hair to smooth it out again and tame it.

"Yes, always. A woman may say always as much as she pleases - men are easily swayed by promises of gold and glory," Anne glanced up to him again. "Women are not so easily swayed. Gold and glory are valuable, but there are better things."

Her tone was not harsh, but it was indeed stern. It did not reflect the lightness in his own.

"So tell me, Thomas: I know what I desire and what I need - but what is it you think I desire and need?"

He realized immediately that he'd made a mistake, but as much as he hadn't been able to say he loved her, too, Wyatt was unable to apologize. A tiny part of him wanted to pay back the misery he'd felt over the past couple of months. It was petty, without a doubt. He understood it hadn't been all sunshine for Anne, either, even if she had managed not to let anyone see her deepest thoughts.

Yet he had to roll his eyes for the claim that women were more steadfast than men. Wyatt didn't have respect of all the men in the world but he wanted to put a good word for some of them. "The best of men seek gold and glory for the sake of their ladies, not for themselves."

That question of hers? If it had not been directed at him, Wyatt would have commended Anne for it. She was smart, and direct. She wasn't afraid to put him on the spot for something he'd said. Now, he was forced to think quickly for something that sounded less like polite nonsense and more like proof that he knew her mind. In reality he didn't know.

"You desire to be loved by someone who is yours and yours alone. And you need... a life without worries, financial or otherwise."

It was a petty desire, perhaps. But she deserved it, in a way. For being so cruel to him, for flaunting her 'relationship' with Henry. Though it was indeed a sorry excuse for a relationship - but she couldn't do much about that. There was only so much even her feminine wiles could convince him to do; or any man, for that matter. But, if hurting her had been Thomas' goal, he had succeeded.

"And yet, more often than not, more men seek it for themselves," There was a bitterness in her tone - not necessarily directed at him, or at least it hadn't been her intention. Her brother and father were proof enough of that fact.

Thomas Boleyn could claim until judgment day that he had pushed Mary and Anne to pursue the king because he would have made a fine husband for them; the finest, even. Mary may have fallen for such talk, but Anne knew better. Their father was out for himself, to raise his own wealth and status.

Even if that meant turning his daughters into whores.

"Not completely incorrect," Anne replied to his answer. "But you've mixed them up a bit. Life is not without worry, Thomas. Surely you of all people should know better than that. Elsewise it would not be called life. It is not life without worry that I need."

She paused, contemplating whether she should actually give him the answer. After a moment, she decided against it, bending down to retrieve her mask before standing up again.

"But it matters not," Anne glanced to him again - she tried to lock her emotions away as she had a thousand other times. There was no anger nor sorrow on her face, though she knew this would not remain so for very long. "You're quite right, Sir Thomas, I should be getting back before I'm missed."

"Maybe that's how it seems since men have more opportunities in most every way?" He wasn't contradicting Anne but simply making an observation. Women were legally subject to their fathers or husbands, and everything they did was controlled by one man or another.

There were hardly any places where women could express their mind. Apparently not even at their own homes: his wife had not managed to voice her grievances. She had merely withdrawn herself from him.

"I wasn't talking about what life is. I was talking about what it should be. Without worry. I'm surprised you don't share that thought."

He pulled a long face for to be called 'Sir Thomas'. This couldn't- why?- no!No! This couldn't end so badly. Not again. Wyatt grabbed Anne's wrist.

"Anne! No. Do not do this to me again. If you do, I'll swear-" He let go of her just as quickly and lowered his voice. "It'll be the end. Is that what you really want?"

She could concede to that point. It was an undeniable fact of the time: Men had more rights and therefore more opportunities than women. It wasn't something that she could change, nor did it really interest her to do so. Anne would have been content to arrange her own freedom.

For there were some women fortunate enough that their fathers legitimately did care for their happiness and tried to do what they could to help them achieve it. Thomas Boleyn was not such a father.

When he grabbed her she did give a little yelp - not of pain, he hadn't hurt her; merely of surprise. She hadn't expected him to do that. For a moment she just stared hard at him, her chest rising and falling at a rapid rate.

"...The end of what Thomas? How can something end that never really began in the first place?" Anne countered. But she didn't answer his question - a verbal plan she had done on purpose.

She would not answer that question, because her answer would have been that she really would rather die than be without him. Even if he wasn't hers, even if he could never truly be...

"What is the point in discussing things being anything other than what they are? You speak of life as it should be, which is all well and good except that...it just..." Anne pulled her wrist back as he released her. She couldn't manage the words, she didn't know what she meant to say. "Things are what they are - we lack the power to change it, simply put. Why discuss things that cannot change? Why tease ourselves?"

It wasn't really how she felt, deep down - she wanted things to change. She wanted to get away from everything, from Henry, from her father. But she lacked the ability to do so. When this whole thing had first started she had fantasized of escape; but over time, when nothing changed and there was no glimmer of hope that things would get better, Anne had resigned herself to a pessimistic existence.

A whore for the king and a slave to her father's will.

"Why fool ourselves with dreams, if we lack the means to bring them to fruition?" Anne had to look away then, her eyes going glassy as she bit the side of her tongue to keep herself from tears. "I'm sorry Thomas, but I am...not content with things as they are. But evidently, they will not change, and I can only get my hopes up so far before I lose them completely..."

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