[The rain falls heavy against her thick cloak as the thunder cracks close behind them, splitting the pitch black sky with a white fissure. She more feels for the horses than themselves. The roads had turned muddy quick, and it wasn't until the steeds were plucking their hooves out of muck with each step that they saw the light of the Inn ahead. Rosamund lets the young son of the proprietor take the reins of her horse and lead it away, along with Luke's. She looks to him quizzically, then assumes the place of his shadow as they enter.]
Bad luck, isn't it?
[She's smiling as she says it though, nearly touching his arm before she remembers herself. Right. Even under the guise of humble travellers with false names ("Aurora" is a strangely elegant name for a merchant's daughter), there's certain expectations of behaviour. She can't cross too many lines a princess wouldn't, and that includes being over-familiar with a boy she's known since the age of nine.]
It'll only extend the trip by a day, as long as the storm breaks overnight.
smooches it
Bad luck, isn't it?
[She's smiling as she says it though, nearly touching his arm before she remembers herself. Right. Even under the guise of humble travellers with false names ("Aurora" is a strangely elegant name for a merchant's daughter), there's certain expectations of behaviour. She can't cross too many lines a princess wouldn't, and that includes being over-familiar with a boy she's known since the age of nine.]
It'll only extend the trip by a day, as long as the storm breaks overnight.
[And nothing else goes wrong.]