@eiraethââ asked : rush, tackle them to the groundÂ
Jasper was quite aware of how miserable he appeared, mulled cider in hand ( it was his third cup, though to anyone who asked, it was only the first ) and a grimace staking claim on his features. He was quite aware of how miserable he looked for â and he had only arrived at the fairgrounds an hour or so ago â about a dozen concerned faces had approached him equipped already with their own, well meant yet equally annoying variant of âGoodness, Mr. Nightingale, are you quite alright?â to which he would smile and nod and insist nothing was wrong. It was not the frost fair that set him in such a foul mood â in fact, he rather looked forward to the event come January â but the temperatures which allowed for such festivities to take place. Jasper so loathed the cold, tried to avoid it at all costs, but there was no avoiding it come the start of the season. And so he suffered on, warmed only by glasses of mulled cider he downed at an increasingly steady rate.
A crowd had formed around one of the newly erected skating rinks, composed almost in its entirety of mamas watching their children skate about the ice. Jasper stood at the edge of the very same crowd watching, and contemplating; trying to decide whether or not it would be wise of him to rent a pair of blades ( it would not be, for clumsiness was one of Jasperâs more prominent qualities, though he would never admit to it ). He was quite lost in thought, weighing the pros and cons of such an endeavor, that he was none the wiser to a rather noisy commotion that arose behind him.Â
One moment he was standing, cup in hand, building the courage to try his hand at skating ( it would not be his first, nor last attempt ), and the next he found himself flat on his back, front soaked with warm cider, and fall cushioned only by the thin layer of snow covering the icy Thames. The weight of another figure atop his own suggested the fall had not been his own inherit clumsiness, but rather the clumsiness of another.
He brought his chin to his chest, head a bit sore from where it collided with the ice, in order to gain view of just who it was who caused such a collision. He was entirely ready to accost the culprit, until his gaze landed on exactly who is was.Â
âGoodness, Lady Eira, is that really you?â He was, noticeably, surprised by her sudden appearance. It had been quite some time since the two had last spoken. To be reunited in such a way, well ⌠Jasper no longer appeared quite so sour. âFancy running into you here, no?â He quipped, a rather cheeky smile tugging at the corners of his cheeks.Â
Eira had also been warding off the chill with a glass or two of drink, but the more fuddling tents she visited, the more drinks people had bought for her, and she was more than a little uneasy on her feet. As she crossed the icy landscape, she felt herself sliding. Unable to keep from falling, she slid into a rather solid form, then fell onto the ground, landing on top of him.
While he had unwittingly broken her fall, she quickly moved off of him, apologies falling from her lips. âMr. Ni-- Nightingale!â, she hiccoughed inelegantly. âI am so sorry! Are you alright?â, she inquired urgently, hoping they would not have to find a physician. âYes, it is me. I have not seen you in... goodness, how many years has it been?â, she asked, managing to carefully ease herself up into a standing position.Â
Looking down at him, she asked, âI might give you my hand, but you might pull me back down if the snow does not provide enough traction. What do you think?â Eira knew she could not simply leave him laying there on the ice.Â