#wolfofyork

As charming as the pageant undeniably was, William looked forward to having it end and being able to get back on a ship to go back home. Or perhaps he just wished to retire and rest after a long evening of noise and changing faces, it was difficult to know with any certainty and yet William wasn't sure just what he would do if given the chance to rest. There were too many thoughts in his mind and chances were that he would pace in the silence if given the chance.

John was perhaps not the best person to talk to in such a mood, but while William felt as though his thoughts were as erratic as a bee buzzing its way between flowers, he imagined that John's thoughts were as organized as a spider's web, all the connections and plots of the kingdoms mapped out with perfect clarity. If you had a source of knowledge, there was no reason not to pool information, although William knew that even if they held the same truths, there was little guarantee they would hold the same feelings in regards to them.

Hoping the walk would cure it, Rosalind intended on taking the long way around back to her chamber, which was a much busier stretch of hall that was riddled with hurrying servants tending to tasks, giving her pause to greet those who offered a nod or bow in her direction, keeping her somewhat alert until that too became monotonous and a habit. And her smiles and responses became more and more automatic, Rosalind glanced behind her to give a delayed greeting to a roaming knight and collided with someone before her. Gasping at the collision, Rosalind whipped her head forward to lock eyes with John Neville, the older and admittedly more intimidating of the Queen’s brothers. His reputation alone was enough to humble her, be it rumor or not, so naturally, when she came to, her eyes went wide.

“My lord --” She exclaimed in a meek tone as she took two steps back and out of his personal space, then offering a deep curtsy in an effort to gain forgiveness. “ Please forgive me, Sir, I was not paying attention to where I was going, the fault was mine.” She rambled, daring to look up.”

William’s childhood seemed mostly to him as a rush to grow up in a desperate attempt to catch up to his older siblings, who hold eleven and nine years of age on him respectively. William is young enough to be an afterthought child, one that wasn’t meant to happen, and even the birth of Isabel’s child when he was five years of age didn’t convince William to slow down his attempts to mature.

Instead, he continued to try learning things as quickly as he could, wanting to be as skilled and accomplished as his siblings and teaching it to the children that were born too close to him to call him ‘uncle’.