Summary: Felicity merely wanted a brush with adventure and lust. Ithal x Felicity ONESHOT

Disclaimer: I don't own A Great and Terrible Beauty. This is my first attempt at an AGATB story/oneshot. Although I don't really like Felicity's character, she is, in my opinion, very interesting and fascinating. But she is a bitch. Period. She's still pretty cool, though. This is basically retelling of chapter ten, in Felicity's POV. In the paragraph that starts with 'rosy lips,' I used this for my fanfiction story in the 'Twilight' section.


X


Ravenous

Spence Academy.

A school where women are chained and shackled to certain laws and costumes that make a girl a lady. And it wasn't for her own sake, but for the men. We were forced to learn how to please men, to tend to them, to charm them. When in a man's presence, the mask was put on and we were to put on a show. Our parents wanted us to marry for wealth, class, and appearance. Of course, my future would be with a man always clad in finely pressed suits and who possessed a tremendous amount of wealth.

There was no such thing as love, but there was something known as lust and curiosity.

I now trudge through the thick evergreen, the soles of my laced up boots pressing down on soggy mud. A crisp brown leaf clings to my forehead, while a twig snags with the lace of my pale blue dress. Thin veils of smog spill into the forest, partially blinding my vision.

I am near.

"Hello?" My voice echoes throughout the woods.

He will answer.

"It is Felicity." My eyebrows furrow when he does not appear. The smell of rotten vegetation clasps hold of my head. For the faintest of seconds, I feel as I am spinning. From far away, I can barely see the pointed tip of Spence. Mrs. Nightwing and the fellow girls are far behind, I can tell. I roam further into the forest, sure that he will arrive.

"There you are," his thick Romanian accent breaths into my ear. Swiveling around, I am met with a set of dark, alluring eyes. The real Felicity rises to the surface in a mad frenzy–a Felicity that holds sensual charm, spitefulness, and unlimited boundaries of physicality. I find my arms snaking around his neck to draw him closer, my eyelashes bashing at him.

And in that long period of time, we are locked in affairs that –if anyone were to discover– would surely ruin me in every aspect. If I were exploited among the society, no man would dare take me. I would become a beautiful disaster.

This raises my need and desire.

My rosy lips brush against his darker ones; my hands wander, his rough palms mimicking my movement; my head tilts back as an assortment of sounds escape my mouth–perky giggles, pleasurable moans, unsatisfied groans, low chuckles. Ithal is truly my forbidden fruit. He is a factor in my need to travel beyond the barriers that block a lady into becoming a woman who is not bound behind cages of rules and commands.

I desperately want adventure, and he is a small part of that.

But I desire more.

As we continue on with our vile acts, the presence of another body startlingly snaps of me out of my embrace with Ithal. I tumble off him, aghast to see the mischievous Gemma Doyle standing before me, shock etching into her pale face. Ithal shows livid amusement, and to my irritation, is not at all concerned about our situation.

"What – what are you doing here?" I stagger with my words, unable to process what is happening.

She leans back, somewhat smug, I note. "I might ask you the same question." She gestures dismissively to Ithal. A mixture of fear and malice carves into my heart, and I restrain myself from striking her down. Does she think she holds the power now? In a sense, she does. I frown.

"I am Ithal."

His greeting brings utter most fury to my mind. Does he not understand the circumstances of this situation? He can be ruined, but that is because he has nothing of him to be ruined! He is a Gypsy. People will not be ashamed of dirt. But I am not dirt–I am Felicity Worthington, a lady of high standards.

"Don't tell her anything!" I command haughtily, shaky.

I can hear Mrs. Nightwing calling for me and Gemma. My teeth clench together in horror and frustration. More voices begin to pierce the air, coming from every direction it seems. Pressure builds in my chest as it starts heaving; up and down–rapid rising and falling.

"Dear God, she can't find us." My teeth pierce down on the flesh of my lower lip.

I feel Ithal's steely arms snake around my waist, attempting to press me closer. I stare down to see his copper skin, beaded with sweat from our previous doings. "Bater. Let them find us." He scoffs, arrogant. "I am not liking this hiding."

My hands clamp down on his arms, roughly shoving him away. "Stop it! Are you mad? I can't be found with you. You've got to go back," I demand, panic engrossing my body. A cold terror of sweat coats my forehead. For a split second, disappointment flashes before his eyes.

"Come with me," Ithal offers, reaching out once more.

My jaw is set. "Don't you understand? I can't go with you." I suddenly wish that I had not ventured into this world of dark curiosity. However, I am suddenly aware that Gemma is near, watching on. I whirl around to gaze at her, pleading. "You have to help me," I beg.

She folds her arms across her chest. "Is this a request from the girl who locked me in the chapel last night?" she prompts, no compassion or understanding for my current distress. I begin to pathetically reason, the real Felicity slipping as sheer panic takes hold.

"I didn't mean anything by last night. It was just a laugh, that's all." A trembling, low chuckle rolls of my tongue. When she does not respond, I shake my head, and continue, "Please, Gemma." Her name burns in my mouth. "I'll give you whatever you want. My pen set. My gloves. My sapphire ring!" I thrust my hand out, revealing the dazzling azure ring residing on my slender finger. I begin to frantically pull it off, hoping she will take my offer and help me.

Gemma's hand delicately halts me, her eyes stern. "You'll be in my debt," she says firmly.

"Understood." I give her a slight nod, relieved.

As all of this goes on, I feel somewhat content and ravenous for more. Is this how living on the edge of danger is? I am just precariously standing near a thin line, tempted to cross its boundary but too frightened to try? I want my life to remain this way. I am tired of rules and requirements. My mother doesn't follow them, so why should I be held down by so many restrictions?

Ithal helped provide me with the necessities of being free, and now, as I stare deep into Gemma Doyle's glassy emerald eyes, I sense forbidden power lurking within her. She can be my escape into the world or dark adventure. She can forget the boundaries around her and bask in the glories of freedom.

She can share her power.

I am hungry and greedy for both dark freedom and forbidden rapture, but only Gemma could truly give me that privilege, if only for a little while.