|
Post by Silvana de Lucca on Sept 29, 2011 23:19:51 GMT -5
The morning of the siege It was a quiet day, and I had taken to some needle work – it was in truth nothing I relished, but I had decided, in light of the terribly abasing accusations of La Voix against my anatomy, to show that a Serenissiman widow could well be respectable, and more so by D'Angeline standards. And so I'd opted to make a show of it and sat in the gardens, on a bench, under the protective shade of a tree. It was a small thing, a handkerchief bearing the sigil of my house, which I thought I might give a friend next time I saw her. I was focused on the work, as I'd not bothered with embroidering since Giovanni had died and it required more attention than I had planned. Though I was worried about the war, and more so because my Christien was riding out incessantly to meet the Carthaginian army, I was Luccan and hardened to the hardships of waiting for a beloved warrior, and so I worked quietly, patiently, containing my anxiety with all the pride of my blood
|
|
|
Post by Trinity d'Vistato Armone on Sept 30, 2011 0:13:17 GMT -5
Why did I come here? What was the point, its not like I’ve ever been very connected with the main family anyways? The palace, I must admit was beautiful, but no amount of beauty would satiate the boredom I felt right now. I wanted books, a pencil and my favorite chair. I wanted to be out this open air and back in the shady castle I prefer, with my servants, and the stone walls that surrounded me. Out here I felt miserable, even more miserable I should say. Putting me into an especially bad mood, and I have no respect at the moment for anyone- unless maybe you were the queen or king.
As I made my way through the courtyard I was greeted by lilies, trees and beautiful foliage showing earth at its finest and prettiest. I must have been standing out like a light in the dark. My black and white robe spiraling around me in a combination of colors. My hair falling to my waist in a brash swirl, my hair ornament keeping it neat and straight. Yes, I was looking like my usual self. Not long before walking it, it seemed I was to have company. Wonderful. Well, at least I was in the perfect mood to be social, any less and I would have been in the mood to drown myself.
And of course, out of all the things this person could be doing, they were doing embroidery? What kind of place is this? My head tilted away as I think of what to say, I approach with a humored expression, black-oil-overed lips curving into a smile as I watch for only a moment. “I didn’t think this place could get anymore dreadful, but here I am gazing at someone doing something that’s absolutely awful” I remark, my tone almost informative, and even sarcastic. I pulled back, my lips in another grin, “Are you happy sitting here? Being dreadful?”
Was I teasing? Possibly, I was in a teasing mood to tell you the truth…
|
|
|
Post by Silvana de Lucca on Oct 1, 2011 20:02:18 GMT -5
If I'd not known better, I would have expected the words that were delivered to me to come from Victoire. Of course, it was impossible – she'd been sent to Camlach, possibly to keep her away from Christien. I couldn't say I was sorry for it. Being able to enjoy my prince, the trueborn king, really, the man who sat on the throne of Terre d'Ange in the few instants that his duty left us, and to be able to do so without having to compete with her was in truth a blessing.
Slowly, I looked up from my work slowly and gave her a good looking over, hands paused on the stitch. The woman who was addressed me looked, quite positively, like a harlot. Oil on her lips? She looked like she was dressed for a fete, in the middle of the day, and clearly had absolutely no sense of decorum whatsoever. Well then. I was unimpressed.
And so I opted to take the high road, and without standing, as though she were of the lower orders, which she certainly was, by the means of her attitude, I said, slowly, in my accented D'Angeline, “I'm sorry, did someone say something?”
Truly, I spoke as if I was commenting on a fly buzzing about the garden. I did it on purpose.
|
|
|
Post by Trinity d'Vistato Armone on Oct 1, 2011 20:45:31 GMT -5
Surely, she didn’t need to stand to address me, though as she did, I heard the passive question roll across her tongue. Well, now, nice way of letting me know she was worth the time to torment, at least my comment reached her, I could say. I chuckled as I quickly thought of my reply, “The palace people’s ears must be deaf to anything but drama,” I know for a fact that she heard me, so I decided just to continue on, “Its just this place is so very boring, you’d think everyone would be doing something enjoyable. Somewhere else, far away.” My voice fluttered off as I spoke.
By now, I had paced away, gazing into the flowering roses on the left of me, I had gotten a good enough look at the young woman to tell she was much younger than I, giving a damns less what nobility she held in this area. “You poor children, it must be terrible here.”
Trying to provoke someone I had no idea of? I was in a bad mood I’m sure I addressed, most of the time I’m just more blunt or stoic. “Even the gardening looks kind of boring...” I muttered to myself as I watched people picking and dumping dead flowers, weeds, any form of malicious looking growth. Maybe a little hostility was what this place needed, no actually, hostile drama seemed to be the palace's main drive of life.
Oh well...
|
|