Post by Deleted on Jul 29, 2015 22:05:22 GMT -5
It was not like Antoinette to tarry -- not leastwise while there were still finishing touches to be made for the high tea she was hosting the next day. Granted, most of what was necessary had been planned for weeks already -- the menu, the place-settings, even the lighting and drapery for the western wing's great room, which would hold the most regal faces (and few of the more swarthy ones) at noon the next day. A veritable field of clinking cups and darting looks, if Antoinette understood anything about the noblewomen of Archades -- and she did, because she had made it her practice to reckon with the fairer gender of the realm. They were so often relegated as wives to be used, daughters to be moved like chess pieces; silent voices, lips parting to speak and remaining somehow unheard -- and yet they certainly comprised the greater part of the realm's population. Antoinette knew how much influence a woman could hold, had she made the right moves and taken the unbeaten path -- she need not look far to see it.
No, she knew what kind of power would lay in the powdered faces and gloved hands that assembled the next day. And as such, Antoinette wanted her play-room -- her war-room -- to be perfect. This was all part of the unfolding plan; Nicolette had understood it as such, as well. The women were off and running.
But they were merely minute details that needed to be tended to, things only Antoinette would ever notice, and perhaps a few more of a her hawk-eyed brethren; and the day had proved too pleasant to pass up a chance to ride on a spare morning. After her jaunt just a few days earlier with Kattalin Ibarra, paired with particular vein of conversations she had been having with her various sisters since the coronation, the Princess Royal felt entitled to the smallest bit of respite; and she found it, deep into the adjacent forest of the royal grounds.
Most of this wooded land had been saved for leisurely hunting parties, the perfect setting for loosing captive foxes and other small prey for her father and his friends, in his better days, to take to the hunt. Antoinette could not be sure in her memory if Nicolette had ever joined them, as future heir; but there was never a taste for it in Antoinette's mouth. She relied on the objection that it simply wasn't ladylike, and had made enough fuss over the matter that she would not have been extended an invitation, even if her father found such a thing to be proper. But now the sections of these grounds were growing a touch more wild, a bit more untamed; small saplings growing and then withering in the faded light of the thick oaks above them, the grasses growing tall, the blooms taking root in small patches and bushes, not quite the kind that were carefully cultivated, but that which was natural and had been cut back; now reclaiming the land. The manicured lawns of the castle proper were a marvel for any eye to behold, but they only extended so far. Here, it remained untouched.
And now the Princess Royal, truly unencumbered by company for the first time in two weeks, gave herself the momentary if secret shrugging of her mantle; sitting, bereft a blanket, on the ground on her riding trousers, arms wrapped around her knees as she watched Saracen pick his way amongst the knotted roots of a nearby tree; his long, grey tail flicking intermittently in pleasure as he snuffled among the grasses for tender shoots. Her blue eyes followed his movements, no longer hindered by his rider, but intimately trained so as to not wander far; and she considered him, at a length.
After a breath, Antoinette shifted -- now settling back against the cool grass, Antoinette let her ornately braided head rest against the ground, blue eyes closing to the sky above; absently plucking the leather riding gloves from her fingers, casting them gently to the side; rubbing her palms together, feeling the warm, smooth skin before they moved to casually fold against her flat abdomen.
Just a few minutes, alone -- no harm could come of that...
No, she knew what kind of power would lay in the powdered faces and gloved hands that assembled the next day. And as such, Antoinette wanted her play-room -- her war-room -- to be perfect. This was all part of the unfolding plan; Nicolette had understood it as such, as well. The women were off and running.
But they were merely minute details that needed to be tended to, things only Antoinette would ever notice, and perhaps a few more of a her hawk-eyed brethren; and the day had proved too pleasant to pass up a chance to ride on a spare morning. After her jaunt just a few days earlier with Kattalin Ibarra, paired with particular vein of conversations she had been having with her various sisters since the coronation, the Princess Royal felt entitled to the smallest bit of respite; and she found it, deep into the adjacent forest of the royal grounds.
Most of this wooded land had been saved for leisurely hunting parties, the perfect setting for loosing captive foxes and other small prey for her father and his friends, in his better days, to take to the hunt. Antoinette could not be sure in her memory if Nicolette had ever joined them, as future heir; but there was never a taste for it in Antoinette's mouth. She relied on the objection that it simply wasn't ladylike, and had made enough fuss over the matter that she would not have been extended an invitation, even if her father found such a thing to be proper. But now the sections of these grounds were growing a touch more wild, a bit more untamed; small saplings growing and then withering in the faded light of the thick oaks above them, the grasses growing tall, the blooms taking root in small patches and bushes, not quite the kind that were carefully cultivated, but that which was natural and had been cut back; now reclaiming the land. The manicured lawns of the castle proper were a marvel for any eye to behold, but they only extended so far. Here, it remained untouched.
And now the Princess Royal, truly unencumbered by company for the first time in two weeks, gave herself the momentary if secret shrugging of her mantle; sitting, bereft a blanket, on the ground on her riding trousers, arms wrapped around her knees as she watched Saracen pick his way amongst the knotted roots of a nearby tree; his long, grey tail flicking intermittently in pleasure as he snuffled among the grasses for tender shoots. Her blue eyes followed his movements, no longer hindered by his rider, but intimately trained so as to not wander far; and she considered him, at a length.
After a breath, Antoinette shifted -- now settling back against the cool grass, Antoinette let her ornately braided head rest against the ground, blue eyes closing to the sky above; absently plucking the leather riding gloves from her fingers, casting them gently to the side; rubbing her palms together, feeling the warm, smooth skin before they moved to casually fold against her flat abdomen.
Just a few minutes, alone -- no harm could come of that...