Post by Deleted on Dec 26, 2015 2:17:10 GMT -5
There were few moments in which she could find true solace, true awakening, or honest existence in the world around her. Sugar, spice, and many shinny nice things were among the chosen ingredients that crafted the young Princess although they were only what laced the surface. There were few, less than a handful, who knew that they lay more beyond the perfectly crafted Princess who's mannerisms were rarely sub par to that of her station. No mortal born of flesh and bone could achieve success at every venture, and this was even true of princesses.
Music was Martine's connection to her one true soul, being, and her connection to the world around her outside of the game she had been forced to play. It was the escape of her being an elevated pawn shifting and dancing around the political chessboard for the amusement of others. When her delicate fingers flexed, pressed, and traveled along the surface of the keys there was no title, but there was the gifted musician birthing glorious melodies into the world of man. The only sheet music there was what was lying on the small table next to the fortepiano , halfway written with ink and quill sitting next to the pages. Taking a break from royal duty the woman was busy composing another piece, a piece with a darker tonal qualities that sounded as if it should be played in a tragedy rather than in a royal music hall.
Yet, as the brooding notes echoed down the halls if one were to walk in on the twenty year old they would not see a woman in rags and ashes, but rather an elegantly dressed princess. Blonde locks of hair were pinned neatly up into place with curled ringlets cascading down her neck. Fresh make up lightly applied so that if there had been any imperfections on her skin they had indeed now vanished. And lastly, a fine dress of teal blue with golden embellishments in the bodice which flowed into the skirt of the garment.
Music was Martine's connection to her one true soul, being, and her connection to the world around her outside of the game she had been forced to play. It was the escape of her being an elevated pawn shifting and dancing around the political chessboard for the amusement of others. When her delicate fingers flexed, pressed, and traveled along the surface of the keys there was no title, but there was the gifted musician birthing glorious melodies into the world of man. The only sheet music there was what was lying on the small table next to the fortepiano , halfway written with ink and quill sitting next to the pages. Taking a break from royal duty the woman was busy composing another piece, a piece with a darker tonal qualities that sounded as if it should be played in a tragedy rather than in a royal music hall.
Yet, as the brooding notes echoed down the halls if one were to walk in on the twenty year old they would not see a woman in rags and ashes, but rather an elegantly dressed princess. Blonde locks of hair were pinned neatly up into place with curled ringlets cascading down her neck. Fresh make up lightly applied so that if there had been any imperfections on her skin they had indeed now vanished. And lastly, a fine dress of teal blue with golden embellishments in the bodice which flowed into the skirt of the garment.