Post by Deleted on Mar 17, 2016 17:55:54 GMT -5
The flower was fading, and fast; almost crisping at the edges; but the Princess Royal still toyed with it between her slender fingers -- twisting the bloom by it's shortened stalk, watching the color blur before her eyes, before lifting it once more to her nose. She closed her blue eyes, gently, wistfully, and breathed deeply; the scent was almost gone, but a radiant smile illuminated her face once again as she slipped back into the brief memory.
It smelled like victory. And wasn't it, though? Antoinette had kept armfuls of the blooms she and Saracen had been wreathed in from their victory at the horse race, insistent on having them pressed and saved.
Victory. It made her mouth water.
They were to have dinner that evening, but it was just the two women, for once; no political agenda on the marker for that night's meal. Strange, almost; considering the pace of them which they'd been running -- it almost made Antoinette question if she had forgotten a part of their schedule or was over-looking someone important.
But still, that slight, weaseling concern didn't propel her to her feet -- from where she sat, reclined leisurely with her slippered feet up on the couch, looking the part of an odalisque, in Nicolette's parlor; waiting for Crown Princess to emerge. Not having to get trussed up for a dining appointment, for once -- although Antoinette loved it dearly, did she not? -- meant the sisters could enjoy a simple meal in their own apartments, the delicacies of their own choosing, in garb that was relaxed and comfortable. Perfect for private conversation.
Absently, the Princess Royal smiled again to herself; gluttonous, almost, in display; and moved to tuck the wilting bloom amid the folds of her golden hair, braided along the crown of her head. They could take as long as they wanted.
Nicolette Deveraux Carlotta Deliambre
It smelled like victory. And wasn't it, though? Antoinette had kept armfuls of the blooms she and Saracen had been wreathed in from their victory at the horse race, insistent on having them pressed and saved.
Victory. It made her mouth water.
They were to have dinner that evening, but it was just the two women, for once; no political agenda on the marker for that night's meal. Strange, almost; considering the pace of them which they'd been running -- it almost made Antoinette question if she had forgotten a part of their schedule or was over-looking someone important.
But still, that slight, weaseling concern didn't propel her to her feet -- from where she sat, reclined leisurely with her slippered feet up on the couch, looking the part of an odalisque, in Nicolette's parlor; waiting for Crown Princess to emerge. Not having to get trussed up for a dining appointment, for once -- although Antoinette loved it dearly, did she not? -- meant the sisters could enjoy a simple meal in their own apartments, the delicacies of their own choosing, in garb that was relaxed and comfortable. Perfect for private conversation.
Absently, the Princess Royal smiled again to herself; gluttonous, almost, in display; and moved to tuck the wilting bloom amid the folds of her golden hair, braided along the crown of her head. They could take as long as they wanted.
Nicolette Deveraux Carlotta Deliambre