Post by Liselle Beaumont on Dec 31, 2017 12:59:25 GMT -5
Liselle was a mass of emotions upon being released from the captivity enforced upon the feast's attendees by Prince Benoit. During the course of several days where she'd seen people killed or brutalized, she'd experienced fear on a level that she prayed she'd never know again. Fortunately, Amaury, Florian, her sister and her parents were present to help each other through their trial, but Perceval was not in attendance. She was torn between gratitude that he was safely away from the horrific scene, and dread that she would never see him again, uncertain if they themselves would survive.
Once freed from the confines of the palace, she was silent as the family retreated to the sanctity of their Bordelaix home, yet her mind continuously strayed in Perceval's direction. Had he been aware of the feast, and what occurred there? Or had he been prudent and quit the city in favor of somewhere much safer? For a brief moment, Liselle feared that Perceval might have left the kingdom once more, not that she could blame him. His homecoming had not been all that welcoming or celebrated.
Unable to settle down, she waited until her mother and sister took to their beds, the men opting either for solitude or to drown their memories in liquor. Then, Liselle drew on a cloak and slipped out of the house to go in search of Perceval. She needed to see him, wanted to be with him. Nothing and no one calmed her as he did, though she paused when Lanien arrayed herself in front of the door with a meow that demanded an explanation. The cat was far too clever for her own good at times.
Crouching down, Liselle gently scratched the feline's ears and stroked her jowls, informing Lanien in a hasty whisper that she needed to go out and to see Perceval. Trusting that the cat understood, she added a pleading look, asking Lanien to stay in the house rather than to follow. She would not be long, she didn't think. For several tense minutes, she wondered if the cat would accept and obey, only for relief to flood through her when the sinuous form brushed against her skirts on her way down the hall.
She murmured her thanks before letting herself out into the street. Raising her hood, she hurried along the streets towards the inn that served as Perceval's quarters, refusing to consider that he might not be there. Upon reaching the inn, Liselle took advantage of the busy atmosphere to dodge directly upstairs and to the door. Once there, she paused, questioning the wisdom of her course even as she raised a gloved hand to knock. Wise or not, there was no turning back now.
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Perceval Beaumont