Post by Deleted on Jul 10, 2015 7:34:33 GMT -5
"Yes, but then -- do you remember -- when I reached my twelfth name-day, and -- I had demanded, in no uncertain terms, that I wanted my own mount? A Percheron, to be exact? Such a ghastly large beast, for even a young man, but I was -- I had been so insistent --"
The words, when they came to Antoinette, were stilted -- not out of confusion or haste, but trapped, coming out disjointed, from breathless lips; laughter hindering the Princess Royal's ability to speak clearly just then. Her face, normally so pale, looking like a porcelain doll, was now tinged with rouge in the cheeks; the flush adding a more lively air to the often cool noblewoman; her blue eyes wet with mirth, her mouth open to flash laughing teeth.
The hour had grown late, and the pair of sisters -- the Crown Princess and the Princess Royal, to the world, but simply sisters, to one another -- could be found making their way down a back corridor towards their private chambers; safe in the relative anonymity of these passageways, kept closed off to the general populace, important for weary feet or rather -- a touch stumbling, in Antoinette's case. Although she had left her penchant for flagrant inebriation in her youth, this evening's dinner had come as somewhat stressful for Antoinette, surprisingly enough, who more often than not relished such social gatherings; but the events of the past few days had been taxing, even on Antoinette; and that evening she had taken her fair share of the offered refreshments. And now she was working her way, slowly but surely, back towards her chambers with Nicolette, arm-in-arm with her elder sister -- the rooms of the Deveraux daughters placed in a neat line from their childhood; and she was -- again, slowly but surely -- regaining her sobriety.
But that didn't stop the Princess Royal from indulging in these spare, increasingly fleeting moments of still being a young woman, accompanied by her more sombre sister; and for the past several corridors, Antoinette had been reliving, and regaling, bits and pieces of their pleasing but often tumultuous childhood with her sister; recalling stories and anecdotes from their youth, of both surprises and follies; the laughter coming, that evening, more easily to her than it had been in quite a few years.
Nicolette Deveraux
The words, when they came to Antoinette, were stilted -- not out of confusion or haste, but trapped, coming out disjointed, from breathless lips; laughter hindering the Princess Royal's ability to speak clearly just then. Her face, normally so pale, looking like a porcelain doll, was now tinged with rouge in the cheeks; the flush adding a more lively air to the often cool noblewoman; her blue eyes wet with mirth, her mouth open to flash laughing teeth.
The hour had grown late, and the pair of sisters -- the Crown Princess and the Princess Royal, to the world, but simply sisters, to one another -- could be found making their way down a back corridor towards their private chambers; safe in the relative anonymity of these passageways, kept closed off to the general populace, important for weary feet or rather -- a touch stumbling, in Antoinette's case. Although she had left her penchant for flagrant inebriation in her youth, this evening's dinner had come as somewhat stressful for Antoinette, surprisingly enough, who more often than not relished such social gatherings; but the events of the past few days had been taxing, even on Antoinette; and that evening she had taken her fair share of the offered refreshments. And now she was working her way, slowly but surely, back towards her chambers with Nicolette, arm-in-arm with her elder sister -- the rooms of the Deveraux daughters placed in a neat line from their childhood; and she was -- again, slowly but surely -- regaining her sobriety.
But that didn't stop the Princess Royal from indulging in these spare, increasingly fleeting moments of still being a young woman, accompanied by her more sombre sister; and for the past several corridors, Antoinette had been reliving, and regaling, bits and pieces of their pleasing but often tumultuous childhood with her sister; recalling stories and anecdotes from their youth, of both surprises and follies; the laughter coming, that evening, more easily to her than it had been in quite a few years.
Nicolette Deveraux