Post by Deleted on Jan 4, 2016 0:38:31 GMT -5
Antoinette had spent the entire morning with the faint sensation as if she had just bitten into a candied plum.
Nothing but pure sugar on her tongue, juicy sweetness threatening to stain her lips; that was how she had almost manifested the sensation of victory -- that was how she pictured it. And a win was a win, no matter how small; and Antoinette stacked them like pearls on a scale, keeping effortless track of them. And, from the well-placed whispers and coos of several little doves, kept safe in her haven, the Princess Royal was pleased to feel her hands brimming with this candied delicacy on this particularly cool October morning.
She could hardly contain herself -- which was why it was she who nearly fell upon Nicholas Miller at his post that morning, with all the flurry of a sugar-braced child. He could have hardly missed her coming -- a sweep of thick, lavender skirts, the familiar tumble of sunshine locks swept up in a becoming comb; pink, rising beautifully in the apple of her cheeks, white teeth flashing. Was it a smile or a grimace? It didn't matter. There was a flurried chorus of proper greetings for the Princess Royal, the erratic bobs of heads and half-attempted curtsies as she made her way down this corridor with focused vigor; but the pace she set made it clear she saw none of these lesser beings, her hands extended at her sides, her stride purposeful and almost springing; as if she moved at a half-jog.
Yes, he couldn't have missed her coming, but he couldn't have expected where she'd stop -- directly in front of him.
Up rose her right hand; thumb and middle finger meeting together in a snap, one sharp crack, right in front of his nose. "Nicholas Miller. You will come with me immediately." Barely sparing him another glance, the Princess Royal pointed one accusing finger at the man standing guard alongside him; who visibly stiffened under the unexpected presence of the Princess, her focus now striking down one slender digit in his direction. "You -- locate Gabrielle Delacroix -- Princess Mariette's handmaid. Send her immediately to my office -- do not waste time on my sister's protestations."
And then she turned on her heel and set off with the same vigor as she arrived, a flurry of swinging hips and skirts.
It went without saying that she expected the Miller knight to follow.
Gabrielle Delacroix Nicholas Miller
Nothing but pure sugar on her tongue, juicy sweetness threatening to stain her lips; that was how she had almost manifested the sensation of victory -- that was how she pictured it. And a win was a win, no matter how small; and Antoinette stacked them like pearls on a scale, keeping effortless track of them. And, from the well-placed whispers and coos of several little doves, kept safe in her haven, the Princess Royal was pleased to feel her hands brimming with this candied delicacy on this particularly cool October morning.
She could hardly contain herself -- which was why it was she who nearly fell upon Nicholas Miller at his post that morning, with all the flurry of a sugar-braced child. He could have hardly missed her coming -- a sweep of thick, lavender skirts, the familiar tumble of sunshine locks swept up in a becoming comb; pink, rising beautifully in the apple of her cheeks, white teeth flashing. Was it a smile or a grimace? It didn't matter. There was a flurried chorus of proper greetings for the Princess Royal, the erratic bobs of heads and half-attempted curtsies as she made her way down this corridor with focused vigor; but the pace she set made it clear she saw none of these lesser beings, her hands extended at her sides, her stride purposeful and almost springing; as if she moved at a half-jog.
Yes, he couldn't have missed her coming, but he couldn't have expected where she'd stop -- directly in front of him.
Up rose her right hand; thumb and middle finger meeting together in a snap, one sharp crack, right in front of his nose. "Nicholas Miller. You will come with me immediately." Barely sparing him another glance, the Princess Royal pointed one accusing finger at the man standing guard alongside him; who visibly stiffened under the unexpected presence of the Princess, her focus now striking down one slender digit in his direction. "You -- locate Gabrielle Delacroix -- Princess Mariette's handmaid. Send her immediately to my office -- do not waste time on my sister's protestations."
And then she turned on her heel and set off with the same vigor as she arrived, a flurry of swinging hips and skirts.
It went without saying that she expected the Miller knight to follow.
Gabrielle Delacroix Nicholas Miller