Post by Deleted on Jan 22, 2016 23:40:16 GMT -5
This evening was Salvatore's round of standing guard at the Princess Royal's chamber, and for the past half hour, he heard likely nothing but rattling drawers and shifting papers from within; a stark amount of noise for the usually well-maintained Princess Royal. He would be growing familiar with her routines, after all -- for the Princess had begun to request his service more and more, clearly preferential to the Deliambre knight. In Antoinette's opinion, there was something far more refined, and even austere about Salvatore that the service of so few other Claviger's could offer her. He was, in short, growing on her -- although she had detested the need for watchers to start with.
And then, the smallest squeak -- the hinges on the double-doors to her lavish chambers moving, the handle of the door twisting open, just a crack.
All that could be seen of the Princess Royal was her pale face, haloed by her loose blonde hair, tumbling over her shoulders; and the slender fingers of one hand curved around the edge of the door. With a wide-open gaze, Antoinette looked around the corner towards the Deliambre knight standing his post, his back rigid, his focus maintained. She let out a simpering sigh -- almost theatrically loud -- keeping her luminous blue eyes fixed on him. A pout formed from her lower lip.
"Don't leave me." It had all the mark of a child's whine.
She had been informed that Salvatore would be one of the Claviger knights that departed in the morning alongside the Vasile contingent -- and Antoinette was trying her best to make it clear: she was not pleased. After all, who would she be left with?
Mace?
Salvatore Deliambre
And then, the smallest squeak -- the hinges on the double-doors to her lavish chambers moving, the handle of the door twisting open, just a crack.
All that could be seen of the Princess Royal was her pale face, haloed by her loose blonde hair, tumbling over her shoulders; and the slender fingers of one hand curved around the edge of the door. With a wide-open gaze, Antoinette looked around the corner towards the Deliambre knight standing his post, his back rigid, his focus maintained. She let out a simpering sigh -- almost theatrically loud -- keeping her luminous blue eyes fixed on him. A pout formed from her lower lip.
"Don't leave me." It had all the mark of a child's whine.
She had been informed that Salvatore would be one of the Claviger knights that departed in the morning alongside the Vasile contingent -- and Antoinette was trying her best to make it clear: she was not pleased. After all, who would she be left with?
Mace?
Salvatore Deliambre