Roleplay
Tell stories and roleplay in the world of Flight Rising.
TOPIC | Royally Ruined - 1x1 with catalysts
<<bookmarked!! also, cute name omg
i might just edit this comment with my form to keep things neat, idk if you mind or not lol
i might just edit this comment with my form to keep things neat, idk if you mind or not lol
<<bookmarked!! also, cute name omg
i might just edit this comment with my form to keep things neat, idk if you mind or not lol
i might just edit this comment with my form to keep things neat, idk if you mind or not lol
|
cat she/her fr +3 art shop hatchery sleeping coatl |
CHARACTER SHEET
NAME
Prince Theodore Wake III
AGE
21
APPEARANCE
A man of average height and weight, Theodore could easily hide in a crowd. With a strong jawline, prominent nose, and average brow, Theodore has a very specific profile that is indicative of his family. Each of his brothers, his father, and uncle all possess the very same profile. Though, he is the only one of his brothers to obtain his mother's curly, fiery red hair and bright green eyes. Freckles are peppered across his nose and cheeks, and a pair of glasses rests over them, allowing the prince sight and a bit of a scholarly appearance. He tends to keep his face clean-shaven, and his clothing in pristine order.
PERSONALITY
Theodore is a typically quiet boy, who tends to focus on his studies. Being the 3rd son, he was overlooked, either for his eldest sibling, the crown prince, or his youngest brother, Reynauld. He found solace in the many stories in the library, and in learning new trades. He usually speaks only when addressed first, unless speaking with the help, and can be found in the garden more often than not.
Despite appearances, Theodore does thoroughly enjoy riding, and may spend half of his day with his steed, Pollux, exploring the manor's many acres or trotting through the streets of the city. On rainy days, he may even be found in the stables, reading aloud to Pollux and any other horses present.
A true pacifist, Theodore is slow to anger, and will resort to compromises and fleeing, rather than fighting and taking.
SHORT BIO
Prince Theodore Wake III was born on the first of spring, with muddy slush coating the manor, and buds curled tightly on each branch. He entered this world with the softest of cries, and the doctor and midwife each worried for the boy's health. However, his mother took particular care of him, as did his wet nurse, and the little boy soon grew into a healthy child.
With his elder brothers, Alfred and Walter, Theodore became their punching bag at times, their scapegoat in others, and sometimes, their savior. Though the relationship was strained, things quieted down when Reynauld was born, as the boys were now concerned with the tiny arrival. Alfred was 15, Walter was 14, and Theodore was 10 when Reynauld was born.
Alfred was married to Talais when Theodore was 13, and he was from then-on unaffected by the eldest brother. Walter was also married off, only two years later to a distant kingdom in order to strengthen ties. Theodore was expected to be married off as well, but the kingdom completely fell between his 15th and 18th birthdays, and so he waits now, 21, to be sent away like his brother.
Until then, he will be studying and riding, and teaching Reynauld things that every young boy should know.
NAME
Prince Theodore Wake III
AGE
21
APPEARANCE
A man of average height and weight, Theodore could easily hide in a crowd. With a strong jawline, prominent nose, and average brow, Theodore has a very specific profile that is indicative of his family. Each of his brothers, his father, and uncle all possess the very same profile. Though, he is the only one of his brothers to obtain his mother's curly, fiery red hair and bright green eyes. Freckles are peppered across his nose and cheeks, and a pair of glasses rests over them, allowing the prince sight and a bit of a scholarly appearance. He tends to keep his face clean-shaven, and his clothing in pristine order.
PERSONALITY
Theodore is a typically quiet boy, who tends to focus on his studies. Being the 3rd son, he was overlooked, either for his eldest sibling, the crown prince, or his youngest brother, Reynauld. He found solace in the many stories in the library, and in learning new trades. He usually speaks only when addressed first, unless speaking with the help, and can be found in the garden more often than not.
Despite appearances, Theodore does thoroughly enjoy riding, and may spend half of his day with his steed, Pollux, exploring the manor's many acres or trotting through the streets of the city. On rainy days, he may even be found in the stables, reading aloud to Pollux and any other horses present.
A true pacifist, Theodore is slow to anger, and will resort to compromises and fleeing, rather than fighting and taking.
SHORT BIO
Prince Theodore Wake III was born on the first of spring, with muddy slush coating the manor, and buds curled tightly on each branch. He entered this world with the softest of cries, and the doctor and midwife each worried for the boy's health. However, his mother took particular care of him, as did his wet nurse, and the little boy soon grew into a healthy child.
With his elder brothers, Alfred and Walter, Theodore became their punching bag at times, their scapegoat in others, and sometimes, their savior. Though the relationship was strained, things quieted down when Reynauld was born, as the boys were now concerned with the tiny arrival. Alfred was 15, Walter was 14, and Theodore was 10 when Reynauld was born.
Alfred was married to Talais when Theodore was 13, and he was from then-on unaffected by the eldest brother. Walter was also married off, only two years later to a distant kingdom in order to strengthen ties. Theodore was expected to be married off as well, but the kingdom completely fell between his 15th and 18th birthdays, and so he waits now, 21, to be sent away like his brother.
Until then, he will be studying and riding, and teaching Reynauld things that every young boy should know.
No worries! Do as you'd like. I wrote a bit more than anticipated. ^^;
CHARACTER SHEET
NAME
Prince Theodore Wake III
AGE
21
APPEARANCE
A man of average height and weight, Theodore could easily hide in a crowd. With a strong jawline, prominent nose, and average brow, Theodore has a very specific profile that is indicative of his family. Each of his brothers, his father, and uncle all possess the very same profile. Though, he is the only one of his brothers to obtain his mother's curly, fiery red hair and bright green eyes. Freckles are peppered across his nose and cheeks, and a pair of glasses rests over them, allowing the prince sight and a bit of a scholarly appearance. He tends to keep his face clean-shaven, and his clothing in pristine order.
PERSONALITY
Theodore is a typically quiet boy, who tends to focus on his studies. Being the 3rd son, he was overlooked, either for his eldest sibling, the crown prince, or his youngest brother, Reynauld. He found solace in the many stories in the library, and in learning new trades. He usually speaks only when addressed first, unless speaking with the help, and can be found in the garden more often than not.
Despite appearances, Theodore does thoroughly enjoy riding, and may spend half of his day with his steed, Pollux, exploring the manor's many acres or trotting through the streets of the city. On rainy days, he may even be found in the stables, reading aloud to Pollux and any other horses present.
A true pacifist, Theodore is slow to anger, and will resort to compromises and fleeing, rather than fighting and taking.
SHORT BIO
Prince Theodore Wake III was born on the first of spring, with muddy slush coating the manor, and buds curled tightly on each branch. He entered this world with the softest of cries, and the doctor and midwife each worried for the boy's health. However, his mother took particular care of him, as did his wet nurse, and the little boy soon grew into a healthy child.
With his elder brothers, Alfred and Walter, Theodore became their punching bag at times, their scapegoat in others, and sometimes, their savior. Though the relationship was strained, things quieted down when Reynauld was born, as the boys were now concerned with the tiny arrival. Alfred was 15, Walter was 14, and Theodore was 10 when Reynauld was born.
Alfred was married to Talais when Theodore was 13, and he was from then-on unaffected by the eldest brother. Walter was also married off, only two years later to a distant kingdom in order to strengthen ties. Theodore was expected to be married off as well, but the kingdom completely fell between his 15th and 18th birthdays, and so he waits now, 21, to be sent away like his brother.
Until then, he will be studying and riding, and teaching Reynauld things that every young boy should know.
NAME
Prince Theodore Wake III
AGE
21
APPEARANCE
A man of average height and weight, Theodore could easily hide in a crowd. With a strong jawline, prominent nose, and average brow, Theodore has a very specific profile that is indicative of his family. Each of his brothers, his father, and uncle all possess the very same profile. Though, he is the only one of his brothers to obtain his mother's curly, fiery red hair and bright green eyes. Freckles are peppered across his nose and cheeks, and a pair of glasses rests over them, allowing the prince sight and a bit of a scholarly appearance. He tends to keep his face clean-shaven, and his clothing in pristine order.
PERSONALITY
Theodore is a typically quiet boy, who tends to focus on his studies. Being the 3rd son, he was overlooked, either for his eldest sibling, the crown prince, or his youngest brother, Reynauld. He found solace in the many stories in the library, and in learning new trades. He usually speaks only when addressed first, unless speaking with the help, and can be found in the garden more often than not.
Despite appearances, Theodore does thoroughly enjoy riding, and may spend half of his day with his steed, Pollux, exploring the manor's many acres or trotting through the streets of the city. On rainy days, he may even be found in the stables, reading aloud to Pollux and any other horses present.
A true pacifist, Theodore is slow to anger, and will resort to compromises and fleeing, rather than fighting and taking.
SHORT BIO
Prince Theodore Wake III was born on the first of spring, with muddy slush coating the manor, and buds curled tightly on each branch. He entered this world with the softest of cries, and the doctor and midwife each worried for the boy's health. However, his mother took particular care of him, as did his wet nurse, and the little boy soon grew into a healthy child.
With his elder brothers, Alfred and Walter, Theodore became their punching bag at times, their scapegoat in others, and sometimes, their savior. Though the relationship was strained, things quieted down when Reynauld was born, as the boys were now concerned with the tiny arrival. Alfred was 15, Walter was 14, and Theodore was 10 when Reynauld was born.
Alfred was married to Talais when Theodore was 13, and he was from then-on unaffected by the eldest brother. Walter was also married off, only two years later to a distant kingdom in order to strengthen ties. Theodore was expected to be married off as well, but the kingdom completely fell between his 15th and 18th birthdays, and so he waits now, 21, to be sent away like his brother.
Until then, he will be studying and riding, and teaching Reynauld things that every young boy should know.
No worries! Do as you'd like. I wrote a bit more than anticipated. ^^;
CHARACTER SHEET
NAME
Charlotte “Lottie” Wickham
AGE
20
APPEARANCE
Lottie stands at about 5’3, and has a slim figure due to her working lifestyle and class. Her face is angular and sharp, and her fair skin is full of freckles, likely caused by her time in the sun. If you were to look closely, her hands would be much more rough and calloused than those of upper class ladies, though Lottie has never seemed to mind.
Her light brown hair is a constant mess of curls and tangles, generally wrestled into two thick braids that reach nearly to her waist. Lottie’s mother used to enjoy practicing elaborate hairstyles in it, but now the girl sticks more to practicality than appearance. Her hazel eyes are bright and piercing.
As for clothes, Lottie’s have never lasted long. Her skirts tend to be stained with mud across the bottom, and it’s uncommon to see her in a dress without mended patches or fresh tears. Her worn boots are certainly unfit to be worn, but she refuses to get rid of them.
PERSONALITY
Lottie has never been one to stick to the status quo. It’s the primary reason why her mother attempted to keep her contained and controlled – as a young girl, Lottie absolutely refused to bend to anyone’s will other than her own. Lottie’s pigheaded stubbornness and tendencies towards outspokenness and brashness give her a firm reputation in her town as rude, antisocial, and improper. Of course, she’s perfectly happy to keep things this way, as she prefers to go about her days unbothered by other people.
Lottie’s nature is not wholly unpleasant, though her quick wit and sharp tongue proves to be too much for many members of proper society. Her one job as a governess was quickly terminated after she argued with the lady of the house for a whole hour (though, to be fair, it certainly was not Lottie’s fault that the children would prefer to run in the mud than sit inside and read, and really, who could blame them, in a house as stuffy as that?) She’s fairly well-educated for a woman of the time, and is literate.
Though her rather abrasive mannerisms can be off-putting, to those she considers her friends and family Lottie is fiercely loyal and protective of. She’s a hard worker, and honestly wants the best for her family, despite the trouble she seems to cause for them. As the youngest (and only) daughter among five other sons, Lottie’s upbringing left her with a thirst for adventure and mischief, and her slightly wild nature gives her a fiery nature somewhat uncommon to the time.
SHORT BIO
Charlotte Wickham was born on a farm to a working class couple, the youngest of six. Her childhood consisted of running around the land – seemingly endless property at the time, though its meager size has caught up to them by now – with her five elder brothers, getting herself involved in all of their roughhousing, much to the disappointment of her mother, who wanted nothing more than a proper daughter. When she turned 12, her mother insisted that the games stop for Lottie’s own good, keeping her in the house in order to raise her to be a good wife.
Of course, this path was certainly not suitable for Lottie’s wild nature, and she took every opportunity to sneak out of the house and escape the dullness of lessons. Her father took pity on her, and began to teach her to read (certainly without her mother’s permission). Since he only had a base knowledge of English, it wasn’t long before he had to turn her over to the education of books and other such means. At 17, her mother began to lose hope, and upon her chance discovery of her ability to read, sent Lottie away to be a governess, in the hopes that she may become somewhat useful. By the time Lottie returned, her mother was bedridden with typhoid, and succumbed to disease by the time Lottie was 18. Now, the girl helps her father with the farm, being one of only two children left at home. She and her brother, Everett, 23, sell their father’s goods at the market, seeing as he is becoming too old to make the trip.
NAME
Charlotte “Lottie” Wickham
AGE
20
APPEARANCE
Lottie stands at about 5’3, and has a slim figure due to her working lifestyle and class. Her face is angular and sharp, and her fair skin is full of freckles, likely caused by her time in the sun. If you were to look closely, her hands would be much more rough and calloused than those of upper class ladies, though Lottie has never seemed to mind.
Her light brown hair is a constant mess of curls and tangles, generally wrestled into two thick braids that reach nearly to her waist. Lottie’s mother used to enjoy practicing elaborate hairstyles in it, but now the girl sticks more to practicality than appearance. Her hazel eyes are bright and piercing.
As for clothes, Lottie’s have never lasted long. Her skirts tend to be stained with mud across the bottom, and it’s uncommon to see her in a dress without mended patches or fresh tears. Her worn boots are certainly unfit to be worn, but she refuses to get rid of them.
PERSONALITY
Lottie has never been one to stick to the status quo. It’s the primary reason why her mother attempted to keep her contained and controlled – as a young girl, Lottie absolutely refused to bend to anyone’s will other than her own. Lottie’s pigheaded stubbornness and tendencies towards outspokenness and brashness give her a firm reputation in her town as rude, antisocial, and improper. Of course, she’s perfectly happy to keep things this way, as she prefers to go about her days unbothered by other people.
Lottie’s nature is not wholly unpleasant, though her quick wit and sharp tongue proves to be too much for many members of proper society. Her one job as a governess was quickly terminated after she argued with the lady of the house for a whole hour (though, to be fair, it certainly was not Lottie’s fault that the children would prefer to run in the mud than sit inside and read, and really, who could blame them, in a house as stuffy as that?) She’s fairly well-educated for a woman of the time, and is literate.
Though her rather abrasive mannerisms can be off-putting, to those she considers her friends and family Lottie is fiercely loyal and protective of. She’s a hard worker, and honestly wants the best for her family, despite the trouble she seems to cause for them. As the youngest (and only) daughter among five other sons, Lottie’s upbringing left her with a thirst for adventure and mischief, and her slightly wild nature gives her a fiery nature somewhat uncommon to the time.
SHORT BIO
Charlotte Wickham was born on a farm to a working class couple, the youngest of six. Her childhood consisted of running around the land – seemingly endless property at the time, though its meager size has caught up to them by now – with her five elder brothers, getting herself involved in all of their roughhousing, much to the disappointment of her mother, who wanted nothing more than a proper daughter. When she turned 12, her mother insisted that the games stop for Lottie’s own good, keeping her in the house in order to raise her to be a good wife.
Of course, this path was certainly not suitable for Lottie’s wild nature, and she took every opportunity to sneak out of the house and escape the dullness of lessons. Her father took pity on her, and began to teach her to read (certainly without her mother’s permission). Since he only had a base knowledge of English, it wasn’t long before he had to turn her over to the education of books and other such means. At 17, her mother began to lose hope, and upon her chance discovery of her ability to read, sent Lottie away to be a governess, in the hopes that she may become somewhat useful. By the time Lottie returned, her mother was bedridden with typhoid, and succumbed to disease by the time Lottie was 18. Now, the girl helps her father with the farm, being one of only two children left at home. She and her brother, Everett, 23, sell their father’s goods at the market, seeing as he is becoming too old to make the trip.
got it! sorry for the wait c:
CHARACTER SHEET
NAME
Charlotte “Lottie” Wickham
AGE
20
APPEARANCE
Lottie stands at about 5’3, and has a slim figure due to her working lifestyle and class. Her face is angular and sharp, and her fair skin is full of freckles, likely caused by her time in the sun. If you were to look closely, her hands would be much more rough and calloused than those of upper class ladies, though Lottie has never seemed to mind.
Her light brown hair is a constant mess of curls and tangles, generally wrestled into two thick braids that reach nearly to her waist. Lottie’s mother used to enjoy practicing elaborate hairstyles in it, but now the girl sticks more to practicality than appearance. Her hazel eyes are bright and piercing.
As for clothes, Lottie’s have never lasted long. Her skirts tend to be stained with mud across the bottom, and it’s uncommon to see her in a dress without mended patches or fresh tears. Her worn boots are certainly unfit to be worn, but she refuses to get rid of them.
PERSONALITY
Lottie has never been one to stick to the status quo. It’s the primary reason why her mother attempted to keep her contained and controlled – as a young girl, Lottie absolutely refused to bend to anyone’s will other than her own. Lottie’s pigheaded stubbornness and tendencies towards outspokenness and brashness give her a firm reputation in her town as rude, antisocial, and improper. Of course, she’s perfectly happy to keep things this way, as she prefers to go about her days unbothered by other people.
Lottie’s nature is not wholly unpleasant, though her quick wit and sharp tongue proves to be too much for many members of proper society. Her one job as a governess was quickly terminated after she argued with the lady of the house for a whole hour (though, to be fair, it certainly was not Lottie’s fault that the children would prefer to run in the mud than sit inside and read, and really, who could blame them, in a house as stuffy as that?) She’s fairly well-educated for a woman of the time, and is literate.
Though her rather abrasive mannerisms can be off-putting, to those she considers her friends and family Lottie is fiercely loyal and protective of. She’s a hard worker, and honestly wants the best for her family, despite the trouble she seems to cause for them. As the youngest (and only) daughter among five other sons, Lottie’s upbringing left her with a thirst for adventure and mischief, and her slightly wild nature gives her a fiery nature somewhat uncommon to the time.
SHORT BIO
Charlotte Wickham was born on a farm to a working class couple, the youngest of six. Her childhood consisted of running around the land – seemingly endless property at the time, though its meager size has caught up to them by now – with her five elder brothers, getting herself involved in all of their roughhousing, much to the disappointment of her mother, who wanted nothing more than a proper daughter. When she turned 12, her mother insisted that the games stop for Lottie’s own good, keeping her in the house in order to raise her to be a good wife.
Of course, this path was certainly not suitable for Lottie’s wild nature, and she took every opportunity to sneak out of the house and escape the dullness of lessons. Her father took pity on her, and began to teach her to read (certainly without her mother’s permission). Since he only had a base knowledge of English, it wasn’t long before he had to turn her over to the education of books and other such means. At 17, her mother began to lose hope, and upon her chance discovery of her ability to read, sent Lottie away to be a governess, in the hopes that she may become somewhat useful. By the time Lottie returned, her mother was bedridden with typhoid, and succumbed to disease by the time Lottie was 18. Now, the girl helps her father with the farm, being one of only two children left at home. She and her brother, Everett, 23, sell their father’s goods at the market, seeing as he is becoming too old to make the trip.
NAME
Charlotte “Lottie” Wickham
AGE
20
APPEARANCE
Lottie stands at about 5’3, and has a slim figure due to her working lifestyle and class. Her face is angular and sharp, and her fair skin is full of freckles, likely caused by her time in the sun. If you were to look closely, her hands would be much more rough and calloused than those of upper class ladies, though Lottie has never seemed to mind.
Her light brown hair is a constant mess of curls and tangles, generally wrestled into two thick braids that reach nearly to her waist. Lottie’s mother used to enjoy practicing elaborate hairstyles in it, but now the girl sticks more to practicality than appearance. Her hazel eyes are bright and piercing.
As for clothes, Lottie’s have never lasted long. Her skirts tend to be stained with mud across the bottom, and it’s uncommon to see her in a dress without mended patches or fresh tears. Her worn boots are certainly unfit to be worn, but she refuses to get rid of them.
PERSONALITY
Lottie has never been one to stick to the status quo. It’s the primary reason why her mother attempted to keep her contained and controlled – as a young girl, Lottie absolutely refused to bend to anyone’s will other than her own. Lottie’s pigheaded stubbornness and tendencies towards outspokenness and brashness give her a firm reputation in her town as rude, antisocial, and improper. Of course, she’s perfectly happy to keep things this way, as she prefers to go about her days unbothered by other people.
Lottie’s nature is not wholly unpleasant, though her quick wit and sharp tongue proves to be too much for many members of proper society. Her one job as a governess was quickly terminated after she argued with the lady of the house for a whole hour (though, to be fair, it certainly was not Lottie’s fault that the children would prefer to run in the mud than sit inside and read, and really, who could blame them, in a house as stuffy as that?) She’s fairly well-educated for a woman of the time, and is literate.
Though her rather abrasive mannerisms can be off-putting, to those she considers her friends and family Lottie is fiercely loyal and protective of. She’s a hard worker, and honestly wants the best for her family, despite the trouble she seems to cause for them. As the youngest (and only) daughter among five other sons, Lottie’s upbringing left her with a thirst for adventure and mischief, and her slightly wild nature gives her a fiery nature somewhat uncommon to the time.
SHORT BIO
Charlotte Wickham was born on a farm to a working class couple, the youngest of six. Her childhood consisted of running around the land – seemingly endless property at the time, though its meager size has caught up to them by now – with her five elder brothers, getting herself involved in all of their roughhousing, much to the disappointment of her mother, who wanted nothing more than a proper daughter. When she turned 12, her mother insisted that the games stop for Lottie’s own good, keeping her in the house in order to raise her to be a good wife.
Of course, this path was certainly not suitable for Lottie’s wild nature, and she took every opportunity to sneak out of the house and escape the dullness of lessons. Her father took pity on her, and began to teach her to read (certainly without her mother’s permission). Since he only had a base knowledge of English, it wasn’t long before he had to turn her over to the education of books and other such means. At 17, her mother began to lose hope, and upon her chance discovery of her ability to read, sent Lottie away to be a governess, in the hopes that she may become somewhat useful. By the time Lottie returned, her mother was bedridden with typhoid, and succumbed to disease by the time Lottie was 18. Now, the girl helps her father with the farm, being one of only two children left at home. She and her brother, Everett, 23, sell their father’s goods at the market, seeing as he is becoming too old to make the trip.
got it! sorry for the wait c:
|
|
cat she/her fr +3 art shop hatchery sleeping coatl |
The morning sun shone brightly over the sleepy city of Briarglenn, white and orange cats splayed themselves in the streets, and fresh baked goods filled the air with warm fragrance. Carriages would occasionally trot past, scaring the cats from their chosen sunbathing locations. The city goers chatted on corners, chains hanging from their pockets, parasols protecting porcelain skin.
This particular street was one of Theodore's favorites. The people treated him as a normal member of the society. They would tip their hats with a pleasant greeting, and the ladies would curtsy as they would to any other man they met. He enjoyed the normalcy, or what he could assume was normal.
Pollux trotted towards the open market, and Theodore dismounted, his black shined boots clicking as he stepped onto the dark cobblestone road. He held his steed's leather reins to lead him through the market. The pair's footsteps were well timed, as though they had choreographed every movement.
Theodore passed by many of the marketmen, smiling and nodding at those who greeted him. His shoulder hit a woman's shoulder, and with sudden alarm, he turned. Apologies came pouring out, his green eyes darting back and forth, before meeting piercing hazel eyes.
"I-I.. I am so very sorry," he said a final time, before bowing deeply. Pollux followed suit, well trained in show.
This particular street was one of Theodore's favorites. The people treated him as a normal member of the society. They would tip their hats with a pleasant greeting, and the ladies would curtsy as they would to any other man they met. He enjoyed the normalcy, or what he could assume was normal.
Pollux trotted towards the open market, and Theodore dismounted, his black shined boots clicking as he stepped onto the dark cobblestone road. He held his steed's leather reins to lead him through the market. The pair's footsteps were well timed, as though they had choreographed every movement.
Theodore passed by many of the marketmen, smiling and nodding at those who greeted him. His shoulder hit a woman's shoulder, and with sudden alarm, he turned. Apologies came pouring out, his green eyes darting back and forth, before meeting piercing hazel eyes.
"I-I.. I am so very sorry," he said a final time, before bowing deeply. Pollux followed suit, well trained in show.
The morning sun shone brightly over the sleepy city of Briarglenn, white and orange cats splayed themselves in the streets, and fresh baked goods filled the air with warm fragrance. Carriages would occasionally trot past, scaring the cats from their chosen sunbathing locations. The city goers chatted on corners, chains hanging from their pockets, parasols protecting porcelain skin.
This particular street was one of Theodore's favorites. The people treated him as a normal member of the society. They would tip their hats with a pleasant greeting, and the ladies would curtsy as they would to any other man they met. He enjoyed the normalcy, or what he could assume was normal.
Pollux trotted towards the open market, and Theodore dismounted, his black shined boots clicking as he stepped onto the dark cobblestone road. He held his steed's leather reins to lead him through the market. The pair's footsteps were well timed, as though they had choreographed every movement.
Theodore passed by many of the marketmen, smiling and nodding at those who greeted him. His shoulder hit a woman's shoulder, and with sudden alarm, he turned. Apologies came pouring out, his green eyes darting back and forth, before meeting piercing hazel eyes.
"I-I.. I am so very sorry," he said a final time, before bowing deeply. Pollux followed suit, well trained in show.
This particular street was one of Theodore's favorites. The people treated him as a normal member of the society. They would tip their hats with a pleasant greeting, and the ladies would curtsy as they would to any other man they met. He enjoyed the normalcy, or what he could assume was normal.
Pollux trotted towards the open market, and Theodore dismounted, his black shined boots clicking as he stepped onto the dark cobblestone road. He held his steed's leather reins to lead him through the market. The pair's footsteps were well timed, as though they had choreographed every movement.
Theodore passed by many of the marketmen, smiling and nodding at those who greeted him. His shoulder hit a woman's shoulder, and with sudden alarm, he turned. Apologies came pouring out, his green eyes darting back and forth, before meeting piercing hazel eyes.
"I-I.. I am so very sorry," he said a final time, before bowing deeply. Pollux followed suit, well trained in show.
It was Lottie's turn to work the stand. It had been her turn for the past two weeks, and every time she complained to Everett he just looked down at her and laughed, running off as soon as he could to do who-knows-what. Probably go flirt with some other market ladies, she suspected. There really wasn't anything she could do about the situation, since she was wholly unable to leave the stand unattended. Despite the generally warm environment the market provided, she simply didn't trust the farmers around her to refrain from snatching some cherries if they were given the chance.
So, here she was, watching the morning bustle of the market with half-closed eyes and her head leaning on one hand, waiting for customers to approach. Her manner was brisk and business-like, as she had no patience for frivolity this early in the morning. Besides, most of their regulars preferred her silence, and at this point very few attempted unnecessary conversation.
The sight of Everett's coat, however, caused her to rethink her plans. "Hey! Everett!" She yelled across the square, certainly catching his attention by the way he retreated into his jacket and ducked his head, likely avoiding her demands. Lottie's stride was sure as she approached, tugging on his sleeve to get him to turn, albeit reluctantly. As soon as his eyes met hers, she was shoving him back towards the stand, ignoring his cries of protest. "It's your turn!"
Taking example from her brother, Lottie sprinted off in the other direction, not even looking back to see if he was attending the stall. She knew he would give in eventually. Slowing to a walk, she fixed her gaze on a few of the more vibrant stands, taking in the market around her. Her quiet contemplation, however, was soon brought to a halt by a slight collision. Taking a step back, she glanced at the offender, giving his countenance a once-over. She figured he had some money, as his dress was much finer than anything she had seen in a while. More amusing to her, however, were the sheer amount of apologies spilling from his mouth.
She hadn't ever seen someone this polite, and she bit her lip to keep from laughing as he finished, meeting his gaze with her own. "Perhaps you should watch where you're going next time, hm?" She said curtly, the barest hint of laughter edging its way into her voice. The sight of the horse bowing nearly pushed her over the edge, and she wondered where this man had gotten such a creature. At this rate, she was sure to offend, so she made some semblance of an attempt to compose herself, though her eyes continued to glimmer with mirth.
So, here she was, watching the morning bustle of the market with half-closed eyes and her head leaning on one hand, waiting for customers to approach. Her manner was brisk and business-like, as she had no patience for frivolity this early in the morning. Besides, most of their regulars preferred her silence, and at this point very few attempted unnecessary conversation.
The sight of Everett's coat, however, caused her to rethink her plans. "Hey! Everett!" She yelled across the square, certainly catching his attention by the way he retreated into his jacket and ducked his head, likely avoiding her demands. Lottie's stride was sure as she approached, tugging on his sleeve to get him to turn, albeit reluctantly. As soon as his eyes met hers, she was shoving him back towards the stand, ignoring his cries of protest. "It's your turn!"
Taking example from her brother, Lottie sprinted off in the other direction, not even looking back to see if he was attending the stall. She knew he would give in eventually. Slowing to a walk, she fixed her gaze on a few of the more vibrant stands, taking in the market around her. Her quiet contemplation, however, was soon brought to a halt by a slight collision. Taking a step back, she glanced at the offender, giving his countenance a once-over. She figured he had some money, as his dress was much finer than anything she had seen in a while. More amusing to her, however, were the sheer amount of apologies spilling from his mouth.
She hadn't ever seen someone this polite, and she bit her lip to keep from laughing as he finished, meeting his gaze with her own. "Perhaps you should watch where you're going next time, hm?" She said curtly, the barest hint of laughter edging its way into her voice. The sight of the horse bowing nearly pushed her over the edge, and she wondered where this man had gotten such a creature. At this rate, she was sure to offend, so she made some semblance of an attempt to compose herself, though her eyes continued to glimmer with mirth.
It was Lottie's turn to work the stand. It had been her turn for the past two weeks, and every time she complained to Everett he just looked down at her and laughed, running off as soon as he could to do who-knows-what. Probably go flirt with some other market ladies, she suspected. There really wasn't anything she could do about the situation, since she was wholly unable to leave the stand unattended. Despite the generally warm environment the market provided, she simply didn't trust the farmers around her to refrain from snatching some cherries if they were given the chance.
So, here she was, watching the morning bustle of the market with half-closed eyes and her head leaning on one hand, waiting for customers to approach. Her manner was brisk and business-like, as she had no patience for frivolity this early in the morning. Besides, most of their regulars preferred her silence, and at this point very few attempted unnecessary conversation.
The sight of Everett's coat, however, caused her to rethink her plans. "Hey! Everett!" She yelled across the square, certainly catching his attention by the way he retreated into his jacket and ducked his head, likely avoiding her demands. Lottie's stride was sure as she approached, tugging on his sleeve to get him to turn, albeit reluctantly. As soon as his eyes met hers, she was shoving him back towards the stand, ignoring his cries of protest. "It's your turn!"
Taking example from her brother, Lottie sprinted off in the other direction, not even looking back to see if he was attending the stall. She knew he would give in eventually. Slowing to a walk, she fixed her gaze on a few of the more vibrant stands, taking in the market around her. Her quiet contemplation, however, was soon brought to a halt by a slight collision. Taking a step back, she glanced at the offender, giving his countenance a once-over. She figured he had some money, as his dress was much finer than anything she had seen in a while. More amusing to her, however, were the sheer amount of apologies spilling from his mouth.
She hadn't ever seen someone this polite, and she bit her lip to keep from laughing as he finished, meeting his gaze with her own. "Perhaps you should watch where you're going next time, hm?" She said curtly, the barest hint of laughter edging its way into her voice. The sight of the horse bowing nearly pushed her over the edge, and she wondered where this man had gotten such a creature. At this rate, she was sure to offend, so she made some semblance of an attempt to compose herself, though her eyes continued to glimmer with mirth.
So, here she was, watching the morning bustle of the market with half-closed eyes and her head leaning on one hand, waiting for customers to approach. Her manner was brisk and business-like, as she had no patience for frivolity this early in the morning. Besides, most of their regulars preferred her silence, and at this point very few attempted unnecessary conversation.
The sight of Everett's coat, however, caused her to rethink her plans. "Hey! Everett!" She yelled across the square, certainly catching his attention by the way he retreated into his jacket and ducked his head, likely avoiding her demands. Lottie's stride was sure as she approached, tugging on his sleeve to get him to turn, albeit reluctantly. As soon as his eyes met hers, she was shoving him back towards the stand, ignoring his cries of protest. "It's your turn!"
Taking example from her brother, Lottie sprinted off in the other direction, not even looking back to see if he was attending the stall. She knew he would give in eventually. Slowing to a walk, she fixed her gaze on a few of the more vibrant stands, taking in the market around her. Her quiet contemplation, however, was soon brought to a halt by a slight collision. Taking a step back, she glanced at the offender, giving his countenance a once-over. She figured he had some money, as his dress was much finer than anything she had seen in a while. More amusing to her, however, were the sheer amount of apologies spilling from his mouth.
She hadn't ever seen someone this polite, and she bit her lip to keep from laughing as he finished, meeting his gaze with her own. "Perhaps you should watch where you're going next time, hm?" She said curtly, the barest hint of laughter edging its way into her voice. The sight of the horse bowing nearly pushed her over the edge, and she wondered where this man had gotten such a creature. At this rate, she was sure to offend, so she made some semblance of an attempt to compose herself, though her eyes continued to glimmer with mirth.
|
|
cat she/her fr +3 art shop hatchery sleeping coatl |
Theodore righted himself quickly, as did Pollux, and he gave a firm nod as his face flushed with a soft embarrassed pink. "Yes ma'am. You're absolutely correct," he affirmed, then looked the woman over. She seemed to be farther down the social ladder than many in the city, and he subconsciously adjusted his glasses and the lapel of his tailcoat. He then gave a glance around, then down at his shoes, making his glasses slip slightly down his nose, then back up at the woman.
"My manner escape me in all fashions today. Though I suppose formalities aren't needed. After all, formalities are for parties, and not casual meetings," he smiled, pink cheeks still hiding under his freckles. The curl of his lips was slight, polite as all of him appeared to be. "I must say, I've not met you before. Curious, as I am in the city often. Might I have your name?" Theodore inquired, cocking his head the slightest in intrigue. Pollux circled around Theodore, his large head resting against Theodore's right coat sleeve.
As all royals do, he assumed all recognized him and his family. They made many public appearances, and held many balls and parties, so it did not occur to him to give his name. Of all of his time on this planet, he had only needed to introduce himself to foreign men who visited his father. This woman was clearly no diplomat, nor foreigner.
"My manner escape me in all fashions today. Though I suppose formalities aren't needed. After all, formalities are for parties, and not casual meetings," he smiled, pink cheeks still hiding under his freckles. The curl of his lips was slight, polite as all of him appeared to be. "I must say, I've not met you before. Curious, as I am in the city often. Might I have your name?" Theodore inquired, cocking his head the slightest in intrigue. Pollux circled around Theodore, his large head resting against Theodore's right coat sleeve.
As all royals do, he assumed all recognized him and his family. They made many public appearances, and held many balls and parties, so it did not occur to him to give his name. Of all of his time on this planet, he had only needed to introduce himself to foreign men who visited his father. This woman was clearly no diplomat, nor foreigner.
Theodore righted himself quickly, as did Pollux, and he gave a firm nod as his face flushed with a soft embarrassed pink. "Yes ma'am. You're absolutely correct," he affirmed, then looked the woman over. She seemed to be farther down the social ladder than many in the city, and he subconsciously adjusted his glasses and the lapel of his tailcoat. He then gave a glance around, then down at his shoes, making his glasses slip slightly down his nose, then back up at the woman.
"My manner escape me in all fashions today. Though I suppose formalities aren't needed. After all, formalities are for parties, and not casual meetings," he smiled, pink cheeks still hiding under his freckles. The curl of his lips was slight, polite as all of him appeared to be. "I must say, I've not met you before. Curious, as I am in the city often. Might I have your name?" Theodore inquired, cocking his head the slightest in intrigue. Pollux circled around Theodore, his large head resting against Theodore's right coat sleeve.
As all royals do, he assumed all recognized him and his family. They made many public appearances, and held many balls and parties, so it did not occur to him to give his name. Of all of his time on this planet, he had only needed to introduce himself to foreign men who visited his father. This woman was clearly no diplomat, nor foreigner.
"My manner escape me in all fashions today. Though I suppose formalities aren't needed. After all, formalities are for parties, and not casual meetings," he smiled, pink cheeks still hiding under his freckles. The curl of his lips was slight, polite as all of him appeared to be. "I must say, I've not met you before. Curious, as I am in the city often. Might I have your name?" Theodore inquired, cocking his head the slightest in intrigue. Pollux circled around Theodore, his large head resting against Theodore's right coat sleeve.
As all royals do, he assumed all recognized him and his family. They made many public appearances, and held many balls and parties, so it did not occur to him to give his name. Of all of his time on this planet, he had only needed to introduce himself to foreign men who visited his father. This woman was clearly no diplomat, nor foreigner.
Lottie, once recovered from her fits of giggles, found herself increasingly more intruiged by the man in front of her. It wasn't often that she was greeted with such politeness and formality - most in the town were well aware of both her moods and her status, and tended to avoid her if possible - and she figured he was not from the area. Of course, his clothing supported this hypothesis, and she resolved to remain as civil as possible in the liklihood of his importance.
"Lottie Wickham." The girl said simply, pulling a braid over her shoulder to fiddle with. She certainly wasn't sure of the proper etiquette, though she was certain her mother had attempted to impart it, and chose to keep her hands otherwise occupied to detract from her lapse of respect. The way he held himself certainly indicated that she should know who he was, and yet she had very little idea.
She was smart enough not to indicate her lack of recognition, as she figured it would make her seem like common rabble if she knew of her confusion. Instead, she spoke up again. "Perhaps you've met my brother, Everett? He's much more social than I."
"Lottie Wickham." The girl said simply, pulling a braid over her shoulder to fiddle with. She certainly wasn't sure of the proper etiquette, though she was certain her mother had attempted to impart it, and chose to keep her hands otherwise occupied to detract from her lapse of respect. The way he held himself certainly indicated that she should know who he was, and yet she had very little idea.
She was smart enough not to indicate her lack of recognition, as she figured it would make her seem like common rabble if she knew of her confusion. Instead, she spoke up again. "Perhaps you've met my brother, Everett? He's much more social than I."
Lottie, once recovered from her fits of giggles, found herself increasingly more intruiged by the man in front of her. It wasn't often that she was greeted with such politeness and formality - most in the town were well aware of both her moods and her status, and tended to avoid her if possible - and she figured he was not from the area. Of course, his clothing supported this hypothesis, and she resolved to remain as civil as possible in the liklihood of his importance.
"Lottie Wickham." The girl said simply, pulling a braid over her shoulder to fiddle with. She certainly wasn't sure of the proper etiquette, though she was certain her mother had attempted to impart it, and chose to keep her hands otherwise occupied to detract from her lapse of respect. The way he held himself certainly indicated that she should know who he was, and yet she had very little idea.
She was smart enough not to indicate her lack of recognition, as she figured it would make her seem like common rabble if she knew of her confusion. Instead, she spoke up again. "Perhaps you've met my brother, Everett? He's much more social than I."
"Lottie Wickham." The girl said simply, pulling a braid over her shoulder to fiddle with. She certainly wasn't sure of the proper etiquette, though she was certain her mother had attempted to impart it, and chose to keep her hands otherwise occupied to detract from her lapse of respect. The way he held himself certainly indicated that she should know who he was, and yet she had very little idea.
She was smart enough not to indicate her lack of recognition, as she figured it would make her seem like common rabble if she knew of her confusion. Instead, she spoke up again. "Perhaps you've met my brother, Everett? He's much more social than I."
|
|
cat she/her fr +3 art shop hatchery sleeping coatl |
Theodore nodded pleasantly, his eyes lighting up at a familiar name. "I've spoken with Everett Wickham a time or two. Pleasant fellow, but a bit of a Corinthian, from what I can tell. Often distracted by passing ladies, he's not the easiest fellow to keep engaged in conversation," Theodore explained, then chuckled softly, his grin reaching to his eyes. "He has mentioned you before. Though not in the most gracious of fashion. It's pleasure to meet you for myself and see that it's simply sibling quarrel."
"I know well the exaggerations a brother can whisper in one's name," he said, leaning in towards her, his own voice down as though his own brother was near. "My youngest brother, Reynauld? He's got quite the mouth, and tries often to blame me for his wrongs," he explained. Reynauld was a name she may have known. Afterall, he was barely half of Theodore's age, and most would have remembered his birth. Though, by name alone, it may have still been difficult.
With another adjustment of his lapel, his pulled a pocket watch from his left side and checked the time. "Oh goodness, I'm late!" he exclaimed, his body dropping all posture as his feet began to scramble. "Father wanted me there for his declaration... oh no, oh no," he muttered. Theodore looked back and forth, his panic stopping all thought. "I've got to go," he told her, taking her hand between his. "Forgive me."
With his farewell, he mounted Pollux with ease, and took off quickly towards his home.
"I was caught up in the market. An honest mistake," Theodore said, his voice barely above whisper. "With a young woman who I had rudely ran into. She was quite pleasant, and the time got away from me. Perhaps I'll see her once more, I still feel awful for bumping her," he thought aloud.
"Send her flowers!" a young boy's voice said from behind Theodore. "Mother says flowers are a kind gesture, if you send the right ones. And that way, you'll know how to find her again, should you still feel like a fool."
Theodore smiled over his shoulder at Reynauld, who's blue eyes shone with mischief up at him. A nod came from the older boy, and he called a servant to him, whispering a command before the help trotted off.
"I know well the exaggerations a brother can whisper in one's name," he said, leaning in towards her, his own voice down as though his own brother was near. "My youngest brother, Reynauld? He's got quite the mouth, and tries often to blame me for his wrongs," he explained. Reynauld was a name she may have known. Afterall, he was barely half of Theodore's age, and most would have remembered his birth. Though, by name alone, it may have still been difficult.
With another adjustment of his lapel, his pulled a pocket watch from his left side and checked the time. "Oh goodness, I'm late!" he exclaimed, his body dropping all posture as his feet began to scramble. "Father wanted me there for his declaration... oh no, oh no," he muttered. Theodore looked back and forth, his panic stopping all thought. "I've got to go," he told her, taking her hand between his. "Forgive me."
With his farewell, he mounted Pollux with ease, and took off quickly towards his home.
<><><><><>
"Where were you?!" Alfred snapped, raising his hands into the air exasperatedly. "Father's speech begins in 10 minutes and you've just NOW come out of your bedroom?" he complained, before his wife took his arm and gave a soft hushing sound. Alfred let a long sigh from his chest and looked at her with softened eyes, then back at Theodore. "At least you are here on time, if only just.""I was caught up in the market. An honest mistake," Theodore said, his voice barely above whisper. "With a young woman who I had rudely ran into. She was quite pleasant, and the time got away from me. Perhaps I'll see her once more, I still feel awful for bumping her," he thought aloud.
"Send her flowers!" a young boy's voice said from behind Theodore. "Mother says flowers are a kind gesture, if you send the right ones. And that way, you'll know how to find her again, should you still feel like a fool."
Theodore smiled over his shoulder at Reynauld, who's blue eyes shone with mischief up at him. A nod came from the older boy, and he called a servant to him, whispering a command before the help trotted off.
<><><><><>
"Delivery for Lottie Wickham!" a voice announced as a firm knock was laid on their farmhouse door. A vase full of flowers was placed down, a bit away from the door, and the delivery man left with haste, with other deliveries to make.
Theodore nodded pleasantly, his eyes lighting up at a familiar name. "I've spoken with Everett Wickham a time or two. Pleasant fellow, but a bit of a Corinthian, from what I can tell. Often distracted by passing ladies, he's not the easiest fellow to keep engaged in conversation," Theodore explained, then chuckled softly, his grin reaching to his eyes. "He has mentioned you before. Though not in the most gracious of fashion. It's pleasure to meet you for myself and see that it's simply sibling quarrel."
"I know well the exaggerations a brother can whisper in one's name," he said, leaning in towards her, his own voice down as though his own brother was near. "My youngest brother, Reynauld? He's got quite the mouth, and tries often to blame me for his wrongs," he explained. Reynauld was a name she may have known. Afterall, he was barely half of Theodore's age, and most would have remembered his birth. Though, by name alone, it may have still been difficult.
With another adjustment of his lapel, his pulled a pocket watch from his left side and checked the time. "Oh goodness, I'm late!" he exclaimed, his body dropping all posture as his feet began to scramble. "Father wanted me there for his declaration... oh no, oh no," he muttered. Theodore looked back and forth, his panic stopping all thought. "I've got to go," he told her, taking her hand between his. "Forgive me."
With his farewell, he mounted Pollux with ease, and took off quickly towards his home.
"I was caught up in the market. An honest mistake," Theodore said, his voice barely above whisper. "With a young woman who I had rudely ran into. She was quite pleasant, and the time got away from me. Perhaps I'll see her once more, I still feel awful for bumping her," he thought aloud.
"Send her flowers!" a young boy's voice said from behind Theodore. "Mother says flowers are a kind gesture, if you send the right ones. And that way, you'll know how to find her again, should you still feel like a fool."
Theodore smiled over his shoulder at Reynauld, who's blue eyes shone with mischief up at him. A nod came from the older boy, and he called a servant to him, whispering a command before the help trotted off.
"I know well the exaggerations a brother can whisper in one's name," he said, leaning in towards her, his own voice down as though his own brother was near. "My youngest brother, Reynauld? He's got quite the mouth, and tries often to blame me for his wrongs," he explained. Reynauld was a name she may have known. Afterall, he was barely half of Theodore's age, and most would have remembered his birth. Though, by name alone, it may have still been difficult.
With another adjustment of his lapel, his pulled a pocket watch from his left side and checked the time. "Oh goodness, I'm late!" he exclaimed, his body dropping all posture as his feet began to scramble. "Father wanted me there for his declaration... oh no, oh no," he muttered. Theodore looked back and forth, his panic stopping all thought. "I've got to go," he told her, taking her hand between his. "Forgive me."
With his farewell, he mounted Pollux with ease, and took off quickly towards his home.
<><><><><>
"Where were you?!" Alfred snapped, raising his hands into the air exasperatedly. "Father's speech begins in 10 minutes and you've just NOW come out of your bedroom?" he complained, before his wife took his arm and gave a soft hushing sound. Alfred let a long sigh from his chest and looked at her with softened eyes, then back at Theodore. "At least you are here on time, if only just.""I was caught up in the market. An honest mistake," Theodore said, his voice barely above whisper. "With a young woman who I had rudely ran into. She was quite pleasant, and the time got away from me. Perhaps I'll see her once more, I still feel awful for bumping her," he thought aloud.
"Send her flowers!" a young boy's voice said from behind Theodore. "Mother says flowers are a kind gesture, if you send the right ones. And that way, you'll know how to find her again, should you still feel like a fool."
Theodore smiled over his shoulder at Reynauld, who's blue eyes shone with mischief up at him. A nod came from the older boy, and he called a servant to him, whispering a command before the help trotted off.
<><><><><>
"Delivery for Lottie Wickham!" a voice announced as a firm knock was laid on their farmhouse door. A vase full of flowers was placed down, a bit away from the door, and the delivery man left with haste, with other deliveries to make.
Lottie kept her hands neatly in front of her as she listened to the man discuss her brother. Rolling her eyes at his description of her brother - her suspicions as to his behavior confirmed - she continued to remain silent. The mention of sibling quarrel brought a more intense light to her face, and her eyebrows raised at his comment. Silent congratulations were in order if she had managed to be cordial enough to convince this man she were pleasant to be around.
However, the mention of Reynaud brought recognition to her mind, as she placed this well-dressed man among the royal family. Judging by his age, she assumed he was Theodore. Her face flushed gently as she realized her errors - she hadn't made the proper introduction, for certain - before she pushed it from her mind. He had been nothing but kind, and certainly an error such as that would have already been overlooked.
She started slightly when he grabbed her hand, wide eyes meeting his fervent gaze. Honestly, this was getting over the top. The sincerity in his voice as he apologized for his haste astonished her, and all she could manage in response was a mumbled "S'okay," followed by a deep flush of embarrassment. Turning on her heels to get to the stall as quickly as she could manage, she gave her brother a firm elbow in the side.
"That's for talking about me behind my back, casanova."
Lottie was in the middle of repairing her most recently torn dress when a call at the door announced a delivery. Her brother stood to receive the item as she raised a brow at her father. It wasn't often that their humble dwelling received anything, as they made most purchases at the market. So when her brother approched with flowers, her mouth dropped in surprise.
"Oh? Lottie, have you got an admirer?" Came her father's voice, causing her to flush as her brother placed the flowers before her. The small family gathered around the vase, inspecting it as though it were a piece of evidence in some murder investigation.
"Assuredly not." Came Lottie's firm response, much to the amusment of her brother, who earned another swift jab to the ribs. Lottie certainly hadn't received much attention from the boys in the town, primarily due to her outright refusal to play the giggling maiden. Most suitors had been driven away long ago, much to her late mother's chagrin. Upon further evaluation, a calling card was withdrawn from the bunch indicating its origin. Lottie's face split into a grin as she read the name of the somewhat bumbling prince in the square that morning.
"Goodness, more apologies from that gentleman. It's absurd, at this point. He hardly touched me!" Came her exasperated response, though the barest hint of a smile continued to grace her lips. Placing the bouquet on the table, Lottie wiped her hands on the front of her dress and returned to the mending that had been interuppted, pointedly avoiding all other questions fielded by her father. She truly had no idea what the proper response to such a gesture would be, and with a twinge in her heart she wished for her mother's advice.
No matter. If she saw him again, she would thank him, but she didn't think any other acknowledgement would be necessary. She had more important things to do than fuss over some flowers.
However, the mention of Reynaud brought recognition to her mind, as she placed this well-dressed man among the royal family. Judging by his age, she assumed he was Theodore. Her face flushed gently as she realized her errors - she hadn't made the proper introduction, for certain - before she pushed it from her mind. He had been nothing but kind, and certainly an error such as that would have already been overlooked.
She started slightly when he grabbed her hand, wide eyes meeting his fervent gaze. Honestly, this was getting over the top. The sincerity in his voice as he apologized for his haste astonished her, and all she could manage in response was a mumbled "S'okay," followed by a deep flush of embarrassment. Turning on her heels to get to the stall as quickly as she could manage, she gave her brother a firm elbow in the side.
"That's for talking about me behind my back, casanova."
<><><><><>
Lottie was in the middle of repairing her most recently torn dress when a call at the door announced a delivery. Her brother stood to receive the item as she raised a brow at her father. It wasn't often that their humble dwelling received anything, as they made most purchases at the market. So when her brother approched with flowers, her mouth dropped in surprise.
"Oh? Lottie, have you got an admirer?" Came her father's voice, causing her to flush as her brother placed the flowers before her. The small family gathered around the vase, inspecting it as though it were a piece of evidence in some murder investigation.
"Assuredly not." Came Lottie's firm response, much to the amusment of her brother, who earned another swift jab to the ribs. Lottie certainly hadn't received much attention from the boys in the town, primarily due to her outright refusal to play the giggling maiden. Most suitors had been driven away long ago, much to her late mother's chagrin. Upon further evaluation, a calling card was withdrawn from the bunch indicating its origin. Lottie's face split into a grin as she read the name of the somewhat bumbling prince in the square that morning.
"Goodness, more apologies from that gentleman. It's absurd, at this point. He hardly touched me!" Came her exasperated response, though the barest hint of a smile continued to grace her lips. Placing the bouquet on the table, Lottie wiped her hands on the front of her dress and returned to the mending that had been interuppted, pointedly avoiding all other questions fielded by her father. She truly had no idea what the proper response to such a gesture would be, and with a twinge in her heart she wished for her mother's advice.
No matter. If she saw him again, she would thank him, but she didn't think any other acknowledgement would be necessary. She had more important things to do than fuss over some flowers.
Lottie kept her hands neatly in front of her as she listened to the man discuss her brother. Rolling her eyes at his description of her brother - her suspicions as to his behavior confirmed - she continued to remain silent. The mention of sibling quarrel brought a more intense light to her face, and her eyebrows raised at his comment. Silent congratulations were in order if she had managed to be cordial enough to convince this man she were pleasant to be around.
However, the mention of Reynaud brought recognition to her mind, as she placed this well-dressed man among the royal family. Judging by his age, she assumed he was Theodore. Her face flushed gently as she realized her errors - she hadn't made the proper introduction, for certain - before she pushed it from her mind. He had been nothing but kind, and certainly an error such as that would have already been overlooked.
She started slightly when he grabbed her hand, wide eyes meeting his fervent gaze. Honestly, this was getting over the top. The sincerity in his voice as he apologized for his haste astonished her, and all she could manage in response was a mumbled "S'okay," followed by a deep flush of embarrassment. Turning on her heels to get to the stall as quickly as she could manage, she gave her brother a firm elbow in the side.
"That's for talking about me behind my back, casanova."
Lottie was in the middle of repairing her most recently torn dress when a call at the door announced a delivery. Her brother stood to receive the item as she raised a brow at her father. It wasn't often that their humble dwelling received anything, as they made most purchases at the market. So when her brother approched with flowers, her mouth dropped in surprise.
"Oh? Lottie, have you got an admirer?" Came her father's voice, causing her to flush as her brother placed the flowers before her. The small family gathered around the vase, inspecting it as though it were a piece of evidence in some murder investigation.
"Assuredly not." Came Lottie's firm response, much to the amusment of her brother, who earned another swift jab to the ribs. Lottie certainly hadn't received much attention from the boys in the town, primarily due to her outright refusal to play the giggling maiden. Most suitors had been driven away long ago, much to her late mother's chagrin. Upon further evaluation, a calling card was withdrawn from the bunch indicating its origin. Lottie's face split into a grin as she read the name of the somewhat bumbling prince in the square that morning.
"Goodness, more apologies from that gentleman. It's absurd, at this point. He hardly touched me!" Came her exasperated response, though the barest hint of a smile continued to grace her lips. Placing the bouquet on the table, Lottie wiped her hands on the front of her dress and returned to the mending that had been interuppted, pointedly avoiding all other questions fielded by her father. She truly had no idea what the proper response to such a gesture would be, and with a twinge in her heart she wished for her mother's advice.
No matter. If she saw him again, she would thank him, but she didn't think any other acknowledgement would be necessary. She had more important things to do than fuss over some flowers.
However, the mention of Reynaud brought recognition to her mind, as she placed this well-dressed man among the royal family. Judging by his age, she assumed he was Theodore. Her face flushed gently as she realized her errors - she hadn't made the proper introduction, for certain - before she pushed it from her mind. He had been nothing but kind, and certainly an error such as that would have already been overlooked.
She started slightly when he grabbed her hand, wide eyes meeting his fervent gaze. Honestly, this was getting over the top. The sincerity in his voice as he apologized for his haste astonished her, and all she could manage in response was a mumbled "S'okay," followed by a deep flush of embarrassment. Turning on her heels to get to the stall as quickly as she could manage, she gave her brother a firm elbow in the side.
"That's for talking about me behind my back, casanova."
<><><><><>
Lottie was in the middle of repairing her most recently torn dress when a call at the door announced a delivery. Her brother stood to receive the item as she raised a brow at her father. It wasn't often that their humble dwelling received anything, as they made most purchases at the market. So when her brother approched with flowers, her mouth dropped in surprise.
"Oh? Lottie, have you got an admirer?" Came her father's voice, causing her to flush as her brother placed the flowers before her. The small family gathered around the vase, inspecting it as though it were a piece of evidence in some murder investigation.
"Assuredly not." Came Lottie's firm response, much to the amusment of her brother, who earned another swift jab to the ribs. Lottie certainly hadn't received much attention from the boys in the town, primarily due to her outright refusal to play the giggling maiden. Most suitors had been driven away long ago, much to her late mother's chagrin. Upon further evaluation, a calling card was withdrawn from the bunch indicating its origin. Lottie's face split into a grin as she read the name of the somewhat bumbling prince in the square that morning.
"Goodness, more apologies from that gentleman. It's absurd, at this point. He hardly touched me!" Came her exasperated response, though the barest hint of a smile continued to grace her lips. Placing the bouquet on the table, Lottie wiped her hands on the front of her dress and returned to the mending that had been interuppted, pointedly avoiding all other questions fielded by her father. She truly had no idea what the proper response to such a gesture would be, and with a twinge in her heart she wished for her mother's advice.
No matter. If she saw him again, she would thank him, but she didn't think any other acknowledgement would be necessary. She had more important things to do than fuss over some flowers.
|
|
cat she/her fr +3 art shop hatchery sleeping coatl |