« Reply #1 on: February 14, 2017, 12:34:49 PM »
The city's towers of marble and gold towered all the way to the dim, cloudy sky. Its avenues and boulevards were awash with life, even at night, and street lights kept it illuminated throughout the dark hours of every single day. It was obvious that the season was spring, with fully leaved trees dotting the various parks and canals, and flora bloomed wherever one might look, along with vines and moss that crawled on the sides of every artificially antiquated building, touching up on the city's already vibrant aura to keep it just so to any that beheld it. Open air restaurants and markets seemed to flourish, and the taverns held as many of the purple-clad soldiers that kept the peace as the streets did, their work lax at this time of year and the time for merriment over recent victories only now beginning. The docks stretched along the bay for several miles, bustling with activity at every hour as domestic and foreign merchants sailed into port or departed on their next voyage, unloading goods and spices from far off lands and closer allies of the realm.
It was truly one of the most magnificent sights in all the North, and only few cities dared to compete with all its splendors, and the opulence of its aristocracy - opulence displayed even in simple dinners. In an inner city estate, not so far from the King's palace, a family of three sat down to have such a meal. The chandelier that lent its light to the massive dining hall was in itself worth a man's weight in gold, as did most other objects that were placed in the room for decoration - a suit of ceremonial armor propped on a dummy, several locked wooden cabinets that for all intents and purposes, only served to keep as a stand for various vases of porcelain and different species of flowers, that were freshly placed. The furniture as a whole was crafted out of smooth mahogany, the latter of which were embedded with soft red pillows, threaded with silver, and the silverware contained intricate designs of the family's symbols - stag antlers and rose vines. At the head of the table sat the Lord, a well muscled, broad shouldered man in his middle thirties with short blonde hair atop his crown and a cropped beard on his jaw, both stylized for elegance. His garb and appearance were meticulous, even for such a casual event as dinner with his loved ones, though having earned his titles through his military shrewdness, that same role kept him away from them for too long every time he was summoned to fulfill his duty. As such, his brown eyes were alight with mirth as he laughed along to his Lady's jape, a woman of like age but of petite appearance. Her silken red dress, however impressive it had been worn on her person, was of simple design, and fit her frame just so. Full, vibrant brown hair cascaded down to her shoulders and green eyes squinted in slightly exaggerated laughter, as if to continue spurring her family along. Just in front of her and to the Lord's left sat a young girl, barely past the years of adolescence, that stroke her resemblance in every single way. The same brown hair that was kept tidy, few curls draping down to her cheeks and the rest of it held above in a bun, and the same green eyes spoke that she did not find it all that amusing, though she laughed along regardless. A touch smaller than her mother, she was dressed in a wide white dress for the occasion, one she found more than uncomfortable but kept her quiet - she knew arguments would have led nowhere when she was putting it on. The evening went on, the family kept to their dinner and for those few hours, they all felt at peace...
Though she, who was watching from the corner of the room, between a pair of cabinets and right in front of a tall window that overlooked the central square, could not hear a word, or even fully register their features. She stared, and could not move, not for the length of the evening. She could not understand - who were those people? Why did she find their presences familiar? Why... why was the room, at all familiar to the daughter of a poor butcher? It did not make sense, though more than intriguing her, it terrified her, for a reason she could not explain. The dream quickly became a nightmare as the sensations sunk through to her mind and her thoughts turned wild and rabid, craving an escape.
All while she writhed, the dinner quietened, and for a time there came nothing but the muffled chewing of the younger girl. Setting his silverware down with a soft clink, the Lord propped his elbows on the table and interlaced his fingers, looking to his daughter with a look that resembled sorrow. His wife did similarly, though set her hands neatly on the table and cleared her throat, before what would normally have been a soft, melodious voice boomed out in the dining hall like thunder.
"Ysolde... We have something to tell you."
Laryn Morse screamed at the top of her lungs, and then there was nothing.
« Last Edit: February 14, 2017, 09:41:25 PM by Pav »
Logged