Aug. 25th, 2007

fighting_mad: (any - young)
The Countess Isplourrdacartha moves quickly down the corridor, an aide at either side of her, and two guards following and two moving ahead. For once, she is not dressed immaculately, her clothes rumpled and large chunks of her bangs falling out of her braid and into her eyes. Her hands have been bound up. Her face is drawn and exhausted, expression tight and pinched, and she is speaking quietly, giving rapidfire instructions to the aides.

One meeting to the next, one secure location to the next -- that is what life has been like, the past two days.
fighting_mad: (medium - smile)
Isplourrdacartha steps through the door first, wearing the less formal gown that she had changed into for the reception. Her arms are toned and a simple necklace with a purple stone hangs in the hollow of her tanned throat. Her shining red hair has been wound into a crown about her head, and she has a gorgeous purple flower tucked into it.

She looks around the spartan royal apartments as she steps farther in, seeing her new home for the first time since she'd married their current occupant, who is only a step or two behind her. The windows are open to the warm night air, and the sound of the nightbugs chirping several stories below can be heard.

She's smiling.

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Plourr Estillo

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