charity silver
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"These are the great words of the greatest prophet who lived."
Posts: 72
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Post by charity silver on Jul 16, 2011 17:16:50 GMT -8
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: dddddd; border: #cccccc solid 8px; width: 420px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;]Damask Arei  the sea moves like silk but I only hear the crash The Words: 505 The Tags: Zerissen and Grace The Notes Finally finished! Aren't you proud?
Damask walks slowly through the crowded bazaar, a smile plastered to his cringing face. He flicks some ivory coins into the throngs of entertainers, as a tribute to a drama he has no wish to see. But he does not wish to offend them either. It is not their fault the play they are enacting has been seen by thousands of others, has been redone by thousand of actors. And yet the good people surrounding them are enraptured, their faces aglow with concentration and amazement. The duke frowns momentarily. Is it only he who is tiring of these tedious repetitions? Is it only he who shuns court entertainment? Is it only he who has truly awaken to the world and can see it for what it really is, not some illusion painted by the vices of the royal court?
Soon, he has reached the edge of the market, thankful his royal status sweeps the villagers aside to form an aisle for him to peacefully walk through. His paws knead the rutted ground, as he mumbles about not letting incompetent cats tend to the grounds of the palace. His cold eyes flicker over the expansive gardens, drinking in their beauty. He eyes a delicate carnation, sniffing it gently before moving on. The sky is wide and endless, like his thoughts. Clouds the same cold shade as his eyes threaten to overwhelm the pretty spacious blue. A cautious sun darts between the clouds, as if afraid of what lies below.
Damask's thoughts slide smoothly from worries of his future mate – how could his mother possibly force him to love a woman he has no desire for!? – to the peace of nature. He quietly glides over the yearning grasses, trying to escape his thoughts. The voice in his head – that beckoning and tricky voice – speaks. Just run away. You're fighting a battle that's just going to hurt you more. Run to the forest, run like the coward you know you are. The forest. The Anane Forest. He wants to run there, just flee this life of a tedious court. But at the same time, he doesn't want to.
He feels torn. He tells himself he must escape and adrenaline courses through his traitorous blood. But only cowards run. At night, in the deepest parts of the pitch-black, he hears her voice singing to him. He can tell she is warning him, or maybe calling to him to join her. Okay he can't tell. But he wants to follow the voice, to meet the speaker. But he has responsibilities here, here in the court. He has to follow his duties, to make his parents proud. But he has no will to remain! Yet he needs to stay for his sister Grace, Grace the Princess of the land! He has seen her fright at the possibilities of being queen; he knows she is terrified of ruling the land unaided. But…
A world of choices, yet which is right? Or are neither the right choice? But if they both are wrong…?
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Post by grace arei on Jul 18, 2011 13:56:55 GMT -8
and i'd give up forever to touch you cause i know that you feel the same way | [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,10,true][atrb=style,background-image: url('http://i53.tinypic.com/wb98wn.jpg');,true] PRINCESS GRACE AREI !
Morning had been rather dull for the Princess, quite honestly.
She had woken before Zerissen, leaving him slumbering, tangled amongst the silk sheets. In honesty, he looked rather serene as he lay there, sides heaving slightly. Grace didn't make watching cats as they slept a habit, as that would be creepy, but she did share a bed with the guy, so it was inevitable that she would catch a glimpse or two of him as he slept. However, if she had lingered for longer than she needed to - which was only a moment or two to orientate herself to the morning light that filtered in through their curtains - then she would have felt like she was being creepy, so she left the room swiftly, making her way through the halls and down the staircases until she exited the palace and finally felt the sun's warmth on her back. It was a pleasant day, and she fancied some pleasant company to go along with it.
So when Damask's faint scent led her in the direction of the garden, she didn't hesitate to follow.
Meandering past servants - who bowed their heads and shuffled away to create a clear space for her to walk, as it was common knowledge that if there was one thing that Grace disliked, and would promptly cause her to become one big bundle of anxiety, it was being crowded - and skulking around corners, which admittedly was due to her muscles being rather stiff from sleep, and not that she was doing anything suspicious, the princess soon found herself peering around a bush, confronted with the sight of her brother looking rather torn. Damask had not discussed his anxieties with his sister, although Grace took comfort in the fact that the Duke probably considered her a more reliable source of comfort and secrecy than Xylouris, their younger sister, who socialized with them less and was rather elusive, being found only when she wanted to be. Curious.
But her mind dwelled no longer on her absent sibling, as she was more concerned about the one that stood before her, looking rather anxious. It pained her to see him weighed down, but Grace doubted that he would want to 'burden her with his problems' as he would probably put it. The male was rather selfless like that. However, she would try anyway, as to let this off his chest - whatever 'this' may be - would do him some good. "Dear brother, you look troubled." Grace uttered, worry evident in her tone and posture as she padded forward and stood beside the male, her blue gaze searching his facade, waiting to see what his response would be, or if anybody else would join them in the Gardens. It was at an hour where all the Royal Family would be no doubt up and about, doing whatever it is they pleased - because that was generally how aristocracy behaved - and to take a stroll in the gardens on such a nice morning would not be uncommon.
509 WORDS , VITANI AREI, PRIVATE , FOR YOU, DEAR THIRTEEN! |
table by california dreaming @ caution 2.0 |
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Post by damask arei on Jul 25, 2011 16:48:06 GMT -8
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: dddddd; border: #cccccc solid 8px; width: 420px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;]Damask Arei the sea moves like silk but I only hear the crash The Words: 608 The Tags: Grace The Notes Sorry for taking so long!
He sighs softly, and his haunches sink down slowly, as he contemplates his situation with the air of one who is determined yet not so much optimistic. He is certainly not prone to being optimistic about anything much. But in reality, he isn't pessimistic by nature either. The fact is he really had little opinion about anything beyond the dreaded feelings of boredom and repetition. Besides, of course, his reluctance against his mother's wishes. But what child doesn't feel hesitant and burdened by the demands of his mother?
My options still stand. I can still run away. But only a child will run away, and he is no longer the happy little child of his youth, the little one who could run to his big sister and feel comforted by her presence, or the little kid who could protect his little sister from whatever they both feared. He has aged, and with this process came the unwanted troubles and concerns of a fledgling adult. As much as he has yearned for this maturity for the years he has lived, he sometimes wishes the clock would turn back his harshly gained years, and return to those carefree days. Oh what I would give to return to the past, he wishes silently.
A quiet humming sound interrupts his reverie. Damask shifts his glance upwards to view a delicate little hummingbird flutter its wings at a rate too quick to focus on the individual feather strokes. Its sleek body is a blend of sea-lime and dawn-pink. As he observes, its thin tongue darts out and drinks the nectar of the flower. How clever, he thinks. He turns away, disinterested in the affairs of a little bird. Unlike the feasting hummingbird, Damask has other concerns besides feeding himself: he has to survive this madness most liked to call the royal court.
He pads over to rest beneath a tree then stiffens. He senses the presence of another feline near him. However, he does not wish to pause and comtemplate who it could be. Instead, he remains gazing at the gnarled oak. Someone should really fix this wizened little tree, he muses.
"Dear brother, you look troubled."
A voice from behind distracts him from his muddled thoughts. 'Brother' they say. That can either mean it is Princess Grace or Xylouris speaking. Probably means Grace. He can hardly remember the last time his younger sibling mentioned anything as heartfelt as 'dear' when referring to him, let alone acknowledge him as her brother. It must be years ago, before her darker nature took hold of her sweet innocence. Before everything about his entire life is drastically altered. Before he can see through the lies of the royal court.
"As must you, dear sister," he murmurs, still not turning to look at her just yet. He knows it is rude to prolong this time of not meeting her eyes, and yet he feels he needs some time to just gather his thoughts. Maybe even clear that worried expression from his mind before he stumbles and blurts out all his troubles. "I know it has been a while, but how do you feel about your engagement? Mother is being particularly agitated of late. Most likely over my own soon-to-be marriage. Or am I simply imagining that?"
Finally he looks up at her and sighs wistfully. As far as he knows, her marriage is perfect. Is it? In the eyes of the court, her marriage is the absolute best way to unite the royal Arei and the prestigious Axel families. But if he is honest with himself, the eyes of the court are blind. And so is he.
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