Fantasy "The Queen’s ball is tonight, but with this weather will anyone come?" (I see you creepin’, yes you can still join!)

[snowstormspawn]

~Queen Adrienne of Hadria~
The Queen greeted Lord Blackwood with a polite and friendly nod, patiently listening to his greeting and showing the Lord a grateful smile as he mentioned the gifts he had brought to the castle. She was always happy to greet new Lords of Hadria, especially under more ideal circumstances where the previous Lord had simply aged out of his position, and their heir had taken over.
"Well, Lord Blackwood, it is an honor to be greeting you as such now that you have assumed your lordship. My husband the King and I also extend our fondest greetings and well-wishes to your father, the former Lord of Blackwood Province, and we wish you yet another successful harvest in the coming year," she added with a smile.

"I assume that you are also here on business, and to have some conversations about the pricing of goods and trade? Well, fortune has it that I have already arranged for these meetings to take place in the Advisor's hall at noon. Prince Markolf of Westfalia has requested an audience with me for late noon, regarding the renovation of Hadria's road system. Should this be of any interest to you, you are welcome to attend as well. Every voice is important in such discussions," she added with a smile.

startergomer

~Prince Saric of Mazamri~

Saric had expressed his goodbyes to Sir Wymond with a wave, briefly looking over his shoulder as the trio galloped off into the distance. He sighed to himself, almost wishing that he could continue with his leisurely ride through Hadria instead of having to now partake in the formalities of what was the royal ball. However, he did look forward to feeling warm again. Upon reaching the gate to the castle, the Prince unwrapped the scarf around his head to reveal his face to the guards, who immediately recognized his visage and allowed him and his companions through. The entourage’s first stop was the stables, where their spotted Grey Arabian horses were put up in the warmer part of the structure.

The Prince did his best not to step into the hay or horse droppings as he made his way out of the barn and back towards the entrance to the castle. Luckily, he escaped from the stables unscathed, the scent of myrrh on his clothing masking any smell of the horses that he would have picked up. His servants followed behind, carrying gifts for the Queen and the guests – there were finely woven rugs, yards of silk for the royal tailors, crates of dates and figs, trays of baklava, ornately carved trinket boxes filled with garnets, sapphires and opals – and that was just what the small group had been able to carry. Once he was safely inside the castle, the Prince shed the last layers of fabric wrapped around his body to reveal his sea blue bedazzled ensemble beneath.

As he made his way down the corridor, Saric’s posture changed – he brushed a loose strand of hair back out of his face and took a deep breath. For many of the guests, he was the only representation of Mazamri that they had ever met, and it was always on him to make sure that he gave a good impression of his kingdom. Every year he faced some who still judged him for the death of his older brother – who still deemed him responsible somehow, even though he had no hand in it. So now matter how fun he found the celebration, there would always be a dark undertone.

The herald shuffled through his papers as he approached to find the proper list of Saric’s titles, and once he had found it, the trumpets sounded to welcome the Prince in.

“His Royal Highness Prince Saric of Mazamri, First of his Name, Favored son of the Goddess Matar, Wielder of the Obsidian Sword, Mighty Lion of the Infinite Desert –“ The herald paused, seeing that Saric had risen his hand.
“That will be fine, thank you,” The Prince said with a slight grin. The herald took a deep bow before him, taking a step back to allow Saric and his entourage to make their way down the steps and into the ballroom.

From the crowd around her, the Prince could spot Queen Adrienne – and his Lokhen traveling companions. He smiled in their direction, knowing that they were free to hold discourse for as long as they pleased – royal customs prohibited the Queen from interrupting one audience to hold another, unless it was an emergency. Saric was caught off guard by the sounds of footsteps racing in his direction, but turned just in time to find Adelina running across the ballroom towards him, despite her sequined pumps. After a quick formal curtsy, the Princess rose back to her feet with the brightest smile on her face, just about holding back from embracing her old friend in a hug.

“You’ve made it!” she exclaimed. “What a happy, happy day!”
Saric smiled. “It was not that dramatic,” he replied. “So tell me, what did I miss?”
“I met someone,” Adelina replied with a light smirk.
“Is that so?”
“Yes. She’s so noble and kind. It’s her first time at the ball.”
Saric sighed. “I should have known that it wasn’t a man.”
“As if you had anything to say in regards to that topic!” Adelina shot back, playful laughter filling the air as the two young royals sank into their inside joke. “But oh, you must meet her. If she and I can get along, I’m sure you two would be great friends.” The Princess took a look around the ballroom, her eyes settling on the feast table. “Oh, and there she is with Lord Blackwood right now. Shall we join them?”

At first, Saric seemed quite apprehensive about the idea. As we mentioned earlier, dear reader, some of the nobility do not view the Prince in a positive light due to the occurrences which took place while he was a child. Will Duchess Elisabeth and Lord Blackwood be the exception? Only time would tell. But since the evening had began with a horrible snowstorm, Saric figured that it could only improve from here. “Why not,” the Prince replied, holding out his arm so that he could link it with Adelina’s as he escorted the Princess to the tables. To an unfamiliar onlooker, it may have seemed like the two were a budding couple, but the Prince and Princess had a peculiarly intimate platonic relationship, which to some seemed quite unusual and strange.

kath1515 startergomer GrieveWriter

 

[RayneIlStorm]

There was a twitch in Prince Rile's left eye as the Princess of Lunora ignored him once her father had left the scene. Though his smile still forever upon his face, his lips were tightly pursed as if to keep his budding anger within he chest. He had never been ignored before, and he despised the feeling of it. How could anyone ignore him? Especially one who obviously knew her manners? If anything, she would know not to ignore another royal!

Pressing a gloved fist to his throat, Prince Rile coughed against it took deep gulp of his drink, desperate to numb his emotions. He threw an icy glare at the woman, half as cold as the strange storm outside, that disappeared before anyone could notice. With a turn on his heel, he spoke.

"Hm, so that's how it shall be, I suppose. I will let you know, my dear, that silence is far more dangerous as an answer to anything that could ever be said. It leaves too much to the imagination, and to be in a place where imaginations will soon run free?" He clicked his tongue. "But do not fret, I am not a man to allow unbelievable ideas run wild around here. A fair night to you, dear princess." Then the man walked off.

Prince Rile didn't get very far before another royal was announced from the entrance doors. Lazily, his head peered over to the front where the newcomer arrived. Prince Rile's eyes scanned the man situated there, and an impressed expression was plastered across his face; the wealth draped upon this Prince Saric was absolutely ostentatious and bedazzling, and he was not the worst looking man that Price Rile has ever seen. No, that went to so many others already at the ball. For a moment, Prince Rile watched as Princess Adelina ran up to him and gave him a hug and whatnot, before he remembered that he should be doing something rather than watching the other attendees like some sort of voyeur.

Honestly though? What was there to really do at a ball besides talk? And the prince was getting weary of talk for he has been talking every hour since he arrived. He wasn't parched nor peckish for anything in particular.

Prince Rile sighed, glancing down at his wine.

"How I wish there was somebody I knew here with me. Being here by myself is so... boring." He murmured in his native language. He glanced around and shrugged. Placing down his half empty cup on a vacant table, Prince Rile attempted to walk out of the ballroom and explore as much of the castle as he could. Maybe he'd find something fun to mess with.

 

[kath1515]

- Duchess Elizabeth -

Elizabeth nodded as Lord Blackwood….Walter and herself made plans to present themselves to the Queen later in the evening. They then headed to a table in order to set their plates down and begin to dine. Elizabeth followed the Lord’s gaze over to several servants holding a variety of produce among other things. Walter's gifts for the Queen she supposed.

Her suspicion was confirmed when Walter said, "Well my lady, it appears my gifts have arrived. I'll be heading over to the queen to do my formal presentation." "We can make our formal presentation and then if anyone is there who we want to eat with we can. We might even run into Princess Adelina."

She nodded and said, “That sounds good. I’ll plan to greet the Queen shortly after you finish your presentation, so that we may continue to eat together.”

Elizabeth then gave a small curtsy and smile as the Lord began to walk away. She took a seat at the table they had selected and drank from her water goblet, not yet touching her food as she intended to wait until after greeting the Queen. Glancing back up towards where Walter and Queen Adrienne were engaged, Elizabeth supposed that it looked as if their conversation was near to an end, and decided to begin to head there herself. She hadn’t wanted to interrupt Walter’s presentation.

Standing up from her seat, Elizabeth smoothed out her skirts before beginning to walk to where Queen Adrienne stood. Upon her arrival, she waited for confirmation that it was indeed appropriate for her to approach the Queen, before dropping into a deep curtsy once the guards had introduced her.

“My Queen”, she said, “It has been my pleasure to attend the ball this year. I must say that it is truly beautiful and I regret not having been able to attend in past years. I must also extend my regrets that the rest of my family was unable to attend. We all pray for your reign as Queen of Hadria to continue as long and prosperous.”

After the end of their conversation, Elizabeth dipped into another deep curtsy and thanked the Queen with a smile before searching out Lord Blackwood. Upon finding him, she said “Walter, I hope everything went well with your presentation. I believe we should head back to our food, lest it becomes cold.”

Escorted by Lord Blackwood, Elizabeth headed back to their table before sitting down and beginning to enjoy their meal. Not long after they had returned to the table, Elizabeth was approached by a quite happy looking Princess Adelina with a man at her side Elizabeth soon recognized as the Prince Saric of Mazamri. She was quite glad to see that Prince Saric had arrived safely, Princess Adelina looked quite glad as well, especially considering how worried the Princess had looked earlier in the evening. Of course, Elizabeth had heard rumors of Prince Saric, but she decided to pay them no mind. Adelina had spoken so highly of the man that Elizabeth was sure the rumors were just that, rumors.

Standing from her seat, Elizabeth gave the royals a curtsy and smile before turning to Prince Saric and saying, “Prince Saric, I’m Duchess Elizabeth Beaumont, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Princess Adelina spoke most highly of you earlier in the evening. I’m happy to see that you have arrived safely”. She then stepped to the side so that she could introduce Walter. “And this is the Lord Walter Blackwood”, she finished with another smile.

Interactions: startergomer snowstormspawn

 

[Vestige]

“I pray we find those remaining knights on the road. It's remarkable that the Cardinal and his paladin made it to the castle safely enough, but to be stuck in the mountains in this…” She trailed off, not seeing the need to elaborate. She’d seen her fair share of avalanches and how few survived them, and even without those she’d seen more bodies found thawed on the mountainsides in the spring and summer, foolish and experienced travelers or hunters alike. She remembered being young and helping to build cairns around such fallen souls with her father, brother, and cousins unless they found some signifier on the body there wasn’t much else they could do aside from give them a decent burial. Bears and wolves were also issues, though with Vincent keeping them company Maris suspected the latter wouldn’t prove to be an issue if and when they kept up the hunt to the mountains.

Time passed as they moved wound around hills the cold burning steadily into her lungs with every breath. With the wind pressing against her and the steady tink tink tink of snow against her helmet Maris raised her head again to take stock of the storm above. There was something off about the direction the snow heavy clouds blew. They appeared to swirl around a point behind them, the castle? It reminded her of the whirling, ship swallowing maelstroms she’d heard tall tales of from sailors at the southern Hadrian harbor. She entertained thoughts of what or who could cause such an unnatural storm, it smelled of something more than mere sorcery to her. Maris wondered if the royal advisor, the court clairvoyant would have better insight into such things. One would think she would, though Maris had yet to meet the enigmatic woman who hadn’t even made an appearance at the queen’s side earlier. She leaned forward in the saddle, peering ahead in the hopes of picking out some soft glow of light of their destination. Nothing more than a greyed, white flecked blur with the occasional abandoned wagon or wind bent tree, and the dark bulk of Vincent lay ahead.

“We should be upon the village soon, yes?” Maris called to Vincent.

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[snowstormspawn]

~Queen Adrienne of Hadria~
The Queen was quite pleased to see young Elizabeth at her ball, as well – this was a year of many first visits for guests from the allied kingdoms, and every new guest who had made it safely brought a smile to her face. “Thank you, for all of your well wishes,” she began. “Of course I understand and appreciate that your family remains at home to take care of their lands,” Adrienne responded warmly. “It is very fortunate that you were able to attend, and more so that you arrived safely. I have already taken notice that you seem to be making friends – these are the true treasures of life.” A hint of emotion flashed across her eyes as she said it, as though the Queen seemed to recall a fond moment from her past. “I truly wish you and your duchy the best, and if there is anything Hadria can do to further trade, we are always open to discussion. Please enjoy the celebration, and should there be anything you want for, feel free to ask.”

~ Prince Saric and Princess Adelina ~
Saric took a step away from Adelina when they reached the tables, allowing her the space she needed to peruse the offerings of food.
“I do believe I mentioned the food not being at its best until you arrived,” the Princess said as she added a leg of pheasant to a small plate she held in her hand.
“I find it magnificent, as usual,” Saric replied, plucking a cluster of grapes from a long vine laid out on the table. “These are my favorite. So rare in my homeland. All of the fruit in Mazamri is dry,” he stated wistfully.
An amused smile overtook Adelina’s face – grapes where quite common in Westfalia due to its proximity to Whilden. And then there was the wine, as well. It was quite strange for her to be experiencing the royal ball sober for the first time in years, but it turned out that she didn’t mind it.

The princess’ smile became wider as what appeared to be a younger couple approached them. Saric thought that he may have seen Walter somewhere long ago, but he didn’t recognize the woman walking with him from previous attendances. When she introduced herself to him, and mentioned Adelina speaking about him to her, Saric realized that this must be the woman who was gracing the ball with her presence for the first time. “Thank you. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he greeted in his usual warm and friendly way. “And Lord Blackwood, it is great to see you here as well,” Saric added, his expression a little more serious as he tried to remember what little he knew about Walter. “If I recall correctly, just a year ago you had a different title? How are you feeling about the change? Everything alright in your family?”

Adelina smiled in Elizabeth’s direction, much of her apprehensive shell having melted away now that she was in the presence of her friend. She was glad that Elizabeth and Walter had managed to strike up a conversation, and visited the Queen together – it was much further than she had ever gotten with someone who she was interested in. She took another look around the ballroom – the man that she had spotted earlier had vanished, and now there were not any other interesting people in sight. Adelina knew she would most likely not be the one to make a move, anyway – she felt like that would be akin to inviting misfortune into her life. So she decided to focus on the conversations that her friends were having – after all, she doubted she would enjoy anybody else’s presence more.

kath1515 startergomer

 

[snowstormspawn]

~Sir Wymond~

“We should slow down,” Wymond shouted through the storm as they came within what would have been sight from the village on a clear day. Maris’ reminder had brought back to him that it would be important to proceed more slowly now, so that they could focus on the world around them more closely. That, and they did not want to run any unsuspecting pedestrians over or collide with any carriages entering the village from the castle’s direction. Once Maris and Vincent had heeded his direction, the group moved at a fast trot through the blizzard. Wymond was beginning to really feel the cold beneath his skin, though the effect of the wind hitting his face was lessened with the reduced speed of travel. Once they reached the village, he thought that they might make a brief stop at the local tavern the Handwarmer – this way they could briefly warm up before continuing on their way. It just depended on whether or not they would find Prince Owen in the village.

“Any new scents, Vincent?” Wymond asked, figuring that if they were no longer racing towards the first scent, there had to be new humans or animals whose scents could be caught by the lycan’s keen senses. There seemed to be traces and hints of something, and he assumed that they would soon come across life within the storm. As they continued moving, Wymond took sweeping looks around for any signs of life in the distance. The guard squinted when he noticed what seemed to be a small, warm glow through the snow – in fact there were two of this glow, side by side. He slowed his horse to a stop, lingering behind Lady Maris and Vincent. His horse gave a small whiny, its hoof scraping the frozen road through the ever-deepening layer of snow that had settled on the ground. “Do you see what I see?” he asked the two in a more quiet, cautionary tone. After all, from this distance, they had no idea who was heading down the road towards them – it could even have been bandits, and so they needed to be prepared. Wymond preemptively reached for the sword at his side, his grip tightening around its hilt as he waited for whatever was coming to approach. As the shapes drew closer, the guard realized that the light was emitting from lamps held by two men on horseback. But these horses were not just any ordinary horses – they were royal horses belonging to the crown, just like the group’s own. And behind them was an understated, worn down yet still functional carriage. If he had to take a guess, it had once belonged to a merchant or a member of a similar class, but definitely not someone of nobility.

“Vincent, I would get behind us and out of plain sight, in case they react in defense,” Wymond cautioned the lycan. If these were royal guards, he knew they might take the offense upon coming across a dangerous animal. He refused to get his hopes on the prince being inside the carriage up just yet – any number of things could have happened to Prince Owen during the duration of the storm, but if anything this could be the key to finding the solution. The knights ahead of the carriage were the first to react to coming across the three, giving the riders direction to halt it in the road.
“Who goes there?” One of the men shouted through the storm.
“Sir Wymond, Lady Maris, and we also have Vincent of the Black Lions with us,” the head of the guard replied in the same loud tone. “Do not be alarmed – he can change shape, that shape being the shape of a wolf,” he explained as concisely as he could. “We are on orders from Queen Adrienne to find Prince Owen and the stranded guests, and ensure their safe return to the castle.”
The knights, seeing that the horses matched their own, the insignia on Wymond’s armor, and of course recognizing his voice, agreed amongst themselves to stand down despite the fact there was a large wolf-like creature right before their eyes. Most of the guard tended to take his directions at face value and not question it too much, after all, there was a strict line of authority that dictated obedience to the higher ranks within the guard and the order of the knights.

“I am most apprehensive to ask, but, is his Royal Highness the Prince inside that carriage? If I may, could I just have a quick word? I need to know from him if he requires us to escort him back to the castle, or if he believes that he can make it back safely on his own with you lot.” Wymond hated having to stop the carriage for any reason, but he needed to verify that the Prince was indeed on his way home before he and his group carried on.

Saavedra quadraxis201 Vestige

 

[quadraxis201]

Vincent Hawthorne
​

It was when Vincent looked up at the sky that he noticed what Wymond and Maris had regarding the movements of the clouds-- this was no passing blizzard, but rather, they seemed like some sort of hurricane revolving around a central point. He was going to make a comment about this, but chose not to since he figured the others had already spotted this detail. Vincent's dark colors were starting to whiten from the snowflakes that nestled themselves among individual strands of fur covering his lupine body. Maris had asked if they were approaching the village, and Vincent looked over his shoulder in response. "The scent I picked up is growing in strength. Surely, we must be."

Wymond pointed out a pair of lights in the distance, and when the Guard Captain halted his horse, Vincent followed suit and came to a stop himself, going back a little bit to line himself up with Wymond. He entered a combat stance as a precautionary judgement, but after his sensitive ears picked up hoofbeats and his nose the scents of horses, he realized that the lights belonged to two fellows on horseback. At Wymond's precaution, Vincent padded behind the others so as to allow Wymond and Maris to do the talking.

Once Wymond had explained to the knights that Vincent was not a threat, the lycan re-emerged and rested on his haunches to help reinforce the idea that he meant them no harm, his tail gently waving back and forth as it created a fan-shape in the snow. "It would seem the scent trail I was following for a while belonged to your horses, then." Vincent spoke to the guards, tilting his head as one of his ears moved back. "As your captain has said, I have no intentions of harming anyone here. In fact, I am on a protection contract to help ensure that the castle's residents and guests are kept safe for this year's Ball. When our search for those in need of help concludes, the three of us will return posthaste." Vincent realigned his head as he flattened his ears close to his head and narrowed his eyes in annoyance. "Judging by the way things are going now, it's certainly a good thing I decided to come along when I did instead of simply staying behind at the castle."

He raised a paw towards the horse that had been bridled up to Wymond's, then added, "We've brought mulled wine in case anyone is in need of a warm drink, which reminds me-- if Prince Owen is indeed inside that carriage, then... just a minute." Vincent trotted behind Wymond and Maris as re-emerged on their other side, now in human form. "This weather is fear-inducing enough, especially for someone as young as the prince himself. Can't risk having him be even more scared with the idea of a very large black wolf standing right outside the carriage, now can we? Besides, it's markedly easier to distribute drinks in this form."

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[startergomer]

Walter Blackwood
' ' = Internal Dialogue
" " = External Dialogue

Standing from her seat, Elizabeth gave the royals a curtsy and smile before turning to Prince Saric and saying, “Prince Saric, I’m Duchess Elizabeth Beaumont, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Princess Adelina spoke most highly of you earlier in the evening. I’m happy to see that you have arrived safely”. She then stepped to the side so that she could introduce Walter. “And this is the Lord Walter Blackwood”, she finished with another smile.

“Thank you. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he greeted in his usual warm and friendly way. “And Lord Blackwood, it is great to see you here as well,” Saric added, his expression a little more serious as he tried to remember what little he knew about Walter. “If I recall correctly, just a year ago you had a different title? How are you feeling about the change? Everything alright in your family?”

Walter was again shocked. Prince Saric....THE Prince Saric....knew his name?

How.....How did he know that?

It took more than a moment for Walter to respond to the question.

"It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Prince Saric. 'bowed slightly' Umm, well I've never really had another title, but I am thankful to be appointed as the successor to my father. Thankfully, he was able to step down from the position instead of passing it on to me through....um....well.....Anyway, yes....my family is doing alright. Just another harvest. Thankfully very fruitful after the plague. Though, I'd imagine its not of much interest to you. I know you've traveled all over the world. I'm sure you have much more interesting things to say..hehe."

He turned to see Adelina smiling serenely. He bowed slightly again.

"I'm also happy to meet you this evening my lady."

He rose slightly and waiting for them to speak. Hopefully, saying something good. He doubt he could find such topics with a guide map....

kath1515 snowstormspawn

 

[RayneIlStorm]

The youngest prince of Calcavia slipped out of the ballroom and into the grand halls of the castle, searching for something to do. Though he would have preferred to talk to some interesting characters, there didn't seem to be that man at the ball itself. Sure, there were some, but for the most part there was no information of note to collect. It was just the average ball - well, as average as a ball being held during a snow storm could be. At least it would be quieter wherever he went. Everyone seemed to be in the ballroom anyhow.

Prince Rile shuddered violently when he realized how cold it was when there wasn't a fireplace around to keep everything warm. He folded his arms across his chest in an attempt to keep his body temperature the same. As he wandered about, he took in the sights of the ostentatious and grand decorations sprawled all over the places he visited. Eventually, he made it to the library after looking through several other rooms that didn't catch his interest.

Without care, the young man peeled the door to the library open and peered inside. When his eyes met with the sight of old tomes and new books, he stepped inside. A fire crackled in the mantle. The air in the room was still, almost frozen. Rile let out a sigh and approached the flames. He needed to warm up for just a moment. He knelt by the fireplace and held his gloved hands up to the heat. After a few minutes of this, he eventually got back up onto his feet, sufficiently warmed, and took a gander around the library.

"I can bet a thousand gold that there is nothing in here that is not about history or strategy or something like that. Old kings and queens never read anything of lighter weight anyways."

 

[kath1515]

- Duchess Elizabeth -

Elizabeth smiled warmly at Prince Saric after he returned her greeting. It truly seemed as if all the rumors about the Prince were unfounded, he seemed genuine and kind. Elizabeth cast all the doubt in her mind about the Prince’s character away, meeting him had convinced her that the rumors were never anything more than slanderous nonsense. As pleasantries continued amongst the group and Prince Saric’s attention shifted to Walter, Elizabeth looked over to Princess Adelina.

She returned the Princess’ smile and whispered to her as the men’s conversation continued, “I must thank you for suggesting that I talk to Lord Blackwood, we have gotten along quite well. Though I do not believe he intends to secure a betrothal at the ball, I certainly believe our meeting will prove beneficial for both our peoples. I hope your evening has been grand also since the end of our conversation, and that your audience with Queen Adrienne went well.”

She gave the Princess a smile as the men ended their introductions.

“Prince Saric”, Elizabeth said, “I hope everything is well in your lands. And that your journey to the palace was not fraught with too much trouble. I fear that many are still caught outside in the storm. A rescue group was sent out not long ago, you must have encountered them upon your arrival, so I hope that we soon hear word of those still stranded. Nevertheless, your safe arrival is something to be very grateful for. The Princess made sure to inform me that the food wouldn’t be its best until your arrival”, she finished with a friendly smile and light laugh.

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[unfortunatelyhomo]

Princess Amalia promptly disregarded Prince Rile’s statements. She would find him later when she’d gained her composure. Regrettably, she simply was not in the mood to answer frivolous questions. The young princess was busy enough trying to keep the new spirits confined within her body, heaven forbid something slip she didn’t want known to the world.

Amalia’s eyes were apologetic as Prince Rile leaned in and professed his conclusions statement, a chill running down her spine. Had she’d made an enemy before she could even make friends? Eyeing him as he walked away, she wished she would’ve said something. Rather, she pursed her lips together, ashamed at her behavior. He hadn’t deserved the disdain she’d served to him, and the guilt began eating away at her core along with several other emotions she hadn’t been able to place tonight. No matter. She’d have to seek him towards the end of the ball and clear her name.

Eyes drawn to the doors, Amalia watched as another royal strolled through. He couldn’t be anyone but Prince Saric himself. She hadn’t quite had the pleasure of meeting him, but from accounts she could collect he was quite the pretentious figure. Clad in jewels that screamed wealth and status, Amalia almost felt undressed for the occasion, taking a quick glance down at her dress.

Her father nearly startled her again, whispering in her ear. “Where’s Prince Rile, dear? I’m assuming the conversation went well?” Unfortunately for the king, the sheepish look upon his youngest daughters face told him everything he needed to know. “Do take care not to treat other guests like that. While you’re here, you’re a representation of Lunora, and I simply won’t have you turn us into a laughingstock. You are to find the prince afterwards and express your deepest regrets for your actions. Are we clear?” He scolded, the kind sheen of his eyes quickly replaced with that of a cold one, conveying his disappointment in her actions.

 

[snowstormspawn]

~Princess Adelina~

Princess Adelina’s hand rose to cover her mouth as she stifled a slight laugh at the sight of how invested Saric seemed in Walter now that the two had met. When Elizabeth looked to her, Adelina returned the glance and shifted her full attention to the Duchess, her smile softening as she thanked her for suggesting that she speak with Walter that night. Even if sparks seemed to not be flying between the two of them, she was very happy to hear that the meeting of the two could bring about some positive change for Elizabeth’s duchy. “I am quite happy to hear that,” she responded in the same hushed tone. “It went splendidly. My brother also got to have a brief word with her, which seems to have gotten me on his good side,” she proclaimed proudly. She watched as Elizabeth introduced herself to Saric, a slight grin on her face as she repeated her statement. She knew that Saric would be eager to educate the newcomer on the cuisine of his kingdom.

~Prince Saric~
There was a thoughtful, slight furrow of the Prince’s brow as Lord Blackwood explained to him the circumstances of his transfer of power. He was glad to hear that it was not for reason of his father’s death that it had happened – he had simply become too old to rule, and handed the responsibility of his lands over to his oldest son. “I hope that my father and I will share the same good fortune. The grief of losing a parent, followed by the stress of assuming a new role, that would be a very unfavorable situation.” His expression softened as Walter explained that what had happened in his life was nothing out of the ordinary – as the man finished his sentence, he smiled. “No, absolutely not – in fact, I find the lives of the more ordinary nobility who do not travel much very, very interesting. I enjoy hearing about the little things they do to pass the time. It gives me ideas for the long stretches of time when I am stuck at home – in fact, I picked up my love for calligraphy and the art of writing script from a royal who lives in the Far East, and applied it to the letters of my own language,” he explained, a glow in his eyes markedly displaying how passionate he was about the subject.

He turned to Elizabeth with another warm smile on his face as she expressed her well wishes and condolences for the complicated journey he had made. “Absolutely!” he replied. “I was fortunate to have come across two holy men of Lokh on my journey to the castle, and they had very interesting things to say about their faith and their lives. I don’t know where I would be without that conversation – wandering around in circles in the snow, perhaps,” he said with a laugh. “Have you tried any food from Mazamri? You absolutely must. I have been trying to get a more rapid trade system established so that more of the world can experience it. Well, perhaps I will discuss it with the Queen tomorrow.” The Prince seemed to remember something, so he turned back to Walter once again.

“Lord Blackwood, our conversation about pastimes reminds me that Princess Adelina – her embroidery work is absolutely remarkable. And not decorative or frilly in the least – purely an expression of her strong comedic nature, realized in thread. You must see it if you haven’t already. In fact, Princess –“ he said, turning towards Adelina to catch the Princess’ attention. “Do you have a new piece with you at the moment that you could show Lord Blackwood?”

~Back to Princess Adelina again~

Adelina was surprised that Saric asked if she had any work with her presently – she typically did not show it off, as it tended to be racy and wholly inappropriate for such an occasion, and slightly offensive at best. But since her friend had asked, and all three of the individuals gathered around her seemed to be people with a sense of humor, the Princess reached into a pocket of her gown and produced a folded square of embroidery fabric. Adelina gently unfolded it, stretching it out between her two hands as the group gathered around her to see the image rendered in thread: There was a princess in a tower with long, braided golden hair which had been stitched in metallic thread, and in her hand she held a pair of silver scissors to cut off the end of her braid that a knight, who was now falling backwards from the tower, had attempted to climb. At the base of the tower were thorny rose bushes, and a horse – which Adelina had based off her own favorite horse – stood idly by.

The Princess’ face was slightly flushed as she waited for the group’s reactions. Prince Saric was the first to laugh, having to reign himself in once he realized that he was being too loud. “I told you that it was amazing,” he said, gesturing to the piece. “I know that story, of the Princess in the tower. The real version goes that her evil stepmother is the one who throws him from the tower, and then he does land in the thorn bushes, which then blind him. It is said he spent years wandering through the desert until he heard her voice, and they were reunited again,” he explained fondly - it seemed that story was memorable to him because it did mention the desert, a nod to his homeland. “What was your inspiration for this version of the story?” Saric asked, genuinely interested.

In response, Adelina smiled innocently and shrugged. The simple truth was that she had found the idea of it funny.

startergomer kath1515

 

[snowstormspawn]

~Prince Markolf II~

Markolf was not offended that his sister had deserted him to consort with her best friend, Prince Saric of Mazamri. In fact, he had completely expected it and it was about time for him to move on to other things. He adjusted the cuffs of his jacket, very precise at maintaining a very formal and polished appearance. Markolf looked around the ballroom, taking it all in. It seemed that a few, scattered dances had started, and the nobles had begun to ease into the more leisurely activities of the evening now that more of the guests had trickled in and they had realized there was nothing better to do in the snowed-in castle. There seemed to be one lady, however, who seemed not to be having too much fun.

Markolf had missed Princess Amalia’s introduction, having been quartered away in the fireplace room along with the rest of the recently-arrived men at the ball. She, along with her father, caught his eye with their very bright dress – deeper colors were common during the Fall season on the mainland, so they stood out amongst the sea of reds and deep greens. Markolf knew as well as any Prince that royals attempted to hide emotions of anger and displeasure, but he could tell from one simple look that the Princess’ father was disappointed about something, and he seemed to be giving her quite the hard time on the matter. Markolf smiled to himself – he knew the look of a disappointed father quite well. In fact his own father was most likely hiding in a foyer, seated on a cushy armchair and smoking fine tobacco from a pipe – preferable to being seen in public with his own daughter. And while he knew that he may not be able to rectify the situation, Markolf figured that it couldn’t hurt to distract the King on his daughter’s behalf.

Westfalia had little ties, if any, to Lunora – the kingdom was simply too far away to warrant much trade negotiation or concern of invasion and conquest. Markolf had heard stories of the land there, and of the Princess as well. In fact his father had outright refused to send his portrait to the island upon his royal advisor’s request, as the princess had already rejected countless other eligible men, and though he was proud of his son he knew it was a waste of manpower to have it shipped there. Markolf was not after a betrothal for himself, either – he was not quite ready to actively seek that just yet. He just wanted to see to it that Princess Amalia had a favorable time at the ball, and perhaps, that an arrangement could be made for his sister to meet one of her older brothers. After all, they were among the small pool of candidates that she had not thus far rejected.

Markolf observed and waited for an appropriate time to step in and interrupt the conversation, and when he did, he immediately bowed in respect for the Lunoran royals. “I apologize for the intrusion, your Majesties,” he greeted the King and Princess. “But I could not help but notice your presence tonight, being that us regular guests generally have to do without. I hope that you will find the journey to the ball worthwhile, despite the weather-related complications,” he said wistfully, expressing his condolences for the difficult travel. His expression brightened as he turned his focus to Amalia. “I approached to ask if I may welcome you to the Ball with a dance, to restore your festive spirit?” The Prince asked, as respectfully as he possibly could. “Just the one is all I ask. Your first should be with a partner who you can trust not to step on your toes,” he smiled. Markolf glanced towards King Charles again, not wanting to leave Amalia’s father out of the conversation. “That is, if Your Royal Majesty does not mind it, of course.”

unfortunatelyhomo c:

 

[startergomer]

Walter Blackwood
' ' = Internal Dialogue
" " = External Dialogue

Walter wasn't quite sure how to respond to the whole conversation. First, Prince Saric had mentioned that he wanted to know his opinion? That was odd. He honestly wasn't quite sure how much he had to add. What kind of ideas could Prince Saric glean from him? He didn't think he had done very much that was really outside of the norm for lords of the kinds of lands he managed. But then again, he had never met those Lords so maybe his ways weren't the norm after all. How could he know. He certainly had never had the time to verify that.

He also enjoyed seeing Prince Saric talk so nicely to Princess Adelina. He was, again, expecting, some large amount of pride and lack of chivalry but they seemed to get along like old friends.

Finally, he noticed the story that Prince Saric told. He definitely hadn't heard anything like that before. But it certainly was interesting. The embroidery was very beautiful.

"I think you did ummmm a lovely job my lady. With the embroidery. Certainly better than anything I could have done hehe."

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[kath1515]

|Duchess Elizabeth|

“Sadly, no I haven’t”, Elizabeth responded to Prince Saric’s inquiry on if she had tried food from Mazamri, “At some point in the night I will make sure to have some, I would be remiss if I didn’t.”

As conversation continued, Prince Saric brought up Princess Adelina’s pastime of embroidery. It was a skill Elizabeth had been taught early as a child by her mother. She did wonder what the Princess tended to embroider, as she hadn’t exactly taken her for the type. Nevertheless, she was quite excited to see Princess Adelina’s work.

Adelina reached into her dress pocket and pulled out an embroidery square, which she then showed to the group. It depicted a golden-haired princess in tall tower. “I know that story, of the Princess in the tower. The real version goes that her evil stepmother is the one who throws him from the tower, and then he does land in the thorn bushes, which then blind him. It is said he spent years wandering through the desert until he heard her voice, and they were reunited again,” said Prince Saric, as the group looked at Adelina’s embroidery.

Elizabeth nodded as Prince Saric recounted the story, it was one she had heard as well. Though, Princess Adelina’s interpretation was certainly very different, more in a comedic nature as Prince Saric had said of her embroidery.

“Prince Saric and Lord Blackwood are both right, your work is beautiful, you have quite the talent for embroidery. I do wish I had some of my own work to show you. It is the favorite pastime of my mother and she found enjoyment in teaching me as a child, a fond memory of mine. Though my work has tended to be more of the decorative nature”, Elizabeth said, “I would love to see more of your embroidery in the future if you would be inclined to show me”. She smiled genuinely at Princess Adelina.

Interactions: snowstormspawn startergomer

 

[unfortunatelyhomo]

Amalia straightened her posture, apologizing to her father immediately. They hadn’t even been there for an hour and the young princess had already begun to make a fool of herself. Her father opened his mouth to form another sentence before another man interjected, his voice kind and sincere. Their attention was again diverted, and the king smiled at him, nodding his head. Amalia returned the courtesy, nodding her head low. She wasn’t sure if the other knew it, but she was grateful to him for saving her from a harsh lecture. Amalia would have hated to have been berated in front of other royals. First impressions were the most important, and she didn’t want their idea of her to be some deviant with no manners.

She could place the young man as Prince Markolf II of Westfalia. They had little ties with the kingdom, mostly because of distance, but their lack of interactions did not mean she wasn’t well versed with the kingdom. “No need to apologize, you weren’t interrupting anything important.” Amalia responded, a signature smile curving her lips upward. “I’m more than elated to be here at the ball, the storm couldn’t have stopped me if it tried,” Her tone had a slight upward inflection, hinting at a joke. It was a feeble attempt to get back on her fathers good side, however it proved ineffective.

At the prince’s next sentence, Amalia fought to keep the surprise off of her face. She was taken aback, shocked someone would go out of their way to make her feel welcome. “I’d be more than honored to accept your dance, Prince Markolf.” A soft laugh escaped her lips. “Oh, I trust you not to step on my toes. I believe it’s me you should be worried about. I’m afraid I have two left feet.” She admitted, her gaze shifting for a second.

Looking to her father for approval, he nodded, the smile having returned to his face. “Of course I don’t mind. Anything to get her out and about. I do appreciate your efforts, Prince Markolf. I am indebted to you.” He winked at the two, shooing Amalia off towards the prince.

 

[Saavedra]

Captain Garl jumped off the driver´s bench when Sir Wymond and the others approached. It was hardly dangerous, as the snow was accumulating quickly. His landing was somewhat clumsy, and the snow was as cold as one would expect, but it was a comfortable landing nonetheless. He approached Sir Wymond and saluted, noting the presence of his companions. He would have smiled, politely at the very least, but the weather impeded this. The snow began to fall harder and the wind picked up frightful speed. When Garl spoke, he had to raise his voice. "I am glad to see you, Sir Wymond, and the present company! I wish it was under better circumstances, though! The Prince is safe in the carriage!"

The knight gestured at Sir Wymond to follow him to the carriage´s door, and he opened it just enough that Sir Wymond could lean in and have words with the Prince. Owen sat comfortably on one end together with one of the commoner boys that were part of his Little Court, while the other boy sat on the other end, with Granveris. The Prince recognized Sir Wymond immediately. "Sir Wymond, what brings you out here?" The question was asked rather lightly, clearly one of the few times when Owen would speak without thinking about it. The situation did not give much time to do so, but the question was not exactly out of place. Not only was it pertinent as to the knight´s intentions, but why would the Queen´s Guard be out here, in the snow? Owen feared to ask any further, in case the answer was that his mother found herself out here in the storm as well.

 

[snowstormspawn]

~Prince Markolf II~

Markolf’s smile shifted from polite to more genuine as he saw that his inquiry was received well – and why should it not have been? After all, he had done everything right. He rarely got the chance to do good deeds for others; as a royal much of his actions were indirect, and social conventions dictated that he took more than he gave. It was a strangely new, comforting feeling - the opportunity to do something kind for a person standing in front of him for a change. After taking another friendly bow for the King, the Prince held out his hand for Princess Amalia’s. Once he took it, kept pace with her as he led her to the dance floor as the orchestra began to play a new song.

The traditional Westfalian waltz was done with the man holding the lady’s hand, while his other was on the back of her shoulder-blade, and the lady’s other hand was on his shoulder. Markolf closed only enough distance sufficient for the waltz. After all, he did not know Amalia well, and this was only intended to be a diversion from her father’s scolding. And though his form was the usual, he lowered his arm more than he usually would to account for the difference in height - there was no way the Princess would be able to hold her arm up high enough for their hands to meet otherwise. It was a simple dance, and everyone, even children knew it – best of all, a conversation could be held at its pace. It was not as if they had other dancers to coordinate with - every noble on the dance floor did a different one, so there was no pressure to stick to a routine. Before long they came into a rhythm, and were spinning and stepping through the dance floor, alternating places with the couples dancing around them.

“No matter what it was your father was upset about, don’t take it to heart,” Markolf said, keeping his voice low enough that from afar it seemed as if the man were not even talking. He did not know if Amalia spoke Westfalian, but since he had not been taught Lunoran and their kingdoms were so far apart in distance, he assumed not so, so he spoke the common language and kept it hush. “Before the night is done, you may say something that will terribly wound me, or that my superstitions dictate will bring me misfortune.” Markolf paused as they moved into a spin, resuming speaking once they had stepped into their new place in the sea – more-so large lake – of dancers. “But I will take it in stride, knowing that no amount of etiquette classes could have prepared you for this variety of guests.” He gave a light smile to show that he genuinely meant it - at the ball, he sometimes would encounter royals who would outright insult him, and he would just have to grin and bear it, whether that was in their culture or their own personal nature to speak to him that way.

“For example, if I told you my birthday was in seven days, your instinct might be to congratulate me, whereas I would consider doing so back luck,” Markolf explained as he allowed Amalia to twirl in a circle, recalling this specifically as he had only just spoken to Queen Adrienne about the subject. “Speaking of birthdays, when is yours?” he asked once they were face-to-face again, his expression softening. “Since we are already here, and I like to consider the Queen's friends my own, I would like to arrange to send you a present. Unless, of course, your culture frowns upon gifts," he was quick to correct himself. "It’s just like I told you. I wouldn't know the details," the Prince chuckled.

Mentions: unfortunatelyhomo
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

~Prince Saric & Princess Adelina~

The redness in Princess Adelina's face subsided as her new acquaintances complimented her embroidery. She had expected them - all but Prince Saric - to be upset with her for her choice of subject matter - not that she had not expected it - but she was relieved that they could understand it was just a harmless depiction of a scene. Adelina's face lit up as Elizabeth stated she would love to see more of her embroidery. "Certainly," she replied in an unusually cheerful tone. "And if you want - because we will likely be stuck in this castle for the foreseeable future - I could even show you how some of these less decorative stitches are done," she stated proudly, pointing to certain details of the piece before she neatly folded it and carefully tucked it back into the pocket of her gown.

"I would like to sit in on that," Prince Saric spoke up, leaning back and resuming his normal stance once he could no longer study Adelina's work.
"Your Highness has far better artisans in the kingdom that is your own," Adelina responded in her polite nobility voice. "But of course, no harm would be done if you did," she replied in her normal tone.
Saric smiled, though his eyes wandered behind Adelina and to the dance floor. "That's your older brother, isn't it?" he asked curiously, looking in Markolf's direction.

Adelina's brow furrowed, and she looked over her shoulder, a slight frown on her face as she realized that her brother was waltzing with Amalia. "Oh." She turned back to Walter, Elizabeth and Saric, a contemplative look on her face. "That's unusual for him. Usually he's off somewhere negotiating how to funnel boatloads of gold into our banks," she murmured.

"I bet I could show him up," Prince Saric stated with a shrug. "Adelina, you have seen me on the floor. Surely I'm the better dancer here?" he asked sweetly.
"Yes," Adelina replied. "The trouble is finding a partner who can match your skill and enthusiasm. It takes two to dance most dances," she stated with a smirk.

Mentions: kath1515 startergomer

 

[quadraxis201]

Vincent Hawthorne
​

"To say the present circumstances are less than ideal is really quite the understatement." Vincent said to Captain Garl with a cocked eyebrow when he spoke to Wymond and the others in the rescue party. "And, even if his carriage is indeed right in front of us, as are you, informing us of the young Prince's safety does make me ever so slightly less concerned." Garl had called Wymond over alone, and so Vincent chose to wait his turn to speak with Prince Owen, if he was to ever get a chance. Whatever the case, Vincent was able to understand why just Wymond was called over to the carriage's door.

For one, Wymond was the Captain of Adrienne's Royal Guard, and a very trusted individual at that. Vincent, meanwhile, was a mercenary, someone who was paid to protect, and other times to straight up kill, which were... well, those certainly weren't the ideal traits to have when you were going to speak with a 10-year-old prince of a kingdom. Being one of the only lycanthropes living in an otherwise human kingdom certainly didn't help. For another, his very appearance could be intimidating to new acquaintances, especially someone like the Prince. As the Ball was Vincent's first time venturing into Adrienne's castle, he hadn't had very many interactions with the royal family as a whole before then, and as a consequence he did not have very many chances at all for them to get to know him and see through his otherwise cold exterior. Frankly, if Vincent never got to speak with Prince Owen, he wouldn't feel insulted in the least.

Even with the snowfall and the bitter winds, Vincent didn't seem to mind much at all, even when he didn't have ebony fur covering every inch of his body in his current form.

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[unfortunatelyhomo]

Amalia graciously accepted Prince Markolf’s hand, casting one final look at her father before turning her attention back to her newfound acquaintance.

Unfortunately, she was unfamiliar with Westfalian tradition and culture, so she hoped she wouldn’t offend the prince in any way if she made a few mistakes occasionally. Holding onto his hand, she placed her other on his shoulder. Acceptable length was kept between the two, enough for them to do the dance without stepping on one another’s feet, and enough to signify it was nothing more than a dance. However, the young princess was still grateful to the prince for saving her from her fathers disappointment, whether intentional or not. So even if it was nothing more than a dance, she’d likely remember it until she grew old and delusional.

Syncing with the music, the two fell into graceful rhythm, and Amalia found it easy to keep up. Almost as if she’d been doing the dance for years until that point. They wove themselves across the dance floor, their actions parallel to one another.

It was then that she’d heard his voice again, low enough so only she could hear. She knew he meant well, but he was moments too late in telling her not to take her fathers words to heart. Amalia did whatever she could to please him, and even then she felt she wasn’t enough. So messing up, even if it’s something simply as communication, she feels unaccomplished in all that she’s done.

The young princess smiled back, a wave of relief washing down on her shoulders. Her guard remained, but she’d felt more relaxed in that moment than she’d felt at any other time. It was a nice change of pace for her, to come across someone possessing the range of understanding Prince Markolf did. He was right in what he’d said. Regardless of her preparation, everyone was of a different social norm, not everyone would react identically to her own norms and culture as a person. She wouldn’t be able to accommodate everyone here, but she could do her best to make her first impressions last.

Amalia was gently twirled in a circle, returning to her position in front of the prince. Speaking of the number seven, it was considered very lucky in Lunora. Of course, the tale was rooted deep in superstition and myth, but people still took it seriously. It was an excellent example nonetheless. His point was getting through, even if it was a difficult one to accept. She only wanted to be liked, and it seemed nearly impossible to do that on the account of cultural differences.

“June twenty-first, hottest day of the year,” She responded, laughing as she quickly corrected himself, reassuring he was fine in wanting to send her a gift, however he didn’t have to go out of his way to do it. “It’s not frowned upon. Birthdays are very serious in Lunora, actually. The celebration of life, so on, so forth. I won’t bore you.” A signature smile split her face. “Do note, if you send me a gift, I’d feel most inappropriate in not returning the favor.” She responded.

Once again, they repeated the rhythmic cycle, expressing the characteristics of the music in their movement. She’d caught on to the fluid, elegant movements of the dance. Allowing them to face another again, she formed her lips to speak. “Of course, if gifts are frowned upon in your culture, I apologize. Westfalia and Lunora are like very, very distant family.” She added, apologizing for her lack of knowledge in Westfalian norms.

interactions:

snowstormspawn

 

[snowstormspawn]

~Sir Wymond~

Wymond could not express how glad he was to gaze upon Garl’s face at that moment – to see anyone from the castle had made it through the storm unharmed restored his faith in finding additional survivors. When Garl confirmed that Prince Owen was indeed inside the carriage, the guard slid off his horse, landing in the snow which was almost knee deep by now. The relief almost made the man’s knees feel week. He waded through the white, powdery blanket towards the carriage, stopping just in front of the door. Snowflakes stuck to his straw-colored hair. His face lit up at the sight of Prince Owen seated with his friends, safe and comfortable, it seemed, and he immediately look a bow in greeting. In response to Owen’s words, he smiled.

“Your Highness, the Queen sent the three of us on a mission to locate you and ensure your safe return to the castle. I have her my word to ensure that would happen,” Wymond explained over the howling wind. “We are also planning to venture out even further, to rescue any survivors we can find from the snow.” The guard briefly hesitated, before deciding he did not want to explain further – Prince Owen was young, and could easily be swayed by the statement that other lives were depending on his answer. He wanted to know the boy’s honest thoughts. “If you feel that Garl and the rest of the knights are sufficient in escorting you back to the castle, then we will continue on our way. But if you believe you need us to come along too, then you just say the word,” he said, keeping an official tone and not putting too much emotion into it. When it came to serving royalty, there was no place for emotions in it – if he had to leave someone behind, or even kill for any member of the royal family, then he would do it without hesitation.

Saavedra quadraxis201

 

[Saavedra]

Owen found Sir Wymond´s smile reassuring. His words, even more so. He found it easy to maintain his cool, knowing his mother was safe, and presumably his father and sister as well. Sir Wymond was not the sort of knight who acted impulsively, leaving his responsibilities behind in search of glory. After listening to his explanation, the Prince understood the situation completely. It made sense Her Majesty would send out someone to go look for stranded guests, though he wondered why Sir Wymond was her choice. And surely he could not have come out here alone?

But Owen understood now was not the moment for idle speculation. He could clearly see the snow falling, or rather flying behind the knight, not to mention the cold rushing into the carriage. He was well protected, of course, as were his companions, but whoever was out there with Sir Wymond (and that included Garl and his men) was not. And as for his query, Owen had no doubts. On his way home, in a storm like this, with two companions in the carriage and his loyal knights close, there was little the young prince had to fear. "Garl and his men are more than enough, Sir Wymond. Thank you, but I am well protected and expect to reach the castle...". He hesitated. "... soon."

 

[quadraxis201]

Vincent Hawthorne
​

Vincent looked around at his surroundings while Wymond, Garl, and Owen exchanged words. The snowdrifts were getting high-- up to the lycanthrope's knees at this point in fact, and so he was beginning to wonder if Wymond and him should start to hurry the mission along. The weather was quite evidently showing no signs of halting, and there was no telling how deep the snow would grow in a moment's notice. Vincent's heightened sense of hearing in his human form allowed him to somewhat overhear what was being said, and it was with this sense of hearing that he was able to tell that Owen, his young companions, and the knights protecting the carriage would not need an escort back to the castle... despite mentally noting Owen's brief moment of hesitation. /They'd best get a move on, then... God only knows how long it will be before their horses slow to a crawl in the snowbanks before stopping altogether./ Vincent thought to himself, briefly shutting his eyes.

Upon reopening them, Vincent turned to Wymond, who was presently still at the carriage door. "Beg pardon, Sir Wymond, I believe now would be a good time for us to continue our quest." He said to him, having to raise his voice a bit in order to talk over the harsh winds. "I saw how you were trudging through the snow, and... well, I suppose someone ought to point this out loud-- the stormclouds bringing this wintry weather are most unusual. They seem to be focusing around some sort of... central point... rather than moving along like clouds are known to do. The point is, it would seem to me that this snowfall is showing scant signs of lessening at any point. As much as it pleases me that you're relieved to see Hadria's prince safe and sound, there are yet others that may require our help."

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snowstormspawn