Post by Rachy on Jan 17, 2011 19:32:23 GMT 10
Title: Understated
Rating : PG
Prompt: #1: Colour
Word Count: 404 words
Summary: Sometimes to stand out, you don’t have to be the bright one.
Notes: AU, if Kally became a knight and another Conte princess became the Empress. It’s an idea that’s been floating around for ages that I’ve written variations on and nothing on this one. Which I find way more intriguing.
She bows before him. Her head is lowered, her dark hair long, tied tightly into a braid snaking over her shoulder, but still bearing a resemblance to the curls of the woman beside him. Her clothes are bland in relation to the rest of his court, a dark navy tunic worn over a loose pale grey shirt and black breeches, but she still carries herself enough to make a small statement, even when she is surrounded by the colours of a sunset. Her sword belt is empty, as per his request for any who entered the hall – there is still trouble, it has not waned at all since he has taken a Queen – but he can still see the leather pouch she carries, the pinpricks of topazes sprinkled across the pouch opening. She does not promote an overly wealthy picture – her clothes are of fine making, it is true, but her boots are worn with more than the Cartharki dust blown through the winds. Her hands are clasped over her knee, fingers crisscrossed with light scars, and her hands are cool as she takes his own and stands. Her eyes, bright and blue, don’t look directly at him, but remain steadily fixed at the crimson curtain over his shoulder, and her cheeks only hold the slightest flush as he presses his lips against her knuckles.
“We most warmly welcome you to Carthak, Lady Knight.” He says, his voice warm and welcoming, a contrast to the harshness and pompousness of his vivid ceremonial robes. Her eyes flicker slightly to him, but she instead concentrates on his wife, clinging tightly to his arm. She glows in a bright crimson gown, pulled tight above her waist and flowing smoothly over her growing belly. Her eyes are overbright, concentrated in dark kohl, her dark curls pulled away from her face in a myriad of gold nets, her cheekbones highlighted in pink rogue, but she smiles at her sister, her pale hand settled tightly against her husband’s tanned elbow.
“You do us such a honour by coming in my time of need, Princess Kalasin.” Lianne says, her scarlet smile disappearing into a courtier’s smirk.
Kalasin only murmurs a polite, practised reply in return, her eyes focused solely on her sister’s, before taking her leave, and both the Emperor and the Empress watch her depart, noticeable as the only speck of understated white in the explosion of vibrancy surrounding them.
Rating : PG
Prompt: #1: Colour
Word Count: 404 words
Summary: Sometimes to stand out, you don’t have to be the bright one.
Notes: AU, if Kally became a knight and another Conte princess became the Empress. It’s an idea that’s been floating around for ages that I’ve written variations on and nothing on this one. Which I find way more intriguing.
She bows before him. Her head is lowered, her dark hair long, tied tightly into a braid snaking over her shoulder, but still bearing a resemblance to the curls of the woman beside him. Her clothes are bland in relation to the rest of his court, a dark navy tunic worn over a loose pale grey shirt and black breeches, but she still carries herself enough to make a small statement, even when she is surrounded by the colours of a sunset. Her sword belt is empty, as per his request for any who entered the hall – there is still trouble, it has not waned at all since he has taken a Queen – but he can still see the leather pouch she carries, the pinpricks of topazes sprinkled across the pouch opening. She does not promote an overly wealthy picture – her clothes are of fine making, it is true, but her boots are worn with more than the Cartharki dust blown through the winds. Her hands are clasped over her knee, fingers crisscrossed with light scars, and her hands are cool as she takes his own and stands. Her eyes, bright and blue, don’t look directly at him, but remain steadily fixed at the crimson curtain over his shoulder, and her cheeks only hold the slightest flush as he presses his lips against her knuckles.
“We most warmly welcome you to Carthak, Lady Knight.” He says, his voice warm and welcoming, a contrast to the harshness and pompousness of his vivid ceremonial robes. Her eyes flicker slightly to him, but she instead concentrates on his wife, clinging tightly to his arm. She glows in a bright crimson gown, pulled tight above her waist and flowing smoothly over her growing belly. Her eyes are overbright, concentrated in dark kohl, her dark curls pulled away from her face in a myriad of gold nets, her cheekbones highlighted in pink rogue, but she smiles at her sister, her pale hand settled tightly against her husband’s tanned elbow.
“You do us such a honour by coming in my time of need, Princess Kalasin.” Lianne says, her scarlet smile disappearing into a courtier’s smirk.
Kalasin only murmurs a polite, practised reply in return, her eyes focused solely on her sister’s, before taking her leave, and both the Emperor and the Empress watch her depart, noticeable as the only speck of understated white in the explosion of vibrancy surrounding them.