Post by Miranda Ward on Apr 26, 2009 11:14:30 GMT 2
A breeze made the curtains tremble as if somebody had touched them not a moment earlier, but nothing else moved in the castle. Its halls were silent, its walls cold, its paintings no more than dots of colour in the darkness. The ones who should have been awake, the guards, had fallen asleep at the entrances, knowing that powerful ward spells would help them get away with it.
In the Head Witch's chambers, the situation was different. The young woman was walking to her private bathroom, looking at a piece of parchment her delicate hands held tightly. She was completely dressed, in a black corset dress that had lace cascading at all the hems, her curls covered her otherwise naked shoulders.
This was it. The chance she had been waiting for. The possible solution to her problems. The paper was a letter from Allard Valentine Arkwright. The King himself sent her a letter - not that she was in any way less powerful or respected. A smug smile danced on her red lips. Indeed, no less powerful. She was anything but that, she made sure of it since as far as she could remember after understanding its importance. And now her work was completing itself.
The time was here. It would take her just long enough to reach The Inn before midnight. She threw a cloak over her shoulders and proceeded to rush out the door, walking down the hallways like she owned them - true for some of them. Her gaze stopped on the sleeping guards and her eyes narrowed. With a movement of her hand, the legs of their chairs broke and the men found themselves on the floor, looking around disoriented. But the witch didn't wait for their explanations. Her destination was the stables.
From the castle to the Inn wasn't such a long journey by horse and considering the fact that hers was no regular horse, it took even less. Rose was specially trained by her master to run like the wind. And, of course, some special food helped.
When she arrived at the Inn, a young man, a boy, took her precious black mere to safety, not before she gave him strict indications and a few select threats. Then she opened the doors herself and went straight for a certain table, where Valentine had suggested they meet. It shouldn't take long for him to arrive. The man was many things, but a coward or idiot he was not. She arranged her skirts and waited, interrupted by the Innkeeper who came to ask if he could help her.
She was about to answer when recognition sparked in the old man's eyes. "Ah, Miss, a man is waiting for you. He told me to bring you right to him."
"Of course," she answered and got up, walking after the innkeeper, following him to the second floor. She smiled to herself. The second floor was the most expensive and pompous. It fit Valentine like a glove.
The innkeeper opened the second door to his right and bowed before her, inviting her to enter. Which she did.
"Good evening, my lord. I see you keep your word quite nicely." Miranda's smile was full of dignity but tinted with her impish nature. She looked at the tall man standing by the window and took a step inside the grandiose room, admiring the splendid architecture and old furniture.
In the Head Witch's chambers, the situation was different. The young woman was walking to her private bathroom, looking at a piece of parchment her delicate hands held tightly. She was completely dressed, in a black corset dress that had lace cascading at all the hems, her curls covered her otherwise naked shoulders.
This was it. The chance she had been waiting for. The possible solution to her problems. The paper was a letter from Allard Valentine Arkwright. The King himself sent her a letter - not that she was in any way less powerful or respected. A smug smile danced on her red lips. Indeed, no less powerful. She was anything but that, she made sure of it since as far as she could remember after understanding its importance. And now her work was completing itself.
The time was here. It would take her just long enough to reach The Inn before midnight. She threw a cloak over her shoulders and proceeded to rush out the door, walking down the hallways like she owned them - true for some of them. Her gaze stopped on the sleeping guards and her eyes narrowed. With a movement of her hand, the legs of their chairs broke and the men found themselves on the floor, looking around disoriented. But the witch didn't wait for their explanations. Her destination was the stables.
From the castle to the Inn wasn't such a long journey by horse and considering the fact that hers was no regular horse, it took even less. Rose was specially trained by her master to run like the wind. And, of course, some special food helped.
When she arrived at the Inn, a young man, a boy, took her precious black mere to safety, not before she gave him strict indications and a few select threats. Then she opened the doors herself and went straight for a certain table, where Valentine had suggested they meet. It shouldn't take long for him to arrive. The man was many things, but a coward or idiot he was not. She arranged her skirts and waited, interrupted by the Innkeeper who came to ask if he could help her.
She was about to answer when recognition sparked in the old man's eyes. "Ah, Miss, a man is waiting for you. He told me to bring you right to him."
"Of course," she answered and got up, walking after the innkeeper, following him to the second floor. She smiled to herself. The second floor was the most expensive and pompous. It fit Valentine like a glove.
The innkeeper opened the second door to his right and bowed before her, inviting her to enter. Which she did.
"Good evening, my lord. I see you keep your word quite nicely." Miranda's smile was full of dignity but tinted with her impish nature. She looked at the tall man standing by the window and took a step inside the grandiose room, admiring the splendid architecture and old furniture.
