September 21st, OE 102
11:18 PM
Perindor Citadel, Study
"Heavy lies the head that wears the crown".
A certain Lunarian Queen had pondered the meaning of that statement, recently. Were it be she had met her Crescentian counterpart, whose nights were even more restless, she might have sheepishly amended the statement to account for varying degrees of weight.
It was a quiet evening. Not even birds dared to disturb the tranquility of the night, and consequently, it was the best of times to think. To plan. To prepare. The spectre of war loomed closer with each passing day, and with it, a return to the days of the ancient times - and of grudges, left to fester for hundreds of years, being revived in earnest. Few could blame the Grand Reine for her vigilance - or her sleeplessness, with such considerations at hand.
So it was that she scrawled away in silence and privacy, her only company being the flickering of a lamp.
How it danced and writhed, a tiny beacon of brightness in an ocean of darkness, not unlike L'Isola itself. Throwing shadows on the walls that beckoned the imagination, and which took shapes that called forth memories long-since forgotten, lit by the dim half-moon in the sky.
Mirages. Falsehoods. Tricks of the mind.
But, not tonight.
A gentle, midnight breeze brushed against Heidel's neck, accompanied by the feeble fluttering of curtains.
...No. Not quite a mere touch of the wind, for it was accompanied with the distinct prickling on the back of the neck. Of sixth sense, born of Crescentia's greatest treasure rising to the occasion, alerting its Reactor to the presence of another.
"It's been some time, your highness."
The voice was recognizeable, yes - but not the features. Much in the way that half-glimpsed shadows cold take certain shapes, so did the form of Ze'ev Yarad make itself slowly clear to her, leaning against the wall, his arms folded, like an oversized crow.
There was color in his cheeks now, depth to his voice, as though he were less of a monochrome caricature of a man, and had somehow become more...
Real.
11:18 PM
Perindor Citadel, Study
"Heavy lies the head that wears the crown".
A certain Lunarian Queen had pondered the meaning of that statement, recently. Were it be she had met her Crescentian counterpart, whose nights were even more restless, she might have sheepishly amended the statement to account for varying degrees of weight.
It was a quiet evening. Not even birds dared to disturb the tranquility of the night, and consequently, it was the best of times to think. To plan. To prepare. The spectre of war loomed closer with each passing day, and with it, a return to the days of the ancient times - and of grudges, left to fester for hundreds of years, being revived in earnest. Few could blame the Grand Reine for her vigilance - or her sleeplessness, with such considerations at hand.
So it was that she scrawled away in silence and privacy, her only company being the flickering of a lamp.
How it danced and writhed, a tiny beacon of brightness in an ocean of darkness, not unlike L'Isola itself. Throwing shadows on the walls that beckoned the imagination, and which took shapes that called forth memories long-since forgotten, lit by the dim half-moon in the sky.
Mirages. Falsehoods. Tricks of the mind.
But, not tonight.
A gentle, midnight breeze brushed against Heidel's neck, accompanied by the feeble fluttering of curtains.
...No. Not quite a mere touch of the wind, for it was accompanied with the distinct prickling on the back of the neck. Of sixth sense, born of Crescentia's greatest treasure rising to the occasion, alerting its Reactor to the presence of another.
"It's been some time, your highness."
The voice was recognizeable, yes - but not the features. Much in the way that half-glimpsed shadows cold take certain shapes, so did the form of Ze'ev Yarad make itself slowly clear to her, leaning against the wall, his arms folded, like an oversized crow.
There was color in his cheeks now, depth to his voice, as though he were less of a monochrome caricature of a man, and had somehow become more...
Real.
