guys i’m so sorry to say this but exercising and indulging in hobbies rather than scrolling on your phone for 200 hours actually does improve your mood and overall mental health, this has deeply upset me more than anyone
huge fan of the depth of a good purple but another area that draws me is definitely around aquamarine/turquoise/seafoam. you can not go wrong once the green starts getting just a tinge more blue. a gal could certainly do worse than to pull over there and stay a while
The prince, most of the way through hauling himself over the balcony, gazed in some peturbation at the grizzled man clearly just waking up from a nap in a comfy armchair placed just so to catch the afternoon sun. As his eye scanned the room he took in the battered suit of armour juryrigged onto a dressmaker's dummy in one corner, the extremely large sword propped up in another; they finally came to halt on the man again who, having apparently moved with cat-like stealth that someone his size should not have, was now in front of him and offering him a hand.
"Ah. I fear I must have taken a wrong turning, I do beg your pardon for disturbing you," the prince said as diplomatically as he could, "I meant to rescue Princess Imelda-"
The man smiled congenially. "Right tower, wrong time - here, let me help you up, that can't be comfortable."
The prince did his level best not to squawk as the man lifted him by arm and shoulder over the balcony railing, setting him gently on his feet. "What do you mean, wrong time?" he asked, a little sharper than intended despite all his princely training after the indignity of being scruffed like a kitten.
The man held out his hand. "Sir Biddeford. I'm...well, I suppose you could say I'm tower-sitting for Imelda."
"Tower sitting?!"
"Do you want a drink or anything?" Sir Biddeford appeared to let the prince's breach of manners roll past him. "I've brought up a couple of nice vintages, or there's water or apple juice or milk in the ice box - nice little bit of wizardry that."
"Look, sorry, could we go back to the whole tower-sitting concept?" The prince pinched the bridge of his nose, the beginning of a headache starting to form.
Sir Biddeford shrugged. "Suit yourself." He plopped himself back down in the armchair - although the prince couldn't help but notice the lack of noise, the grace behind the gracelessness.
"It's like this, lad. I normally do dungeons, but when I saw this tower as I was riding past I thought, 'Biddeford, no one would have built a tower with no doors, it's just not efficient if you want to keep anyone inside without having to put a lot of teleportation spells and the like, I bet there's a secret door somewhere."
He waved airily, "And it took about ten minutes to find it and get it open, because no one had thought about the way the ground got worn by the servants-"
"There are servants here too?" The prince was still bristling at 'lad' despite himself.
"Not right now, obviously," Sir Biddeford replied. The prince had barely drawn breath before he continued, "They only come once a week to do laundry, restock, and spruce up the place, although I've been helping out there." The prince spluttered at the impropriety. "Anyway, Imelda fancied a bit of a break from the tower, and I had been thinking of a holiday for a while, so...here I am, she has my horse and travel gear, and she should be back in...a month?"
"A month," the prince said flatly. "One. Whole. Month."
"Or thereabouts, we didn't set a specific date." Sir Biddeford shrugged.
"I did not travel across hazardous mountains and through perilous forests to go home without rescuing a sodding princess!" The prince exploded, stomping one foot in emphasis, the heel of his riding boot clacking solidly on the flagstones.
Sir Biddeford shrugged again. "I'm not really the rescuable type, I'm afraid...there are a couple of empty rooms further down the tower, I'm sure no one will mind if you stay until Imelda gets back."
The prince's eyes narrowed. "You're making fun of me, aren't you? The King will hear of this, this outrage!"
"Suit yourself." Sir Biddeford settled back into the armchair with all the self-possession of a cat claiming a favourite cushion. "Close the window on your way out, if you don't mind? The afternoon breeze gets a bit feisty."
The prince spluttered some more. He didn't close the window.
Imelda let the horse amble its way to the tower, not feeling any particular urgency to returning. That being said, once she was close enough to see the field it stood in curiosity did lead her to gently urge it to a lope; as the pair of them slowed, she took in the small wooden barn, the start of what looked like a solid kitchen garden - and sitting on a comfy recliner on a sun-trap veranda that had definitely not been a feature of the tower previously, one Sir Biddeford.
"Imelda!" She hadn't been sure he was even awake, but he was waving to her with enthusiasm. "Good trip? Sassy behave herself? Can I get you a drink?"
"Sir Biddeford. Biddie." She gestured at all of the improvements to the tower. "What on earth has been happening while I've been away? Mother sends her regards before I forget, by the way."
"Let's see...quite a few princes, some of whom were absolute charmers, a few knights, two shepherds, a goose girl, a surprising number of people called Jack..." Sir Biddeford counted them all off on his fingers. "Some of them stayed, some of them chose to rescue each other, I persuaded all of the charmers to go and complain at your father, and the ones that stayed...well, they're enjoying a bit of a holiday and learning from each other, really."
Princess Imelda regarded him steadily. "...you've turned my tower into a holiday camp for questers?"
"Not intentionally, but...yes, I suppose I have." Sir Biddeford shrugged.
Shaking her head, Imelda slid off Sassy's back, taking care not to drop the staff that she'd acquired on her trip. "I suppose I better clean Sassy and myself up, and then go and see how we're going to decide who actually gets to rescue me..."
"Hmm." Sir Biddeford eyed her thoughtfully. "Staff of the Ice Serpent?"
"What, this?" Imelda held it out to him proudly, the sun glinting off the translucent stone embedded in the tip. "I had a run of good luck on one of those dungeons you mentioned. Then there was a wizard doing a sort of outbound school for her students who didn't mind an extra assistant, you know how it goes."
"Any good?"
Imelda's smile was fierce. "Well, she said if royalty didn't work out for me she'd be happy to take me in as a full-time student..."
"Hmm." That seemed to be it, Sir Biddeford already paying more attention to his horse than to her, until he casually added, "There are a couple of dungeons I always meant to have a look at, but they were as much magic as traps."
"Are you...I literally just got back, Biddie," Imelda replied, clamping down hard on her sudden excitement.
"All the more reason to head out now before anyone sees you," Sir Biddeford said pleasantly, "There are a couple of questers with good heads on their shoulders and it won't take me long to put together supplies - meet me by the crossroads in, oh, fifteen minutes."
A lifetime of princess training could not repress the irrepressable grin. "Father's going to be furious."
"I'm sure he will be if he notices - now go on, scoot. I'll bring your bags on Sassy."
Perhaps bordering more on a skip than a scoot, Imelda scooted.
how the world opens up to you as a kid learning to hand sew when you realize you can do literally anything with the button holes and dont have to do an X or = stitches you can do anything. nad then like an image of a futuristic neon city
kaledo-art
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jacobvanloon
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turnnoffyourmind
