The flickered smile and overly apologetic nature of the man brought forth a bubbly laugh she could not hold back. “I assure you, no real offence was taken. I am just a little weary of people seeming to think a heightened education is required to progress anywhere in life,” Octavia responds. “I am a lady-in-waiting to the Duchess of Somerset. I am assuming you are aware of her ? My treatment has not changed under the new king in the slightest. I do not answer to him, I answer to my lady.”
Perhaps that was a bold statement, maybe even slightly treacherous by some standards, but it was the truth. The king’s comings and goings seldom had anything to do with the servants of other nobles aside from getting them ready for visits and such. “What ‘professional’ interest could you possible have in servants of nobility from a country you are not even a citizen of, if I may inquire?”
@alastrinie wanted a random mischief and shenanigans starter !
“I promise, nobody will see us. Not even most servants frequent this area,” Octavia reassured the Duchess. “If you want to know how to sneak all proper commoner like then this is what you put up with.” She poked her head around a doorway before signaling Trinie forward. “This isn’t even the hard way.”
✒ - if you could get a message to anyone else, who would you send it to and what would it say?
“It would be to the stables and tell them to look after my horse or I will bring hell’s fury upon them later. That or send one to Ciaran to make sure he knows I am alright as he is probably worrying himself into a bad state.”
❤️- who will you go to once you’re free? | Lock-Down Meme | Accepting
“I think I shall go to the stables and check in on Pie. I doubt the steeds would a priority for the castle during all of this.” (also it’s where Ciaran will know to find me)
A smile formed upon her face. If she were a woman capable of being abashed, one may say it was one of that variety. But it was a pleasant one. “Someone caused a ruckus. Did you hear quite what was said ? I am afraid I missed most of his..” vague gestures were attempted with her hands, “talking.” The woman flopped herself down on a couch like piece of furniture and glanced around her new settings with a bit more care then before. She was quite sure, despite the growing gloom, that she had never been in here before. “Bit rude to ruin everyone’s time with, poison, was it ?”
Octavia had perhaps been enjoying herself slightly too much, her love of festivities making her light headed. But that may also be due in part to the copious amounts of wine she had consumed. Regardless of which, it was making her not quite sure of what was going on, thus she was confused when the whole place erupted into a frenzy and people started getting herded of places. The brunette vaguely heard something about poison, but not much else as she was ushered into a room occupied by someone she didn’t recognize. Brow furrowed, eyes squinted, she looked at her companion. “You’re quite pretty, you know that ?”
small / large / average / grey / brown / blue / green / gold / hazel / doe - eyed / almond / close - set / wide - set / squinty / monolid / heavy eyelids / upturned / downturned
“why, I myself do not consider More’s Utopia to be imbalanced.” the ambassador’s hands hitched upwards, then fell back at his sides once again, an assertive gesture which steered clear from being deemed provocative. all his mannerisms were just so, placating even in the midst of debate, half-molded into a readiness to give way. irregardless of what he uttered, posture and amiability acted as waylayers for verbalized (as well as witheld) opinions. if they had penned old Warwick as eminence grise, and that title was something all diplomats coveted, he himself would be a rather colorful peacemaker. it portruded in unbending contrast against whatever his country’s reputation bade for him, like a testimony other men make in your stead. “it has some strong points, granted, but I wouldn’t gaol it under charges of naivete, nor lyricism. besides, doesn’t the Praise act as an apologie for those faults already?”
Octavia wasn’t exactly sure how she had entered this conversation, if she was to be quite honest. She had just been a-looking for Ciaran and had stumbled across this man instead. Indeed she had listened attentively and politely, but as he ended his view on whatever he was talking about with a question she could not help but confess “I assume that is a book, yes ? I would not know for i have not read it. Or anything, for that matter. My apologies, sir.” She stared back evenly at him, almost daring him to make a remark about her education, or as the case may warrant, lack thereof. Truth be told, the only thing she could read or write with any confidence was her own name.
titsay
theartofmadeline
stormborns
jacobvanloon
blakekathryn
