“Later,” Sloane parotted her mother’s instruction. “Alice said she had to go to work, but that she’d back.”
“Who knew morticians had to keep such odd hours,” Liliana said and looked away, down at the few flecks of cream on the counter. Chatter had finished and was now in the middle of her morning ablutions.
“Ha. She’s a neurosurgeon, mom, with weird cases in a small town.” Sloane picked up Chatter and leaned over the counter slightly, “Don’t be mad at her. It’s my fault. Remember?”
Liliana winced and Sloane pressed her lips together in a non-smile. When the kettle was done, Liliana poured a tall shot of thick chocolate, sprinkled it with rough garlic.
“Traditional,” she said and placed the dopio espresso cup onto its corresponding saucer.
“Huh.” Sloane stared at it for a second and let the smell waft into her nostrils before inhaling it. “Very traditional. Thank you. I’ll let you know how it tastes.”
“Please,” Liliana said while Sloane backed away toward Rick, “I know what it tastes like.”
She winked and her stiff smile from earlier returned, accompanied with concern shrouding her eyes.
Hey, gang, who here’s had garlic with their chocolate? Seriously. What’s it taste like? Don’t make me do it.
The impossibility of getting there would never be forgotten.
The amount of times even the tiniest discussion had been blocked was a bit too high to count.
One specific participant just... sat down – or left the room - and refused to talk. It was that easy. Of course it was also childish and became less freqquent over time, but unfortunately, it was also very effective.
There had been other battles over this issue. Battles mostly fought in the sheets... both parties had gotten a lot better at 'warfare' there. Over time. It also happened out of the sheets. Unfortunately this, too, was used for distraction and postponing of decisions.
Thea had hoped that talking about warfare PAST the decision – involving the beautiful garb and jewelry coming along with it – would help. She was wrong. But she learned that it was obviously possible to talk her princess out of clothes... and into a rather recreative mood. Worked really well.
Anyway: Her parents, too, tried to talk about it. And they were a little more effective. And so – about three month after her seventeenth birthday – Gabrielle gave in to the candidate Thea had tried to bring closer to her.
She had agreed to a meeting with her future spouse. Finally.
Everything had been packed, the princess promised her parents to be on her best behaviour and Thea got allowance to come with them.
So, 2 weeks of riding in a carriage later (Gabe refused after the second day and rode instead, as was predicted, but no one was particularly bothered), they had arrived in the foreign kingdom.
And it had been pleasant enough: The prince's parents, were very obliging the whole time. They, too, had a slight problem with getting their son married off.
If someone wanted to compare the future couple, you could say they fit very well together. At lest their expressions on their faces upon seeing one another. They both looked like spiteful mice in a room full of hungry snakes: They knew what was inevitably coming, but they weren't going without a fight.
Thea didn't like it when they were left alone for half an hour. In a room. Only the bodyguards allowed in. Thea - pointedly - was not. Hrm.
She stuck close to the door for any signs of too-poisonous speech inside these walls.
But... no... the doors opened, and the two of them came out. Not looking love-struck, but Gabrielle was smirking.
And Thea was not sure if she liked that fact. The only answer as to what they had talked about was: “We're going to meet someone this evening”
That was it.
Thea needed to brush her hair properly, dress her perfectly right – these days, it always took a little longer... at least this did not change. The hope that it would loosen her tongue was unfortunately in vain.
Dinner was held... talks were had... pleasantries were exchanged... and then they left the hall. And went to 'meet someone.
Gabrielle, too, was nervous then. And offered one more explanation, at least, it was: “He said if they don't like us, we might just as well go”
Ah. A loophole. Another distraction. Another postponing.
Well. Too bad Gabrielle was loved by most people then, mh?
But... that... be that as it may.
Fact was: they were in the park. And the prince was with them. And they waited.
There were noises. Dry, clacking noises.
After a while, the clip-clopping of hooves came closer. A slow noise, though. Nothing threatening... except the fact that they DID come on a horse, but... well... no complaints now.
A silhouette became visible in the shadows... and then the person came into view...
And.. well... he... had long, black hair that fell over his borad shoulders in many braids. He wore a proper tunic, properly tailored to fit his wide frame.
The hooves were studded. The fur also a glossy, beautiful black, the tail in the same colour was also braided. Very well taken care of.
Oh, and he had darker skin. Several shades darker than Gabrielle, even. That was somewhat unusual, too. Yes.
Nice contrast with his tunic, it had quite a few white embroideries...
He looked a bit nervous, fiddling with his cufflinks.
…
Yeah, that... was a good description. Very nice. Very accurate. Just... with one problem:
This guy was a horse.
Like... not really a horse, he had a face and arms and everything, but... he had no legs. He was a horse. A horse-man.
'Centaur', was it called? If she remembered right?!
The prince that leaned against the next tree... smirked. Smugly.
