Jan 29, 2018
cow shit. this whole country smelt of it and this palace, it seemed, was not only plagued with its smell but its sight as well. eleanor longed for the fields of scotland, where wild flowers grew and the air smelt of the sea. for now, all she had was this patch of grass near the wood surrounding the palace and a bottle of wine she had snagged from a kitchen boy with nothing more than a smile.
the bottle was hid as she watching someone approach, smile placed with more effort than it should have taken on her face. “a lovely day, is it not?” she spoke, though it was not a lovely day. . eleanor doubted this place was capable of lovely days. “perfect day for such joyous celebrations.”