If she wasn’t so concerned with recording the darker shades of Court mechanics and the little details that gave birth to immense consequences, Llewelyn surmised that she would have found fulfillment in becoming an art historian.
The sun had fully risen by then, and golden fingers floated down from the heavenly plane to paint the granite and marble statue of a regal mare. In all honesty, Llewelyn wasn’t sure of the identity of the stone woman, but she struck an admirable figure nonetheless; arched neck, Roman nose, striking eyes that seemed to follow passerby despite the lifelessness of the material itself. Of course, there was a plaque set into the stone pedestal that the mare stood upon, but the words inscribed there had been washed away by time and the elements.
Cocking her head to the side, the horned maiden admired how the sun cast the sculpture in gold, and how the placement of the towering granite likeness was lined up just so with the entrances and archways of the castle’s courtyard. If she narrowed her eyes and stared rather hard, Llewelyn could imagine the artist’s vision — a courtyard devoid of figures, hosting only ground level plant life and stout fountains, but ah! how a proud statue of our Blessed Lady of Something-or-Other would bring this place to life.
She grinned, a small, demure thing, and shivered a bit as a winter breeze rolled over her back. Rather out of character for the courtier, Llewelyn had opted out of wearing her emerald cloak for the time being, deciding that the plush garment was in need of some new furs about the neck and a change of fastenings. Swishing her heavily braided and tressed tail, the lass turned her golden gaze to the earth and sighed at the sad little shrubs clustered there.
The scholar knew it was childish to wish for Spring, but Oriens knew that she had been patient enough.
@Sarkan — oof??? Im so choppy today!
