MY SOUL IS AN EMPTY CAROUSEL AT SUNSET
She wakes lazily, blinking dreams and gentle light from those ambrosially cluttered lashes. The day is young - rays of pale morning sunshine come fracturing through her door as it stood ajar the way she had left it last night. Last night - into the depths of the darkness Rhoswen had travelled, moving not with her body but instead with her mind; sleep had evaded her, as if taunting the red girl. Images and memoirs of glacierblue eyes and moonlight skin had circulated perpetually: a gramophone caught in replay; her animus married forcibly to ... to - gravitation. For like a summer wolf drawn to the white winter moon Rhos finds herself hopelessly pulled to that boy of secrets and inexorable metal, be it with ire or hope in her heart. Yesterday, with him, had been different. It had felt like times of old, and there had been a lightness to her gaze that she'd forgotten had ever existed at all.
Sighing, Rhowen rolled upward, briskly smoothing her wild curls as she did so. There was no time for dreaming, only living. Easily she pushes through the door and out into the great hallway, listening to the bustle of the court as was her morning custom. The peace was broken by Maxence's thunderous voice booming throughout the castle - bruising her delicate ears. The prospect of work instantly soured a good mood, but she knew she had avoided it for long enough. If she was ever going to shake her Denoctian past it wouldn't be by shying from effort and endeavour. With a saturnine look sprawled across her porcelain face Rhoswen drifted languidly through the passages until she breached the sunlight, feeling the Solterran heat lavish her fiery skin as she approached the gathering.
"Morning." There were three figures aiding the Sovereign already, making it a group of four - four that she watched with searing eyes of smoke. Bexley, as ravishing as ever; Maxence, tall and surly; then Raum - at the sight of him she paused, acknowledging him and the buckets they had collected together with a self-assured raise of her brow, and finally a golden man she'd never met. It appeared she'd missed most of the conversation, catching only Vadim's brief introduction. "I don't believe we've met. I'm Rhoswen," she takes a step toward to this handsomely-spun boy, flashing a dazzling smile, "but you can call me Rhos," and with a flick of her tempestuous tail she swished past him, moving toward a patch of arid land yet untouched, all the while desperately ignoring the desire to sneak a glance at Raum's expression.
@maxence @vadim @
