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Sophia the Thunder Mistress · 08-19-2003, 02:01 PM

Síriel rolled out of bed earlier than usual, the sunlight falling in strips over her pillow and shaking her from her dreams. Muttering under her breath about Tíriel and her strange desires for light and fresh air, she rose and closed the curtains, returning the comfortable darkness to the room. However, her solitude was shortlived, as a rustling in the hall soon alerted her to the presence of the chambermaids. A soft knock on her door brought her to her feet again, and she crossed the room lightly, pulling on a silver housecoat as she went.

The girl outside looked tired, her dark hair was disheveled and her eyes ringed in purple. Early morning didn't agree with her either, Síriel thought wryly as she took the two folded notes from the tray in the girl's hands. "Thank you." The girl curtsied and scurried away as Síriel was left standing in the doorway looking at the two folded slips of paper.

The first was in her brother's even hand. She unfolded it quickly and read the contents. Denethor was her little brother, and their old comeradeship was still remembered at times.

Sister Sír-
How does a masquerade ball sound to you? A little advance notice perhaps, for you to choose a costume.

Two red feathers dropped out of the folds of paper and into Síriel's hand. She squealed with glee, how wonderful of her brother to let her know the news a little early. What would she wear? She rushed to the closet, nearly dropping the second note in her haste. The second note. Síriel paused, looking at the crisp letters on the front of the note. The hand was unfamiliar to her, and she unfolded it slowly.

Lady Síriel,
As per your request, I am sending this up with your father's chamberlain. Would you care for a short walk with me in two days time at two in the afternoon? We still have the unsettled matter of the value of my services between us.
Thenidir of the Guard

Biting her lip with excitement Síriel flipped the note over and scribbled hastily on the back:

Dear Sir- It seems we have much to discuss. I shall meet you in my father's garden at the appointed time.
-S.

Ringing the bell for a maid, Síriel paced the floor impatiently. Once this note was delivered she must pick a walking costume, and once she was properly attired, she must choose a gown for Denethor's ball. There was simply too much to do, too much to do...

By half past eleven on the day she was to meet Thenidir, Siriel was looking her best. Her straight dark hair had been bundled into an elaborate twist on the back of her head, with the two red feathers stuck in at an attractive angle. She wore a flowing dark red skirt with black embroidery and flat black slippers. Her blouse was black and fitted with long sleeves to protect her white skin. A parasol was all she needed now, before her outfit was complete. This one will do, she thought, pulling a red and silver sunshade from her closet and unfolding it experimentally. She placed it over her shoulder and gave it a melodramatic twirl. Yes, it would do.

Biting her lip with barely suppressed excitement, she turned to her ball gowns. So many choices, and she had so short a time before dinner.

[ August 29, 2003: Message edited by: Sophia the Thunder Mistress ]

08-19-2003, 02:01 PM	#151
Sophia the Thunder Mistress Scent of Simbelmynë Join Date: Apr 2002 Location: Aboard Highwind, bound for Traverse Town Posts: 1,780	Síriel rolled out of bed earlier than usual, the sunlight falling in strips over her pillow and shaking her from her dreams. Muttering under her breath about Tíriel and her strange desires for light and fresh air, she rose and closed the curtains, returning the comfortable darkness to the room. However, her solitude was shortlived, as a rustling in the hall soon alerted her to the presence of the chambermaids. A soft knock on her door brought her to her feet again, and she crossed the room lightly, pulling on a silver housecoat as she went. The girl outside looked tired, her dark hair was disheveled and her eyes ringed in purple. Early morning didn't agree with her either, Síriel thought wryly as she took the two folded notes from the tray in the girl's hands. "Thank you." The girl curtsied and scurried away as Síriel was left standing in the doorway looking at the two folded slips of paper. The first was in her brother's even hand. She unfolded it quickly and read the contents. Denethor was her little brother, and their old comeradeship was still remembered at times. Sister Sír- How does a masquerade ball sound to you? A little advance notice perhaps, for you to choose a costume. Two red feathers dropped out of the folds of paper and into Síriel's hand. She squealed with glee, how wonderful of her brother to let her know the news a little early. What would she wear? She rushed to the closet, nearly dropping the second note in her haste. The second note. Síriel paused, looking at the crisp letters on the front of the note. The hand was unfamiliar to her, and she unfolded it slowly. Lady Síriel, As per your request, I am sending this up with your father's chamberlain. Would you care for a short walk with me in two days time at two in the afternoon? We still have the unsettled matter of the value of my services between us. Thenidir of the Guard Biting her lip with excitement Síriel flipped the note over and scribbled hastily on the back: Dear Sir- It seems we have much to discuss. I shall meet you in my father's garden at the appointed time. -S. Ringing the bell for a maid, Síriel paced the floor impatiently. Once this note was delivered she must pick a walking costume, and once she was properly attired, she must choose a gown for Denethor's ball. There was simply too much to do, too much to do... By half past eleven on the day she was to meet Thenidir, Siriel was looking her best. Her straight dark hair had been bundled into an elaborate twist on the back of her head, with the two red feathers stuck in at an attractive angle. She wore a flowing dark red skirt with black embroidery and flat black slippers. Her blouse was black and fitted with long sleeves to protect her white skin. A parasol was all she needed now, before her outfit was complete. This one will do, she thought, pulling a red and silver sunshade from her closet and unfolding it experimentally. She placed it over her shoulder and gave it a melodramatic twirl. Yes, it would do. Biting her lip with barely suppressed excitement, she turned to her ball gowns. So many choices, and she had so short a time before dinner. [ August 29, 2003: Message edited by: Sophia the Thunder Mistress ] __________________ The seasons fall like silver swords, the years rush ever onward; and soon I sail, to leave this world, these lands where I have wander'd. O Elbereth! O Queen who dwells beyond the Western Seas, spare me yet a little time 'ere white ships come for me!