Post by Prince Amy O'Connor on Mar 8, 2016 4:55:18 GMT
For once, Amy rose before her husband. She placed the softest of kisses upon his forehead, dressing herself without her nightly shower. Alec had requested her presence first thing when she rose and despite everything, she did not like to keep her most loyal retainer waiting. The date meant nothing to her, and so she chose one of her many Victorian dresses. The white fabric was loose and flowy, completely appropriate for a woman of her stature. It was kept tight only by the brown underbust she wore, tired perfectly, just as her father had taught her.
She only bothered with her hair and make-up out of habit, a long-present habit that she couldn’t break now, even if she wanted to. War was heavy on her mind, making every stroke of her paint thick and fierce. Even if she had no plans to hold court with any visitors, she looked as if she were ready for battle, weapons strapped beneath the ruffles, petticoats, and long brown gloves.
When, at last, she was ready to leave, she passed out of the room in complete silence. Concern passed through her as she grabbed her chalice, prepared as it was every night by her magically inclined retainers. This one tasted of Alec’s precious, Life Mage vitae, and it brought a smile to her lips. Whatever he had planned, he was worried. He only gave her life from his own veins when he was worried he had displeased her. They had lesser beings for that task.
As she moved up the stairs, she listened closely to the sounds from the manor above her. The violin music was live and upbeat, happy. It reminded her of the redheaded Gangrel that had married her best friend, centuries prior. A smile slowly crept across her features at the memory. By the time her fingers touched the metal doorknob, she was humming along with the familiar tune, content to hear the merry sounds of laughter and conversation floating to her sensitive ears.
Her smile only faltered a small bit when she opened the door.
The O’Connor manor, so often decorated in the warm and welcoming earth tones of brown and tan, was a splash of green. It almost hurt her eyes to see the banners and ribbons hung from the rafters, the blankets and pillows decorating her couches, and the leprechaun – LITERAL leprechaun – that danced on the stage.
She stumbled back a step, raising a hand to her chest. Alec appeared in her vision, wearing a green tuxedo and holding a tall pint glass filled with some green beverage. Her trained nose warned her that it was alcoholic as he handed it over, bowing his head in respect. “My Prince,” he murmured, grinning from ear to ear as she took it.
“Alec?” Her voice cracked slightly, but at least she wasn’t immediately demanding they tear everything down. She could see the expectant looks in her employee’s eyes as they all turned, holding their breath as they waited for her reaction.
“It is Saint Patrick’s Day, my Prince. It is a commonly celebrated Irish holiday. It is festive to wear and decorate with green.”
Ah. Saint Patrick’s Day. She remembered when Killian would celebrate it. In fact, as she continued to look around, her features were softened with a smile. For a moment, she was reminded of the Locke home around this time of the year. Her fingers pressed lightly into her throat, feeling it close with emotion.
They were still waiting, all looking at her with bated breath. What would their Prince do?
Slowly, she raised the glass of green beer to her lips… and took a swig of the bitter liquid.
Everybody cheered.
She only bothered with her hair and make-up out of habit, a long-present habit that she couldn’t break now, even if she wanted to. War was heavy on her mind, making every stroke of her paint thick and fierce. Even if she had no plans to hold court with any visitors, she looked as if she were ready for battle, weapons strapped beneath the ruffles, petticoats, and long brown gloves.
When, at last, she was ready to leave, she passed out of the room in complete silence. Concern passed through her as she grabbed her chalice, prepared as it was every night by her magically inclined retainers. This one tasted of Alec’s precious, Life Mage vitae, and it brought a smile to her lips. Whatever he had planned, he was worried. He only gave her life from his own veins when he was worried he had displeased her. They had lesser beings for that task.
As she moved up the stairs, she listened closely to the sounds from the manor above her. The violin music was live and upbeat, happy. It reminded her of the redheaded Gangrel that had married her best friend, centuries prior. A smile slowly crept across her features at the memory. By the time her fingers touched the metal doorknob, she was humming along with the familiar tune, content to hear the merry sounds of laughter and conversation floating to her sensitive ears.
Her smile only faltered a small bit when she opened the door.
The O’Connor manor, so often decorated in the warm and welcoming earth tones of brown and tan, was a splash of green. It almost hurt her eyes to see the banners and ribbons hung from the rafters, the blankets and pillows decorating her couches, and the leprechaun – LITERAL leprechaun – that danced on the stage.
She stumbled back a step, raising a hand to her chest. Alec appeared in her vision, wearing a green tuxedo and holding a tall pint glass filled with some green beverage. Her trained nose warned her that it was alcoholic as he handed it over, bowing his head in respect. “My Prince,” he murmured, grinning from ear to ear as she took it.
“Alec?” Her voice cracked slightly, but at least she wasn’t immediately demanding they tear everything down. She could see the expectant looks in her employee’s eyes as they all turned, holding their breath as they waited for her reaction.
“It is Saint Patrick’s Day, my Prince. It is a commonly celebrated Irish holiday. It is festive to wear and decorate with green.”
Ah. Saint Patrick’s Day. She remembered when Killian would celebrate it. In fact, as she continued to look around, her features were softened with a smile. For a moment, she was reminded of the Locke home around this time of the year. Her fingers pressed lightly into her throat, feeling it close with emotion.
They were still waiting, all looking at her with bated breath. What would their Prince do?
Slowly, she raised the glass of green beer to her lips… and took a swig of the bitter liquid.
Everybody cheered.
