Casting Pebbles
Dec 30, 2013 18:00:18 GMT -5
Post by Princess Anastasia Fyodorov on Dec 30, 2013 18:00:18 GMT -5
The meeting with King Sedrick was done, thankfully, but the weight over Anya's head hadn't fully evaporated. While matters could have been far worse, she knew the changes her father remained reluctant to speak of were coming. Slipping out of the pavilion the family shared, she went to walk quietly along the water's edge, armed with a handful of pebbles. There was something comforting about sitting on a boulder, casting stones into the still waters to see how far and wide the rings from that single rock traveled. It was a kind of parallel to her life at the moment - someone, namely Nikolai, had cast a pebble into the still, smooth waters of life, and now so many found themselves affected by the ripples and the rings.
Rings... it reminded her that her spinsterhood was in grave jeopardy. Anastasia was honest enough with herself to know that she would no longer be able to avoid a marriage of state, though to whom remained the question. There was Treniata, Linten, and if what she'd heard was true, now Montenoire to consider. Tossing another pebble into the water, she studied the shimmering surface as if it might reveal some glimpse into her future or wisdom she needed.
Dressed in a silvery-blue cloak, she blended rather well with the morning mists, thinking herself alone. Most of the Court were not known to be early risers, especially as last night's revel had continued well past the time the Fyodorovs retired to their pavilion for sleep. It was a peaceful time, a good chance to think, and she settled in to do so with a contented sense of solitude and safety.
Lord Nicholas Remington
Rings... it reminded her that her spinsterhood was in grave jeopardy. Anastasia was honest enough with herself to know that she would no longer be able to avoid a marriage of state, though to whom remained the question. There was Treniata, Linten, and if what she'd heard was true, now Montenoire to consider. Tossing another pebble into the water, she studied the shimmering surface as if it might reveal some glimpse into her future or wisdom she needed.
Dressed in a silvery-blue cloak, she blended rather well with the morning mists, thinking herself alone. Most of the Court were not known to be early risers, especially as last night's revel had continued well past the time the Fyodorovs retired to their pavilion for sleep. It was a peaceful time, a good chance to think, and she settled in to do so with a contented sense of solitude and safety.
Lord Nicholas Remington