WHO: Solas, Six, Sidony, Ashen, you! WHAT: General character open post WHEN: Covering this month. WHERE: All over! NOTES: Free for all as I come back from hiatus.
It isn't actually deliberate that Gwenaëlle stretches out on the sofa she's claimed with her wine, watching as the seamstress's maids lay out fabrics for her to consider; she's a physical sort of person, and contemplative body language is not limited to the tilts of her head or the fidget of her fingers around her wine-glass. She bends her knee up and swings her other foot over the top of it, tilting her glass absently—
“It's foolishness on their part. If they'd simply considered you when considering your future, there was at least the possibility of finding you a suitable husband you could have come to a pleasant mutual agreement with. I mean, I speak as someone who spent all of my courtships methodically sabotaging them to the point of being infamous for it, so I don't mean to say that obviously marriage is an easy solution—” a grimace, “—and obviously that's not what I did at all, in the end.”
Thranduil is nobody's idea of a suitable husband. Least of all in Orlais.
“But a marriage clearly isn't anathema to you. If they'd bent a little, you might not have had to break anything.” Stoutly, she adds, “Serves them right you did. There's freedom in it, you know.” The tilt of her mouth is sly as she lifts her glass: “To be bold. —yes, I'd like to see that one in a green, please.”
It doesn't stop Sidony's eyes drinking her in, almost hiccuping over the shape of her body. She has so few female friends - less so, now that she has ruined her prospects with a quick and deadly marriage - that she has not had much in the means of measuring her own attraction. It means that she almost struggles to draw her eyes away from the shape of Gwenaëlle's hips, her arms, the curve of a shoulder - all silly things she had been taught to trick and trap men.
She's falling for all her mother's ploys herself. What a marvellous twist of fate.
"That was never a consideration," she complains, dragging her eyes away and lifting herself up to look for some rich fabrics. Reds, or purples, or golds, she thinks idly. "My mother wished for more power in Nevarran politics and my father was content to allow her to do it. Octavian might have cared once, but he became a Mortalitasi and left me to their mercy. That is simply the path that was paved for me, left for me to muster. Byerly is a more than happy future for me."
A protective barrier, a beacon, a friend. It's more than she could have ever hoped for.
"I think I am bold enough for anyone," a soft smirk colours her lips, "and Byerly is a wonderful match for me. I do not think I could possibly have been happier in my nuptials."
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“It's foolishness on their part. If they'd simply considered you when considering your future, there was at least the possibility of finding you a suitable husband you could have come to a pleasant mutual agreement with. I mean, I speak as someone who spent all of my courtships methodically sabotaging them to the point of being infamous for it, so I don't mean to say that obviously marriage is an easy solution—” a grimace, “—and obviously that's not what I did at all, in the end.”
Thranduil is nobody's idea of a suitable husband. Least of all in Orlais.
“But a marriage clearly isn't anathema to you. If they'd bent a little, you might not have had to break anything.” Stoutly, she adds, “Serves them right you did. There's freedom in it, you know.” The tilt of her mouth is sly as she lifts her glass: “To be bold. —yes, I'd like to see that one in a green, please.”
no subject
She's falling for all her mother's ploys herself. What a marvellous twist of fate.
"That was never a consideration," she complains, dragging her eyes away and lifting herself up to look for some rich fabrics. Reds, or purples, or golds, she thinks idly. "My mother wished for more power in Nevarran politics and my father was content to allow her to do it. Octavian might have cared once, but he became a Mortalitasi and left me to their mercy. That is simply the path that was paved for me, left for me to muster. Byerly is a more than happy future for me."
A protective barrier, a beacon, a friend. It's more than she could have ever hoped for.
"I think I am bold enough for anyone," a soft smirk colours her lips, "and Byerly is a wonderful match for me. I do not think I could possibly have been happier in my nuptials."