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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Jul 13, 2013 22:52:47 GMT
For probably the first time since his arrival, Kiet’s face went blank at Lucille’s voice. It wasn’t her angered tone of retort, but the sweet, ready-to-stab-him-in-the-back tone that had come out of the blue. The smile was the same, something that, had he not known what she felt towards him, he might have thought was a pretty smile. But his eyes had gone big as she half danced out of the stables, leaving him with some curiously whickering horses.
Well… great. His entire plan was ruined… not that his father would be entirely surprised. To be honest, it was only the fact that there were rumors of dissidence that allowed Kiet to dress this way, giving him the opportunity to play the needy workman seeking a job. While his mother was amused that he enjoyed the company of her kinsmen so much, his father had had about enough of his playful nature. Kiet wasn’t ready to yet, to grow up into his position, but Lucille… she might have the ability to make it necessary for him to pull out that letter after all, to show the household who he was. Not only half Thai, half Scottish, but nobility; Scottish Lord Gilroy Buchanan, Earl of Dunmore, had already written a letter to Lord Chenard, asking him to allow his son to stay for a time, until it was safe to bring him back out of Thailand and home to his birthplace in Scotland.
Kiet’s father had been traveling when he had met the beautiful Malai, and only by her being from a high-ranking merchant family they had been able to wed. Despite his less than perfect noble heritage, however, Kiet’s father was death on behaving like his lord’s rank, hence his ability to slide into an aristocratic role in a heartbeat. But he had more fun being like his mother, a more wild spirit who also preferred sneaking about in the local streets than the more refined areas of education and daily life. In fact, he preferred his mother’s nickname for him: Kiet. To be truthful, his name was Lord Artair Evander Buchanan.
Little wonder he preferred a nickname to a series of old family names… His false surname, Niven, came from his father’s stable master, an older man who had taught the young noble everything he knew about animals, not just horses. He wanted so badly to try his hand at training horses, but his father’s influence went too far, and he was always denied a job because it was “below his station.” Frustrating. So when Kiet was told to make his way as quietly as possible to the Chenard household, he took the opportunity to see if he really could do it. Nelly had been more than generous in finally giving him a chance, but now this girl was going to make this a complete and utter mess. And if his father got news of this… he might have not been spanked since he was a young boy, but he was sure that his father might not mind trying again. So before Lucille did something, he’d have to confess his crime of fooling them all.
At least he knew what it felt like, to be hired and have free range with the more interesting side of household life, before it got pulled away again and be sent to elegant chambers and stuffy clothing…
---
Lucille, it seemed, was either just chock-full of surprises, or the ultimate master of suspense. Kiet was suspicious enough for Nelly to come flourishing into his room the next morning, insisting he be moved immediately in case the letter had been discovered anyway, or if Lucille had said something to make his true identity known, but that never happened. All he got was a bit of a scolding from the cook for being a little late to breakfast. The rest of the day was spent trying to charm Nelly and the others, to keep any questions about him at bay. And stayed away from Lucille… after all, if she was willing to pull pranks like a frog in water on her own nurse, what wouldn’t she do to a stranger she disliked so much?
After a few days, however, Kiet’s suspicions about what Lucille was plotting against him began to seem a little misguided. Day three was spent trying to speak with her, convince her that the last thing he wanted was to upset her – obviously – but she wouldn’t even look at him. And it wasn’t until the day after that he finally heard that she was pretending to not know who he was. By the end of the week, and two days of additional pleading with Lucille, he had given up. All he knew was that he was grateful he hadn’t broken during those few days and revealed his secret, since the only thing that changed was that a few of the staff thought he was a little neurotic, often looking over his shoulder as if expecting something to happen. After that, he began to relax again, and life on the manor was easy and mostly care-free. Of course he had fun charming Nelly, using almost every aristocratic trick up his sleeve to find some new way of complimenting her on the way she handled that, or how she looked that day. Her responses were so adorable, endearing her to him to quite a degree. It was nice, too, to be looked at with respect without any sense of distance for being a lord among commoners.
The feeling of life on easy street ended abruptly when Beastly was harmed. If the horse had been hard to deal with before, hurting he was even more skittish, but Kiet endured a few bites to get the trap off of him, and later earned the other nips trying to put on a balm on the stallion’s leg he had learned from the real Niven. It had been the others who had convinced him to instead help search the grounds, to make certain no other traps had been set, and to see if there was any hint at who had been the one to set it in the first place. It was mostly fussing over his bites, some of which turned into painful, dark purple bruises, that kept him from the stable that night, so it was only in the morning he heard about Lucille being discovered there. And it wasn’t until he heard about her episode when the barn was locked a few days later that she hadn’t eaten for a few days. She might act like a pampered brat in some ways, like a very young noble, but he had to admit she was truly dedicated to the Akhal-Teke. He was also focused on Beastly’s condition, and despite the bites he’d already received, he continued to try and tend to the injury, feeling that the infection that had started was in part his fault for not being able to do more. Maybe his father was right, then…
As usual, when not allowed near the stables, for fear he’d try to get in the stall with Beastly again if left on his own, Kiet was in the kitchen, this time eating an apple absentmindedly. Despite his determination, the bites had gotten him to miss his usually cushy place in a household to a certain level, now understanding the way Niven would brush off concern of the large bruises. At least most of the nips had gotten mostly cloth, so really it was on a forearm only that had the visible bruise, where a real bite had gotten in. Kiet had to fight the urge to rub at the spot, knowing that the little bit of hurt it had at the moment would grow about ten times as soon as he started poking at it. A somewhat defensive reflex came at hearing his name being called out, knowing one had nearly grabbed the bruised area before when his help was needed in calming another of the horses. He jumped when he heard Nelly clearly calling for him, immediately twisting his arm so it landed in his chest, which hurt of course, but at least kept it safe from a tight grip dragging him along out of fear of another bear trap incident.
“A-ah, here I am, Mistress Nell!” he called out finally, swallowing the moment of panic about his arm before moving to the doorway where he was now visible, wondering what the emergency was. Not another bear trap, was it? She sounded truly panicked again, although had he known what she was about to ask of him, he’d probably bolt back to Beastly’s stall. Safer than dealing with Lucille…
(Aaaand now Kiet's background is revealed (to the readers anyway ) - a very nice way of being able to explain it ^_^(been waiting to write that for a while! heehee))
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Post by Kelathi on Jul 15, 2013 0:32:13 GMT
[[Woo! I laughed at your last line… XD]]
Nelly blustered into the room like a chicken just escaped from slaughter, all red-faced, clucking, and flustered with panic. Her face was instantly consumed with relief when she saw him, she could hardly contain herself. "Oh Kiet, please do help! Our Mistress has gone mad! Why I hardly know what to do.. yes, yes follow, and do hurry! Oh my what to do…"
She was bustling out of the room as quickly as she had entered, seemingly having remembered Kiet's wounds by not grabbing his arm. As they rushed through the household, Kiet's long strides somehow kept up with Nelly's pitter-pattering feet as she took quick panicked steps. Bit by bit the situation leaked through Nelly's gasps as she rushed to explain the situation.
Anyone viewing her distraught nature might have taken it as a slight overreaction, but when one takes into account Lucille's own nature… It was a little more understandable. She was a devil to control indoors, how would she fare outside? She had no knowledge of the world outside. No street smarts whatsoever. Nelly knew all the tricks and ploys to avoid and how to deal with situations, but she could not leave the house to the butler. She was head maid, and with the Mistress of the house absent, in charge.
"Mistress has decided to go out… Out! Why never in my… She never goes out. What to do? But I must stay here! And I was thinking, you know the place, you know the natives, it would make sense… oh how could I ask? Could you watch over her? Oh how could I ask!? But I can't go I have to stay here… oh my there she goes! Stop the coach!" This last call was aimed at the coach driver and was a near screech. Said coach-driver, with one look at Nelly's flustering form, pulled on the reigns, stilling the horses.
As the carriage drew to a sudden stop, inside it's plush interior Lucille sighed deeply and threw her hands up in exasperation, before closing her fan with a sharp snap and throwing it onto the plush empty seat opposite her. "Oh what now?" She murmured angrily, expecting to see Nelly, as the coach door was pulled open.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Jul 15, 2013 3:00:22 GMT
While Nelly’s grasp wasn’t a problem, her gasping explanation didn’t help matters any. Kiet’s initial response was to wonder why she was telling him all this, because he couldn’t come up with a single thing he could do to help. He barely got a moment to interject and ask why she was dragging him along, out the door and after the coach. Which had Lucille in it…
Before he had the opportunity to argue and resist, he was being dragged – and pushed – towards the carriage. Seemed Nelly had forgone the how to ask Kiet to help and gone straight to his helping, even screeching practically in his ear when she yelled for the driver. When the coach door was opened, however, there was only one thing that went through his mind, and it had nothing to do with Nelly’s insistence and sharp voice. It had everything to do with the irritated voice and gaze directed at the first person in sight, which he was.
Heaven help me…
“Mistress Nell,” he began, just barely avoiding an uncertain stutter with his years of vocal training thanks to his father, “I… do not think this is such a wise decision…” His voice ended on a bit of a plea, even if he was surprised at the lady sitting inside the coach. But there was no amount of jewels, fine clothes and makeup that could disguise those wild eyes.
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Post by Kelathi on Jul 15, 2013 14:20:30 GMT
Nelly's face was sorrowful, as if she understood Kiet's reluctant attitude, nodding in dismay and pity. Yet she showed no sign of letting up and allowing him to escape. She ushered him into the coach, her bulk blocking his way, her voice dripping with gratitude. "Thank you Kiet, thank you so much, I have to stay here you see, otherwise i'd have gone myself. Oh take care of her!"
Lucille was about as happy as Kiet with the situation, but her cries of indignation fell on deaf ears, and there was nothing she could do but pull the hem of her dress quickly out of the way of Kiet's stumbling feet as he was half pushed into the coach. "Nelly! Wha…" were the only words that left her mouth as Kiet blundered in, the door swiftly closed behind him, seemingly to stop him from escaping. Lucille was struck speechless, a rare feat in itself, then turned her look of dismay to Kiet, which swiftly changed to a dark stare, as if it was his fault for their predicament, as if he had volunteered himself and had not been as helpless in the choice as had been obviously displayed. She swiped her fan up quickly, which had fallen to the floor in the frenzy, and flicked it open. She began to fan herself, turning her face away from him to look out the window. Her whole demeanour was stiff and unyielding, obviously unhappy with the present company. She offered no words to him, but one thing was for sure… if she intended to keep up the act of ignoring him, it was going to be difficult in such close quarters.
The coach began to move. If Kiet truly wanted to escape, now would be the chance… but it would look very undignified to leap out of a moving coach.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Jul 16, 2013 2:35:53 GMT
“Sorrowful” still didn’t equal “helpful,” and before he could bolt out the door was closed on him, almost with the click of an executioner’s axe. If he had been given the chance to practice such things as jumping out of carriages, Kiet would have attempted it, but his father’s insistence on his behaving like a gentleman had fouled up those ideas. And with the unease of his precarious place with Lucille – both metaphorically and physically – he was more likely to get his neck broken bolting out, so upon the carriage moving, he was effectively trapped into “helping.” He had nearly yelped in surprise and protest when Nelly pushed him inside, earning the first dirty look from the half breed since his arrival as she shut the door.
It was almost an entertaining sight, with him pressed as firmly into the seat opposite Lucille to make sure he wasn’t touching her, like he wanted to simply sink into the cushions and vanish. Out the window he could see the safety of the manor vanishing, namely now that the temperamental mistress was out of it. This wasn’t like when he was picked up off the street, sulking while his father sat opposite him and lectured the entire trip home. No, the sense of discomfort was solely from being across from a woman who had decided she despised him, rather than having soft cushions and silk fabric rubbing and catching on rough workman’s clothes.
Despite everything, Kiet disliked that she was trying to continue the pretense of ignoring his existence in these enclosed parameters, finally getting the courage to try and speak to her again. His uncertainty over the situation drew out the aristocratic tone, not in the least sarcastic or teasing this time, the accent still there but his words clear and unmarred by a street-based drawl. “I am… truly sorry about this, madame…”
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Post by Kelathi on Dec 8, 2013 22:49:44 GMT
A heavy sigh greeted his apology, and her dark gaze shifted back to him. Then she flicked the fan shut with a sudden, violent snap, and the tirade of emotion burst forth. “You didn’t have to come. I am perfectly capable on my own. It’s not like I haven’t been out before! This is all a complete overreaction, and I would have you know...” The complaints came pouring out from the rose lips, before she halted suddenly, as if just then realizing his helpless position as bystander in all this, and sighed again, quite melodramatically, averting her gaze once more outside. When her eyes fell on him again, she seemed slightly more amiable. That is, she felt it worth speaking to him rather than treating him with complete silent hostility...
“Where did you even come from?” She asked irritably. “There was no word of your arrival, my father tells me everything.” Evidently, she was referring to is arrival at the mansion, not his presence in the carriage now.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Dec 9, 2013 2:06:56 GMT
Kiet nearly jumped out of his skin at hearing the fan snap shut, having been looking out longingly at the freedom outside the carriage, looking like he thought he’d been bitten. As she began to rant at him, he was frozen still but with a hundred responses to her accusations. Didn’t have to come?! He didn’t want to come! Overreaction was right – this wasn’t his fault!
She fell quiet again, and the breath Kiet realized he had been holding came out slowly and softly in relief. Then came the kicker; a question about his presence. His expression at her went completely blank, although the shock of his expression was partly with color draining from his face. “Aah…” he began, clearly thrown off by the question, needing several moments to collect an answer. “W-well, my presence here was not pre-preplanned, as it were… my arrival would not have been known to Lord Chenard,” he managed to piece together, not sure how he could say anything more without the whole truth tumbling out.
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Post by Kelathi on Dec 13, 2013 22:09:04 GMT
"I see." She replied, looking quite unconvinced. Whether it was because she simply expected him to lie to her, or she actually sensed that what he told was not the complete truth, was unclear. Either way, it was evident that she did not believe a word that he uttered at that moment. Another sigh, at which she reopened the fan, gently this time, and began to fan herself again, slower. It seemed she was settling to his presence, or at least, accepting the fact that there was nothing she could do about it right now. "Well, as you are here, you can make yourself useful. I am not sure what I will buying, but I am sure there will be lots of it. You can help carry whatever it is." She stated her terms rather bluntly, not expecting any backlash. She was the lady, after all, and he merely a stable-hand, so he would be expected to do what was required of him. She would not be carrying the items herself, so by 'help', one could only assume that the coach driver would also be assisting.
"I hear there are some new rather lovely clothes shops nearby, shops like back home. But I also want to go to one of the market places they have in this place." She uttered the last sentence with a casual wave of her fan, as if it was a regular excursion. In fact, she had only been to the first shops she had mentioned, under close supervision of Nelly. If Kiet had known any better, he would have noted that there was trouble afoot. This was why she had thundered out of the house as she had, knowing that Nelly would never have agreed to take her to the marketplace. Bustling and endlessly busy, Nelly much preferred the familiar streets of Paris. There, too, she could easily keep an eye on Lucille. The market place, however... It was going to be interesting.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Dec 17, 2013 6:59:24 GMT
Oh thank god… She wasn’t asking him further. That in of itself was a miracle. His lack of (as noticeable) a jump was also a miracle as her fan came out again, still ready for her to say or do something that would one way or another pull the whole truth to the surface. Fortunately, this was not the case. At least not yet. Instead, Lucille began to speak of shopping, Kiet unsure what she meant at first. Realizing what she was accepting his presence for, he had to stop himself from one of two reactions: a huge sigh of relief, or a crazed little laugh of relief.
Things were getting to the point that Kiet was feeling less interested in keeping his secret for the experience, so much as he didn’t want to know what Lucille would do if she found out he’d been lying to her about his origins this long…
“I would be happy to assist you, mi’lady,” he tried to say in a way that would smooth out his performance, far too focused on simply maintaining the image than even considering the idea that the lady was attempting to do something she wasn’t supposed to do. He would have been far less composed had he known, even considering his current state.
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Post by Kelathi on Jan 2, 2014 23:18:26 GMT
A small smile, hidden by the fan, slipped onto her lips.
***
The shopping was anything but uneventful. They pulled up in a... rather westernised street, the country's own slice of England nestled in the heart of the bustling city. As they stepped out of the carriage, Lucille turned on the spot slowly, her gaze flitting from one thing to another, from the cyclos to the street vendors. Their surroundings were rife with colour and sound and smells. It took her a moment to compose herself. Outside, the madness of the hot, frenzied streets, inside, the clean, claustrophobic politeness of the english. Her corset felt suddenly very tight. She composed herself quickly, resisting the urge to gasp for breath as the shop attendant hurried towards her.
Chaos ensued. This dress it too large. This is too little. How thin did he think she was? How was she supposed to breathe in this? This is the wrong blue. That one has too many ribbons. Dress after dress after dress. Time and time again she stepped out from the changing room, sporting a new, and very expensive frock, and looked at herself critically in the mirror. Whilst the attendant desperately gushed at how beautiful she looked in this, and how that matched her eyes, she seemed to ignore him entirely. Instead, she fired accusing questions, that sounded more like demands, at Kiet with a fierceness she had not shown before. "What about this one?" "How does this look?" "What about these shoes?"
None of his answers seemed to please. Too flattering and she responded in anger. Not flattering enough, and she responded in kind. On and on, until it seemed she had tried every dress in the shop. A pile of items, dresses and hats that had not been discarded with an angry flick of her porcelain hand began to grow steadily, so much so that the attendant had to ask for help, and soon there were half a dozen of them trying to help pack all the clothes, return discarded clothes to their hangers, and simultaneously help their obviously incredibly rich customer.
As she returned to the changing room with yet another dress, amidst the bustling of the attendees, she drew the curtain to the side a fraction, looking out at Kiet whilst his gaze was diverted, and a small smile slipped onto her lips. He was cracking, she was sure of it. Lucille could be difficult at the best of times, but right now she truly was performing to her full potential. Why though? Just because she disliked him? Or was there a reason for this?
A few hours later, they finally left, and walked triumphantly towards the carriage, followed by a trail of attendees as they hurriedly tried to pile the boxes of clothes securely behind the carriage driver. "Talat!" She announced happily. Evidently, it wasn't over. Now it was time for the marketplace.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Jan 15, 2014 4:56:16 GMT
Had Kiet known what he was in for, he would have jumped out of the carriage. Better a broken neck than what torture he ended up enduring…
At first he hadn’t suspected anything, wincing at seeing an inordinate amount of frills, lace and ribbons about. Far too familiar for his own taste, having been forced into fittings himself. And the ribbons, lace and god-awful frills everywhere. He couldn’t resist the shiver when no one was looking when one of the gowns he had spotted had turned out to be a gentleman’s coat after all. Just his father’s style, too.
Once he was prodded into position, however, realization dawned in unison with dread. And now it was too late. Dress after dress, the images in front of him began to blur, but only once did he make the mistake of asking if she hadn’t worn the same dress already. That earned an even worse response than when he tried the silent route earlier, to her dangerous annoyance. As tiresome as clothes shopping was when he was the subject, he was beginning to consider waving one of the white handkerchiefs in surrender. Rather than trying to play a loyal servant, Kiet was half cowering on his seat, looking exhausted and absolutely ready to crack. Was this her way of getting him to confess the truth after all?
Leaving was like a miracle. It took quite a bit of willpower to not fall on his knees, cross his heart and utter a grateful Latin prayer. Tying the boxes up, he was ready to leave, but froze for a few moments at hearing Lucille’s happy tone. Kiet had already learned that Lucille sounding happy could only mean one thing: trouble. “Where do we go, mi’lady?” he asked, not sure if he really wanted to know if the answer wasn’t going to be home.
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Post by Kelathi on Feb 22, 2014 0:10:51 GMT
"The market place, of course!" Lucille announced happily, a mischievous glint in her eyes, snapping her fan open again. To Kiet, it probably sounded like the snapping of the taut rope of a noose...
**
As they rolled into the bustling marketplace, the carriage was simply forced to stop, looking abandoned and sandwiched awkwardly between stalls. People immediately surrounded it, shouting out prices of wares and offering anything from fresh fish that still flapped around in bowls to delicately embroidered cloths. As Lucille stepped out of the cart, even the driver was looking worried. As Kiet stepped out, he exchanged glances, and tipped his hat to him. "G'd luck." He murmured empathetically, before hopping off and trying to tend to his horse, shooing away locals who were already preoccupied with the beast. Lucille was already far ahead. Despite how her elaborate dress and snow-white skin stood out against the locals, there were so many people that in a few moments she was barely visible amongst the throng. Perhaps now would be the time that Kiet would understand just why Nelly had been so worried... It was Kiet's job to keep an eye on Lucille, along with simultaneously keeping an eye out for pick-pocketers... It was probably going to be akin to trying to catch smoke in a net.
Unfortunately for Kiet, Lucille did not want someone to tag along after her. In fact, her very intention all along had been to lose her escort as soon as possible. It was not particularly against Kiet, despite her apparent unfathomable vendetta against him. In fact she had hoped to make the journey without such an escort. She had never been anywhere without anyone, never been free to explore beyond the grounds of her home. This was a small chance of freedom. She was not going to waste it. That was the reason for the extensive shopping beforehand. She had hoped to wear Kiet out, so that he would not be in top form when they got here.
With a glance in his direction, they locked eyes for a moment. The characteristically small, mischievous smile slipped onto her lips. Then she stepped away, and disappeared amongst the throng of people.
((Bwuhahaha! Good luck Kiet ))
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Feb 26, 2014 23:36:12 GMT
"Of... of course..." Kiet's voice showed he was starting to see there was something else going on, and clearly dreading what was to come...
---
The driver's note as Kiet stepped out of the carriage was less than inspiring, and he found himself itching to bolt off into the crowds and escape the insanity that was Lady Lucille. Until he realized that that was precisely what Lucille seemed to be doing. At first he started to follow, but the crowds had stalled him long enough to catch that smug little grin. So, uncharacteristic for a loyal servant, he sighed, leaned back against the carriage, and started a little prayer that he'd been given a break.
"Shouldn't ye be gettin' her?" the driver noted finally, taking a break from shooing off the crowds from the horse. He was surprised that the usually charming half-breed shot him a dirty look, coupled with a sharp, "Why should I? It would probably serve her... do her some good to experience being alone." And I really have no desire to follow her throughout the town if she's intent on getting away from me anyway!
"She's never been alone. She needs protection..." the driver argued, although it was clear he was not about to abandon the horse for the same cause. Not when he had to shoo off another local, anyway. "Besides," the man continued, finally coming up with an argument Kiet couldn't fight, "Miss Nelly is counting on you to take care of her." A few moment's stillness was followed by a vexed, unexpectedly tolerant sigh. Kiet finally pushed his way into the crowds, softly muttering curses about Miss Nelly, the driver, Lucille, and being the one stuck between the lot of them.
This was not going to be fun.
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Post by Kelathi on Mar 14, 2014 3:16:57 GMT
It had been easier than she had expected to give Kiet the slip, and she expected perhaps a short chase, in which he would give up and return to the carriage. It seemed to be that way, for after a while she no longer spotted glimpses of him amongst the throng. In the heart of the market, she paused, and closed her eyes for a moment. She inhaled deeply... cinnamon, cooked chicken, perfume... She exhaled, and opened her eyes. Freedom.
The heat was near unbearable, but she was used to the way that it enveloped her. The noise was baffling, but she enjoyed the way it filled her senses. The sights were many, the day was young, and her soul was soaring.
She tried everything. There was not a stall she could pass without running her fingers through the embroidered cloth, or tasting the exotic delicacies that were on offer. When she conversed with the stall owners they were both surprised and overjoyed at her fluency in their language, and welcomed her presence with open arms. Where she went there was laughter and banter, and wherever she walked there was always a child or two, reaching out with curious fingers to touch the satin of her dress.
At one point, she took a seat in the shade, just looking out and people watching, a faint smile on her face. It saddened her to remember that she would have to leave this place, and return home with it's high, impenetrable walls... But for now, she was out in the open, the sun on her face, so she pushed those thoughts away.
It took the better part of two hours before Lucille was spotted again.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Mar 15, 2014 15:26:59 GMT
Kiet had been right in his prediction. The two hours were spent cursing up a storm, hearing snatches of the stranger in the silken dress here and there, but never enough to concretely locate her. Each miss would increase the level of profanity, so by the time he was ready to take a break he was running out of things to say. Which, having used to hang out with sailors, was saying something.
Finally, he spotted the blonde, and with a strange murmur of curse and praise, rushed forward, barely taking his eyes off of her in order to avoid running into people. “Miss Lucille! MISS!” Kiet was at least smart enough to not say anything until he was within a few feet of her, quickly grabbing her arm to avoid her darting out of reach before he could do anything. She had been surprisingly good at hiding, something Kiet would be loathe to admit was an admirable ability of hers, having tried to do the same himself countless times.
“Mistress,” he said, a little breathlessly from running about with curses streaming out of him, “It is not safe for you to be out alone.” What seemed on the surface surprising was, as much as his hand was holding her arm to keep her from bolting off, he wasn’t dragging her anywhere. “If you want to look, I will go with you. We can go where you want, but… You don’t know the areas to avoid, the ones that are dangerous.”
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