This choice: In which we follow our heroine into the castle... • Go Back... The inside of the castle was just as gaudy and flashy as had been expected of the ostentatious aristocrat; all over the gray stone walls were fabulous paintings from across Europe, framed in nothing short a shade of gold and hung by the most elaborate chains. The entry to his monument of audacity filled with trophies (mostly the heads of game that he himself had not shot) and various other treasures that he had claimed for himself. The floor, even, was covered with a lavishly made rug woven by the blind seamstresses of Berber! From the middle, there were two heavy doors on each side along with one staircase that led up to the upper level, all in perfect symmetry with eachother and a centered door between them. Lord Marquis' guest was far from impressed, as would be if most informed of how he acquired said rarities for himself. She stood in the very center of the exotic rug, therefore in the center of the very room itself, and begrudgingly awaited the arrival of the messenger from before.
Six guards stood in about face around her, each strikingly identical countenance awaiting the arrival of said woman themselves. They didn't move, didn't blink, and didn't sneeze. The guards, either because they couldn't or wouldn't speak aloud, seemed to have a hive mind that bound them together- like puppets on the same string. Well, actually probably more graceful than that, puppets bumping into each other and all that. Either way, they were creepy and so eerily in synch with each other. Was it possible that they were all one person? The way they all moved together... it was almost like a trick with mirrors; but alas, no mirrors to be seen anywhere! As they all saluted in unison, the so-far nameless woman turned back around to see the strange woman from before, slowly coming into view as she approached the railing. "Ah, the Outspoken Girl." her voice was thick yet shrewd, with a slight accent hinted now that she was close enough to be heard correctly, "I trust that my guards gave you no trouble."
"None. They just sort of stood there." the 'outspoken one' said with detectable disdain present in her otherwise tamed tone, "They're really quite disturbing."
A light chuckle escapes her painted lips as she slinks slowly down the stairs. The woman is noticeably slender, with small curves detectable in her tailored black empire-styled gown. To match her attire the woman's hair was also a dark shade of mahogany that was tied neatly into a bun, one loose strand of hair that hanging precociously over her right ear. Her skin was not quite as pale as the women that littered the countryside of Europe at this point, but she could certainly have benefited from a little sunning. It seemed that she was already a predisposed darker tone, possibly having Spanish parents. All in all, the mysterious woman looked very much the part of a reluctant muse for an artist, or a really expensive escort in the right light. "Yes, I feel quite the same way." she said whimsically, now reaching the bottom of the steps and starting towards her begrudgingly summoned guest. Said guest could only remark to herself on how extraordinarily tall the exquisite beauty in front of her was.
"Now then, I am Sofia Montague (pronounced: Mohn-tah-gew); Daughter of Lord Henry and Flourencia Montague from hommina hommina." she said with an elegant curtsey. "Perhaps, you would be so kind as to remove your tricone so that we may begin dinner?"
With narrowed eyelids, the invited guest gave a small curtsey of her own. "I am Kathe-
"Ah ah." Lady Montague said with the utmost patience, almost like a nanny speaking to a small child picking his nose, "Your hat, please." Grumbling slightly at the formality, the outspoken guest, still in mid curtsey, had her hat removed for her; allowing a thick head of long, lusciously robust hair to fall out from under it. It appeared to be burgundy, or some other red brown, the lovely Lady Sofia could only remark as she delicately touched the hair of her bowed guest, almost as if it were... "Garnet." she said with a sense of wonder in her voice. She released her locks and stood slowly, a wide smile on her beautiful face, "Sasha Garniet would be a lovely name for you dear, it so fits your hair color." she continued, much to the chagrin of 'Sasha', "Its a lovely name, capturing your headstrong demeanor and that lovely head of hair you have; why would you ever want to mat it down underneath that dreadful hat?"
The woman snatched back her hat, causing little to no recoil in the ever-composed Lady Montague, "Because strange women feel that they are entitled to fondle it at all times!" she snapped, propping it atop the unfurled mass of lovely straight locks of red-brown. "Where is Lord Marquis, I wish to speak with him about the terms of his surrender!" her outburst was soothed not by the condescending cooing of the vertically generous lady, but by the unanimous arming of pairings muskets, pistols, and rifles alike. "Now now, Miss Garniet, there's no need for a lady such as yourself to raise your voice." she said, tenderly removing the hat from her head once again and wrapping an arm around her shoulder, "I'm sure you've had quite the long day, on top of all this rebelling and whatnot." she said sweetly, bringing herself closer to Sasha's form. "I insist that you stay for dinner so that we may discuss this whole ugly business of surrender like proper ladies."
"I am not a proper lady, at least what is left of me isn't."
Sofia cocked her head knowingly, with a slight pout to her lips as she treated 'Sasha' to the same stooping tone of voice, "Well not in those clothes you're not, Dear. But in time we can remedy that." she said snobbishly, "But for now, Gretchen has prepared for us a lovely feast that I'm sure will fill your belly, which has been rumbling since you stepped into the castle I'm sure; you poor thing." And while she detested the very spirit of haughtiness in Lady Montague's voice, the woman with garnet hair had to admit that living as a peasant didn't lend very much pride in turning up your nose to free food. And rich people food too, that stuff was good. "Alright." she said in a manner that still sounded very oriented with her prior business, "But during we'll be sure to discuss the terms and conditions of Lord Marquis' surrender?"
"Absolutely, Sasha." Lady Montague said in her 'hush-now' tone. Before her guest could even retort for what seemed like the millionth time that her name was not Sasha Garniet, Lady Montague snapped her fingers and two female maids appeared in very much the same fashion as the guards before them, "Ladies, would you please escort Miss Garniet to a guest room so that she may change into proper dinner attire? Preferably one of the under-used ones; Lord Francois does hate waste." At once, the mirrored pair of maids curtseyed and forcefully grabbed the one so incorrectly declared as 'Sasha' in very much the same way as the guards before them attempted. "Hey!" the red headed rebel cried before being all but dragged to the left of Lady Montague and slowly disappearing behind quickly closing oaken doors...   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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