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Saturnalia

lost among the hedges.

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[i]Well, that wasn’t dreadful I suppose.[/i] Ceylon mused to herself as she traced the wending path back to her private quarters, the soft leather of her boots and swish of skirts filling the long corridor. The first dance was drawing longer into the night and she had finally slipped away from the bright lights, double entendre words, and sea of faces. For a squire more gentled to the ways of gruff knights who spoke plainly during sword lessons or isolated wanderings it was all very overwhelming to say the least and for a moment she craved only a long, relaxing bath before bed, but that train of thought ended just as abruptly as her own forward momentum.

For a long moment Cey lingered at another arched entry that lead to a covered pavilion staircase, transfixed by the beauty before her. The stairs emptied out into a meandering gravel path that undulated through the foliage like a lazy snake. Being a creature that profoundly admired the trappings of nature she often frequented the gardens of Kingshill and always she found soul-settling equanimity in it, but tonight was different. Perhaps it was the silver halo the moon cast upon all of the world that transformed the gardens, or maybe she was simply seeking a quiet place to soothe her mind, but regardless of reasons Ceylon was inexorably drawn down the staircase. [i]I wouldn’t have been able to sleep anyway.. might as well take a midnight stroll.[/i] The elfling thought idly as she tugged free the pins that held her alabaster mane and shook it free, fingertips rubbing her crown to ease the tension built there.

It seemed the Drakiss weather was proving too chilly for most of the attendees and she was delighted to find the gardens empty. The warm, festive lights of the Dance glowed from the Long Hall’s windows, but hidden away in this wonderful refuge Ceylon felt buoyant. A cold breeze ushered through the garden, tugging at her hair and skirts playfully and evincing a blithe laugh from the young elf. While to other’s the weather might have seemed downright cold, to a squire that blazed like a stoked furnace it was delightfully cool. After wandering for an indeterminate amount of time Cey finally approached a favorite haunt; rounding a sharply cornered hedge would be revealed an ornate and rather large fountain surrounded by a pool and low stone wall.

Wearing what could only be described as an effervescent smile Cey gathered her gossamer skirts fairly high above the knee and hopped delicately atop the stone wall encompassing the fountain, hands poised slightly out at her sides for balance. Hesitating for a moment she gaze a cursory glance about her to check for watching eyes, because certainly it was a dire breach of protocol for a ‘lady’ to traipse about with her skirts held so high—not to mention revealed beneath wasn’t the stockings, garter, and heinous footwear propriety demanded of women, but instead Ceylon was bare-legged and wearing tall and worn-out leather boots. Reassured that her lack of manner fitting a young lady wouldn’t be known to the world the young squire playfully balanced along the precarious wall, indulging her whimsical mood for a moment. With a palpable wave the tension elicited by the night’s events seemed to ebb from her body, taking with it all the dizzying conversations that seemed to murmur over and over in the back of her mind. Ceylon hadn’t realized just how tense the dance had left her until the pressure of behaving properly was gone. Now she simply smiled.

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[FONT=Book Antiqua]While the evening’s festivities continued on and the Northern General was quietly dismissed from his great Lord Zent, Morce had found himself mildly captivated by the innocent portrayal of the young squire. There was a certain innocence that resonated from her delicate form, and even as the hours passed he could still catch the scent on him still. Her mannerisms sparked his curiosity, as even though he had come so far from when he had first entered into this world, he still had so much to learn.. and since his beloved sister was too busy to teach him, he felt Ceylon was another book he could read in the meanwhile.

So having caught a glimpse of the young maiden wandering off into the private gardens that lied in the heart of Kingshill castle, he quietly moseyed on over in her general direction. By this time of the night however, he had rid himself fully of his shredded garments leaving his toned chest bare, with britches and boots in tow. With each stride it carried him closer and his vampiric descent continued to guide him. He was quieter than a mouse, moving with an unforgotten stealth and silence. Chilling blue hues rolled passed the threshold of the garden as he rounded the corner, only to see Ceylon carefully playing chicken with the icy water in the fountain.

He didn't care to notice her inappropriate attire, in fact it was the last thing he was worried about. Knee high boots weren't exactly a rarity in his family, his mother highly favored them whether in the company of others or in battle, so to him.. it was only natural. Although, he did think it it odd that a woman of her stature would make such a precarious move as to play so dangerously next to the running water, and as his head tilted to the side like a long-lost puppy he started to quiet descend down the stairs. Would she notice him? Would he startle her? Would she feel awkward with him being as dressed down as he was? The known behemoth moved with an un-foretold grace as he made it to the bottom of the steps and onto the grassy terrain. His pale skin beamed in the moonlit, his body looking as if it was carved from stone. Each muscle was perfectly defined and placed, bulging with admiral precision. Still his beloved sword was absent from his hip and there was no doubt that his black heart was already aching for Venom’s company. But alas! It could wait just a little bit longer..

“A peculiar show of behavior, my lady Ceylon. Might I ask what are you doing?” There was no form of mocking in this question, it was completely harmless. He had never witnessed that type of action before so he was truly seeking the foundation in which it rested. He made no motion to come closer, to push or derail her. He simply observed her in with inquisitiveness.
[/FONT] Edited by MorceLa'Kai Abaz

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