Post by Anairë Faelandalan on Aug 18, 2010 2:59:38 GMT 2
The loud music produced by the large variety of instruments circulated throughout the entire ballroom; the beat contrasting oddly with the rhythm of Anairë’s rapid heartbeat that pounded within the confines of her chest. Noble men and women flocked to the dance floor in great excitement eager to enjoy the night and spark romantic relations. Anairë stood to the side, her back pressed firmly against the stone wall, watching with little interest as laughter erupted wildly from a young woman’s throat as a man twirled her about. It wasn’t that she hated dances, in fact she quite enjoyed them, yet tonight she felt strangely fatigued.
Before the dance had begun the Queen had gathered all the nobles to her throne room for she gave a speech of the current situation with Sanglant. There had been a bloody tale involved telling of the recent battle against the foreign country. Many wounded and dying soldiers had been sent to the infirmary where some had been placed in Anairë’s care; and a few of her patients had died of blood loss and infection. Anairë found it an odd time to celebrate. Yet this serious thought did little to stop the soft tapping of her feet against the floor.
Rolling her eyes Anairë heaved a great sigh and sipped delicately at the spicy wine within her goblet, doing her best to forget her worries. Her golden gown, the bodice ornamented with lace a shade lighter than the dress itself, shimmered faintly in the brilliant light of the hall. Black curls framed her pallid face and her brown eyes continued to scan the area with forced curiosity. Rich colors of finely woven silken gowns filled the room with a deep intensity; the warm reds, golds, greens, and purples fondly reminding her of the season autumn, her favorite time of the year.
A faint meow startled her out of her silent reverie and she tiled her head downwards spotting an orange tabby cat, its emerald eyes gleamed with inquisitiveness. Setting her goblet on the windows ledge to her left she bent downwards and scooped up the cat with her arms, her slender hand stroked the soft fur on the top of its head. “Hello Cyra,” she breathed warmly, beaming at the cat affectionately. Out of the corner of her eye Anairë noticed her older brother, Thalion, chatting aimlessly with a blonde woman. Dismissing the sight with a slight shake of her head Anairë refocused her attention on Cyra and made a clicking noise with her tongue.
Before the dance had begun the Queen had gathered all the nobles to her throne room for she gave a speech of the current situation with Sanglant. There had been a bloody tale involved telling of the recent battle against the foreign country. Many wounded and dying soldiers had been sent to the infirmary where some had been placed in Anairë’s care; and a few of her patients had died of blood loss and infection. Anairë found it an odd time to celebrate. Yet this serious thought did little to stop the soft tapping of her feet against the floor.
Rolling her eyes Anairë heaved a great sigh and sipped delicately at the spicy wine within her goblet, doing her best to forget her worries. Her golden gown, the bodice ornamented with lace a shade lighter than the dress itself, shimmered faintly in the brilliant light of the hall. Black curls framed her pallid face and her brown eyes continued to scan the area with forced curiosity. Rich colors of finely woven silken gowns filled the room with a deep intensity; the warm reds, golds, greens, and purples fondly reminding her of the season autumn, her favorite time of the year.
A faint meow startled her out of her silent reverie and she tiled her head downwards spotting an orange tabby cat, its emerald eyes gleamed with inquisitiveness. Setting her goblet on the windows ledge to her left she bent downwards and scooped up the cat with her arms, her slender hand stroked the soft fur on the top of its head. “Hello Cyra,” she breathed warmly, beaming at the cat affectionately. Out of the corner of her eye Anairë noticed her older brother, Thalion, chatting aimlessly with a blonde woman. Dismissing the sight with a slight shake of her head Anairë refocused her attention on Cyra and made a clicking noise with her tongue.
