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 Posted: Thu Dec 31, 2015 8:36 pm
 xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxｉxx ｎｅｅｄxx ｙｏｕ xxｔｏxx ｆｉｇｈｔxx ｂｙxx ｍｙxx ｓｉｄｅ
xxxxx _________ xxxxx because you're the only ending to my fairy-tale .
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Posted: Sat Jan 02, 2016 10:58 am
  The princess laid in her bed pretending to sleep for what felt like centuries, listening for the silence outside her door that meant the household had retired for the night. After a silent supper, during which Aurelie promptly sat herself at the opposite end of the table from her mother, stepfather and stepbrother, the girl had excused herself to her rooms with the excuse of feeling ill. Really, though, she just wanted to get away. Far, far away from this place. With any luck, no one would come to wake her until they noticed that she was not at breakfast, and by then she would be hidden somewhere among the trees in the forest. The princess flung off her heavy blankets, stepping carefully onto the cold floor. She was still fully clothed -- though she had changed into her riding gear rather than the thick, frilly dress she had worn to dinner. She assumed it would be easier to make a get away without all of the lace and layers.
Aurelie padded across the floor to her wardrobe, where she took out her riding boots and a cloth drawstring bag before returning to sit on the edge of her bed. The brunette laced up the boots, making sure that they were nice and tight so as not to come undone when she ran. When she had finished that, she stood and took the bag -- which held some bread she had taken away from supper, a small pouch of coins, and a skin of water -- and tied the cords tight together at the ends to create a sort of strap. She slung it over her head so that the bag hung at her waist, and then turned to face her bed with her brow furrowed. How on earth was she going to manage this? With a frustrated sigh Aurelie ripped all of the sheets off of her bed, setting to work tying each of the ends together as best she could. She hoped that none of the pieces would come apart on her.
With one last listen at her door to be sure that no one was coming, the princess took her sheet-rope and dragged the heavy load of cloth out to her balcony. She tied one last knot, securing the end to one of the railing posts and trying to ignore how the frigid air froze her fingers. Peeking over the edge to check that there was no one at the bottom, Aurelie hoisted herself over the railing. Trying not to look down as she inched her way lower, she took the sheets in her hands and pushed her feet away from the balcony's edge, eyes clenched shut. When she was sure that she had not immediately fallen to her death Aurelie opened her eyes and continued on, hand under hand until she felt her feet touch the ground. Then, she ran. She ran as hard and as fast as she could through the cold night air, and did not stop running until dawn brought a lightness to the edges of the earth. In the distance, the tree line of the forest sat, offering her the shelter that she so desperately wanted.
The princess slowed her pace, at last allowing herself a moment to breathe. However, just when she thought that she was going to be safe, a sound of horses hooves thundering across the hard, frozen earth began to grow louder and louder. Four men appeared in the distance -- the owners of the horses that Aurelie was hearing. When they caught sight of her nearing the forest, they spurred their horses faster, shouting and hollering crudely. Then, the princess was running again. Though she was no match for the horses, if she could reach the thick underbrush in time, perhaps the men would have to continue on foot.
They did just as she had expected, and the frightened princess bounded into the edge of the trees. It wasn't yet too thick to move, but Aurelie was not able to escape the men as easily as she had anticipated, and within moments she was cornered against a tree. The men -- no doubt sent after her the second her stepfather realized that she had gone -- spoke vulgar words and smirked unpleasantly, and the princess quickly pulled the bag from her shoulder holding it up as though she was going to try to fend them off with it. Quote: ooc: sorry this is such a long starting post .-. I got carried away with the actual leaving the castle part xD
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Posted: Sun Jan 03, 2016 12:40 am
Tristan do this, Tristan do that. Tristan, tighten the laces. Tristan, iron the leather better. Meh-meh-meh. The pleb sighed and huffed locks of his hair out of his face as he bent down to pick up a fa-ggot of sticks. His back ached in protest, making him groan. An inured finger caught on a sharp, thorny piece of wood and he cursed his ancestors back to the stone ages. He only stared at the blood in distaste, marking the injury as another one for the books. A hard life was one that he lived indeed; one that consisted of calloused, scarred hands and late working nights. Such was the life of a peasant, he supposed. There wasn't every very much he could've done about living the life he did. His parents went through this work daily. Same case with his grandparents, and presumably everyone before them until there wasn't anyone left. It was difficult but Tristan understood very well that he could've had it much worse. There were children around him who stole bred and lived as beggars just to get by. If it were up to him, he would do everything within his ability to exterminate the serf population. It created an endless cycle. Sure, you grew some nice crops a few times a year, enough to make a good profit. But what about your children, then? Your old mother, if she was still alive? Your wife? And the debt you inevitably owed to your lord? That wasn't going to go away anytime soon. The contract followed you in blood along with life. You could not abscond from such, no matter how hard you tried. Generations would be haunted with a leash that restrained you them a life of poverty and struggle. He was one of the few, very lucky ones. His bloodline had escaped that life. Over time, they honed their craft into something they could be proud of. Into something they could teach their children to do happily. Something they could survive off of, without a person breathing down their neck.
Well, it turns out there was never someone not breathing down your neck. It didn't matter what your position was in society. You had expectations from everyone. There were times where Tristan wanted to grab one of his finely crafted arrows and jab it into the knee of his nag of a woman merchant. She sold his crafts at prices higher than he'd expected, because she valued his authenticity and his skill. Because he was still in business and doing surprisingly well, it seemed as if other people thought the same. Such had been the case with his parents, their parents, and more. The fates of the craftsmen and their merchants were intertwined, unfortunately. Especially of this pair. It would've been better if the old hag had any redeeming qualities, but she was just ugly and mean. Probably made some good money. Knew she had a husband. Poor man. Could Tristan really complain, though? At least the man had a woman at his bedside. Someone to care for him if he became ill. Someone that cared. No matter how annoying that person might've been, they were there if you needed them. Tristan didn't have that. He had himself, his tools, his cottage and his memories. Until a few years prior, the pleb had his parents' company. He'd wake up each day and work for them. From shoemaking to fletching, he learned it all. How to cook for himself, gather his own supplies, interact with sellers, and repair pretty much anything and everything that needed repairing. With enough resin, bark and string anything could be accomplished. These were the teachings of his parents, ripped from his hands because of tuberculosis. If it wasn't hunger, pneumonia, or fever, TB took you. You get the coughs, and then it's pretty much over. That being said, the doctors who had overseen the death of his loved ones offered Tristan very grim words:
If it took your family, it will come for you soon.
But that was five years ago. He was as healthy as a peasant could be. Maybe even healthier, considering his living conditions weren't awful. His cottage was positioned afar from where most people lived. It wasn't convenient, but it made it easier for him to care for himself. Every time he needed fresh water, he could pick it from a creek that flowed independent of the river everyone laid their waste in. Such a creek so wonderfully positioned, that the rocks and stones laid within it helped purify any excretions(natural or otherwise) that might've made their way into the liquid. Furthermore, he collected rainwater. It rained often and in the city, it meant floods of urine and feces. Not here. It meant fresher water. Surplus supply is what it meant. More to sell and even use if he so wished. He wasn't a farmer but kept his own garden. Onions, Garlic, Cabbage, Carrots, Leeks, Peas, Aparagus, and Turnips. Small cultivation that was perfect for him. In the rather often case he would grow surplus, it could be stored or sold. What Tristan enjoyed most were his fruits, though he didn't grow very many. The conditions made it difficult. These included quince, cherries, and a lucky pear once in a while. Apples were bought at the market. The berries he grew so fond of could only be grown in the wild, so once in a while he'd wander about his backyard, within the overgrowth of the untouched forest and find some raspberries or red currants. It was a miracle to find very many, but when he did, he saved them for himself. They reminded him of his childhood and simpler times. When he was younger, his parents would always save such luxuries for him. He was a spoiled as any pleb could be. For any items he couldn't grow or produce himself, he ventured out on a 30 minute walk into the town-space(usually in the morning) to purchase them. This included fish, bread, oils, soap, ale, beer, mead and the like. Perhaps one of the biggest downsides of living where he lived were the animals behind his home that roamed from the wood to take a bite out of what he grew or himself. However, that problem was quickly solved with barbed wire. Tristan's humble crafting earned him enough to purchase whatever he needed, plus some if he felt like treating himself. He wasn't the type of person to spend his money willy-nilly on luxuries. The rustic man was raised on good morals and the bare minimum, with other additions sprinkled in here and there. It made him a fine man. Now a grumpy, lonely one, but still a fine man.
Again the Pleb bent down to pick up a bundle of wood he could use for the archery when the distant sound of hooves striking the ground mercilessly called his attention. The supplies were piled up into a cart and he turned to where he thought the sound was coming from, seeing nothing. Just more brush. Trees and bushes went on for miles. Who was coming through here? Let alone with a cavalry, it seemed? Deciding he'd quench his curiosity because he didn't have anything better to do, Tristan clenched his bloody finger against his palm and made his way into woodlands. It was quite intimidating to walk towards the sound of horses, especially since he was quite a ways away from his home and deep in the woods He stopped and considered turning back, thinking of what exactly he'd discover. A witch, perchance? Luring him into the forest with an enticing beat?
Really, did he have anything to lose? There was his life...
Amidst the presence of what he hoped to be seductive witch? To be sent to hell while experiencing heaven? It didn't sound so bad. He reminded himself he was insane and daydreamed of nonsensical things far too much before proceeding. 15 to 20 minutes of walking later, he just about gave up, only to be met with the figure of a woman sprinting towards him. He froze. What? Usually women ran away from him, not openly towards his arms. The only time a lovely looking woman like herself would willingly run towards someone like him were if they were in danger. Behind her now, were the figures of Knights.
His hypothesis held up. She was most certainly in danger. But from what Tristan could observe, the figures didn't seem to be carrying any weapons. Perhaps they didn't intend any harm? Why were they riding towards her with such force, then? Capture and retrieve? That certainly made sense, especially if she needed to be turned in in once piece to whatever person wanted her. Forget a seductive witch, this turn of possible events underplaying in his mind was sounding more like a fairy tale. He vaguely worried about his sanity before hiding behind a tree with a thick trunk, still observing from afar.
Eventually, the men dismounted from their steeds, chasing after the surprisingly swift woman on foot. The pleb found himself silently cheering for her to get away, but the men were faster. They cornered her. Tristan carefully stepped closer, about the half the distance away from their horses who stood calmly watching the scene unravel. He shot them a glare, but they did not understand.
"- shame Nikolas wants 'er back. Truly a fine specimen," He held his hand out to touch her, but was swatted away by a bag. The man's partner attempted to interfere as well, but was too pushed away. Tristan was panicking. What was he to do? Well...
He threw a rock at the larger one. It hit him square in the head. Spooked, the guy turned around and looked at the man next to him incredulously. They were in the middle of the damn woods and surely didn't expect some Pleb to be throwing stones at them. The latter man didn't catch the confusion, so they both turned to hurt the girl again, but another rock was thrown. This time at the other man. A similar was exchange happened. Tristan cursed silently under his breath. He was running out of rocks. His next course of action was to attack the horses. Gathering a number of rather heavy stones in his arms, he hid from their sight and threw a barrage, hoping to frighten them enough to run off. The first few tosses missed, but once he got his aim down, it began working. They snorted and stomped. Tristan successfully landed a strong hit in the neck of the brown spotted one and an even more powerful strike to the speckled one's face. They neighed loudly and turned on a heel, deciding to get the hell out of there.
One of the knights looked back and panicked, yelling for the horses to come back. The animals were running off without a single care in the world. Tristan thought it was less out of being scared and more out of finally being able to get away from those fat men. Some knights they were, he didn't see very much muscle sculpted underneath that tight clothing and armour. He knew short, fat men when he saw them - they frequented one of his favorite taverns. But still, they were unexpectedly fast. Probably from running away, Tristan thought smugly. He had to crouch down in the underbrush and make it seem like he was a piece of nature in order to avoid alerting the attention of the man who was running after the horses. What an idiot. They were much faster than him, yet he still ran. He assumed they would probably get into a lot of trouble if they lost trained horses, and cared more about their own hides than raping this poor girl. Then it begged the question: What did they have to lose if they didn't bring her back?
Tristan was already getting a sick taste in his mouth from what he could see the remaining man was attempting to do. He didn't want to wait and see any more. Another object was thrown at the man, the last of Tristan's ammunition. This one was covered in wet moss and moist dirt. It exploded all over the back of his large head and he hissed annoyance, now fully turning his attention to whatever presence followed them. However, the brute miscalculated the direction in which the mudpie was thrown at him. He was examining the opposite direction, which gave Tristan a chance to lock eyes with the girl's. He put a finger up to his lips and disappeared behind his hiding tree when the troll clicked his tongue and grabbed the woman's hair.
"He said he wanted you back unharmed, but I don't think he'd mind if I tousled you up a bit," The knight grunted, towering over her and attempting to reach for her chest. Rage began boiling up in the bearded peasant man. He clenched his fists and circled around, looking for anything that could've been used as a weapon. Glancing down at his belt at his shears used for trimming branches and stripping them of their leaves, as well as his dagger and whittling knife. his blood turned ice cold. Was he about to kill a man?
The pounding of his heart and rushing adrenaline was making his head fuzzy. He couldn't think correctly. All he knew is that that man needed to pay for trying to defile that woman. Silently, blood rushing, Tristan tip-toed his way behind the him, shear and whittling knife in hands. Once directly behind the oaf, the inexperienced warrior plunged the knife into the man's back, directly into his liver. He cried out in pain and turned to the assailant behind him, only long enough to catch a glance at steely green eyes before the shears were stabbed into his stomach. He coughed up blood and fell to his knees, howling in pain. "Go," The pleb told the girl quickly, turning to follow but the savage stuck his large hand out to grab Tristan's ankle with a death-grip. He was barely cognitive.
Tristan panicked and brought out his dagger out from his side-belt, stabbing it through the stranger's hand, pinning it to the ground. A garbled scream of pain sounded, louder than before. Creatures would hear and come for them. They would smell the blood, too. He needed to shut him up. In the barbarian's haze, he could do nothing. It gave Tristan the perfect chance to remove the shears and whittling knife from his body, only to plunge it further into the back of his neck and heart, effectively quieting him. His tools were returned to his side when he determined the knight was dead, and picked up the fat man's ankles, dragging him out of sight. He hid him in a spot of thicket no one but the wolves would find him in. Following that, he kicked and made a mess of the ground that had his blood on it, covering it up with leaves and grass and dirt until it looked quite normal.
When his swift work was finished, Tristan broke into a sprint after the girl, realizing something when he quickly caught up to her. The knights before weren't fast at all, the woman was just exceptionally slow. She wheezed with her breaths and movements, an indication that she wasn't used to this vigor. Her perfectly groomed face and clothing made him think she must've been a noble. She ran until she could no more, and the peasant stopped with her, stopping to try and locate himself. He'd lost track of where they were in the woods from all the running. Taking a moment to walk over to large tree in the distance, he uncovered some of the dirt masking its roots to see a nick he'd left in the wood. Tristan covered it up with dirt. They helped him know where he'd been and how far he'd walked. Why cover it up? One could never be too sure. It wasn't good to know that people roamed these back woods. People would talk, think you a demon or nymph. He didn't need that kind of title.
Turning to the startled and nervous looking girl, Tristan sucked in a breathe and rubbed his nose. He blinked in surprise. His hands were covered in blood, still wet. Frowning, dirtied hands were wiped on the ground, where their red hue faded into a hardly noticeable brown color. "I've a cart with supplies not to far from here. There's a spot of water." He offered, putting his hands up to show he was not a threat. "Are you alright, miss?" She looked a pale as a corpse. How long had she been running?
Tristan didn't wait for her to answer. He simply motioned for her to follow him and they walked for quite a bit longer until encountering a small barrel of twigs and branches. Attached to the side was a large goat skin filled with cool water. He offered it to her as they kept walking, in mostly silence. However, the walk back to his home was long and far. It would take 30 minutes or so.
"..."
Looking into the side of his carriage, he spotted what was supposed to be his lunch. He'd heave if he ate anything with the blood of a debaucher on his hands. Instead, Tristan handed the sack of cheese, bread, barley, dried cherries, pear, and quince to the girl. There was also a whole apple in there. He hadn't planned on eating all of that immediately, but was accustomed to spending a good amount of time in the forest collecting things. All he ate for breakfast was barely, and snacked often to keep his energy up. But giving it away was alright, too. She looked like she needed it far more than him. "Help yourself." The green eyed bearded man said briskly, looking in front of him. Looking at the lovely girl raised to many questions. He wasn't level enough in the mind to have a conversation right now. Things had gone down too quickly.
"I'm not a murderer," Tristan blurted out stupidly, pursing his lips in annoyance at the fact he'd said that. He put a bloodied hand up to his forehead, looking frustrated. "I'd not meant that to come off that way," He mumbled, walking on. Now he looked embarrassed.
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Posted: Sun Jan 03, 2016 4:54 pm
As the men drew closer and closer, closing in on the girl, she heard them muttering to one another -- of course, Nikolas' name came up, which was of little surprise to Aurelie. The men kept coming, though, and she swung her bag at them, trying to protect herself to the best of her ability. She knew that it was only a matter of time before she was overpowered... There was no way that she would be able to keep this up! As if some God had heard her silent dilemma, something hit one of the men on the head. The men looked around, momentarily thrown off their guard. The girl peeked around them, trying to figure out what had happened, though she probably should have been using that moment to come up with a plan of some sort. The men were about to give up and continue their assault on the princess, but then something else struck them, causing them to look around in confusion once more. This time, Aurelie took the chance to try and figure out a way to sneak past them, but before she could come up with something the horses a few feet away began to stir, stealing everyone's attention for a third time.
As if they had been terribly spooked, the horses suddenly took off, back the direction they had come, and one of the remaining two men -- that had not been hit by some unseen force -- took off after him. Alright... Just the two of us... At least those are better odds than before... Aurelie thought, allowing herself a ping of hope. Perhaps she was strong enough to defend herself from only one of the men, now that the others were all occupied. The small princess held up her bag in front of her, as though she were prepared to chuck it at him as he began to come at her again. Suddenly, a chunk of earth exploded against the man's head, and when he turned the opposite direction searching for it's source, Aurelie spotted the culprit, hiding among the bushes. The man locked eyes with her for just a moment, and the princess felt relief well up inside of her. She wasn't alone. He motioned to her not to say anything, before disappearing behind a tree.
Thoroughly distracted, the princess was not prepared when the man finally turned back to her and grabbed her by her hair. Aurelie let out a yelp of pain and dropped the bag she had been clutching, reaching up for the man's hands and trying to get him to release her. Instead, he reached towards her chest, and the brunette kicked and struggled trying to break free, even if she ripped her own hair out. She didn't have to, though. The man cried out, and his grip loosened, allowing Aurelie to wriggle free and fall to the ground. The man from the bushes stood behind him, holding onto a knife that was plunged into the mercenary's back. Then a pair of shears was jabbed into the assailant's gut. The princess, open-mouthed and wide-eyed began to scoot herself backwards across the forest floor, not caring about the dirt that she was rubbing into her clothes. "Go." The man from the bushes told her, and she wasted no time in listening to him.
She stumbled over herself trying to get to her feet, shaky and flustered, forgetting all about her bag. She raced further on into the woods, trying to distance herself from the scene, and not wanting to stick around to find out how it ended. The princess barreled less-than-gracefully through the bushes, scraping her hands against the trunks of trees as she tried to propel herself forward and ignore the pain in her lungs from overexertion. She hadn't realized that she had been moving so slowly until the man who had rescued her from the mercenaries easily caught up to her. It seemed as though he was no worse for wear, while Aurelie was huffing and practically gasping for breath. She finally stopped running, unable to push herself any further, and the forest-man stopped with her, looking around as though he were trying to gather his bearings. She watched as he moved over and bent down near a tree, like he was searching for something. Her breathing was slowing back to a more acceptable rate now, and the man turned to look at her, seeming rather unsure of himself. He rubbed his nose and a streak of blood was left behind. The princess's eyes widened again, but she reminded herself that this man had just saved her life. If he had planned on hurting her, he would have done it already. Not urged her to hurry and get away from the mercenaries.
Aurelie clenched her eyes shut for a moment, trying to collect her thoughts and calm her nerves. After a moment, the man's voice cut through her thoughts and she opened them again to look into his sharp, green eyes, offering her water and asking whether she was alright. She felt rather ill, but was otherwise unharmed to her own knowledge. However at the mention of the water she felt around at her waist, only to realize that she had left her bag of supplies when she had run off. With a heavy sigh, the princess brought her hands to her cheeks, rubbing her face slightly as though she were trying to bring feeling back into them. They were numb with cold and felt heavy. Finally she met the man's eyes again and nodded cautiously. "I'm a bit scraped up, but I think I might live." She offered him a half-hearted smile, trying to make light of the situation, but obviously still quite shaken. "Water would be very much appreciated... Thank you..." She then replied. Despite everything, she still kept a dignified tone, having been taught never to mumble. He motioned for her to follow him, and they continued on until they reached what appeared to be the forest-man's cart. He handed her the water, and she drank gratefully. She felt as though she hadn't had anything to drink in weeks, though really it had only been hours. Careful to be sure she didn't drink the whole thing, Aurelie handed the skin back to him. It was obvious that he did not come from Nobility -- by his clothing and the way he held himself, if not for the fact that the princess surely would have recognized him if he was -- and the girl did not want to take advantage of his provisions when she was sure that the lower class needed them far more than herself.
After walking in silence for a few moments, he took out a sack with some food in it and handed that to her as well. She held it in her hands, staring at it as he told her to help herself. She furrowed her brow and looked up at him. "Are you sure..?" She asked cautiously, weary of taking his food. What if this was all he had? Growing up without wanting for anything, she had a very skewed view of things. She assumed that all peasants had to scrounge for food and struggle for water. This bothered her more than the fact that he was a complete stranger. After all, he had probably just saved her life, and what else was she going to do? She had nowhere to go. No one to turn to for help. Gingerly, Aurelie opened up the sack to peek inside. She was hungry. She had skipped dinner, and missed breakfast, and now it was probably nearing the middle of the day. She reached into the sack and pulled out a bit of the bread, trying to pick something that she thought might be more easily available to the common folk. She didn't want to deprive him of the fruit.
Suddenly, he announced that he was not a murderer, causing the princess to pause mid-bite. The comment caught her off guard, as she had not thought that of him at all. She was quite grateful for his quick thinking, despite the fact that it had ended in a death. If he hadn't done what he had, though, she could be dead right now... Or worse. She shuddered, not wanting to think about it. Instead she looked back up at him, seeing that he looked frustrated and sort of embarrassed. Unable to keep a slight giggle from escaping her lips at the outburst, the princess stopped eating her bread to give him assurance. "I did not accuse you of being a murderer. In fact, I think it would be safe to go so far as to call you my savior."
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Posted: Sun Jan 03, 2016 5:37 pm
"It's quite fine." Tristan answered softly when she asked if he was sure that he wanted to give her his water. He repeated the same words when she inquired about his food supply. It was very nice of the girl to ask such things. Most people he knew would've been more worried about eating and drinking to satisfy her own needs. To see that this wasn't the case with this beautiful woman, well... It warmed his heart in a way. Now that they were walking at the same pace, the pleb could take his time to examine her clothing and looks.
Before, he couldn't make out what she was wearing very well. It was dirtied now, but that didn't diminish the perfection in which he could see everything was crafted. Certainly nothing like the clothing he wore. It looked pristine and perfectly fitted. What's more, her hair shone so vibrantly. They had similar hair colors, but his head was dry and thick from improper care. Hers on the otherhand, reminded him of a doll's. Not a strand out of place.
Where did she come from? Why was she here? Did she know those men personally? And why wasn't she armed, if she was running in the woods like this? She trusted him? She didn't seem stupid...
The mysterious woman's kind words cut through the tense air shared between them like a knife to butter. He smiled and chuckled softly underneath his breath. "I am no savior. I am a man in my sane mind. No other would stand to watch a young woman defiled by servants of the king." He cleared his throat and attached the goat's skin to his cart once more, on the side that the princess walked. He wasn't thirsty. If she needed more, he wanted her to take it. She looked much more worse for ware than he.
Glancing to his left, Tristan observed how she seemed to only be eating the grains within the bag. He frowned. "Bread will not help your exhaustion. It will ease your appetite for the time being. Please, take upon the fruits within this bag. I've plenty in my home. It would give me much better peace of mind to know that you are alright, rather than myself. I would think your safety is better valued to others, rather than mine." He smiled kindly. "The life of a peasant is difficult, however we've grown accustomed to struggle. I assure you, it would not hinder me to share a few of my items."
His cart rolled over a large stone and creaked on the path. The man had to firmly hold it downward in order to steady it. The rockier things got, the closer he knew they were to his home. "My name is Tristan." He thought about the giggle she let out before, when answering his previous comment. It was lovely. Frankly, he wanted to hear it again.
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Posted: Sun Jan 03, 2016 6:38 pm
Aurelie looked down at the piece of bread that she held and back at the sack that she still gripped in her other hand as he told her not to be afraid to eat his fruit, assuring her that he had plenty. She bit her lip slightly, but finally nodded finishing off the bread and taking the pear that was in the sack. She placed the sack gently back onto the cart and held the fruit with both hands to eat it. As she did she looked back towards the man who had set to work refuting her statement of him being a savior. At the mention of the king, the princess's face fell, and she felt a slight shudder run through her again -- though she blamed this on the cold. "Not so much servants of the.. King... As mercenaries being paid like kings." Aurelie practically spat, hesitating on the title "king". She still refused to accept the man her mother had married as King. He was a rat in king's jewels -- jewels that belonged to her father.
She looked down, focusing very hard on her pear as she took another bite of the juicy fruit to shut herself up. She did not need to tell this man her whole life-story. If he found out who she really was, and who was after her, surely he would decide to cash in on whatever ransom the false King was putting out for her return. Perhaps it was best that she keep her status to herself... Though she practically ached to confide in anyone who would listen -- and this man was the first person to have a real conversation with her, she felt, since her father died. He wasn't pushing her away, or making her feel as though she were insignificant like the rest of the court had. He was helping her. Even her own mother would not help her when she needed it most. It may have only been food, and fending off some unpleasant characters, but to the princess, it was refuge.
Aurelie looked back at him again when he introduced himself and thought about the name. Although she did not know him personally, she felt as though it suited him. She smiled at him before returning the introduction. "It's a pleasure, Tristan. My name is Aurelie." She said, giving the slight gesture of what was supposed to be a curtsy. It was a habit, and although they were out here at the edge of a forest covered in dirt and blood and far from the courts of the girl's castle, she was unable to keep from doing it. Certain mannerisms were ingrained so deeply in her brain that they were first nature to her. Which, of course, was the point of all of the lady-like training that she had received throughout her childhood. Mannerisms were important at court.
"Tell me, Tristan, do you go about saving damsels in distress often?" The princess offered him another of her smiles to show that she was trying to lighten the air further. Really it was an attempt to keep herself from bursting into tears, or gushing about her troubles.
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Posted: Sun Jan 03, 2016 11:47 pm
Her first choice was the pear, huh? Tristan watched her in the corner of his eye as she ate, wondering if any of these choices or actions could clue him into more of her personality and upbringing. It might've just been a personal thing. He liked pears, too. Maybe she was more familiar with them. Tristan didn't know what nobles ate regularly. He assumed their diet was quite lavish. That they ate meat every day, with wines and cheeses served at every meal. They probably eat all the salt available. After all, those people had more money than they know what to do with. Especially the King, Queen, and their kin. The pleb reckoned that family had more money than God. Anything they wished must've appeared at their feet.
He faintly wondered if Aurelie knew anything of that life, or if she was even a part of it. His surroundings were rustic and unknown to her at best. Ever since the man could remember, he roamed this underbrush. At first, with his father. Then, with both parents. And eventually by himself. Such was the fate that befell any peasant. You loose someone eventually. Sometimes quickly and sometimes slowly. In Tristan's case, they were taken in a blink of an eye. Made him appreciate what he had much more. This thinking shone today, meeting the noble girl. No day went by where Tristan did not count his blessings. For his harvests, for his supplies, for his craft. He could've stabbed his own fingers and been incapable of doing anything else. He could've been stricken with disease. Mugged and killed. But he wasn't. And there wasn't a damn time he woke up thinking how lucky he was to not be in his parent's position. Sometimes, in the cold winters all alone in his home, he'd wish for TB to take him. Just the thought of something beyond his boring, lonely lives seemed to make it worth it to him. The pleb had to remind himself of the wonders of life. Of the women, friendships. The general happiness that came out of speaking to others and getting kindness in return. He knew of such a feeling. It kept his sanity.
Aurelie's rather hesitant words about the king and his knights rose a lot of considerations for the young woman. His original thinking was that she was a simple noble. Perchance she knew of the king? That might've been a stretch based upon just those words. But the way she spoke of this figure. It seemed quite a bit in contempt. Such was an emotion one could not harbor without experience. One thing had become outstandingly clear: She was no commoner. The way she curtsied, spoke, and carried herself. It was far too delicate for any peasant to concern themselves over. He didn't know how, but the runaway girl had this air of perfection around her. Something incredibly sad lingered in her eyes when she spoke, too. It made Tristan want to reach out and rub her rosy cheeks. He genuinely wanted to help this stranger and remedy her problems. As things stood, there didn't seem to be any chance of that. He was nothing to her; to her problems. Just a steppingstone in her journey. It sure would've been nice if there was something more, though. Still, not much hope was held out.
"Saving damsels, hm?" Tristan laughed awkwardly and looked down at his bloody boots, pursing his lips. "Certainly a nice thought. However yonder here, we don't find very many fair maidens in need of rescuing. You are one of the few exceptions. I'm not much of a good enough character to go about coming to the aid of young and beautiful women anyway. I think I shall stick to what I know best: fletching and shoemaking. It's done me good so far." He nodded and squinted to make out the clearing in the distance The pleb was looking to confirm that they were nearing the end of this patch of trees.
When they did eventually reach the end and his humble cottage came into view, he collected his things(sack, goatskin, tools, etc) along with a few branches. "I don't suppose you've anywhere else to go, miss runaway?" He gave her a smile and held out a rugged hand. "The space is rather small and the cot I might prepare would be rather unfit for a noble, however the fire is warm and the stew is homemade." The last time he entertained a guest were when his parents were still alive. Their room was directly across from his small one. He had moved into the larger upon their passing, using the other cramped space as a resting place for travelers or passerby. It hadn't been used yet. Tristan would've gladly given up his room for the girl if she needed it. Sometimes the poor girl would take a breath in and look as if she was on the brink of tears.
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Posted: Mon Jan 04, 2016 12:52 am
Although it was subtle, every so often the princess would glance out of the corner of her eye and swear that Tristan looking at her as they went. Far from being offended, she found herself rather curious what he could be thinking. Surely he wondered where she had come from and why she was running, but she had already decided that she had to keep that information to herself. She munched on the pear quietly for a few moments longer, waiting for the man to answer her silly question. When he finally did, an awkward laugh accompanied the response, and Aurelie felt she had succeeded in her attempt to ease the tension even a bit more.
She looked up as he spoke, watching as he took in his own appearance. He seemed to like the idea of being a hero, based on his words, but according to Tristan there were not many to be found. "Ah.. Well, yes.. I suppose that would put a damper on things..." She replied with a gentle smile. Then she added, taking note of his profession, "Fletcher and shoemaker, hm? Good, honest work." She nodded as though she approved. They may not be used to these kinds of careers in her world, but the princess had always held a sort of respect for the folks that she knew did much of the difficult work. After all, where would any of them be without the people who crafted the supplies they used every day? Or cooked their meals? Many of the nobles took the common folk for granted, but Aurelie had been raised to understand that they were the backbone of society -- that was one of the reasons her father had been so loved. He treated his people respectfully... And the princess had a feeling that as soon as the new "king" was where he wanted to be, the face that he was putting on would fall, and he would become a tyrant. She could not let that happen to her people. But how was she to stop it?
Aurelie had been so focused on their conversation and her pear, that she did not notice they had reached the clearing until she had practically stumbled into it, and Tristan paused to ask her whether she had anywhere to go. The princess looked up, seeing a small cottage sitting in view. The first word that came to her mind was cute. It was cute. She never thought she might think of a dwelling that way, but it was. Compared to her monstrous stone prison of a home, this place was like a nest. She realized that she was staring at it, and quickly snapped her attention back to the man beside her, hoping he hadn't appeared to be upset by the offer.
The girl returned his smile gratefully. "I am quite sure that any cot you might prepare for me would be grand in comparison to having to sleep outside in the cold and dirt. And I do believe a warm fire and some stew could do me a great bit of good." It was true that she had nowhere else to go, and she would be lying not to admit the relief she felt upon hearing his offer. She had no plan for what she would have done otherwise. Perhaps try to climb a tree and sleep in it's branches? Surely she would have frozen to death in the night. Going into town and finding an inn would be out of the question -- there were too many people who might notice or recognize her. Too high a chance of getting captured again after all of Tristan's hard work to keep her free.
"Do you live here on your own?" Aurelie asked him after consenting to rest at his home for the night. She was not trying to be rude, or pry. She was only curious, and had been unable to keep from asking the question. Surely it would be lonely to live out here all by oneself. Though, the opposite was not much better either. The princess knew from experience that even surrounded by people you were often quite lonely. Especially after her father, the only person she was really very close to, had passed on. However, she couldn't imagine living in a house all alone. She was sure that she might go mad without another soul at least present.
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Posted: Thu Jan 07, 2016 7:32 pm
"It's just myself." Tristan answered simply, more preoccupied with bolting his door and taking his bloody boots off. He put them in a small corner closet and replaced them with woolen moccasin-like shoes. After that, another smaller pair was retrieved, small enough to fit Aurelie. What kind of monster was he to sell or get rid of his parent's things after their death? Certainly not one at all. He kept all of their clothing. The peasant was quite sure his late mother wouldn't of minded if her shoes were borrowed by a kind young lady. In fact he was sure his mother would beat him hard enough to raise welts if he hadn't done so in the first place. "Be kind to visitors," she'd always said.
"They were my late mother's." He answered the unasked question and walked her further into his home, starting a fire in the den area. It was the middle of his house, really. The small home was split in four sections separated by doors. All that was there to see where they stepped in was a table, some chairs, a shelf filled with miscellaneous items, a closet, furnace, and drawer. The next door nearest to the left lead to the living quarters and the last space to the left of the house. This housed his old room and above his parents' room. The room he stayed in was converted to both that and his work room. Below was similar, only with a smaller bed and worktable. To the right of the house going from the den was the kitchen. There, next to the stove was a door that lead to the bathing area. What was nice was that since it was directly next to the kiln of sorts, the water would not be terribly cold for those who chose to soak within it, and the room became pleasantly warm should the apparatus be on.
"If you need fresh drawings, the room upstairs to the far left contains a closet with women's clothing, should it interest you. To the far right is the lavatory." His kind smile was back and his long hair was tied back with a ribbon. "Do make yourself comfortable. I will be in this next room preparing supper. Feel free to join if it shan't bother you." Through the walkway he went, staring another fire in order to light the stove. He reached into his makeshift pantry, producing carrots, potatoes, onions, garlic, leeks, cabbage, asparagus, peas, and dried barley and dried fish. He took some of the water from his cooking reserve and began to boil it while cutting the vegetables. When the water began to get hot, he threw in the dried fish in order for it to cook down and give the liquid flavor. Only once it had practically dissolved did he add the cutup vegetables and grain. He enjoyed this because it kept for several days when stored correctly and was hearty. It also tasted very good for peasant food.
"Might I ask what you are accustomed to eating in the high castle? I imagine only the finest foul, wines, and cheeses. I'd also imagine could tire of such luxurious meal, such a peasant with vegetables." Tristan grinned and produced a wooden spoon to stir the cooking mixture with. The smell that wafted off of it was exquisite. It smelled of sweet vegetables aided by a pleasant earthiness.
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Posted: Thu Jan 07, 2016 9:14 pm
Aurelie furrowed her brow at Tristan when he replied that he really did live here all alone. She wasn't sure what she had expected, though. A wife, perhaps? Or some other family. Maybe even a friend. He didn't seem too terribly troubled, though, as he led the princess inside and began to take his boots off, replacing them with other shoes. He handed her a pair as well and Aurelie took them, wondering who they might belong to. Was he just well-prepared for travelers? Surely a few came through. As if on cue, he explained that they were his late mother's, and Aurelie felt a ping of sadness in her heart. He must have lived here with her, and had lost her. Just as the princess had lost her father. She found herself wanting to cry again, but she held her tears in. She wanted to ask what had happened, but she bit her tongue. How would she have felt if someone began to pester her about her father's death? Awful. "I'm sorry." Was all she said instead, looking around for somewhere to sit so that she could unlace her riding boots as well.
The princess followed him further into the house as he spoke, offering her fresh clothes and letting her know where the lavatory was. She hadn't realized how dirty she felt until he mentioned that there were fresh things for her to put on. Aurelie planned to take him up on that offer as soon as she had rid herself of the boots. Gesturing to one of the chairs, she asked politely as a courtesy, "Would you mind?" Before pulling it out a bit to sit. Tristan made his way into the next room to begin the cooking, and Aurelie set her focus on unlacing the tightly strung riding boots, glancing up every so often to watch as he boiled some water and began to chop vegetables. It occurred to her then that in her whole life, she had never actually seen someone cook. She had only been there to witness the finished product. Almost as if ashamed, she bent her head back down to the boots again, pulling the first one off of her left foot before beginning on the other.
In her being so distracted by the boots, she was almost shocked at Tristan's next inquiry, though she shouldn't have been considering that ultimately it was about the food. However, the fact that he mentioned the castle caught her off guard. She hadn't said it outright, but she supposed he could have guessed considering that she had to be a Noble, and the fact that she had not earlier denied that the men chasing her were working for the "king". Aurelie had just supposed that perhaps he wouldn't piece together that she really was from the castle. "How do you know that I am from the castle?" She asked almost defensively, pausing her unlacing and looking up at the young man with raised eyebrows. So much for keeping her secrets. Perhaps Tristan was going to figure everything out on his own -- or he already knew. As she recomposed herself and went back to taking off the second boot and placing the shoes he had offered onto her feet instead, the smell of the food began to waft towards her, and she almost forgot her concern about her identity for a moment in her hunger.
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Posted: Mon Jan 18, 2016 1:49 pm
"No need to apologize. We all lose people. It isn't anyone's fault." Tristan called this out from the kitchen when Aurelie apologized for his mother's death. There was nothing to apologize for. She wasn't the cause of tuberculosis, neither was she a person who knew of a cure. There wasn't anything anyone could've done for his parents. Once they'd been diagnosed, that was that. The disease took them in their own homes. It was the only wish Tristan had for his parents before they passed. That they die painlessly and in the company of their only son. His wishes were granted, but it didn't alleviate any of the grief. In the end it didn't matter what your social caste was - no one was immortal. Disease, old age, misfortune, murder. It took anyone and everyone. Death did not discriminate. It reveled in taking the lives of all, their circumstances didn't matter. Tristan thought this bitterly as he finished cutting up the vegetables, adding half the leeks in at first so they could melt down and flavor the water and the other half last so they could provide some texture.
He ignored her polite request for a seat in the kitchen, thinking it almost silly. He invited her into his home - he wasn't going to then deny her a seat. The Pleb tended to his things, frequently checking on the stew. When it was almost finished, he set it aside and produced a different pot used as a makeshift often to bake and warm up the bread. He put some of it in above the stove so it could crisp up, cutting some cheese to go with it. Finally, he reached into the very back of the cupboard and unveiled a jar of fruit preserves encased in honey. With every bountiful harvest, he would add to the jar. It was almost his only source of dessert, and proved to be heavenly on top of warm bread. Sometimes, if he could buy materials from the baker, he'd cook the preserves directly into the bread to make a sort of cake. Tristan's mother taught him that technique. He often made it on her birthday.
After letting the soup sit to cool down and thicken, Tristan brought it into the next room and placed it on top of table. With that were handmade utensils and bowls. He then returned to the stove and removed the warm, soft yet crisp bread from the fire. It was served on a plate next to a platter of cheeses, fruits, and jar of preserves. Finally, some simple pickled cabbage with lemon and ginger was set out and served alongside the sweets to cut the sugary flavor with a bit of pleasant vinegary sourness.
Such a meal wasn't extravagant to her, but he'd never make something like this for himself. Maybe just the cabbage. However as he was entertaining a guest who was obviously used to lush foods, Tristan felt a sort of responsibility to provide peasant hospitality. Just as the man was thinking of the suppers she must've been used to, Aurelie asked how he knew she was from the castle. She didn't deny it, only questioned. He found that interesting. Was she hesitant to let that be known?
Unfortunately for the woman, her looks gave it all away. Clean hair and clothing that looked new and pristine was something not even the richest of peasants had. Only nobles wore leather boots like hers, and hunter's clothing made more fashionable than practical. "You look the part." Tristan said simply to answer her, adjusting and fetching all the required tools and utensils for eating. Everything was wooden and handmade by him or his mother and father. It was fine work.
"If you're looking to fit in with us, it's very simple. Look dirtier. More disheveled. You're exceptionally groomed. Most women here are lucky if they can afford hair balm and tonic to straighten their locks, but it's much too expensive. The nobles buy any of it that they can get their hands on. It's difficult to make."
"Now," Tristan started, motioning to the food. "Eat. I will join you momentarily. Do not be afraid to indulge - there is plenty to go around. I'm sure your escape was tiring. You need the energy." He smiled kindly and went back into the kitchen to begin cleaning up. Sure, the man might've been a bit hungry, but he'd experienced far worse before. Better to leave her more food than him not enough, especially if the noble girl wasn't used to not being fed well. She could get sick and that wouldn't be good at all.
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Posted: Sun Jan 24, 2016 5:36 pm
Aurelie sat quietly with her hands in her lap as Tristan stated that it had been no one's fault. She knew it was no one's fault, but she still couldn't help feeling like it had to be. Who was there to be mad at, though? Her father, for going out that particular day? Or for being with whoever he had been with when he had contracted the disease? The person that he had been with, for having the disease in the first place? No. Nobody could have known, or controlled any of that. The only thing that the princess had to be angry about was the beast that her mother had allowed into their home and their lives. The monster that was sitting on her father's throne and calling himself King.
The brunette remained lost in her thoughts for a few moments as Tristan finished up the cooking in the other room. She stared blankly at the table top, her eyes far away. It wasn't until he was beside her placing the stew -- along with some bowls and utensils that appeared to be handmade -- in front of her that she snapped out of her reverie. She glanced upwards out of the corner of her eye, giving him the slightest smile in thanks before he returned to his place at the stove to pull a tray of bread from the fire. She hadn't even noticed him putting it in, being so occupied with her problems. He kept bringing more and more to the table, and Aurelie watched, looking rather shocked that this man was wasting all of his food on her.
He answered her question, then, snapping her once again back to attention. She looked up at him as he explained that she looked like a noble, and how to look less like one. The princess furrowed her brow a bit, her mouth half open as if she were trying to say something, but couldn't figure out how. She was trying to speak without giving herself away still. "Will you help me..?" She asked hesitantly after a moment. "Fit in, I mean.... Look more... Common..." Aurelie said the word 'common' a bit sheepishly. She wasn't trying to offend him with it, she just wasn't sure how else to say what she was trying to say. Tristan still didn't seem to know that she was the princess, but he seemed nice enough, and even offered a few tips to her, so perhaps he would be willing to help her further. It was a risk that she was apparently going to have to take if she wanted to hide from her step-father's men. She didn't know how she was going to do any of this on her own -- she hadn't come up with a plan beyond getting out, and even that she had ended up needing help with. Now she was out, and apparently stuck out like a sore thumb, which she had never even considered.
She looked back at the food on the table as Tristan motioned to it, telling her to eat freely and giving her a kind smile. She frowned at it, still unsure, but he seemed intent on making sure that she was well taken care of -- which only reinforced her thoughts that perhaps he would be willing to continue helping her. What if that was only because he thought she was some unimportant noble? If he found out that she was really the princess, would he turn on her immediately? A princess was far more valuable than any old noble. However, here he was rescuing and feeding her without asking for anything in return, even when he obviously knew she at least had some kind of money to her name. He didn't even ask questions about what had happened, or why she was running. Aurelie knew from experience that people expecting some kind of compensation in return often asked lots of questions, and covered their bases to make sure the money was good. Perhaps he was biding his time, but she didn't think that was the case. Her gut told her that Tristan was safe, and she was inclined to trust herself, though she still needed to be cautious until she knew more about this man.
For now, though, he was feeding her, and she really was quite hungry. It had been almost a full 24 hours since her last meal, and so finally she nodded at him as he exited to clean up the mess from cooking in the kitchen. Aurelie took one of the bowls and scooped some of the stew into it. It was hot, so when she brought a spoonful to her lips she had to blow on it a bit before she could eat it. Her eyes widened a bit when she tasted it. It was nothing like the food that they were served at the castle, but it was still very good. The first bite only seemed to make her realize how hungry she actually was, though, and she stopped caring that it was so hot. She scooped more of the food into her mouth, forgetting to blow on it this time and burning her mouth slightly, but it didn't matter. She felt as though she hadn't eaten in weeks. ooc: Sorry this took so long xD I started watching The 100 like 3 days ago and then I couldn't stop until I finished what was on netflix xD #BingeMaster xDD
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Posted: Mon Jan 25, 2016 8:46 am
The peasant man cleaned up his workspace in the kitchen before sitting down and joining the woman at the table. The flame was dampened, scraps put away and floor sweeped. Common ritual, really. Every time he ate he made sure everything was spick and span. His mother used to pull his hair if he didn't do it otherwise, and his father was put in place as well. Tristan's mom always told him she didn't want rats in their home. Well, now he didn't, either. His family took a lot of pride in what they made and how they kept up with things. His mother felt the same about her home, too.
The man's aching joints complained as he sat, making him hide a groan and sigh. It was long, hard work. It wasn't easy despite him doing it every day. He scratched his cheek and looked at the array of food before him, smiling softly. It reminded him of a holiday dinner. Then, his gaze traveled from the meal to Aurelie, grinning further at the rate in which she seemed to be eating. Of course, he didn't think it was because the food was absolutely delicious. He knew for a fact that it wasn't nearly as close to the food she regularly ate. Exotic fruits and cheeses, all sorts of meats, mounds of salted and cured foods, wine the price of his entire career. What a life to live...Just because you were born to live inside of home of stone filled foreign carpets and fluffy pillows.
Tristan began to take a bite of the cabbage, wanting to save as much as the hearty strew as possible for her. It would fill her up, give her energy, and give her strength. She needed that. Cabbage was fine. Delicious, really. Paired with some melted cheese on bread along with fruit preserve, he was a happy man. As he took a bite out of the still-warm roll, the beautiful starving girl in front of him paused her feast to look up at him and ask if he cold offer her a little more help. He stopped eating completly and just stared at her gorgeous eyes, not sure what to say.
She wanted to look like a commoner. Tristan swallowed hard. What a waste of a beautiful face, he thought. Putting down his fork, the peasant man awkwardly smiled and nodded. "I suppose I could...It's going to take a little getting used to for you, I think. I'm not sure what the life of nobles is like, but you won't be pampered. You're going to have to take care of yourself. I'll do my best to sort of show you how, but it can only go so far..." He looked away, flushing slightly.
"Perhaps I should get some help from another woman with such matters...I wouldn't give your original beauty enough due. But I will help. It's not a problem - you're part of the upper class, after all! Aren't we peasants supposed to serve the king? If you're a noble, you must be connected to those people, right?" His slight embarassment turned into curisoity. "I don't know very much about them."
It was true. He didn't have time. Only the peasants who were truly interested, who they dubbed as "dreamers" followed the king and the nobility. What they liked, their rulings, etc. They got their information from Knights. Personally, Tristan thought it was all BS and gossip. But...he had a real source now, didn't he? He could eliminate the unreliable middle man. Maybe knowing about what happened would help him care for her better. She escaped, didn't she? After how hungry she seemed and how frantically Aurelie seemed to be running away seeking shelter, he didn't think this was some rebellious move to prove herself to her parents. He thought there was seriously something wrong with the fancy kingdom. "Do you know the royal family? What are they like? People here always say that them and the nobles are all stuck-up...I don't think that's true. You seem pleasant." Tristan smiled, passing her some preserves and bread.
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Posted: Tue Mar 22, 2016 10:42 pm
Aurelie watched from the table while she ate as Tristan cleaned up the kitchen before returning to join her. The male sat down across from her and ate some of the food himself before answering her request. She was worried for a brief moment that he might refuse, though she knew that she had already taken plenty of his time. She would not have been offended if he had said no, only more distraught. She held his gaze as she waited for him to speak, and finally he nodded, giving her an awkward smile. The princess returned the expression, feeling a small wave of relief, and daring to think that maybe things would not be so hopeless for her after all. She listened to the young man's awkward words, stating that it may be difficult due to her obviously noble attitude and her natural beauty, causing him to flush slightly. She was used to compliments, being from the royal family, and so although it caught her off guard, she was able to refrain from turning pink herself.
Tristan went on, explaining that it would not be easy to transform herself into a commoner. He also suggested perhaps getting a woman's help on the matter, but Aurelie quickly held up a hand. "No!" She exclaimed, rather frantically, before looking down at the table awkwardly. "Er... Please.. I would.. rather keep any more people from getting involved..." She tried to explain, though she couldn't bring herself to say that she was worried someone would recognize her. Many women had a habit of being the known gossips that kept up on the news of the nobility. What if he happened to find someone that knew she was the princess?
Still staring at the table in front of her, Aurelie politely took the bread and preserves that he was passing her, listening as he continued on, adding that it was a peasant's job to help the nobles. She wondered whether many of them really felt that way. Taking a bite of the bread and preserves, the princess practically choked on the food when Tristan mentioned that they must serve the king, and stating that she probably knew those kinds of people. Composing herself enough to finish swallowing the food, she still remained quiet, letting him ask a few of the questions that he was surely brimming with. The brunette princess took another bite of the food in her hands, picking through the questions and trying to think of the best ways to answer.
Likely, Tristan assumed that most nobility living at the castle would come into contact with the royal family, and so he might not find her knowledge too suspicious. Swallowing the last bite of bread and preserves, Aurelie laid her hands on the edge of the table, rubbing the wood lightly with her thumbs as she considered him. Finally, the girl nodded. "Yes, I do know them..." She said, offering him a grateful smile as he said that she seemed pleasant. "They aren't all bad, I suppose." The princess agreed cautiously. "Some of them are just... confused. Being in that kind of a position does strange things to people..." Aurelie added, speaking rather softly. She was, of course, referring to her mother, though she was nervous about using specific names. "Some of them really are stuck up and power hungry." She continued a bit more confidently, giving Tristan a larger smile and a slight laugh, trying not to let the conversation get too downtrodden. "I suppose you could suffice to say that the royal family has issues, the same as any family does. They certainly are not perfect." Her tone was thoughtful now, as she continued to absently brush at the wood of the table with her thumbs. Of course, the problems went far beyond that of any ordinary family, but she couldn't begin insulting the King in front of a commoner who clearly thought highly of the nobility. Especially when she was still trying, to some extent, to hide her true heritage and situation. ooc: So sorry I've been gone so long!! I totally understand if you've lost interest in this, but if not, I'm mostly back >.< The quarter started kicking my butt hardcore, but I had my finals this week, and I'm now free again!!
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