Thread: A Discussion of Theology (SnowGlassRoses)

This is a roleplay based in the The Three Musketeers world, and is likely to incorporate a number of extreme fetishes. It was late in the day, late enough for the sun to hide behind the clouds on its decent to the earth, late enough to dot France's sky with oranges and yellows, with hues the most gifted of painters dreamed of plucking from the air. It was becoming late, yet at the same time still early, early for Aramis to arrive home by nearly an hour's time. Supper would not yet be ready and he could not scold his daughter for that as she would not know, she would not expect him for awhile still. And it was that surprise which he hoped for, for the light in the eyes of his lovely young fifteen year old to shine brilliantly at simply his sight. Such was an arrogant hope in a way, perhaps, thoughts of a man conceited - or perhaps a man spoiled, spoiled by a doting girl who was often pleased by the simple things. Aramis' chestnut mare slowed to a trot as he rounded the final trees on that long dirt road that led to one shorter, a minute away at this speed from the front steps of his secluded cottage in the countryside. He had lived in the city long ago in his youth and until he was a man of thirty, but there was only so much action a man could desire to see, only so much hustle. There was something to be said of a calm, peaceful life, a life of prayer and devotion. Perhaps this was where Porthos might chime in with words of his own, a disagreement, perhaps even some clever tavern limerick comparing the women of the city to those of the country. His friend could have them, have the lot, Porthos always one to see quantity before quality. And there was a secret that perhaps his friend spent too much of his time in Paris to ever find out - that though the ladies of the countryside did tend to be more innocent than their city counterparts, that did not mean they wished to stay that way. As his horse brought him in close, yards away now, Aramis dismounted with a small billow of dust as his boots hit the ground. He patted the mare in a silent thank on her strong neck and took the reins, casting a quick glance to the house as he led her over to the barn. He wondered to himself what Yvette usually did an hour before he would return home. Was she still tending to her chores in the stable? The barn perhaps? Maybe a walk in the field? It was a lovely afternoon, after all. Or would she already be bathed and changing back into her ladylike make-up and clothes while supper simmered on the stove? He would find out soon enough he supposed, bearing a quiet smile as he led his horse into the barn. He took his time in unsaddling the old girl, in setting the blanket aside and in filling a hearty helping inside her bag of oats. I am home, my dear, he spoke out in a lofty tone, letting his voice carry when he stepped foot inside the large cottage to see she was not in immediate sight. Heavy leather boots made similarly weighted sounds against the wood floor as he took a few more steps inside, shrugging off the long brown leather coat he wore to and from when he left for the day. It was Autumn now, the days able to turn chill without warning, and as such to leave without your coat even on warm days could easily bring regret later. Yvette? he called out again. Where are you? he questioned while setting his coat upon an oak stand just inside the door. Taking a moment to sniff the air he noticed... nothing. Which meant supper wasn't started his little girl was quite a fan of various spices, they usually filling the house when he arrived home. Still bathing then, likely, or dressing. Yvette? Are you decent? No response. Aramis took a few steps to the wide oaken staircase, one, two, stepping upon the third with a hand on the rail as he called again, Yvette? Nothing. Hm. He turned to head to the bath, stepping back down the stairs, passing by the door and down the hallw- And then Aramis stopped. He paused midstep and leaned back, a knee still in the air, something catching his eye. He took a step back, then a second, coming to stand up straight. He looked to the door. More specifically, he looked to the coat rack, to where he'd placed his not a moment before. It was there. Yvette's, however, was not. He didn't say anything. He just stared at the rack and breathed, breathed in and out through his nose.