Thread: Winter's Kiss (Ursus Peregrinus & Candy_demon21)

Regardless of the warm that the cloak was providing, it did little good when the wind picked up and bit straight through. This place was abandoned by god, there was no way that he hadn't. This place, was cold and dark, dead people were frozen in perfect status, they would be forever frozen, never able to return home again. Odette feared the same fate would happen with her as well. When she had caught up with him, Odette shivered, no out of the bitter cold, but out of the fear of becoming one of those morbid but beautiful statues. She had been hardly paying attention, but when the weight of the prince's arm draped over her shoulder, she had jumped, a small gasp having escaped her lips as well. As the fear began to dwindle down into a small flicker flame, she welcomed the warmth of the prince's cloak, but wanted to run from his grasp and the feeling of cold that seemed to radiate from his touch. Further they wound into his keep, further into hell as it were. Looking up from hooded lashes, she gazed the strange lighting. It was blue, like the sparks she had seen flickering in his eyes when he had noticed the locket about her neck. Everything was dark, bleak, and so cold. Even within the stone walls of the castle, the chill from outside had sunk into her bones, making them ache, as if she had been walking in this weather for hours. When they had reached the great hall, her eyes glittered in excitement when she saw the flickering light of the fire. It was warm, and bright and brilliant, it felt safe, looked safe, she almost wanted to jump into that fire. The command to sit was acknowledged with a quick nod of her head, when the prince pulled away, Odette found her seat, and settled in, almost a little to excited to feel the warmth against her cheeks and exposed skin. Resting her head against the back of the chair, letting her neck feel the warmth. She had lost herself in the warmth and had jumped again when his voice came from the darkness. He had known her mother, but his next comment made her feel ten times smaller than she was, he had not been her father. This set off a series of questions that desperately wished to ask the prince. Who was her father? Why had her mother hidden the locket and other things away beneath the floor board. Reaching up again, she touched the locket beneath her finger tips, she had never thought of opening it, never even tried, but something told her not to open it. Listening to him as he talked, Odette wanted to shoot of the questions, but she stayed silent, fearing she may. As he offered, she looked towards one of the bottles, nibbling at her lip thoughtfully. She had never had spirits before, her mother had never let her, Thank you my lord. She murmured, continuing to mindlessly rub the locket. The way he began to speak about his people made her taste copper in her mouth, they weren't things to be owned, nor should they be considered as such. He continued on to tell her what his plan was, and when he said he would answer her questions the next morning, she was almost eager to sleep, but his next question made her sigh heavily. As you wish. He was letting her speak her mind, find she would. I know little of your valley highness, I do not care to know, my mother, Moriwin keeps me locked in the house. I often don't go with her towards the town, she's simply kept me home. If that was what he wanted to know, she couldn't offer him much else. Neighbors, all I know if the Petrov. Livia, their youngest daughter, we have been friends for years. She had, I believe two older sisters, who are bother married, one sister has a child already and a son on the way. She just turned old enough to have her name chosen from the barrel. He asked about her life, she began to laugh softly, You wish to know about my life highness? I firstly think that you shouldn't treat your people like things to be owned, I think their ruler should be kind, but treat them with respect. Being treated like...like cattle, I don't think it's right. No offense to your highness but, the people are afraid of you. Would you wish to be feared, rather than loved. My mother speaks as if you are a monster, and talk of you is strictly forbidden. I get punished often for bringing you up in passing. I've always been curious as to who you were, and why there was this drawing every year. I have been even more curious as to why she has never spoken of my father, or-or of the this locket or anything in that little box she hides beneath the floor. I suppose you can blame my naivety or my wishful thinking, but I'd someday like to know who my father was, and why there is no mention of you, or my father, ever! tag