Post by Duchess on Jul 9, 2014 17:50:40 GMT
The hall lay empty, except for one loyal hand, its banners still and its tiles shone to exceptional quality. Marble from across the oceans, imported to add that certain flair the Duchess enjoyed. And yet, she sat upon her throne, draped in silk and crystalline accents, and she was sad. There is no reason to use any other word than that. She was filled with sorrow, in the most raw form of the word and the feeling and the...state. Her lips were pale, though she had tried in vain to place a bit of pigment upon them. She also found her eyes to be quite dull, and, favoring the bright blue of her godly eyes, simply cracked those delicate bones of hers into her Astral form, for it was oddly less exhausting than being a lowly human.
Her dragons, and her Dragon Keeper, had all noticed the slow but exponential mental decline of Her Grace. She no longer felt joy in teaching. No longer felt joy in learning. Her library lay abandoned, a thick layer of dust covering every inch of the estate which she had not used. Her bedroom, wash room, throne room, and dining hall had remained clean. She used them often, finding that solitude is better than nothing and that she should not let her lonesome life control what she did on a daily basis. Already today, she had been visited by several countrymen, all complaining about something else or another. It was sad, for she could do nothing about it but decided to give them confidence enough.
Though... it is rather comical what bothered her. As any woman, the absence of a significant male in her life can lead her down a dark path. While her father had died long ago, she sought new pleasures and new relations. What ails our Queen of Dragons and Duchess of War is simply... the lack of a husband. She was almost three-hundred and forty years old, yet she had never been wed. Granted, she had taken lovers to her bed in the Ivory Tower, and had many suitors in the time she has lived, but her body ached for the constant closeness of a man who was...always there. It may seem trivial to some, but a lack of attention toward a woman can be devastating to the psyche. And in that lies damage to her soul. A guard here and a stable boy there did not suffice the ache which she felt emotionally.
Perhaps it was time for a change.
She sat upright in her grand chaise, startling the hand across the room who waited anxiously for her orders. Long lashes brushed against her cheeks as she blinked away the burning from having stared ahead for so long. The pulse in her neck was visible, the veins spreading toward her breasts and belly visible as blood pumped through them after only ten minutes of perfect stagnation. Her lips parted then, a gasp of air taken as she stood up, the gossamer black silk of her gown all but displeasing to the male eye where it hugged her hips and breasts, declaring an order to the hand.
"I need you...to deliver a message to the Kingdom and surrounding lands that I, Delia Eden Carmine, wish to wed a husband."
The hand's eyes grew wide, and he bowed swiftly before turning and all but running from the room. Delia sank back down onto her throne, lips forming a small smile that seemed rare nowadays, and simply waited.
