20.Apr.18, 03:45 AM
Xyliah had been informed yesterday that her betrothed would be arriving within the next few days. A good thing, too, because their wedding date was looming, though she hadn’t had too much time to stress about who she was marrying, simply because she had been so involved in the process of preparing for it. Her gown had been pulled out of storage and hung to air out, before being put on and re-fitted, adjustments made, stitching checked, and jewellery decided upon. With her rich skin tone, Xyliah felt her cream gown stood out brilliantly, as did the mountains of pearls she was being decked out in. Her family had probably scratched bankruptcy to dress her so richly, but Xyliah was relieved, because she wanted to show she was worthy of a son of the Lord of High Reaches!
Kaylira’s mother had kindly promised to do her hair, and the day had been spent with Xyliah grimacing as the woman did her best not to tug too much on her curls as she beat them into submission. Several different hairstyles had been tried before all the women in the room had found a do that was unanimously agreed to be perfect. Xyliah had worn it for a couple of hours while they went over other plans, before it was gently taken out, her curls tumbling around her face and down her back in wild abundance.
Leaving her companions, Xyliah had made her way to the kitchens for a quick snack – since they’d mostly missed lunch. She managed to wheedle a couple of thick slices of bread and a bowl of soup from the workers, which she ate while listening to them gossip, before deciding to head back to her rooms to bathe and change before dinner. Leaving the women to their work, Xyliah was halfway down the hall to her own room, when someone called for her attention. Pausing, Xyliah studied the newcomer curiously. She didn’t know nor recognise him, but that wasn’t unusual. Lord Therion had countless guests at any given time.
“May I help you?” She asked, but all she got was a smirk and a tight grip to her upper arm. Too secure in her own position to be scared, Xyliah allowed him to drag her along without word, though she cast him several disapproving looks as he did so. When he lead her into a room, she faltered, her expression darkening, though she didn’t say anything as he took her inside, her lips a flat line. “Are you quite done?” She asked, shaking her arm free of him about the same time he let go to knock on another door. She scowled at his back, though surprise painted her features when she heard his introduction to the man inside.
Clearing her expression before the man turned back, she gave him a dismissive look when Jalazmar told him to leave, and walked confidently into the room, her chin held high and her arms to her front, fingers clasped together. Xyliah studied the back of his head for several silent moments, waiting to see if he would speak. When he didn’t, she gave her head a little toss and took it upon herself. “Lady Xyliah, of High Hill Hold.” She announced, her voice clear and without nerves; her features were neutral, but her eyes sparkled with some irritation at being ignored.
Kaylira’s mother had kindly promised to do her hair, and the day had been spent with Xyliah grimacing as the woman did her best not to tug too much on her curls as she beat them into submission. Several different hairstyles had been tried before all the women in the room had found a do that was unanimously agreed to be perfect. Xyliah had worn it for a couple of hours while they went over other plans, before it was gently taken out, her curls tumbling around her face and down her back in wild abundance.
Leaving her companions, Xyliah had made her way to the kitchens for a quick snack – since they’d mostly missed lunch. She managed to wheedle a couple of thick slices of bread and a bowl of soup from the workers, which she ate while listening to them gossip, before deciding to head back to her rooms to bathe and change before dinner. Leaving the women to their work, Xyliah was halfway down the hall to her own room, when someone called for her attention. Pausing, Xyliah studied the newcomer curiously. She didn’t know nor recognise him, but that wasn’t unusual. Lord Therion had countless guests at any given time.
“May I help you?” She asked, but all she got was a smirk and a tight grip to her upper arm. Too secure in her own position to be scared, Xyliah allowed him to drag her along without word, though she cast him several disapproving looks as he did so. When he lead her into a room, she faltered, her expression darkening, though she didn’t say anything as he took her inside, her lips a flat line. “Are you quite done?” She asked, shaking her arm free of him about the same time he let go to knock on another door. She scowled at his back, though surprise painted her features when she heard his introduction to the man inside.
Clearing her expression before the man turned back, she gave him a dismissive look when Jalazmar told him to leave, and walked confidently into the room, her chin held high and her arms to her front, fingers clasped together. Xyliah studied the back of his head for several silent moments, waiting to see if he would speak. When he didn’t, she gave her head a little toss and took it upon herself. “Lady Xyliah, of High Hill Hold.” She announced, her voice clear and without nerves; her features were neutral, but her eyes sparkled with some irritation at being ignored.