Post by dede on Jul 18, 2010 23:23:52 GMT -8
"My father, the bastard, is planning on marrying me, too. I have just the same amount of time as Adalia, but my suitors are all slimy old men that want to marry me to get my father's new land."
Though he had previously experienced such… vehement language from Odette, her sharpened tongue and powerful opinion concerning her father still startled the moderate and graying prince. Whether or not it was an accurate description, Berlus was never dare to be so bold. In his embarrassment, he began to adjust himself, moving to the edge of his seat in rigid attention, as Odette berated the esteemed origins of her patron and scorned those who sought her delicate hand.
"I have to be engaged by the ball. It's simply unfair, terribly unfair, that just because I'm a woman I must marry some gray-haired--"
And her unintended, yet scathing insult and equally patched and impromptu apology, even in all of its earnestness, did little to ease the heated sensations of awkward uncertainty that pricked at his skin and dusted his cheeks with shades of red.
"That was terrible. I don't mean all gray-haired men are bad. Not at all. You're the exact model for the perfect gray-haired man. I mean... you're the exact model for a perfect man.”
There was little he could manage but a polite nod in acknowledgment of her winding attempts to explain her choice words, and then further detail the intentions. He listened to her flustered tone without making any attempts to help or correct her struggling efforts, staring awkwardly back at her. As he mechanically drained the remaining mixture tea leaves and marinated water at the bottom of his cup, Berlus wondered shakily if he should have protested Odette’s consumption of alcohol. Perhaps the rum was the culprit responsible for her mistakes and failing ability to articulate her emotions on the matter at hand.
"That's the worst part. You're perfect. Effortlessly so. You don't even realize it, do you?"
But for all these troubled and reluctant thoughts that kept him in silence, the culminating surprise from the multiple points of her haphazard argument was dumbfounding. Odette, by order of her father, was contracting and bartering for a marriage before the end of this chaotic trial orchestrated by Princess Adalia? He was not aware of this, frankly, alarming fact. To his relative dismay, it bred concern for her situation, rather than apathy or disinterest, which, by all rights and means, should have been the proper dealings for someone of his royal standards. Being a prince of another country, hardly a political zealot at the moment, there was little he could possibly do for her, for this young lady whom he had met for the first time a few days ago.
Then, pray tell, why did he care at all?
As well, rather than lay claim to someone more becoming and courageous than himself, regardless of age, she had entitled him to be perfect; pristine in every which way, down to the roots of his silver hair, the apex of her comparisons. While her tangled speech did not inspire wrath or anger, as if she was spreading falsehoods, but more so confusion and irritation that she did not understand that he was farthest being from the embodiment of immaculate.
"That's the worst part. You're perfect. Effortlessly so. You don't even realize it, do you? That you make me feel like a little girl, like some... some imbecilic little girl, and yet not. At the same time, you make me feel like a real woman, the kind that is supposed to be an object of d--"
Though Odette was blushing furiously, she gathered her wits for another dazzling smile. While it certainly was, by all accounts, her expression was concrete and decided, as if she was about to state an overwhelming truth.
"It's a shame you're too good for me, huh?"
“Incredulous!!” He understood the implications, those that were direct and subversive. Regardless, Berlus nearly jumped to his feet in a physical exclamation of exasperation, settling his hands instead on the edge of the table as if he would indeed spring out of his chair at any moment.
If that was her great insight, then he would defeat it with his own. In his intensity, he leaned forward, his tone both clear and unrestrained in its abandon. Neither did he stutter or hesitate.“Odette, if it were a competition of merit, then it is that you are superior to my standards!!”
Though he had previously experienced such… vehement language from Odette, her sharpened tongue and powerful opinion concerning her father still startled the moderate and graying prince. Whether or not it was an accurate description, Berlus was never dare to be so bold. In his embarrassment, he began to adjust himself, moving to the edge of his seat in rigid attention, as Odette berated the esteemed origins of her patron and scorned those who sought her delicate hand.
"I have to be engaged by the ball. It's simply unfair, terribly unfair, that just because I'm a woman I must marry some gray-haired--"
And her unintended, yet scathing insult and equally patched and impromptu apology, even in all of its earnestness, did little to ease the heated sensations of awkward uncertainty that pricked at his skin and dusted his cheeks with shades of red.
"That was terrible. I don't mean all gray-haired men are bad. Not at all. You're the exact model for the perfect gray-haired man. I mean... you're the exact model for a perfect man.”
There was little he could manage but a polite nod in acknowledgment of her winding attempts to explain her choice words, and then further detail the intentions. He listened to her flustered tone without making any attempts to help or correct her struggling efforts, staring awkwardly back at her. As he mechanically drained the remaining mixture tea leaves and marinated water at the bottom of his cup, Berlus wondered shakily if he should have protested Odette’s consumption of alcohol. Perhaps the rum was the culprit responsible for her mistakes and failing ability to articulate her emotions on the matter at hand.
"That's the worst part. You're perfect. Effortlessly so. You don't even realize it, do you?"
But for all these troubled and reluctant thoughts that kept him in silence, the culminating surprise from the multiple points of her haphazard argument was dumbfounding. Odette, by order of her father, was contracting and bartering for a marriage before the end of this chaotic trial orchestrated by Princess Adalia? He was not aware of this, frankly, alarming fact. To his relative dismay, it bred concern for her situation, rather than apathy or disinterest, which, by all rights and means, should have been the proper dealings for someone of his royal standards. Being a prince of another country, hardly a political zealot at the moment, there was little he could possibly do for her, for this young lady whom he had met for the first time a few days ago.
Then, pray tell, why did he care at all?
As well, rather than lay claim to someone more becoming and courageous than himself, regardless of age, she had entitled him to be perfect; pristine in every which way, down to the roots of his silver hair, the apex of her comparisons. While her tangled speech did not inspire wrath or anger, as if she was spreading falsehoods, but more so confusion and irritation that she did not understand that he was farthest being from the embodiment of immaculate.
"That's the worst part. You're perfect. Effortlessly so. You don't even realize it, do you? That you make me feel like a little girl, like some... some imbecilic little girl, and yet not. At the same time, you make me feel like a real woman, the kind that is supposed to be an object of d--"
Though Odette was blushing furiously, she gathered her wits for another dazzling smile. While it certainly was, by all accounts, her expression was concrete and decided, as if she was about to state an overwhelming truth.
"It's a shame you're too good for me, huh?"
“Incredulous!!” He understood the implications, those that were direct and subversive. Regardless, Berlus nearly jumped to his feet in a physical exclamation of exasperation, settling his hands instead on the edge of the table as if he would indeed spring out of his chair at any moment.
If that was her great insight, then he would defeat it with his own. In his intensity, he leaned forward, his tone both clear and unrestrained in its abandon. Neither did he stutter or hesitate.“Odette, if it were a competition of merit, then it is that you are superior to my standards!!”
