She hasn't been acclimatized to the weather in this region. The land of ever-winter was as frigid as she remembered and a night under the white blanket of snow was not a comforting thought. Private quarters were granted to her, much to the chagrin of a few knights that stood about when Lord Haurchefant announced such upon her arrival. Despite their utter annoyance that this outsider was given such lavish accommodations, suited better for a member of the higher houses within Coerthas, Rivienne took the offer but assured him that her stay would not be a long one. Avenger had been given shelter within the stables and she offered the stable-hand sufficient gil to keep him warm with a fire core orb gifted to her by one Reinette Sompt.
Two moons have passed since the fall of her brother, second one to meet their fate here in this frozen wasteland. She has mourned and believed her heart to have healed, yet the pain strikes it the most inconvenient of times. Thankfully, none of those were close to her would be a witness to the sudden sorrow that touched her gaze whilst the guardsmen played the part of guides and lead her near the settlement --where her dear Louix once resided.
They did not step to the door itself, allowing her to venture through to the vestibule without a word exchanged betwixt them. There came a creak and the onslaught of wind swept the chill throughout this small threshold. It howled and whistled even as she managed to close the door behind her shut. However, there was a slightly different sound that resonates in this dwelling; Rivienne hears the quiet footfalls of another. Past the first room, candle light erratically splashes across the walls, breathing life to the shadows cast upon the wooden slabs that made up the floor.
There came the perfume of flowers, an enchanting aroma that helps her forget the bitterness of the cold and reminds her of Twelveswood, the gardens, the one she tended to many cycles ago. Before submitting to memory, she snaps away from her moment of nostalgia, and announces her presence.
"I was told this was not going to be occupied," her voice trails into the air and it was obvious that the other person hardly appeared stirred by it. There was a light giggle; the person within was feminine. Again, she heard the foot steps, but this time, they were approaching from the room at the end of the narrow hall, which was dark until this lithe figure makes her appearance with a candle in her grasp.
Hair of gold was spun into a braid and fell past her slender shoulders, which are covered by a neatly pressed collar and gave way to a dress befitting of a domestic servant. Her eyes, rivaling the color of the sea, sparkled with intrigue at the vision of Rivienne, who had been bundled from head to toe in a coat and hood, which did well in keeping her ears protected from the nip of frost.
"I am Anabelle, m'lady," her hands folded themselves neatly before the skirt of her dress and a low bow of the head was given to the Elezen's direction, who inspected this Hyur in silence and a scrutinizing gaze. The woman spoke with a proper accent fitting an Ishgardian. Rivienne had not asked for any help; she wished to be alone this day.
When this Anabelle straightened her form, Rivienne had quickly moved upon her and now stood but a few ilms distance. Golden depths peered into those shimmering blue eyes, which held no indication of fear. But, the way the woman swallowed, hinted that there was something clearly bothering her.
"Anabelle, I need not the services of a maid; you may take your leave and thank Lord Haurchefant on my behalf, for I wish not to offend him so." That is when she broke eye-contact and side stepped away, leaving Anabelle behind her, as she waltzes into the chambers from whence this woman came. Within, the smell of incense penetrates her senses and candles sit high on candelabras. Paintings on the wall ahead depict Coerthas has it once was, before Calamity struck. Curtains of rich velvet obscure the view of the world beyond its' glass windows.
"It was not Lord Haurchefant that sent me here. Ser Carvallain, of House Arbeau, he is a patron of House Fortemps. He provides them with the knights, and funds, to this ongoing war," she followed Rivienne as she walked past her, now talking to her back. Her voice remained light and friendly; her eyes wide and full of the dancing flame's glow. "He only wished to have all your needs met, extending courtesy that has already been shown to you--" Her words are soon cut short.
Like a whirlwind, the sudden breeze of Rivienne's immediate pivot of her heel caused the flame to be snuffed out completely. This forced a gasp from the Midlander's lips, which trembled slightly when washed by the feeling of warmth coming from the Elezen's breath upon her cheek. Her voice was a knife in the dark; it is sharp, and penetrating her earshot, in a deadly tone.
"Now, tell me there real reason why you are here, before I pull your tongue through your throat."
Two moons have passed since the fall of her brother, second one to meet their fate here in this frozen wasteland. She has mourned and believed her heart to have healed, yet the pain strikes it the most inconvenient of times. Thankfully, none of those were close to her would be a witness to the sudden sorrow that touched her gaze whilst the guardsmen played the part of guides and lead her near the settlement --where her dear Louix once resided.
They did not step to the door itself, allowing her to venture through to the vestibule without a word exchanged betwixt them. There came a creak and the onslaught of wind swept the chill throughout this small threshold. It howled and whistled even as she managed to close the door behind her shut. However, there was a slightly different sound that resonates in this dwelling; Rivienne hears the quiet footfalls of another. Past the first room, candle light erratically splashes across the walls, breathing life to the shadows cast upon the wooden slabs that made up the floor.
There came the perfume of flowers, an enchanting aroma that helps her forget the bitterness of the cold and reminds her of Twelveswood, the gardens, the one she tended to many cycles ago. Before submitting to memory, she snaps away from her moment of nostalgia, and announces her presence.
"I was told this was not going to be occupied," her voice trails into the air and it was obvious that the other person hardly appeared stirred by it. There was a light giggle; the person within was feminine. Again, she heard the foot steps, but this time, they were approaching from the room at the end of the narrow hall, which was dark until this lithe figure makes her appearance with a candle in her grasp.
Hair of gold was spun into a braid and fell past her slender shoulders, which are covered by a neatly pressed collar and gave way to a dress befitting of a domestic servant. Her eyes, rivaling the color of the sea, sparkled with intrigue at the vision of Rivienne, who had been bundled from head to toe in a coat and hood, which did well in keeping her ears protected from the nip of frost.
"I am Anabelle, m'lady," her hands folded themselves neatly before the skirt of her dress and a low bow of the head was given to the Elezen's direction, who inspected this Hyur in silence and a scrutinizing gaze. The woman spoke with a proper accent fitting an Ishgardian. Rivienne had not asked for any help; she wished to be alone this day.
When this Anabelle straightened her form, Rivienne had quickly moved upon her and now stood but a few ilms distance. Golden depths peered into those shimmering blue eyes, which held no indication of fear. But, the way the woman swallowed, hinted that there was something clearly bothering her.
"Anabelle, I need not the services of a maid; you may take your leave and thank Lord Haurchefant on my behalf, for I wish not to offend him so." That is when she broke eye-contact and side stepped away, leaving Anabelle behind her, as she waltzes into the chambers from whence this woman came. Within, the smell of incense penetrates her senses and candles sit high on candelabras. Paintings on the wall ahead depict Coerthas has it once was, before Calamity struck. Curtains of rich velvet obscure the view of the world beyond its' glass windows.
"It was not Lord Haurchefant that sent me here. Ser Carvallain, of House Arbeau, he is a patron of House Fortemps. He provides them with the knights, and funds, to this ongoing war," she followed Rivienne as she walked past her, now talking to her back. Her voice remained light and friendly; her eyes wide and full of the dancing flame's glow. "He only wished to have all your needs met, extending courtesy that has already been shown to you--" Her words are soon cut short.
Like a whirlwind, the sudden breeze of Rivienne's immediate pivot of her heel caused the flame to be snuffed out completely. This forced a gasp from the Midlander's lips, which trembled slightly when washed by the feeling of warmth coming from the Elezen's breath upon her cheek. Her voice was a knife in the dark; it is sharp, and penetrating her earshot, in a deadly tone.
"Now, tell me there real reason why you are here, before I pull your tongue through your throat."
![[Image: jqza5eX.png]](http://i.imgur.com/jqza5eX.png)
“Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.â€
Rivienne Delacroux ♚ Bowmaiden's Tumblr
