i ▬ a call to arms ( She is not present because she can fight, or even possesses the will to. By God's grace, she should be ensconced in a palace in Portugal now, mayhap. But God has not favoured her with any grace in years, and there are people here whom can benefit from defensive measures as greatly as offensive ones. Elizabeth has swallowed her dislike and fear of her own power, and breathes deeply, a dense mist coiling around her when she next exhales.
The fog crawls forward, cloaking herself as well as the person at her side from the creatures further down the tunnel. Glancing over at them with a small smile, she nods once. )
I leave the rest in your capable hands.
iii ▬ trapped in a... ( The strange metal carriage has ceased to move; its doors refuse to open, and slowly, a sense of panic rises in her chest. Small, tightly-enclosed spaces and she have never made fond bedfellows. The hair is already beginning to stand up on end at the nape of her neck, and she swallows past the knot forming in her throat. )
This is why I vastly prefer horses. ( The humour is wry, but it is also the only thing distracting her from giving into panic--and displaying weakness. )
iv ▬ friendr?
FRIENDR
Elizabeth of York
AGE: 19 INTERESTED IN: Any. SEEKING: Friendship, thank-you. ABOUT ME: I was born a Princess of England, in the most splendid court in all Christendom. My family has a tendency to devour itself like a starving animal. Would that I could have naught to do with any of that nonsense any further. Apparently if you believe legend and gossip, we are related distantly to a river goddess or fairy twice over.
I have been well-educated in linguistics, history and arithmetic. Hunting, dancing and music are all pursuits I vastly enjoy, though none so much as reading.
Hounds are always more engaging than cats; apparently that is a great to-do? Well, such is my stance on the matter.
I enjoy lively conversation. Please, I welcome either lively debate and mindless chatter both.
Elizabeth of York • The White Queen/Princess
( She is not present because she can fight, or even possesses the will to. By God's grace, she should be ensconced in a palace in Portugal now, mayhap. But God has not favoured her with any grace in years, and there are people here whom can benefit from defensive measures as greatly as offensive ones. Elizabeth has swallowed her dislike and fear of her own power, and breathes deeply, a dense mist coiling around her when she next exhales.
The fog crawls forward, cloaking herself as well as the person at her side from the creatures further down the tunnel. Glancing over at them with a small smile, she nods once. )
I leave the rest in your capable hands.
iii ▬ trapped in a...
( The strange metal carriage has ceased to move; its doors refuse to open, and slowly, a sense of panic rises in her chest. Small, tightly-enclosed spaces and she have never made fond bedfellows. The hair is already beginning to stand up on end at the nape of her neck, and she swallows past the knot forming in her throat. )
This is why I vastly prefer horses. ( The humour is wry, but it is also the only thing distracting her from giving into panic--and displaying weakness. )
iv ▬ friendr?