*The Verge of War* A Medieval Rp

Date sort Score sort
(Unloading the moving van. I'm eating lunch and unpacking my boxes.)

Alfric is not entirely convinced, but he's tired of waiting. He strides past Katrina and into the room.
 
Katrina waited a few seconds till he was inside the door, then she backed away slowly. Fast enough to make progress retreating, but slow enough so if he turns, he won't think she has left.
 
Last edited:
Alfric glances about him. It's another finely decorated bedroom, larger than the last one, but not quite as delicate. He spots a day bed beside the window, and an actual bed centred in the room, opposite the small, finely decorated fireplace. He turns around to face Katrina.
"This is where my clothes will be?" He enquires, keeping his voice low.
 
Last edited:
Lsky said:
Alfric glances about him. It's another finely decorated bedroom, larger than the last one, but not quite as delicate. He spots a day bed beside the window, and an actual bed centred in the room, opposite the small, finely decorated fireplace. He turns around to face Katrina.
"This is where my clothes will be?" He enquires, keeping his voice low.
Click to expand...

Katrina stopped. "Um I guess so. You didn't exactly tell me what room you wanted." She wasn't about to tell him whose room this actually was. Let him find out on his own. "Go, check that cabinet over there," she took a step forward and pointed to the far end of the room where a large mahogany dresser stood.
 
Alfric nods and follows her gesture, making his way quickly to the dresser. He pulls open the top drawer, it's full of shirts. The second draw, trousers; the third, socks and undergarments. He sighs and glances back at Katrina. His clothes weren't here. He pushes the last draw shut and places his hands on his hips.
 
Alfric doesn't hear Katrina leave, something else has caught his attention. A dark mask, built to cover all but the mouth, eyes and nostrils, is sitting on a small table beside the bed. He walks slowly towards it, picking it up gently in his hands, and spinning it around. "A.E" He whispers under his breath. Alfric Edinburgh? it couldn't be, the king would never give him his surname. He was Alfric, just Alfric. Son of a traitor. But he gives it little thought, this mask has him totally captivated; hand sculpted, and painted in intricate detail, spiralling, wild thorns of gold crawling up the sides and gathering at the brow. A perfectly arranged crown of peacock feathers sitting proudly on top. He lifts it slowly up to his face and places it on his head. The feathers brush against his ears, sending a pleasant tingling down his neck. It's a perfect fit, as if it really were made for him. He seems suddenly to forget his place, and to forget his surroundings. Lost in a hazy dream of what could be.
 
Last edited:
The castle was in sight. Edwin raced on. The poor horse he was riding was panting dreadfully, but he couldn't possibly stop. He couldn't explain it, but he just knew something was going to happen. Perhaps it has already happened. Riding into the courtyard, he practically jumped off the horse, thrusting the reigns into someone's hand. A servant, seeing him coming, quickly opened the door for Edwin to enter, not questioning the rush.

Katrina stopped at the window and looked out. Was that...? No. He was supposed to be at the ball. She ran back to the room. "Alfric! You need t-—what did you do??" She stared in horror at Alena, unconscious, lying on the ground.
 

New posts New threads Active threads

Back
Top Bottom