It was mid-morning when Marianne awoke.
Quickly dissipating visions of a dream's end leapt from her mind into oblivion, but Marianne Newhook thought it likely that her sleep had been full of images of red wine and flexing flesh, from the way she felt even warmer than she had the previous, brutal evening. The coolness of the night had given way to a wave of heat in Castle Greyrook, and Marianne's room was no exception.
Marianne peeled herself up from the sheets, noting how they seemed a touch damp with sweat. She swung her legs from the furs and sat up, looking out the window. Gandora City was alive once more, the din of marketplace hagglers and rolling wagons holding court in the air.
Her nude form slid from the bed and over her knickers, that had been discarded in the night and deposited on the floor. The heat and the dissatisfied malaise that held sway with Marianne the previous night proved too difficult to sleep with, and so she had to resort to other methods of stilling her hot blood. It was easy for Marianne to wrestle with her own thoughts when she was alone - and she frequently was. Perhaps it wasn't good for her to be spending all this time alone in her room. She didn't feel rested, she felt exasperated, exhausted, and altogether dissatisfied. That was becoming her dominant state of being, Marianne noted.
Marianne shut the window, and then pivoted to open her closet. A myriad of colorful light dresses, tights, and leggings were revealed to her. Marianne quite liked wearing dresses, about as much as Victor enjoyed seeing her in them, and so they made up the majority of her wardrobe. She pulled a small drawer at the bottom open and retrieved a fresh set of simple black panties, which she quickly pulled up her legs. Then, Marianne reached past the dresses and took a long, light green, silk robe from the rack, throwing it around her body. She pulled it closed with the ribbon on the front before retrieving a second black ribbon to pull her hair up into a slapdash bob. Then, she pushed the door open.
The Lotus Room was a pleasant common area that joined four rooms together - one master bedroom, and three supporting ones. The master bedroom belonged to Farelia and Clement, though it was used sparingly. These days, Farelia was hardly at court and as a result, the room seemed untouched save for a few spare pieces of clothing. The common space was characterized by a pair of long light green couches that faced one another, with a low table of darkened wood in between. Closer to Marianne's door was a higher oak table, complete with four identical wooden chairs, one of which currently was being used by Sharra Darly.
Sharra's shock of light red hair curled down the sides of her head. As her bright emerald eyes flickered to look at Marianne, she could see the splash of freckles that raced across her small, pale, nose. Sharra was exceptionally beautiful, Marianne thought, to the point where she was jealous to attend any courtly event next to her. Luckily, she rarely did so.
The redheaded Sharra was from the Bonecoast, an icy seaside city surrounded by dense forests and empty tundras alike. Sharra was fiercely loyal and believed in a man's honor as much as she seemed to believe that most men had none. She demanded to be sent away when it came out at the courts of the Bonecoast that her father had bedded a young debutante - a friend of Sharra's, no less. In Sharra's mind, Lord Byron Darly had not just betrayed her mother, but his entire house and family. So, Sharra found herself at Castle Greyrook and the Queen pressed her into service as one of Farelia Newhook's handmaidens.
Marianne supposed that made them kindred souls, in some fashion. Both were tall girls who had left their homes behind, fleeing the infidelities of others in search of more honorable locales. She wasn't sure that Castle Greyrook was truly that, yet, but she was pleased to be away from the halls of Victor's betrayal, and she was pleased that Sharra was with her.
The pale girl was sitting in the wooden chair with a single leg pulled up. She wore a simple white and short night dress with long thin sleeves that ended at her wrists in a flare. Sharra hadn't bothered with shoes yet this morning, Marianne noted as the redhead reached for a large platter in the center of the table. Breakfast had been delivered by the castle - a plate of blueberries and raspberries, served with a sweet cream. To drink, there were tall glasses of minty water. It looked as though they'd also carried ice in them, but the heat of the morning had left the ice meek and small as it drifted through the cups.
Marianne took light steps toward the table and eagerly picked up a glass of water before downing it. She'd been parched since she woke, and the crisp feeling of the cool liquid gliding between her lips and down her tongue was as satisfying as nearly anything else this Gandoran summer day. She pulled the cup away with a refreshing coo, returning the now-empty cup to the tray.
Sharra raised an eyebrow as she looked at her friend. "Thirsty girl." she teased lightly in a soft voice. Sharra could frequently sound brash, but her tone was quite gentle this morning.
"It's so hot, I could hardly sleep." Marianne whined as she slumped into the chair opposite Sharra. That was partially true.
"That's a shame, considering you had plenty of time." Sharra responded. She was taking on a decidedly motherly tone, one that reminded Marianne of home. A pause followed, and Marianne didn't comment. "You didn't come to the party."
Marianne slumped slightly. Sharra couldn't really be surprised, could she? "No. I didn't." Marianne replied in a muted tone. "How was it?"
Sharra shrugged. "It was fine. Full of drunk and loud men, so if that's your thing, then..." she trailed off. "Nyrene certainly seemed to find someone she...enjoyed." Sharra finished with a snort.
Marianne had to chuckle at that. That wasn't surprising either. Perhaps she should have gone. It wouldn't have been so bad, would it? Watching Nyrene drink and prance about with whichever knight tickled her fancy, scrutinizing every party-goer with Sharra...that could have been fun. Great fun, even. Instead, she'd stayed inside - thinking about Victor.
