Comments already? Which part of "Placeholder (NT)" didn't youse understand?
I looked down the balcony, watching the city of Fyrhglen twist and turn under me. From the highest tower of the Sangreal Castle, one could see the entire city quell and flow with every gust of the wind. In fact, if one were to stand right at the pinnacle, as I did back then, one might imagine that one would be able to see all the way to the borders of the land. Being so high from the ground, however, the noises of the bustle did not reach me, and I could reflect in peace.
I pushed my fingers away from the cold balcony and walked away. I stopped just underneath an arbour of fine scarlet roses, where was a cream marble bench, and sat on the bench. There, finding the silence I needed to soliloquise alone, I began to ponder over everything which had transpired during the past few days. I ruminated especially through what Desmond had told me the night ago, about how he used to be an underling of Lord Carrion's, and also, more importantly, about how our meeting made him change his mind to join the white forces instead. However, I needn't have had pondered thus hardly, for ere long the man himself had joined me on the balcony.
"Aren't you a bit cold by now, Moira?" Desmond's sultry voice greeted me from even before he appeared. Soon enough, his statuesque figure emerged from between the stone arches, a black coat draped around his shoulders in such a way that it resembled a heavy cape more than a coat. I sighed deeply, my violet eyes gazing into the very depths of his frosty azure orbs. He always insisted on calling me Moira, no matter how many times I told him that my name is Marzena Zula.
I paid no heed to his query. "Shouldn't you be inside, celebrating your betrothed's birthday?" I asked in return, my fingers digging into the fold of my emerald-coloured gown, making my pale knuckles even whiter.
Desmond scoffed. "You know I have no real feelings for Nimue." He approached, taking long, slow strides with an exceptional lithe quality to them.
"Then why did you agree to marry her?" I kept my voice calm, levelled, but refrained not from inserting a tinge of icy cynicism into it.
Desmond sighed, creating a foggy puff in the crisp night air, and sat on the bench next to me, which I reluctantly let him do. "Nimue is a marriage of convenience, Moira; it is the best, perhaps not for either of us, but for the people, for the - "
"The good of Sangrea, and of Avalon," I mocked his previous statements regarding the fact. "And indubitably to appease King Proinsias, and Queen Belstelle. Desmond, stop thinking about what they would say to you and grow a spine, for goodness' sake! If you don't love her, then why should you sacrifice love for convenience? Love never is convenient; I should know." By that time, I had gotten misty-eyed, with crystalline tears trickling down my rosy cheeks, dripping down and vanishing into my ample bosom. Desmond leant forward, touching a finger onto my damp cheek, his gaze communicating the burden of great sadness which he bore.
"I am tormenting her," he whispered, sotto voce, not half expecting that I'd hear every word he said. "My God, what have I done?"
I raised my head, my flowing raven hair swaying aside from covering my face, and looked straight into his cerulean eyes. "Desmond - "
"Moira - "
"Desmond, listen to me - "
He called me Marzena.
He called me Marzena.
I was far too stunned for words. "Marzena," he continued, gingerly allowing my name to roll of his tongue. The sound of it blossomed much more sweetly with his baritone voice than it ever did before. He took my hands into his, his face blanching into an even paler colour which threatened to match the marble arches. "Marzena Zula Eisenhardt, I love you."
Silence. Then -
"Desmond Proinsias O'Reilly, I love you also."
All... right? This feels very funny. A good outlet for my purplest of proses, though. And for Arthurian references, and of course for namenerdian purposes, and even etymological purposes in general (quick - where did I get Fyrhglen, Sangreal, and Belstelle from?).
Glossary of La Reinaisms
Aheheh: onomatopoeia for a chuckle, esp. a mischievous one
Hurm: onomatopoeia for thinking; a standard reply when all else fails
Spam: an all-purpose word
This message was edited by the author on December 5, 2011 at 8:05:59 AM