The courtyard, its walkway encroached by gnarled trees and stick-like shrubbery, was hardly inviting, but Celeste turned through the polished iron gates, pashing through reaching branches without so much as a bat of her silver eyelashes. Her black, thick-heeled boots clacked smartly along the cobblestones which had been swept clean of the surrounding snow.
Her silver head flashed through the dappled light of the fading afternoon, sweeping the shadows with alert attention to detail but no concern. Soon she was at the courtyard and to the castle's threshold. Without hesitation, she swept up the steps and reached out with one neatly gloved hand to rap on the door. Her small fingers curled away from the brass knocker, however, when the door creaked open of its own accord.
"A draft," she thought, raising a high arched eyebrow, and stepped over the polished wood, eager to get out of the cold. A thread of annoyance pierced her heart, though her expression remained neutral, "At the very least, one would think they would have enough courtesy to meet one at the door."
Alright, have at it! :)
(P.S. love your siggy Viola, its one of my favorite poems :3 )
What is once in a minute, twice in a moment, but never in a thousand years?