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Alorha kept her attention fixed on the map as the discussion carried on around her, her gaze moving slowly over the inked lines as though she could force them to make more sense just by studying them long enough. The nobles spoke with an ease she didn’t yet have, their voices overlapping at times, each one confident in their own perspective. Some dismissed the issue too quickly, others lingered on details that didn’t seem to matter as much, and a few spoke with a quiet authority that made the rest of the room listen. She found herself watching them just as much as she listened—taking note of who interrupted, who waited, who was acknowledged without needing to push for it. It wasn’t something she had ever been taught, but it felt important all the same, like understanding the room mattered just as much as understanding the problem itself. She was just beginning to settle into that rhythm, letting the conversation flow around her while she pieced things together in her own way, when she felt it—a light, almost imperceptible touch against her back. It was so subtle she might have missed it if she hadn’t already been so aware of everything around her. For a split second, her body tensed, a quiet instinct she couldn’t quite suppress, but she didn’t turn. She didn’t react. Instead, she held still, her focus shifting inward as she tried to understand whether it had been accidental or intentional. It came again. Not random. Careful. Deliberate. Her thoughts sharpened immediately, her attention narrowing as she focused on the pattern rather than the sensation. A shape. A movement. Then another. Letters, she realised slowly, her mind catching up as she followed the faint tracing as best she could without giving anything away. It took a moment—long enough that she had to force herself to keep her breathing steady, her posture unchanged—but then it settled into something clear enough to understand. Trip? Her gaze dropped slightly to the map again, but this time with purpose rather than uncertainty. The word lingered in her thoughts for a second before it connected, a quiet shift clicking into place. The northern journey. The routes they would eventually have to take. The roads that, until now, had felt distant and theoretical rather than something that could actually be affected by what was being discussed here. Of course. She hadn’t thought about that. A small breath left her, controlled enough that no one would notice, as the initial flicker of surprise gave way to something steadier. More focused. This wasn’t just about merchants losing goods or villages struggling for supplies. It reached further than that. It would reach her. She let the others speak for a moment longer, waiting, watching for a natural pause rather than forcing herself into the conversation too quickly. When it came, she took it, her voice calm and even as though the thought had come to her naturally rather than being prompted in such a quiet, hidden way. “These routes…” she began, her fingers brushing lightly along the edge of the parchment as she indicated the section they had been discussing, “do they connect to the northern roads as well?” The shift in attention was subtle, but she felt it all the same. The older man in blue followed her gesture, his eyes scanning the map before he gave a small, confirming nod. “Yes, Your Highness,” he replied. A shiver ran up her spine. She hated that. She still hadn't earned the title. “Indirectly, but they do. The western pass links to the main northern road further along.” Alorha inclined her head slightly, her gaze lingering on the map as though she were carefully considering what that meant rather than already understanding the weight of it. In truth, she was still piecing it together, but she had enough now to follow the thread. “Then it may be worth addressing sooner rather than later,” she said, her tone steady, thoughtful rather than forceful. “If those routes become unreliable, it could affect more than just trade.” This time, the pause that followed felt different. It wasn’t uncertain. It wasn’t dismissive. It was quieter, more deliberate, as though the room itself had shifted into something more attentive. A few nobles exchanged glances, their expressions less sharp than before, more measured. Even the younger man who had spoken so quickly earlier didn’t interrupt now, his posture shifting slightly as though reassessing rather than dismissing. The older man inclined his head again, slower this time, a faint note of approval in his expression. “A fair point,” he said. “If the disruption spreads, it could complicate travel to the north as well.” Alorha gave a small nod in response, her hands still folded neatly in front of her on the table, but her awareness had shifted. The room felt different now—not welcoming, not entirely, but not quite as suffocating as it had been when she first stepped inside. She could feel the subtle change in how they were looking at her, the way they listened just a little more closely than before. It didn’t erase the lingering doubt in the back of her mind, the quiet voice insisting she didn’t truly belong here, but it softened it enough that she could ignore it. She didn’t turn to look at Sage, couldn’t without drawing attention, but she was aware of him all the same. The quiet presence just behind her. The subtle, careful way he had reached out without being seen. And for a brief moment, something like reassurance settled in her chest, grounding her more firmly than anything else in the room. It wasn’t enough to make her feel confident. But it was enough to keep her steady. |
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Sage had been carefully reading the room the entire time as well. He knew how bandits could affect the villages...they were who had grabbed him to sell off all those years ago. These bandits just sounded like they were going after goods, but others may be nearby, and the merchants were the ones complainibg about it - they wouldn't necessarily care about a missing kid or two. He frowned slightly, glad the veil his his face so well. The whole topic was bothering him more than he wanted to admit. The memories flashing before his eyes, the way certain scars seemed to burn as he remembered how he'd gotten them.....it was all making his quite uncomfortable, to say the least. He did feel his shoulders relax slightly when he felt Alorha stiffen in response to his touch - she understood he was telling her something. She was listening. But she gave nothing away. That was good. If the nobles knew the thought had come from him, or he'd stepped out of line to tell her something, it wasn't likely to end well for him. But, she brought up the norther trip confidently, and calmly, without any indication that the thought wasn't her own. As she continued to speak, convincing the room to act sooner rather than later and get the issue cleared up, he felt a small smile form on his face. They were beginning to respect her - he could see that. It was clear a few of them hadn't thought of that, or made the connection. So it was good to see them acknowledging her as their equal, in terms of intelligence here. She was, technically, above them in authority, but the point was they weren't looking down on her now. She was slowly proving herself to them. And that was important. The meeting was a long one, continuing for another hour and a half or so before it was decided that a group of guards were to go check out the routes and see how they could aid the people being affected by the bandits. Who would go, what general or captain would lead the group, that sort of thing. Alorha didn't know any of them, but she had asked them to be described in detail, and she had picked who she thought best. Sage was proud of her. He couldn't speak with the other people surrounding them, but once they got back to their room and the door was closed behind them, he took off his veil and set it on the counter with a smile, working to undo all the jewelry as well. "You did well today," he noted. "They're beginning to respect you." |
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Alorha held her composure through the remainder of the meeting, though the longer it went on, the more aware she became of just how much effort it took to maintain it. Every decision seemed to branch into three more, every suggestion met with agreement from some and quiet resistance from others. She listened carefully, asking questions where she could, choosing her words more deliberately now that she understood how closely they were paying attention to her. When it came time to decide who would be sent to deal with the bandits, she hesitated only briefly before asking for each suggested captain to be described. It felt safer than pretending she knew names she didn’t recognise, and to her slight relief, no one questioned it. Instead, they answered—detailing temperaments, experience, past successes. She weighed each one as best she could, her thoughts steadying as she focused on something practical, something she could reason through. By the time she made her choice, her voice was calm, certain enough that no one challenged it. The approval that followed was subtle, but it was there, and she felt it settle somewhere deep in her chest. Even so, by the time the meeting finally drew to a close, she felt drained in a way she hadn’t expected. It wasn’t physical exhaustion, but something quieter, heavier—like holding herself in place for too long. She rose when expected, offered the appropriate acknowledgements, and left the chamber with the same controlled grace she had entered with. Only once they were back in the quieter corridors did she allow herself a slightly deeper breath, her shoulders easing just a fraction as the murmur of noble voices faded behind them. The walk back to their room passed in a blur. She was aware of the castle again—the stone beneath her feet, the passing servants, the distant sounds—but her thoughts felt distant, still lingering in the meeting room, replaying small moments, questioning whether she had spoken too much or too little, whether she had missed something important. It wasn’t until the door to their room closed behind them with a soft, solid click that the tension finally loosened properly. She turned slightly at the sound of movement, watching as Sage removed his veil, setting it aside before beginning to undo the careful layers of jewelry that had completed his formal appearance. The shift felt immediate, like the room itself had softened now that they were alone again. When he spoke, she blinked once, the words taking a moment to settle. “You did well today.” For a second, she didn’t respond. Not because she didn’t hear him, but because she wasn’t entirely sure she believed it. “They’re beginning to respect you.” That made her pause more fully, her gaze dropping slightly as she considered it. Respect. The word felt… too solid for something that still felt so uncertain to her. She moved slowly across the room, her fingers brushing absently against the edge of the table as she passed it, grounding herself in something physical while her thoughts caught up. “I didn’t feel like I did anything,” she admitted quietly after a moment, her voice softer now that the pressure of the meeting was gone. “I just… listened. And said what seemed obvious.” She hesitated, then let out a small breath, something between a sigh and a quiet laugh. “Half the time I wasn’t even sure I understood what they were talking about.” She glanced back at him then, her expression thoughtful rather than dismissive, as though she was genuinely trying to measure the difference between how it had felt and how it must have looked from the outside. “They all seem so certain,” she added, a little more quietly. “Like they’ve done this a hundred times before.” Her gaze drifted slightly, unfocused for a moment as she replayed parts of the meeting in her head. “I keep expecting someone to realise I don’t belong there.” The words slipped out more honestly than she had intended, but she didn’t take them back. Instead, she leaned lightly against the edge of the table, folding her arms loosely as she looked at him again, something steadier returning beneath the uncertainty. “But… I did understand enough to follow it,” she admitted after a moment. “And I suppose that’s something.” |
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Sage glanced back over at Alorha as she spoke, face softening slightly as she admitted she didn't feel like she'd actually done anything. "Neither do most of them....why do you think they all try to yell over each other," he noted with a faint twinge of amusement to his tone. "And most of those same men were so focused on trying to make themselves think they said something important that didn't stop to listen. To think." He shrugged. "Listening is just as important as speaking," he noted gently, pausing to meet her gaze before moving back to unclipping fancy chains from his body. When she mentioned how they seemed so certain, he hummed in agreement. "A lot of them have. The ones who are wide, who do the best....that comes from decades of experience." He wrinkled his nose slightly. "The old bastards were ancient even when I got here," he added, before shifting to lean his hip against the desk and cross his arms over his chest, now that he was done with the jewelry. "But if you look closely, those are the same ones who are good at their job. Ones who you want to learn from. The listen. They don't try to yell over each other." Then he offered her a faint smile. "And they're also the ones who support you the most. They all think you're doing a good job. I can see it in their faces. They approve of you, even if you don't approve of yourself quite yet." He shifted to grab his more comfortable outfit then, and moving towards the bathroom to change. Though, he paused just before the doorway and glanced back over his shoulder at her. "And for what it's worth ....I agree with them. I'm proud of you, too," he noted quietly before slipping into the bathroom and closing the door softly behind him, letting out a soft sigh. He knew it would take time for her to approve of herself being here. To feel like she belonged and could keep up with the nobles running the meetings. But others approved of her. And he thought she was already doing a much better job than her predecessor....so he hoped that would be enough to give her some confidence in herself. |
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Alorha listened quietly as Sage spoke, her gaze lingering on him rather than drifting away this time, as though she was making a conscious effort to truly take in what he was saying instead of brushing past it. His first comment drew the faintest flicker of amusement from her, the corner of her mouth lifting as she considered it. When he pointed out that most of them spoke simply to be heard rather than to actually think, she found herself replaying the meeting in her mind again—but differently this time. The interruptions, the way certain voices had risen over others, the subtle frustration in a few quieter figures who had waited their turn rather than forcing it. She hadn’t noticed it clearly in the moment, too focused on keeping up, but now it felt obvious. Her arms loosened slightly where they had been folded, her posture shifting as some of the tension she had been holding without realising began to ease. It hadn’t felt like she had done anything worthwhile—but perhaps that wasn’t entirely true. She had listened. She had followed. And when she had spoken, it hadn’t been to fill silence, but because something had made sense. Her eyes flicked back to him as he continued, and this time she studied him more closely, the quiet certainty in his voice contrasting with the uncertainty that had been circling her own thoughts. When he spoke about the older nobles—the ones who didn’t shout, who observed more than they interrupted—she found herself thinking back to them as well. The man in blue robes. The way he had waited. The way he had responded to her without dismissal. She hadn’t imagined that. Her fingers shifted slightly against her sleeve as that realisation settled, small but steadying. When Sage leaned against the desk and told her they approved of her, she hesitated again—but not in the same way as before. This time it wasn’t immediate disbelief. It was consideration. A quiet weighing of the idea rather than rejecting it outright. “I don’t know if I believe that just yet,” she admitted softly, though there was less resistance in her tone now. “But… I think I saw what you mean.” Her gaze dipped briefly, thoughtful. “Some of them weren’t… dismissive.” That felt like the most honest way to put it. Not full acceptance. Not yet. But not rejection either. And that was something. She looked back up as he moved to gather his more comfortable clothes, her expression calmer now, the earlier edge of uncertainty softened into something more grounded. She watched him reach the doorway, expecting him to disappear into the bathroom without another word—but when he paused and spoke again, the quiet sincerity in his voice caught her off guard. For a moment, she didn’t move at all. The door closed softly behind him, and the room fell into a gentler silence, but the words lingered in the space he had left behind. Alorha stood there for a few seconds longer than necessary, her thoughts unusually still as she absorbed it. Pride was not something she was used to hearing directed at her—not here, not in this place where everything felt like it had to be earned and proven. Her gaze drifted toward the mirror again, though this time when she looked at her reflection, it felt… different. Not entirely confident. Not entirely certain. But not entirely out of place either. She exhaled slowly, some of the remaining tension leaving her shoulders as she reached up to adjust the edge of her sleeve, a small, absent movement as her thoughts settled into something quieter, steadier. “…Thank you,” she murmured under her breath, though he couldn’t hear it through the door. And for the first time since leaving the meeting chamber, she allowed herself to believe—just a little—that maybe she hadn’t failed. |
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Sage had halted on his own side of the door, once it had closed, letting out a heavy breath. He hadn't really stopped to think about what he had just said - he'd sort of just....said it. But he did believe it, and he supposed it was something that she would have wanted to hear. He didn't know if they had formed a relationship where his words would mean much to her - after all, he was still just her servant. She could be friendly without really finding much value in his words. They could be close but not ...that close. Maybe he was being too emotional about it. He let out another huff of air as he turned to glance in the mirror, watching his reflection for a moment or so before just shaking his head and moving to wash the makeup off his face. He dried his face off then, still somewhat second guessing himself about it all. He knew it probably wasn't anything he should be worrying about, but he was terrified he'd mess what they had up. He couldn't sit around in the bathroom all day though, so he moved to quickly get dressed into the more comfortable clothes before slipping out of the bathroom and into the main room again, trying not to think about their previous conversation. He did move to peer at the art stuff they'd brought back, brows pinching together slightly as he then turned to examine the room. "We have nothing else today, and most of the day tomorrow....maybe we could start working on reworking the room," he noted, wanting to focus on the job at hand rather than all his doubts. |
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Alorha had not moved far from where he had left her when the bathroom door opened again, though the stillness she had fallen into earlier had softened into something quieter, more settled. She had drifted toward the window at some point, her fingers resting lightly against the cool stone beside it as she looked out over the gardens they had only just left behind. The light had shifted again, softer now, the long stretch of green and glass catching the late afternoon sun in a way that made everything seem calmer than it had any right to be. For a moment, she let herself linger there, holding onto that feeling—the warmth, the openness, the absence of expectation. When she heard the door open behind her, she turned slightly, her attention returning to the room and to him. Whatever thoughts had been circling her mind earlier had quieted enough that she didn’t feel quite so caught in them anymore. Not gone, but… steadier. Her gaze followed him as he moved toward the art supplies, watching the way his expression shifted, the small crease forming between his brows as his focus redirected itself somewhere practical. It didn’t escape her notice that he had moved on quickly, almost deliberately, but she didn’t push at it. Instead, she let him have that space, the same way he had given her space to process everything earlier. When he spoke about reworking the room, something in her expression lifted—subtle, but real. “That sounds like a much better use of our time,” she replied, her tone warmer now, a hint of something lighter threading back into it. She stepped away from the window then, crossing the room slowly as her eyes drifted over the space with a more thoughtful focus than before. It was easier to look at it now—not as something intimidating or impersonal, but as something unfinished. Something they could change. Her fingers brushed along the back of a chair as she passed it, her gaze moving from the heavy curtains to the dark walls, then toward the corner where they had stacked the supplies. “It still feels like someone else’s room,” she admitted, though there was less discomfort in the statement than there had been earlier in the day. “But I think that can change.” She paused near the materials they had gathered, crouching slightly to glance over the jars and bundles again, a faint spark of curiosity returning as she reached out to lightly tap the lid of one of the pigment containers. “If we’re going to do this properly,” she added, glancing back up at him, “we should probably decide what we’re actually aiming for before we start throwing paint at the walls.” There was a trace of amusement in her voice now, soft but present. She straightened again, turning slowly in place as she looked around the room with more intention this time, her thoughts beginning to take shape in a way they hadn’t before. “You said the gardens earlier,” she continued, tilting her head slightly as she considered it. “I like that idea.” Her gaze drifted briefly toward the window again, as though she could still see the greenery beyond it. “Something lighter. Less… heavy.” Her attention returned to him then, more focused now, more engaged. “Where would you start?” she asked, genuinely curious, her tone open in a way that made it clear she wasn’t just asking for the sake of it. |
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Sage hummed softly in agreement to planning it out before just jumping at the walls with the paint. It was a fairly amusing thought, just going at it without thinking. Granted, he was sort of half about to do that, but he'd also planned some things out in his head too. So he wasn't sure that counted as just jumping into it blindly. He had a vision in his mind, at least. "Well, we'll have to move the furniture off the walls, but I was thinking of getting a dark green accent wall over there," he noted, gesturing to the wall in question, "and then lighter colors around it." He gave her a somewhat sheepish grin. "I was planning on doing a garden type design on the darker wall to put lighter shades there too," he added. He didn't want to tell her the exact design he had in mind, since those were her vines and he wanted to surprise her with that, but he did say there'd be a design there. "Then I want to redo all the furniture with the whites and lighter green accents, and have the curtains be a lighter green too, with maybe a white pair underneath the green, but those will be sheer so it'll let the light in," he chirped. "And if they have a small pattern on them that might look good too." He regarded the bed for a moment or so before wrinkling his nose slightly. "And we should also replace the sheets with something that matches as well," he admitted. "And the bathroom might get a do-over." He was clearly getting very excited about it all....he'd never had a chance to let his creative side out at all, so the more he thought about it, the more excited he grew about it. "I'll probably bring in some plants to keep by the windows ....I can always make pots with the clay we found if we don't find any we like out in the garden supplies," he noted, mostly thinking out loud about that as well. |
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Alorha listened as Sage began to explain, and it didn’t take long for her to notice the shift in him. The hesitation from earlier—the quiet second-guessing she had caught in the small pauses—seemed to fall away piece by piece as he spoke. In its place was something far more natural. His thoughts moved quickly, ideas building on top of each other, his attention flicking from one part of the room to another as though he could already see the changes laid out before them. She didn’t interrupt, not this time. Instead, she watched, her expression softening into something quietly attentive, letting him talk through it all. As he gestured toward the wall, her gaze followed, studying the space with new perspective. A dark green accent wall. She tried to picture it—something richer than what was there now, something that didn’t feel quite so heavy despite being darker. When he mentioned adding a design across it, she tilted her head slightly, curiosity flickering in her expression, though she didn’t press him for details. There was something in the way he said it—just vague enough—that made her suspect he was holding something back on purpose. The thought didn’t bother her. If anything, it made her faintly amused. She turned a little more fully, letting her eyes trace along the rest of the walls as he continued, imagining the lighter tones he described softening the room. It was easy to see how it would change things. The space already felt less oppressive just thinking about it—less like something she had been placed into, more like something that could actually belong to them. When he moved on to the furniture and curtains, she let out a small breath of quiet agreement, her fingers brushing absently along the edge of the table as she considered it. “Lighter curtains would help a lot,” she said thoughtfully. “The ones here now feel like they’re trying to block out the day entirely.” Her gaze flicked briefly toward the windows again, remembering the way the light had looked outside, how different everything had felt when it wasn’t filtered through heavy fabric and stone. She glanced back at him as he wrinkled his nose at the bed, and this time a faint smile appeared properly. “I think replacing those might be necessary,” she agreed lightly. “I’m not entirely convinced they’ve been changed in… a while.” There was a trace of dry humor in her voice now, the earlier weight of the meeting continuing to ease as the conversation shifted further into something simpler. But it was when he kept going—moving from one idea to the next, talking about plants, pots, even the possibility of reworking the bathroom—that she stilled slightly, her attention sharpening in a quieter way. Not because of the ideas themselves, but because of him. The excitement in his voice wasn’t restrained anymore. It wasn’t careful or measured—it was genuine, unguarded, and she realised, perhaps for the first time, how rarely she had seen that from him before. Her expression softened almost imperceptibly. “You’ve thought about this a lot,” she said gently, not as an accusation but as an observation, her tone carrying a quiet warmth. There was something almost fond in it, though she didn’t make a point of it. Instead, she stepped a little closer to the wall he had first pointed out, lifting her hand to rest lightly against it as she considered the space again—this time not just imagining it, but trusting the picture he was building. “I think it would work,” she added after a moment, glancing back over her shoulder at him. “The darker wall would give it some depth, and the rest would stop it from feeling too enclosed.” Her fingers tapped lightly once against the surface before she let her hand fall again. “And the plants…” A small pause, her expression shifting just slightly, something more personal threading through it. “I’d like that.” She turned properly then, leaning back against the edge of the table, her arms folding loosely as she studied him with a quieter kind of curiosity than before. “Where did you learn all this?” she asked, tilting her head just slightly. It wasn’t disbelief—it was genuine interest. The way he spoke about it didn’t feel like guesswork. It felt like something he understood. And then, after a brief pause, a faint, almost teasing note slipped back into her tone. “Or have you just been secretly planning to take over interior design without telling anyone?” |
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Sage hadn't quite realized how much he was talking, but he was too excited to stop at the moment. He wanted her to be able to see the vision he had of the place, and he wanted to make sure she liked it too. He certainly didn't want to redo it how he wanted and not take her opinions into account. That would be the opposite of what he wanted to do here. She didn't seem to mind, though, and he listened as she spoke up, humming in agreement. "More light will be nice," he agreed. "And if like to try and see if we can get the windows to open," he added. They hadn't been opened almost ever....so they were likely rusted shut by now, something he hoped to fix. Keeping them open and letting the fresher air in alongside the light sounded lovely, especially when it was nice out. At her comment about the sheets on the bed, he chuckled with a nod. "They've been washed but not changed completely for a while," he noted with amusement. "And I washed them, so I should know," he added with a soft snicker. He nodded with a soft nod as she agreed that she would like the plants inside the room, just grinning over at her excitedly. Her comment did make him pause though, and he cocked his head softly, thinking. "I'm not sure. Never thought about that much," he admitted, sitting back on his heels where he was crouching next to the jars of paints and such. "I've just ...always had a knack for art, I guess. And my imagination was all I've had to keep me sane all these years," he thought out loud. That culmination of things and ideas was probably what allowed him to do all this, he supposed. He didn't know what other options there would be. "Although I have always thought the people decorating the castle could have done better," he added, amusement threading through his voice. He had often imagined things differently designed. He moved to start pulling out powdered pigments, as well as the large stone mortar and pestle type bowl to grind it into the oil. He played around with it for maybe ten minutes or so, mixing powders together and such until he found a few shades that he thought would look good. "What do you think of these," he asked, waving Alorha over to take a peek at them. That way they could agree on colors before actually mixing the paints. |
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Morning Snow followed by Sunshine
