@Dauphin DaGlobster
In another life, maybe, Yvaine thought she might have actually liked her new home. The manor was spacious and well-lit, most of the rooms bearing large windows that stretched from floor to ceiling, or nearly. Her new bedchamber itself had a wall that was almost entirely window, leading out onto a small but elegant balcony. And it really was a fine set of rooms, even aside from that: the bed was luxurious, she had her own private bath chamber, a small sitting room for "taking tea", as she'd been told, even a smallish sort of study space that seemed to have mostly served as an offshoot of the main library up until this point.
Yes, in pretty much any other circumstances she might have been quite happy here. Aside from her family--well, her brothers, really--she had anything she could possibly want.
Anything except her freedom.
"Oh, don't be so dramatic," Amelia Devereaux had snapped at her daughter when Yvaine voiced this two days ago when they'd first arrived. "You're his betrothed, not his prisoner." She'd narrowed her eyes, pinning Yvaine in place with a cold, distant glare. "You have a responsibility, Yvaine."
She could taste iron in the back of her throat at those words.
And that was that. She hadn't seen or heard from her family since they'd left her...her
betrothed's manor two days ago. She knew she wouldn't until the wedding in two weeks' time. It was a bit unorthodox for the new bride to be living in her husband's home before they were officially married, but her parents had wanted her in Uthlyn--with
him--as quickly and efficiently as possible.
Nip those rumors in the bud, he father had said flatly.
So here she was. Far from her home, her family, her friends, everything and everyone she'd ever known. And this is where she would stay.
Yvaine did find some solace in the library of Thistlewhit Manor--a rather fanciful name, but almost despite herself she thought it might be able to grow on her. She only hoped the same could be said of its lord.
It was a massive room on the first flood which stretched upward nearly a full two stories, accessibly from the second floor by a thin balcony that wrapped around the interior. It was on the balcony that she'd been finding herself most often the past two days, skimming the shelves with her fingertips as she familiarized herself with the place.
That evening though, she decided to take a closer look at the first floor--which was really more a personal museum than it was a library. The floor space was mostly occupied with carefully organized glass and wood display cases, plush-carpeted paths winding between them. There were the customary bookshelves along the walls, of course, but these were rare, old tomes. Some even dealt with arcane topics, though all of those were chained behind a special glass case front.
Lord Farris Seigbert was a man of refined, eclectic tastes, and he was quite proud of his collection. In fact, it was nearly all they'd spoken of in the last few days. Which was better than quite a few alternatives, she supposed, but still...he was just so incredibly
dull! Ansgar, she'd thought she might just expire from boredom when he attempted to give her a tour of this lower floor earlier and spent nearly fifteen minutes waxing poetic about a scrap of cloth supposedly once part of a holy knight's banner.
Luckily he'd retired for the night, leaving her alone in the library. Yvaine looped around the back of the room, her eyes skimming the tall shelves. Her eyebrows crept up. As much as she didn't want to vindicate Seigbert's pride in his collection--as he hadn't actually
done anything to acquire these books and artifacts, other than inherent quite a bit of money--she had to admit the titles and authors she saw on these tomes were impressive.
I just wish...No. No, stop that!
Gritting her teeth, Yvaine slammed her hand into the side of a bookshelf, sending a resounding
THUD pulsing out through the vaulted room. She didn't care. No one was around to here.
"Stop wishing, stupid girl," she hissed to herself, fists clenched tight at her sides, head bowed forward and eyes tight shut. "Wishing is what got you here."
