Her skirts swished slightly over the carpets of the guest bedroom she paced in. Closed eyes and arms folded firmly across her chest, Darcie moved in a slow circle.
The room was bare of most of the woman's belongings as they had been packed away into their trunks once more. Off to a weekend retreat she had been looking forward to only for her thoughts to be ruined by a conversation with a man she assumed had been in Ithania.
Her father had appeared with boot and cane a-clicking and set her mind in an uproar with the words he has spoken.
"I am not sure, but it will take much work."
Darcie opened her eyes and unfolded her arms, placing her hands upon the edge of the desk. She stared out the window and squinted slightly at her barely visible reflection.
"I can't. I can't face them all with such thoughts racing about in my mind. For blasted sakes, I was happy! I was content!" The woman snarled and grabbed a nearby vase, pitched it against the wall.
The vase smashed upon impact and Darcie stalked forward, an annoyed and quite irritated expression upon her features.
Slowly, she began to gather the smashed pieces of the vase up.
"Spirit help me… Spirit he-" Her words were interrupted by the sound of soft footfalls and a gentle knock at her door.
"Madame? Is everything alright?" A servant's voice spoke from behind the door, clearly the source of the knock and the footfalls. "Lady Avynn heard a crash and she sent me up-"
"I'm fine. Something simply fell." The woman snapped, gritting her teeth slightly in the direction of the door. With her mind distracted, Darcie clenched firmly down upon a piece of the broken ceramic vase, cutting into her palm.
With an irritated yelp, she quickly deposited the pieces of vase she held into the waste bin beneath the desk. Studying the cut upon her palm, she watched as the blood dripped down slowly.
"Blood of my father, blood of my mother, blood of my own… A war within my head and heart, and I don't know who or what I side with."
She lifted her head up and gazed once more out the window.
Whatever decisions the woman was to make were to come in the future. Perhaps some made upon the birthday she so hated. Soon, she would make her choice. To follow her head as she did before or to follow her heart which held the life she had attempted to create.
The room was bare of most of the woman's belongings as they had been packed away into their trunks once more. Off to a weekend retreat she had been looking forward to only for her thoughts to be ruined by a conversation with a man she assumed had been in Ithania.
Her father had appeared with boot and cane a-clicking and set her mind in an uproar with the words he has spoken.
"I am not sure, but it will take much work."
Darcie opened her eyes and unfolded her arms, placing her hands upon the edge of the desk. She stared out the window and squinted slightly at her barely visible reflection.
"I can't. I can't face them all with such thoughts racing about in my mind. For blasted sakes, I was happy! I was content!" The woman snarled and grabbed a nearby vase, pitched it against the wall.
The vase smashed upon impact and Darcie stalked forward, an annoyed and quite irritated expression upon her features.
Slowly, she began to gather the smashed pieces of the vase up.
"Spirit help me… Spirit he-" Her words were interrupted by the sound of soft footfalls and a gentle knock at her door.
"Madame? Is everything alright?" A servant's voice spoke from behind the door, clearly the source of the knock and the footfalls. "Lady Avynn heard a crash and she sent me up-"
"I'm fine. Something simply fell." The woman snapped, gritting her teeth slightly in the direction of the door. With her mind distracted, Darcie clenched firmly down upon a piece of the broken ceramic vase, cutting into her palm.
With an irritated yelp, she quickly deposited the pieces of vase she held into the waste bin beneath the desk. Studying the cut upon her palm, she watched as the blood dripped down slowly.
"Blood of my father, blood of my mother, blood of my own… A war within my head and heart, and I don't know who or what I side with."
She lifted her head up and gazed once more out the window.
Whatever decisions the woman was to make were to come in the future. Perhaps some made upon the birthday she so hated. Soon, she would make her choice. To follow her head as she did before or to follow her heart which held the life she had attempted to create.
