George[m]xxArabella[f]
He was a monster on the outside, but she saw him for who he was on the inside.
Story? Might do one anyway.
Fiery Gatoh wrote:
She was not like the others.
She was not prim and proper, so unlike like the ladies of the royal court whom spoke with quiet words and watched with gentle gazes. Perhaps she was not to blame; the ladies had been trained to act as they did in the face of the king, to understand their position and not to act too confident in the face of his royal highness. The girl with the feathers had not been exposed to such a regime, and perhaps it acted as an excuse for the things she did, all the laughing and flirting and the way she spoke loudly and without restraint. Perhaps it was unfair to blame her for the things she had not been given as a pup, and perhaps it was unfair to judge her for what she could not help.
Nevertheless, she had to understand that such behaviour was unacceptable if she was ever to be accepted as the nation's queen. Perhaps the people may have accepted her, the press rather generous in their treatment of her many flaws and actions, but it was the opinions of other governments and the opinions royal families that held key importance. She had to impress them, to show good grace and poise as a noble leader; else they would dismiss the king as a fool and pay him little heed in matters of politics. Such was the way the world worked.
Perhaps the King would be willing to give up power for love, but their government would not and nor would the people. They would denounce him, take away his throne and remove his title. The monarchy would cease to exist, and all for the want of a beautiful girl with feathers wrapped around her tail.
Perhaps this could be true, or perhaps, in time, she could learn. Though was not like the others and would never be prim and proper, she could learn how to command respect. Perhaps, in time, she would learn to laugh and to flirt only when suitable, and learn when to speak and when to listen. Perhaps, in time, she could learn the things the ladies had learnt as pups, and learn the mannerisms of a royal. And perhaps, though nobody else thought to realise it, she had known it all along and was already beginning to change.
She hoped that, in time, she would no longer be called the girl with the feathers.
And instead be Seaira, Queen of ChickenSmoothalia*
*It's pronounced 'Chicka-Smoo-thah-lea
Ikaaaaaaaaa wrote:
.riker && trinket.
♂ && ♀
Well you’re the real tough cookie with a long history,
Of breaking little hearts, like the one in me,
That’s ok let’s see how you do it,
Put up your dukes, let’s get down to it.
The horsemaster stood in grand hall, his handsome features toying with a grin as his eyes found the cautious form of Trinket lingering by the door.
"Couldn't stay away, Trinket? Really, I'm flattered." Riker said lazily, allowing his gaze to hang suggestively around the young woman's lips. Trinket blushed, turning her face away from him.
Riker sighed heavily, outstretching one hand out to her. She eagerly leapt forwards to take it. "Listen, sweetheart. You and me can always have some fun together- our chemistry is.." He paused thoughtfully. "strong. But you have to remember that you are a maid, and I am the King's horsemaster. I am above you, my dear."
Trinket linked her fingers around his, her bright eyes searching his face devotedly. "Yes, Riker, of course. I love you, I won't tell anyone about us."
He smiled. "Good girl. Now, why don't you run off and clean my boots; we'll have dinner later."
Without another word, Trinket hurried off with an adoring look over her shoulder.
As soon as she left the room, her face changed. Lips wrought with a sly smile, she slipped like a shadow from the hallway. Her hand briefly fingered the tiny vial of poison bound to her belt.
Oh Riker, my dear. If only you knew...
x.x.x.x
What would you do if you took too much advantage?
What would you do if the woman you thought loved you, was plotting to kill you?
--
I don't even know xD Just a random idea. There's more if you want it ^.^
Nιgнтмare Moon wrote:![]()
I thought I was a fool for no one,
But ooh, baby, I'm a fool for you
The man sat silently on one end of his couch, softly stroking the stubble beginning to grow on his chin. The large grandfather clock behind him, looming over him like a buzzard, the ticking reaching into his chest and tapping at his heart. He shifted uncomfortably, hands unfolding to drum unconsciously on the arm of the couch. Where was she? Why was she always late from work? Paranoia wormed its way into his brain, causing him to bite uncontrollably at his lip.
A click sounded, the click of a key in a lock. He sprang up and hugged her as she walked in, her high heels clicking along with the ticking of the clock. She kissed him breezily on the cheek and delicately hurled her black leather bag across the room, turning as it fell into the open closet. She kicked off her heels and stormed into the kitchen, hardly noticing the full meal that he had prepared for her. She sat down. He hesitantly followed, trying to search her gaze, trying to find the reason behind the silence that always followed them like slush after snow.
She shoveled a few spoonfuls of mashed potatoes into her mouth, then glanced at her Blackberry. Her eyes widened and she stuck her index finger up, then got up and walked away.
He buried his head in his hands, trying to swallow the anger that rose within him. It was just work... just work... wasn't it? He lifted his head and turned, watching her shadow from the other room. Every day was like this. He tried so hard to get her attention, anything to get a word out of her, anything to feel anything. Rage bubbled in his stomach, a sneer plastering itself on his unshaven face.
Every little kiss was a lie, every awkward silent exchange, every glance. It was glaringly obvious. And yet... and yet... he loved her so much... he could not bear to live without her. The mere thought tore his heart to shreds.
But wasn't it already in shreds?
He glared at her as she strolled back into the kitchen, plunking herself down on her seat, her eyes trained on her mashed potatoes. Her cheeks were tinted pink and her watery blue eyes were filled with pure guilt.
You're the queen of the superficial,
And how long before you tell the truth?
~Fallen Angel~ wrote:It was the assessment day at school. Another new school, in a new city, in a new country. And he wouldn't stop looking at me. Every time I looked up, our eyes met. Out in the hall, waiting for our next assessment. In the classrooms, while taking a short break from the endless questions. Outside, soaking up the sun.
And the weird thing? I actually kind of liked it.
xxx
It had been a few weeks since the assessment day and school had just started. I brought my binders, my pencil case, my new planner to every class. As I tried to remember my combination at lunchtime, I saw him again.
Matt, I'd learned his name was. Short for Mattheus. He wasn't looking at me this time, he was with friends. Julian, definitely the most attractive guy in the grade. Jordi, the soccer pro. Markus, the Asian genius with guitar skills out of this world.
I finally managed to unlock my locker and I shoved my stuff inside, grateful for my new friend Genevieve giving a running commentary of what was going on. Maybe in this school I wouldn't be the outcast, the loser, the weirdo.
But I certainly wouldn't be one of the "popular" girls.
The ones guys like Matt and Jordi always went for in the movies.