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Jun 18, 2013 19:29:56 GMT -5
Tag me @isadora
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Post by isadora on Aug 10, 2010 22:15:02 GMT -5
It was yet another boring ride to Camelot; as much as she might enjoy her visits, the ride alone made the trips most unpalatable. If the focus of her trips were simply pleasure, she knew she wouldn't be able to bring herself to stomach the journey, but when affairs of the state beckoned, she found herself making the hated ride as many times as necessary. She yawned, stretching her neck as best as she could, only becoming more aware of the aches the saddle had given her. Oh yeah, being a princess was truly a glamorous business.
It was nearing sunset, and Isadora longed for the comfort a night's rest would bring, looking forward to getting out of this accursed saddle. Surely there was some better way to travel? She supposed she could use a carriage, but that would elongate the journey further, and the last thing she wanted was to spend more time away from her father than necessary. She knew that he'd rather make the journey himself, but if something were to happen to him, his health could be devastated. Isadora had no such worries.
Drawing up on the reigns when her escort, six knights of Gwent heavily armed and armored, slowed and readied their weapons. "Is something wrong?" She called, not overly concerned. They tended to get twitchy if a rabbit burst out of the underbrush too suddenly, so she expected this was another overreaction.
"Someone approaches, milady. Probably nothing," one of the knights answered her warily, but his tone made her wonder if he wasn't simply trying to ease her mind. Growing more anxious as the men didn't let up her guard, she waited for some signal from the men that everything was all right, despite the sudden sinking feeling in her stomach. [/size]
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