|
|
Post by Marie Simone Moreau on Nov 9, 2011 12:10:59 GMT -5
 my weakness i feel i must finally show[/size][/center] Four months had passed since the King of Creta had fallen ill, and three since Simone had approached him with her proposition. Ever since the king had agreed, Simone had been working night and day to crack her father’s alkahestry research notes. This task, Simone discovered, was easier said than done. For starters, all of Sheng’s notes were written in his native language, which Simone could only understand bits and pieces of. Secondly, Sheng had been a very private man when it came to his research and he hadn’t spoken of his work to anyone, not even his only child who wanted nothing more than to follow in her father’s footsteps of alkahestry.
That left Simone with an extremely daunting task, and a fear that she had gotten in over her head. She sat at her father’s old desk in his old study, surrounded by his handwritten notes and dozens of translation books and alchemy books all wide open and sprawled across the desk and floor. With a pen in her left hand and her right pointer finger slowly running across the words on the current page of notes, Simone read and reread each word or phrase, looked it up in the dictionary and checked and rechecked to see if they all made sense together. It took all of Simone’s strength not to get frustrated or impatient with herself when nothing seemed to match up, but nothing seemed to. She wasn’t even a quarter through the notes and time was cruelly racing past her.
Simone sighed and closed her eyes, which had begun to glaze over. She sat back in her chair, letting the pen fall from her hand and her pointer finger lose its place in the notes. Sleep was threatening to disrupt her studies, but Simone could not let it win. She had to figure this out. She couldn’t die. She had to marry Mathieu.
Her eyes fluttered open once more, wandering up to the ticking clock just above the desk. It was half past two. “Oh, mon Dieu,” Simone sighed, rubbing her eyes with her palms. She decided now was a good time for a tea break – she’d been working for six hours straight. Simone stood up from the desk and walked through the door that connected her bedroom to her father’s study. She grabbed her robe from her armoire and pulled it on over her nightgown before heading down to the kitchens. Simone much preferred the palace at night rather than during the day. The halls were empty and everything was calm and quiet –
Simone stopped in her tracks, hearing footsteps around the corner, coming straight towards her. Not ten seconds later, Mathieu rounded the corner and came face to face with Simone. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of the man who held her heart. “Mathieu,” she gasped, becoming very flustered. “I mean… my prince.” She gave a quick curtsey and looked back up at him. “You’re up late.” Simone pulled her robe tightly around her, realizing she was very informally dressed and much too revealing. “Is there something I can do for you?” |
|
|
|
Post by Prince Mathieu of Creta on Nov 10, 2011 18:53:58 GMT -5
J'y pense encors le soir | [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background: #ffffff, border: solid #ffffff 5px; width: 500px; height: 500px;] Mathieu couldn't sleep. It was a common thing, these days. His father was horribly ill, and he seemed to be getting worse rather than better. Mathieu wasn't ready to take the crown; he knew that. He was only twenty, after all! He supposed that it was at least partially his own fault; he had spent more time chasing skirts than preparing to take the crown. His mother would help him, of course, once she'd finished grieving...
Merde. It was doing him absolutely no good to think like this, but nevertheless, the thoughts kept cycling through his head. Nothing he did seemed to stop them. Tonight was particularly bad, for whatever reason. It wasn't as if it had just now sunk in; no, he'd realised it after his father hadn't recovered after a few weeks. He'd been working very hard to prepare to take the crown. It seemed inevitable at this point, after all.
His friends had tried to help, and he was grateful. Of course, it didn't hurt that his very best friend had never been too fond of just having fun with girls... which had been the hardest thing to stop. It wasn't too difficult to stay serious, as he knew that it was very, very serious, but... it was hard to stay away from girls. Especially with all of the new noblewomen at court (hoping to marry him, no doubt, and completely oblivious that Mathieu would marry none of them). But now... even that was losing its edge. Up until a few weeks ago, even, he could go to sleep and stay asleep after he'd been with a girl. But he'd been getting less and less sleep as of late... and tonight, he had been entirely unable to sleep.
As such, he'd decided to go down to the kitchens, perhaps for some warm milk or something that could help him sleep. It certainly wouldn't hurt, after all, and maybe he could even take his mind off of things. Well, actually, that was incredibly doubtful. Nothing could take his mind off of this. He was still thinking of it when he almost ran right into that commoner girl... Marie Simone, wasn't it? He rolled his eyes as she tried to find the right words, choosing to ignore the informal manner in which she'd addressed him. "I can't sleep," he said in a tone that clearly addressed his superiority. "You are working on something to help my father, aren't you?" She was some sort of physician, wasn't she? Not that the other physicians had been of any help. At this point, even something that could alleviate his father's misery would be a godsend.
He furrowed his brows. He knew that it was late, and he certainly hoped that she was up late searching for a cure. "You were doing research, yes?" If she weren't, then she'd be the first one to go when Mathieu became king. He remembered the girl's father fairly well; he had been a very intelligent man who never ceased to heal any malady... save his own.
|
[/td][/tr][/table] TAGGED marie simone. WORDS idon'tcare. OUTFIT blue silk pyjamas.
NOTES: Sexy Masaomi is sexy. I will replace him with a picture of angsty Masaomi tomorrow. Template by C'est Helle ME! Please don't remove credit! [/center] |
|
|
|
Post by Marie Simone Moreau on Nov 10, 2011 22:05:03 GMT -5
my weakness i feel i must finally show [/size][/center] It didn’t matter to Simone how Mathieu’s brows furrowed and his lips curled into a frown and his eyes rolled every time he saw her or heard her speak to him. Those would have been clear signs to any sane individual that the person in question couldn’t care less about them. To a naïve seventeen-year-old girl who wanted nothing more to love and be loved in return, that look of utter disapproval could be easily overseen. Mathieu was perfect in Simone’s eyes. He could do no wrong, no matter how many times he shooed her away or no matter how many women he spent the night with. Simone couldn’t help but be completely infatuated with the prince who had occupied her thoughts ever since she had mastered her long-term memory. But Mathieu had given her just about as little attention as she had given him all of her attention. Simone wasn’t an idiot – at least, not completely. She knew that Mathieu didn’t think of her as worthy of his love or affection. Simone was born a commoner and she would always be a commoner. Mathieu came from wealth and a good name, and he would never accept a commoner as his bride.
This is, unless Mathieu had no choice. Simone had imagined her wedding day ever since she was a little girl. Her vision changed a lot, like what she would wear or what food she would serve or where the ceremony would be held. What didn’t change, however, was her groom. Sometimes Simone couldn’t distinguish the difference between her love of Mathieu and her obsession with Mathieu, which was how her plot to marry him came about. In her heart of hearts, Simone truly did love him. She wanted him to be happy and healthy and Simone was thoroughly convinced that she was the woman who could provide him with a happy and healthy life and that no other woman was good enough for him. Mathieu couldn’t, or wouldn’t, see that, and Simone could find no other option to prove this to him.
“Yes, of course I am,” Simone assured him, looking at just about everything except Mathieu. As often as Simone was around the prince, she was still incredibly intimidated by his presence, and she was sure Mathieu was very much aware of that power he had over her. Simone rubbed her hands together, watching as her fingers left light red marks across her skin. “I’ve been working on translating my father’s notes. I have a good portion of them done, but I feel like there’s something missing. I can’t quite…” Simone trailed off, deciding it would be best not to let Mathieu in on just how much trouble she was having with her father’s notes.
Simone finally looked up into the prince’s eyes, noticing just how exhausted he looked. She wondered how long it had been since he’d gotten a full night of sleep. Mathieu was probably even more stressed out at the current time than she was. All Simone had to be afraid of was death. Mathieu had to worry about ruling an entire kingdom at the age of twenty. Her hand twitched slightly, wanting to reach out to him and comfort him, but she kept her hands clasped tightly together. “I will heal your father, Prince,” Simone promised, her voice gentle but confident. “You need not fear.” |
|
|
|
Post by Prince Mathieu of Creta on Jan 1, 2012 13:36:44 GMT -5
J'y pense encors le soir | [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background: #ffffff, border: solid #ffffff 5px; width: 500px; height: 500px;] It wasn't that Mathieu disliked that this commoner obviously was infatuated with him; any woman infatuated with him only served to feed his ego, but... what was annoying was that this girl clearly thought that she had a chance with him. He'd never understand it; did she think that he was just going to marry a common girl - one who wasn't even entirely Cretan, no less!
However, that was the least of his worries as of late. He had to prepare to take the crown and... with the way he'd been lately, he wasn't sure that he'd make it through the first month, let alone the rest of his life.
Which was why he desperately needed this girl to find a cure. Perhaps he was lucky that she had never begrudged him for ignoring her; if she had, perhaps she wouldn't have volunteered to try to save the King, at least not with her life on the line. That realisation startled Mathieu. He knew very well that this girl was his father's last hope, and if she had begrudged him...
He shook that thought from his head. There was no use thinking like that.
The girl seemed nervous around him, looking everywhere but at him. He hoped that it was just how intimidated she was by him; he'd have her head if she were lying to his face. "You should be." He hesitated when she said that she'd been having trouble. "If you need a Xingese translator, I'll send for one straightaway. I want my father to get better, and I don't want you to waste your time trying to translate a language you can barely understand. I want all of your time spent trying to help my father." He realised too late that the girl might have seen this as some sign of affection, which it certainly was not. There was no way he'd let her waste time trying to translate the language itself, not when time was so precious.
He wasn't entirely reassured by the girl's words. She was younger than him, after all, and, though certainly clever, not exactly a prodigy. Still... "I'll hold you to that. You know what will happen if you fail." He would not hesitate to have this girl's head if she failed, and he wanted to make sure that she realised that he would not take mercy on her.
Mathieu sighed. "You should get back to working on those notes. I'm going to the kitchen." He went to leave, unsure of whether or not the girl would call after him.
|
[/td][/tr][/table] TAGGED marie simone. WORDS idon'tcare. OUTFIT blue silk pyjamas.
NOTES: Awkward and uber-late, sorry! DX Trying to get these all done before Tuesday! Template by C'est Helle ME! Please don't remove credit! [/center] |
|
