Relias_
Rose tea tastes good sometimes
[With -
Gunnhildr
]
He awoke before the sun peeks it's rays over the mountains, where the sky is still glossed in dark blue hues and the twinkling star blinks faintly in the distance. Rising from his bed, the young prince carefully swung his legs over to the edge of the bed, sleepy coral colored irises were staring down on the carpeted floor at nothing in particular.
Dazed, he rests his head on his hands, slender fingers running through mint green hair, waiting for the dreams of ruin and despair, the prickling sensation that always stays with him and the heavy, burning weight on his chest to disappear. It has always been like this these days, odd dreams becoming intense as time goes by but the faint recollection he has of them soon disappear as though he never dreamt of it. Gone much like the morning dew.
Standing up, he goes over to the windows, drawing the blinds and opening the glass slowly. Letting the crisp morning air flood into the room. He'd probably be reprimanded by the maids if they saw him still in his sleeping robes, standing by the open window like this. But it brings him peace. He crosses his arms, eyes drifting from the morning view outside to the sword beside his bed.
He steps over to it and picks it up. Thumb brushing over the emblem embedded on the scabbard.
...
Crown Prince of Rismalt:
[Lesstiel Vier]
He awoke before the sun peeks it's rays over the mountains, where the sky is still glossed in dark blue hues and the twinkling star blinks faintly in the distance. Rising from his bed, the young prince carefully swung his legs over to the edge of the bed, sleepy coral colored irises were staring down on the carpeted floor at nothing in particular.
Dazed, he rests his head on his hands, slender fingers running through mint green hair, waiting for the dreams of ruin and despair, the prickling sensation that always stays with him and the heavy, burning weight on his chest to disappear. It has always been like this these days, odd dreams becoming intense as time goes by but the faint recollection he has of them soon disappear as though he never dreamt of it. Gone much like the morning dew.
Standing up, he goes over to the windows, drawing the blinds and opening the glass slowly. Letting the crisp morning air flood into the room. He'd probably be reprimanded by the maids if they saw him still in his sleeping robes, standing by the open window like this. But it brings him peace. He crosses his arms, eyes drifting from the morning view outside to the sword beside his bed.
He steps over to it and picks it up. Thumb brushing over the emblem embedded on the scabbard.
...
Crown Prince of Rismalt:
[Lesstiel Vier]
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