Jun 20, 2018 7:28 AM
griffinmarsh
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Emma and Ivan in Chronicle
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"Thanks," he says, preoccupied. "I mean, I'm sure it'll be fine. Sleep well."

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"You too."

And then Emmalina goes to acquaint herself with the bed. Large and soft and actual palace bed. Is it legal to marry a mattress? She's considering it.
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The mattress is emotionless but very cozy. Perhaps they will only be bestest friends.

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Emmalina will just have to overcome her disappointment by burrowing into the mattress as deeply as she can manage. She'll come back out tomorrow. Eventually. Maybe.

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Well, nobody is going to wake her, but if she should wake of her own accord and open the door there will be breakfast waiting on a tray.

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Emmalina doesn't often sleep late, but it's a really nice bed, and she doesn't have much else to do. By the time she retrieves her tray it's probably closer to lunch than breakfast, but she won't be thinking about that.

Now that she's less tired- thank you, fluffy mattress- and better fed, she starts to remember exactly how little she knows about what's going to happen to her for the rest of her life. Then she sets to work distracting herself from that train of thought. Her food gets arranged into a only faintly passing resemblance of the Griffinmarsh flag; she eats it crankily until she feels better. Then she washes herself up, puts on her remaining dress, and wanders the palace. She doesn't need any particular goal- the staff keep worriedly offering to direct her somewhere, but she's just exploring. The palace is pretty, the gardens are stunning, she can amuse herself appreciating the scenery for a while.
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If she looks out the window, she might spot Jann escorting a giggling ladyfriend to a side door of the castle.

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When she sees Jann with his... friend, she flushes bright red and turns her back on the window immediately. None of her business none of her business she can be disappointed (...she's disappointed?) but none of her business. She locates a servant to point her to a nice spot in the gardens (far, far away from that side door) and amuses herself exploring instead.

The time outside is calming; she spends a fair bit of her time lying on her back in the grass with her eyes closed just... doing nothing. No cooking, no watercolors, no cleaning, no dancing. No one expecting her or expecting things of her or waiting on lunch or upset that her dress is grass stained. (...it's going to be so grass stained.) She makes daisy chains and names clouds and often finds herself grinning for no reason at all.

She's rather lost track of time, but her stomach eventually reminds her that time still exists. She brushes off what leaves she can and heads back inside. She doesn't think it's a meal time yet, but there's probably something available in the kitchens, and she's competent enough in a kitchen after Morath that she can probably meaningfully offer to help as a thank you.

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Jann is in the kitchen blowing on a hot bun. "Hullo."

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Emmalina smiles and bobs a nice-to-see-you curtsy out of reflex. "Good..." she stops. "Well, I suppose it must be afternoon, but I, um. Kinda lost track. Your gardens are lovely, by the way."

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"Aren't they? We pay the head gardener a lot, so she doesn't run off."

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"Is that a common problem?" Emmalina wonders. "We're fine at home, but uh... there's not many places to run off from Griffinmarsh."

She eyes the hot buns consideringly. Choices, choices.

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"She threatens to start a magical succulent nursery or grow a hedge maze to hire out. Help yourself, by the by, that's what they're for."

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"There isn't much demand for those back home," Emmalina admits. "My parents are a bit stodgy about magic... or most things, really."

She does in fact take a bun, but does not immediately take a bite. "Thank you," she says with a smile, "but I was, uh, more worried about the temperature." She nods at his. "Yours looked hot."

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"Yeah, maybe give it a minute. Stodgy about magic?"

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"Not a lot of folks want to live in a marsh," Emmalina shrugs. "Everything was just... traditional. Old fashioned." She rolls her eyes. "Morath gave me such grief for thinking he'd eat me."

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"I'd be offended too if I were him! Not your fault though."

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"I definitely got a traditional education. I'm not, um, sure I'd say it was useful, though? What with the annoying dragons, and all."

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"I think dragons probably vary in how traditional they are, but princesses weren't ever food, I don't think."

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"And I'm going to tell myself they knew that, or it makes calling Morath on me much less comfortable," she says grumpily around a mouthful of bun.

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"...dunno if it helps but there are traditional ways to do princess assassinations and that's not one."

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She giggles at that, somewhat hysterically. "'Princess assassinations', what a picture... if you put it like that, it's okay. They wouldn't. They mean well." She rolls her eyes. "They always mean well." The next laugh sounds less manic. "End results may vary, from dragon abductions to really, spectacularly ugly dresses and anything between, but they always legitimately think it helps!"

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"Well... you're pretty well clear of 'em now."

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She smiles at him. "I think you get most of the credit there, so, thank you for that."

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"Anytime."

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