[ sometimes, alisaie is simply too curious for her own good.
she does not mean to go to the west wing, she does not go there with the express purpose of breaking his rules, but nevertheless, she is here. sometimes she walks without watching where her feet carry her, she wanders, lost in thought, following the winding corridors wherever they might take her, without paying much attention to where she is going, or why. the castle is so large and sprawling that she has found so many things this way, so many little hidden rooms or shrouded passageways, places where feet have not walked for many years, and she has occupied the castle so long now that the servants no longer dog her every step. everyone has fallen into a comfortable routine.
and yet, here she is.
alisaie is carrying a small book open on her palm, a tome filled with old, ancient spells of a bygone era, from a country across the sea, and so absorbed is she in the arcane text that she does not notice the large overturned vase that has fallen across her path in the corridor until she trips on it. with a sharp gasp, she catches herself before she falls, steadying herself with a hand on the wall, and at last lifts her gaze from the book.
where on earth has she found herself..? this hall is dim and dusty, the curtains lank and motheaten, the furniture in a state of rot and disrepair. by now the servants, with her help, have cleaned up the castle quite well - had they missed this hall, somehow? ]
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she does not mean to go to the west wing, she does not go there with the express purpose of breaking his rules, but nevertheless, she is here. sometimes she walks without watching where her feet carry her, she wanders, lost in thought, following the winding corridors wherever they might take her, without paying much attention to where she is going, or why. the castle is so large and sprawling that she has found so many things this way, so many little hidden rooms or shrouded passageways, places where feet have not walked for many years, and she has occupied the castle so long now that the servants no longer dog her every step. everyone has fallen into a comfortable routine.
and yet, here she is.
alisaie is carrying a small book open on her palm, a tome filled with old, ancient spells of a bygone era, from a country across the sea, and so absorbed is she in the arcane text that she does not notice the large overturned vase that has fallen across her path in the corridor until she trips on it. with a sharp gasp, she catches herself before she falls, steadying herself with a hand on the wall, and at last lifts her gaze from the book.
where on earth has she found herself..? this hall is dim and dusty, the curtains lank and motheaten, the furniture in a state of rot and disrepair. by now the servants, with her help, have cleaned up the castle quite well - had they missed this hall, somehow? ]