There were three of them--one more than she'd been expecting and yet at the same time far less. She hadn't kept up with the gossip of the royal and noble classes' lives over the past few years, of course, because she never had before; but she did have the vaguest recollection of two previous royal weddings between the King and one of his new Consorts. As far as she could recall, that accounted for the man in this little group--a pale-skinned, dark-haired, and slim figure with a less-than-particularly friendly look on his face--and one or the other of the two women. The first of these women was a tall, shockingly voluptuous and undeniably attractive girl obviously a few years (or more) older than Sparrow herself; there was something unsettling, though, about the way she was looking at Sparrow as if the latter woman was in fact a meal rather than a person, and Sparrow found herself now flustered on top of wary.
The second woman, though, was the one among them who looked anything resembling friendly. She, like her counterpart, was certainly more femininely endowed than Sparrow herself, but unlike the other woman, who was adorned more extravagantly with makeup and jewels than any woman Sparrow had ever set eyes upon, she was dressed far more casually than Sparrow had expected her to be--and the warm, welcoming smile on her face was something of a pleasant surprise, even if Sparrow wasn't willing to go quite so far as to call it a relief.
"Lost?" the man asked after a moment, and for a single, mad instant, Sparrow was about to say yes--
--but the woman with the hungry look in her eye turned to him, eyes still glinting, and chastised him before she had a chance to speak. "Simon, you know she's not. Stelian described her perfectly." Sparrow stood awkwardly by the door as she watched the woman stand, and it was only when Sparrow saw her upright that she realized just how scantily clothed this stranger was. She had obviously interrupted them during a private moment, then; it wasn't often one saw a stranger--or one of noble ranking, at least--this exposed.
Sparrow's eyes must have widened in her surprise as the woman started toward her, because the imposing figure stopped with an almost delighted smile before glancing back at the man again. "But he didn't say she was shy." The woman turned back to her again, grinning.
"Don't torment her," the man interrupted, just as the woman was opening her mouth to speak again. She fell silent, but she appeared to sulk about it, though perhaps the response was more playful than genuine. "I'm imagine she's overwhelmed enough without having to deal with your teasing. Sit back down and leave her alone."
The woman standing rolled her eyes, and while she didn't sit back down, she didn't approach Sparrow, either. And she also didn't hold to her silence.
"Fine, then," she said. "I hope I'm allowed to at least introduce myself to our new bride?" Sparrow flinched. This wasn't happening. "I'm Isadora. First Consort to the King of Parabellum--as I'm sure you know."
Sparrow hadn't known, of course, and wasn't even sure what exactly a "First Consort" was or how it was any different from a regular Consort--assuming it was different at all. But Isadora didn't seem to realize that; she was staring at Sparrow expectantly, and Sparrow realized how she was supposed to respond after just a few too many moments.
"Sparrow," she said quickly, her voice colder and far more obviously anxious than she'd intended it to be. (But what point was there in hiding, anyway?) "My name is Sparrow."
"Is it?" the man asked, and though his face hadn't shifted, he sounded almost skeptical.
Isadora, too, looked fairly surprised by her words. "Stelian said it was Stacey."
"He doesn't know me, then, does he?"
And that, surprising, was the first thing that brought even the slightest hint of change to the seated man's expression. The faintest smirk appeared on his lips even as Isadora's expression fell--and the seated woman's faltered slightly. "Are you sure it's you, then?" she asked, speaking for the very first time. She had a gentle voice to match her smile, and it was only when she heard it that Sparrow decided there might truly be some hint of genuine amiability to her smile.
Untitled Harem/Parabellum Crossover [4/?]
The second woman, though, was the one among them who looked anything resembling friendly. She, like her counterpart, was certainly more femininely endowed than Sparrow herself, but unlike the other woman, who was adorned more extravagantly with makeup and jewels than any woman Sparrow had ever set eyes upon, she was dressed far more casually than Sparrow had expected her to be--and the warm, welcoming smile on her face was something of a pleasant surprise, even if Sparrow wasn't willing to go quite so far as to call it a relief.
"Lost?" the man asked after a moment, and for a single, mad instant, Sparrow was about to say yes--
--but the woman with the hungry look in her eye turned to him, eyes still glinting, and chastised him before she had a chance to speak. "Simon, you know she's not. Stelian described her perfectly." Sparrow stood awkwardly by the door as she watched the woman stand, and it was only when Sparrow saw her upright that she realized just how scantily clothed this stranger was. She had obviously interrupted them during a private moment, then; it wasn't often one saw a stranger--or one of noble ranking, at least--this exposed.
Sparrow's eyes must have widened in her surprise as the woman started toward her, because the imposing figure stopped with an almost delighted smile before glancing back at the man again. "But he didn't say she was shy." The woman turned back to her again, grinning.
"Don't torment her," the man interrupted, just as the woman was opening her mouth to speak again. She fell silent, but she appeared to sulk about it, though perhaps the response was more playful than genuine. "I'm imagine she's overwhelmed enough without having to deal with your teasing. Sit back down and leave her alone."
The woman standing rolled her eyes, and while she didn't sit back down, she didn't approach Sparrow, either. And she also didn't hold to her silence.
"Fine, then," she said. "I hope I'm allowed to at least introduce myself to our new bride?" Sparrow flinched. This wasn't happening. "I'm Isadora. First Consort to the King of Parabellum--as I'm sure you know."
Sparrow hadn't known, of course, and wasn't even sure what exactly a "First Consort" was or how it was any different from a regular Consort--assuming it was different at all. But Isadora didn't seem to realize that; she was staring at Sparrow expectantly, and Sparrow realized how she was supposed to respond after just a few too many moments.
"Sparrow," she said quickly, her voice colder and far more obviously anxious than she'd intended it to be. (But what point was there in hiding, anyway?) "My name is Sparrow."
"Is it?" the man asked, and though his face hadn't shifted, he sounded almost skeptical.
Isadora, too, looked fairly surprised by her words. "Stelian said it was Stacey."
"He doesn't know me, then, does he?"
And that, surprising, was the first thing that brought even the slightest hint of change to the seated man's expression. The faintest smirk appeared on his lips even as Isadora's expression fell--and the seated woman's faltered slightly. "Are you sure it's you, then?" she asked, speaking for the very first time. She had a gentle voice to match her smile, and it was only when she heard it that Sparrow decided there might truly be some hint of genuine amiability to her smile.