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HelpYour round 1
in reply to a message by Fingaernith
Fingaernith
Monarch: Breccan Nicasio Zevi Willem Augustus
Consort: Kalila Savita Whimsy [Scipio]
Son?: Bran Calum Severin Ariel Nikolai Petros Uriah Mihai Dillon Tybalt
Of the illustrious Royal House of: Toril
In the Kingdom of: Sidonie
Mutatis mutandis. Si non confectus, non reficiat.
Monarch: Breccan Nicasio Zevi Willem Augustus
Consort: Kalila Savita Whimsy [Scipio]
Son?: Bran Calum Severin Ariel Nikolai Petros Uriah Mihai Dillon Tybalt
Of the illustrious Royal House of: Toril
In the Kingdom of: Sidonie
Mutatis mutandis. Si non confectus, non reficiat.
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Fingaernith
Monarch: Breccan Nicasio Zevi Willem Augustus (30)
Consort: Kalila Savita Whimsy [Scipio] (27)
Son?: Tybalt Petros Uriah (3)
Of the illustrious Royal House of: Toril
In the Kingdom of: Sidonie
---
The morning after Breccan and Kalila's beautifully simple wedding, a page showed up at their bedroom door with a soft rap on the wood. "My king, there is a lady here to see you. She claims to need to speak with you. She says it's urgent."
Breccan called back, "I'll be there in a minute! Thank you." As soon as he heard the page's footsteps fade away, he rolled back over and fell back to sleep. Ten minutes later, the page had returned. Once again, Breccan informed him that he would be there in just a minute before returning to sleep.
On the page's third visit, Kalila mumbled sleepily, "Just go, Brec. Make him leave us alone. Besides, what you're doing is rude."
Reluctantly, Breccan rolled out of bed, snatching his clothing off the chair upon which they sat. "Yeah, yeah, I know," he said. "But then again, so is waking someone up so early the morning after they wedded the love of their life." As he spoke, he dressed for the day but Kalila stayed in bed. "Come on, Kal, you're coming, too," he laughed, diving onto the bed and pulling her to her feet as she fought back. "It's your first morning as my wife. You go where I go."
Kalila put on her pouty face before breaking into laughter, having cracked herself up. "Fine! Fine! But only because I love you so much," she insisted.
Once the couple was fully dressed, they left to meet with the woman who had "urgent" business with them. As they entered the throne room, a young, sickly woman stood, holding the hand of a boy who looked to be about three. He looked nothing like his mother but resembled ever so slightly Breccan. The woman bowed her head and spoke: "My king, four years ago, I worked here in the palace as a maid. I was fired four years ago when I became pregnant. This is the child to whom I gave birth. But now I am sick. The doctors estimate that I won't survive past six months. The boy has no one else. No one but you."
Monarch: Breccan Nicasio Zevi Willem Augustus (30)
Consort: Kalila Savita Whimsy [Scipio] (27)
Son?: Tybalt Petros Uriah (3)
Of the illustrious Royal House of: Toril
In the Kingdom of: Sidonie
---
The morning after Breccan and Kalila's beautifully simple wedding, a page showed up at their bedroom door with a soft rap on the wood. "My king, there is a lady here to see you. She claims to need to speak with you. She says it's urgent."
Breccan called back, "I'll be there in a minute! Thank you." As soon as he heard the page's footsteps fade away, he rolled back over and fell back to sleep. Ten minutes later, the page had returned. Once again, Breccan informed him that he would be there in just a minute before returning to sleep.
On the page's third visit, Kalila mumbled sleepily, "Just go, Brec. Make him leave us alone. Besides, what you're doing is rude."
Reluctantly, Breccan rolled out of bed, snatching his clothing off the chair upon which they sat. "Yeah, yeah, I know," he said. "But then again, so is waking someone up so early the morning after they wedded the love of their life." As he spoke, he dressed for the day but Kalila stayed in bed. "Come on, Kal, you're coming, too," he laughed, diving onto the bed and pulling her to her feet as she fought back. "It's your first morning as my wife. You go where I go."
Kalila put on her pouty face before breaking into laughter, having cracked herself up. "Fine! Fine! But only because I love you so much," she insisted.
Once the couple was fully dressed, they left to meet with the woman who had "urgent" business with them. As they entered the throne room, a young, sickly woman stood, holding the hand of a boy who looked to be about three. He looked nothing like his mother but resembled ever so slightly Breccan. The woman bowed her head and spoke: "My king, four years ago, I worked here in the palace as a maid. I was fired four years ago when I became pregnant. This is the child to whom I gave birth. But now I am sick. The doctors estimate that I won't survive past six months. The boy has no one else. No one but you."
This message was edited 8/29/2015, 6:03 PM
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