(no subject)
It's been a long day, full of enough dirty work for a lifetime.
...No, Ossin hasn't been in the kennels. He's been entertaining, or rather clearly not entertaining, someone who he'd prefer never to see again. It may momentarily satisfy his parents to bring Trivelda around at regular intervals, but in the end it's a huge insult to his intelligence for them to think that just seeing her regularly will make her less repulsive.
Because she is. From her massive hair and huge dresses to her shrill voice and supercilious manner, there is nothing whatsoever about Trivelda that will ever induce Ossin to marry her.
Never.
Walking down the soft-carpeted hallway to his rooms, Ossin loosens his ridiculous cravat-thing and stupid ornate waistcoat that makes him look like some kind of oversized, ill-conceived present to be unwrapped, and finds himself thinking of the kennels.
Not in the way he used to, either.
Some time later, having dressed in more appropriate brown on brown on brown attire, he opens his bedroom door, and walks into...
A tavern, nearly deserted.
The door swings shut behind him, and stays a door.
Ossin turns in a slow circle, perplexed.
"...If some sorcerer or something is playing a trick on me, I'd like to know why," he declares to the room at large, his face crumpling into a unattractive scowl.
...No, Ossin hasn't been in the kennels. He's been entertaining, or rather clearly not entertaining, someone who he'd prefer never to see again. It may momentarily satisfy his parents to bring Trivelda around at regular intervals, but in the end it's a huge insult to his intelligence for them to think that just seeing her regularly will make her less repulsive.
Because she is. From her massive hair and huge dresses to her shrill voice and supercilious manner, there is nothing whatsoever about Trivelda that will ever induce Ossin to marry her.
Never.
Walking down the soft-carpeted hallway to his rooms, Ossin loosens his ridiculous cravat-thing and stupid ornate waistcoat that makes him look like some kind of oversized, ill-conceived present to be unwrapped, and finds himself thinking of the kennels.
Not in the way he used to, either.
Some time later, having dressed in more appropriate brown on brown on brown attire, he opens his bedroom door, and walks into...
A tavern, nearly deserted.
The door swings shut behind him, and stays a door.
Ossin turns in a slow circle, perplexed.
"...If some sorcerer or something is playing a trick on me, I'd like to know why," he declares to the room at large, his face crumpling into a unattractive scowl.