(no subject)
A young woman in her late teens, dressed in the riding habit of a Turkish woman from the Victorian era and mounted on the back of a fine white Arabian mare, enters the Nexus at a gallop. Behind her, a young English man of comparable age and fierce red hair clings to her waist. Reining in her mount, the young woman half-turns to her companion for a whispered conference before helping him down and dismounting after him.
Gathering the reins in her hands, she takes in the sign before turning to address the crowd. "How long should one wait for love and freedom after being separated from what one wants by duty, a foreign queen, and one's father?"
The young man takes stance on the other side of the mare and, with a foolish grin, throws in his own two bits. "And should ye not have anythin' especially profound to say to that, what sort of jam d'you like with your breakfast, assumin' you take jam?"
((This joint post is brought to you thanks to the gracious consent of topping_swank and the letter Q.))
Gathering the reins in her hands, she takes in the sign before turning to address the crowd. "How long should one wait for love and freedom after being separated from what one wants by duty, a foreign queen, and one's father?"
The young man takes stance on the other side of the mare and, with a foolish grin, throws in his own two bits. "And should ye not have anythin' especially profound to say to that, what sort of jam d'you like with your breakfast, assumin' you take jam?"
((This joint post is brought to you thanks to the gracious consent of topping_swank and the letter Q.))