guinehastings - Tumblr blog

[guinehastings]

She felt slightly uncomfortable as his eyes remained lowered; she hated that people whose social status sat below hers had the idea drummed into them that they were not worthy. Peasants all played a part in keeping a kingdom alive and they certainly did a lot more than she did, though she supposed her thinking was irrational, as many would often suggest. "Don't look at the floor." Her brows knitted lightly, although she wasn't illustrating a girl who felt angry. "Don't look at the floor, it does not appreciate your words as much as I do." Even though she felt more at peace for getting the subtle message of desired equality across, Guine still noticed discomfort levels of a high nature surrounding him. She certainly hoped she hadn't been the reason for him feeling so, if he did, and she certainly hoped that no offence had been made on her part. Blinking a few times to rid of both her current thoughts and the vision of him blushing because of her careless words, Guinevere smiled as warmly as ever as he sunk into a conversation topic that he clearly meshed a little better with. "Excellent -- perhaps you can show me around the land you work on at a later point? Acceptance of offers has not been all that rich so far, but maybe you will grant me at least that." She offered a curious raise of her eyebrows, gaze never shifting from him, although she did not stare in a rude or agonizing manner. "I like orchids, daises, lilies...my, I guess I love them all too much to choose."

He was not sure where to look and decided it best to keep his eyes down. This speaking with nobles was proving so difficult, surely it would be over soon or perhaps the rest would do to ignore him entirely. He could only hope for the latter. “Perhaps.” he replied though it felt out of place. Cedric did not flirt or employ himself in playful banter with pretty noble girls. Why they would ever enter into with him either confused him yet here she was, clearly saying things even he found to be inappropriate for their respective stations.A blush graced his cheeks at her next words and he could not even reply to them, it felt wrong to him and images of Eleanor flooded his mind. “Yes, the gardener.” he chimed in, finally glad to be on to a topic he could easily talk about for months. “It is quite lovely, the flowers and the insects and the earth. It is harmonious M’lady.” a true smile fell upon him once more, a young lady that wished to be a flower, it was a beautiful sentiment though perhaps she already was. “May I inquire as to your favorite?”

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Guinevere continued to shift and writhe under his gaze as he appeared to seep into thought for a moment or two. She could only imagine what he was thinking -- was he silently scrutinizing her? Trying to sum her up? She couldn't tell; his marble like eyes seemed distant and still like he'd practised an 'unfeeling' expression for years. There was an understanding within her that men liked to appear, well, manly, but Guinevere didn't know how they went about making friends and alliances when they gave off a sense of intimidation. She didn't know much when it came to the realm of men and human beings in general, just what she had taught herself by listening to her father, the birds, and the maids when they spoke of their experiences -- granted, most were made up for Guine's entertainment. At present, however, she could see that the man before her was one who did not wish to sugar coat things with little white lies and a careful choice of words. He didn't want to play in the snow, and at this point, Guinevere no longer wanted him to. After all, her words had fell on random ears and she was more frightened than excited at present. She took note of his tone; as bland and disinterested as his expression portrayed perfectly. "Perhaps, yes." She nodded, calming herself down by muttering sweet nothings about her surrounded internally -- him thinking she was nutty even more so than he probably did was not on her agenda. "It would be an awful shame to waste an opportunity like this," Guine gestured to the landscape gracefully and then, "I'll just be on my way, then." Nodding once, almost triumphantly (with half hearted intention), Guinevere took another few steps before looking back at him, first questioning whether or not he would also come, and then forgetting all that remained inside her head as her eyes landed on his sword. She caught herself staring for a moment too long and, guessing that he did too, she decided to avoid any confrontation between her skin and that blade by proceeding to head towards the main doors.

As he surveyed the lady, Ulric noticed several expressions pass over ehr features.First there was surprise, then fright, nervousness, and then finally, conflict. She looked like she wanted to run the other direction after he had responded to her. When he noticed her quivering, he started to wonder what he had done and said to make her feel so scared of him. Yes, he understood he was big in stature, he was physically intimidating. He tried his best to give off that aura after all. This time, however, he was not trying that hard. He was not trying to scare her or intimidate her. Simply, he just wanted her to understand he did not want to play on the snow. 

"It is," he replied, his tone still flat, neither rising, neither falling; and as he noticed her shiver, he said, "You seem like you are quite cold, my lady. Should you not be going inside the castle if the weather is already affecting you? You might get ill if you stay out here any longer. If you get ill, you will not be able to attend the feast later tonight."

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The smile that appeared after a long pause on his face made Guine's internals shift in delight; making people feel even the slightest bit of happiness during such harsh times was a golden accomplishment. "Perhaps you might prefer to show me to where I shall be staying? That is, of course, if you feel so inclined - I would had to put you out of your way if you need to be elsewhere." Guinevere suggested without any hint of demand. It would be favoured by her if he agreed to at least this idea if her other one was to be wiped from his shoulders. If the girl didn't know better, she would have thought she'd met the male slouching in front of her before - he had a protective air about him, something that she was rather confused by seeing as they had no particular attachment. Although, saying that, it was the quality that allowed her to warm to him with ease, feeling more confident in his presence than she had done upon first stepping from her carriage. "Besides, I suppose begging is not very...well thought of - I can see you're a stubborn man with enough respect to boot anyway. Do correct me if I am wrong, I often perceive others in faulty lights." She paused, frowning and looking over to the other nobles whom she had left behind, along with a number of other well thought of people. "I would much rather be around you in the snow than them around an oversized table, but I understand your reasoning." She perked up immediately after that, peering up at him with interest and awe.

He had been a tad terrified to look back up at her. Fearing that she would be angered by his actions. That was the natural reaction from a majority of the Ladies walking the halls of this castle. They carried little to no concern to the peasants though, in their defense, it was taught to them that and all nobles to act in such a manner, he knew that. However, when he finally did look upon her face he found himself pleasantly surprise. There was no agitation or contempt for being interrupted by those lower than her. She gave off a look of kindness. Filled with enough sincerity to bring a tender smile onto his own face. Ever kind and pure, he should have remembered that from childhood. Guinevere, even as a child, always treated others with a warm heart, status not being important. It was the part of her he cherished the most. “It was still ill-advised. There are other places i should be right now, doing my duty. For that i must apologize, m’lady.”  He spoke in a light tone. Seeing her previous glee dissipate pained him. Iwan never intended to make her upset. If he could, he would accept the offer in a heartbeat. If only just to see a smile return to her face.  ”It is not proper for a lady to be seen playing with a servant. You might be frowned upon or insulted. I do not wish for that to happen to you, not at my expense.” He remarked, with a frown gracing his own face now at having to reject her offer. 

[guinehastings]

Guinevere flinched subtly as his figure innocently creased at the waist in response to her common courtesy, some part of her imagining that he was about to reach out and grab her. The multiple attempts that strangers had acted out with the aim to rob her of life had played with her mind like that. Even though she had locked the faint events deep within her unconscious, the near death experiences had impacted her already prominent dread of men greatly - no one ever dug deeper than the fact that she was simply naive and inexperienced, and that's how she liked it. Facing one's fears is a literal terrifying feat, so the young noble was smart in the sense that she'd always 'coincidentally' divert conversation when marriage propped up. Clearing her throat as quietly as she could, Guinevere's eyes staggered up to meet with the bridge of his nose. She nodded her head once, hues briefly shadowed by apologetic lids as a valid point was raised. "I apologise - I did not mean to be rude or offend." and then, "Hastings, my name is Guinevere Hastings." followed swiftly after - she even managed to perk either corner of her lips into a small smile, though the thick lump in her throat distorted it slightly and, instead of the opposite of which she was trying to achieve, Guinevere came across as rather uncomfortable. His suggestions earned a light hum and yet another nod of total agreement, but this time she did not voice an answer. "I hear they eat snails and earthworms," Guinevere commented in a mutter, more to herself than to Henry. When the question of where she was from came up, Guine instantly drew a blank. The daunting idea of being engaged in such chit chat was dawning on her more and more as every second passed, and her shaking couldn't be controlled. She stared back at him, mouth hanging open, only closing every so often as if she were trying to spit out her words, but her body just wouldn't allow it.

The girl’s genuine joy seemed to dissipate into thin air as she noticed him, sinking into a curtsy, and Henry wondered if something was wrong with him: Did he smell? Had he forgotten to groom himself? Surely Cat would’ve told him if she’d noticed any of these things. “Your grace,” he returned, bowing a fraction at the waist. “You seem to know who I am, but I’m afraid I do not know who you are.” Or perhaps the crown had tipped her off. He had told his advisor that it was too gauche. “Perhaps you could save the snowman-building for a later time, when half the court is not looking,” he suggested, wondering if he’d upset her by rejecting her idea. “Yes, I suppose you should prioritize it. I do hope English cuisine matches the standard of French, although word has it that the King has gone beyond himself preparing for our arrival,” he said conversationally, “You said you had a long journey. Where are you coming from?”

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Contented eyes flickered back up as he spoke up again; even though she was dissatisfied with his decision not to join her, she did appreciate the fact that he remained gentle and kind at all times. Others would be quick to shoot her down in a less than sweet manner, she assumed. "Perhaps I will be able to tempt you later," she added, as if how appropriate it would be hadn't been taken into consideration, and then she lowered her voice into a hushed whisper so that none of the surrounding presences could hear. "You know, when no one is looking." She was already receiving reprimanding glances from a number individuals, though it either went over her head entirely, or she'd learnt to block them out when need be. "And Cedric it shall be!" Her head bobbed back abruptly in delight as she vowed silently to remember it. "I assume you are the gardener?" She questioned, raising an elegant hand to point a single digit at his shears. "That must be delightful, working with flowers all day and every day. I, for one, would much rather be a flower than a person."

Cedric was acutely aware of her eyes on him, though it was not for any sinister purposes, that he was sure. No, she was assessing his clothing, his appearance, attempting to categorize him and place him in the appropriate folder in her mind. It was something he was sure they would all do as he didn’t properly belong here, he was no squire. But her smile remained pleasant and so did his. When she lowered her own eyes he felt uneasy, she was well above him and she should not avert her eyes. She had the freedom to look at whatever she pleased. “Yes, I believe that would be wise.” though he imagined it might be fun he would not be privileged to join, not with her. Though with his own friends he was sure he would enjoy the same activity. “I didn’t give it, I am so sorry M’Lady.” he bowed in apology. “It’s Cedric, but call me what you wish.” most of the permanent residents of the castle knew him by name, as he delivered flowers very regularly to all the ladies. But the newcomers, he did not expect any of them to even care what his name might be.

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Guinevere leaned back in her hips as a way to feel further away from the prince, yet still look as if she was mildly comfortable with his presence. Of course, she wasn't -- in fact, every fibre of her being screamed at her to turn and clasp her hands in prayer. She had trouble not blocking out his words with the overriding anxiety welling up deep within her; it attempted to draw all of her attention away from him and onto herself, which she simply couldn't do, not when she was here to live up to her family's name. "Your Highness." Guinevere managed to let slip, her breath only hitching once and making half of the last word inaudible. She tugged gently at her skirts and curtseyed appropriately before standing to her usual stature once more. "No, you are right - not a wise idea in the slightest." Guinevere agreed promptly, unable to endure the silence that would be sure to ensue if she didn't pluck up the courage to reply. "Well, I-I am starved after such a long journey, I suppose it would not make much sense for me to prioritise anything above it." Her eyes fell, feeling as though he would mistake her fear for rudeness if he caught a glimpse of them.

Henry turned at the sound of the lilting, feminine voice and saw a girl—a noble, judging by her attire—who looked about his age, although her words suggested otherwise. “It’s a bit chilly for my personal preference, but perhaps that’s because I’ve been in France for the past year and have yet to adjust to English winters again,” he returned, laughing silently to himself at her next words. “A snowman?” he repeated, looking at the dignified men and women around them. He could only imagine their reactions if the Prince of Wales and this lady got down to their hands and knees to scoop up snow. “Perhaps it’s not the wisest idea.” He looked up as the flurries began cascading down even thicker. “You don’t want to miss the welcome feast, do you?”

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Her gaze was fixated on him in anything but a mean manner, even though she could have tripped right over him if she hadn't of seen him. Instead, she was simply studying him as quickly as possible, for she was trying to find those that she could call allies in such a savage world, and at this point, even those that were not perceived as valuable to others would prove worthy. Guinevere had always preferred 'peasants' over the people she was constantly forced to fraternise with, so she felt far more inclined to stop and talk to someone who was in rags than someone dressed such as herself. She also found peasant men far less intimidating, especially this one for a reason that she couldn't quite place her finger on. Smiling tenderly at his apologies, Guinevere knew at once that she had sourced out a good one. "Please, there is no need, no harm was done." She shook her head kindly, eyes drifting unintentionally to watch as he brushed the snow from his being. The glistening look that had previously occupied her eyes disappeared as they flinched back towards his face, realising that he was, in fact, declining her offer. "Oh," She let it sink in. "I see." She continued, straightening her posture ever-so-slightly, remembering that appearances needed to be kept on a tight leash now that she was on royal turf. "And why would that be?" She tested him, though her voice never once edged over its usual volume and tone, but there were hints of slight desperation. 

Iwan had been watching from a distance for some time now. Taking in the sight of Lady Guinevere in her wonder of the snow. He found a certain beauty in how she bubbled with excitement over the new layer of snow, he always has. The wave of elation found its way to him. Giving him this sensation in the pit of his stomach that brought a smile to his normally harden features. Sitting there in his own stupor over Lady Guinevere’s happiness caused time to slip by under his awareness. Until he had lost sight of her for a second, hidden by the trees now covered and hanging low from the snow laid upon it. He didn’t have to look long though for she had found him. Standing up quickly, he brushed off his pants of the snow that landed on him. “M’lady, my apologies. I was taking a break and did not mean to inconvenience you.” He paused momentarily at her question. He wished fervently that he could accept her request. Play in the snow once more like when they were children, not that she’d remember that, but he could not. It was not proper for him as a servant now. “It would not be right of me to partake in such an act, m’lady.”

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Guinevere jumped noticeably once the sound of deep tones seeped into hearing range. She turned her head slowly to the direction of which it was coming from, her eyes focussing on his face for a moment before drifting to his chest and away again. A grave mistake on her part and one that was made by the Hastings girl all too often, she had not looked around to see who it was that would hear her idle chatter. Not only did he look like a harsh soul, but his words were that of someone that found her bothersome -- like a verruca, or a sore -- both aspects of him added to the list of reasons that Guinevere already found him frightening, and she wished for nothing more than to avoid the conversation that was now at hand and flee into the castle. It was too late for her too round a corner as if she hadn't heard him, that would be improper, even if he wasn't a noble or of higher status. It was also too late for her to pretend she was praying, although no one would question her if she did choose to promptly place her palms together and mutter to the Lord.  "That is a real shame," She began, passing off her quivering as her being exposed to the snow that was only falling more rapidly. "Perhaps I will find someone elsewhere who will be willing to pass the time with me once the weather lets up." Guinevere peeked up at him out of the corner of her eye, head lowered in submission. "No offence is taken, Sir, do not worry."

He did not like snow very much. In Ulric’s opinion, snow was nothing but a hindrance to the every day lives of people. Out in camp, snow was as bad as a storm, only making the lives of the soldiers even more difficult than they already were. They had to keep themselves as warm as possible with fires, but sometimes they could not even risk making them when patrols were being done. Not to mention it was harder to tread over snow than grass or soil. And then, the snow was actually white,  a colour he hated so much. It fit, really. Safe to say, Ulric was not fond of the snow. So now, when someone dressed in all white’s approached him with a wide smile and glittering eyes, he almost scowled deeply. “I do not intend to sound improper and rude, my lady, but I do not like frolicking in the snow very much. I will have to ask for your forgiveness for my declining. I hope you do not take offense.”

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It was a serious answer rather than the one she was hoping to receive, though it was not delivered with harsh features and cruel intent. Asking of such a thing had been a long shot at best, though Guinevere didn't quite understand why no one wanted to enjoy the free falling, fluffy rain with her. Although she had not meant for her disappointed sigh to become audible, it seemed as though her brain didn't get the memo and the soft noise was soon seething the air. "You raise a good point." Guinevere lifted her skirts ever so slightly as she stepped towards an area that had gone a little less touched by the harsh weather than the rest of the place. Granted, the reason for this being that a tree overlooked where she now stood, so Guinevere was not feeling the cold so much now that she'd edged closer to the lady. "Two good points." She corrected herself, trying to ignore the sorrow that came along with her question being declined -- and by a girl that didn't seem much older than herself. "I think a change is in order anyway, this gown, although nice to look at, is terribly uncomfortable, especially when one has been sitting in it for hours." A dainty hand raised to fix the neckline as it drooped a little too low. "You see? However am I going to get the men to not notice me with this thing is practically begging for their attention." Her musings were meant to stay only in her head, but came out as worried mutters instead.

Clearing her throat gently, Guinevere removed her attention from the dress and back to the woman in front of her -- she was far more interesting, after all. Not to mention prettier. "I apologise, this is not the kind of thing you want to listen to when standing outside of a grand castle. My name is Guinevere. Guinevere Hastings." She offered a subtle smile.

There was an innocence to snow, although which quality allowed it to feel so was lost on Helena. Perhaps it was only its colour, the same as all things virginal, pure, sweet; lambs, clouds, maidens. All things Helena no longer was (had she ever been?) or had no business associating with. The idea that this same colour lent to easier identification of blood was met with only a cynical frown, one meant only to herself.

Perhaps that’s why the girl’s — for she seemed very much a girl, despite the fact that they were likely near the same age — query came as a surprise, and it took Helena a moment to orient herself. How long had it been since she had rollicked in the snow like a child?

"That is a feat best accomplished after the night has had its way with the snow." The memory and words startled Helena herself, who had learned this as a child, but had not thought on it until now. "The snow grows harder, better for rolling… Asides, you will soak your dress in this weather, leaving you cold throughout the dinner. And it is such a pretty thing, too pretty to be spoiled."

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Her smile only grew larger as the sound of his agreement rang sweetly through a day that could be described as dull. Of course, such illustration could only be drawn from cynical minds, and Guinevere knew at once that the man before her could be ruled out of such a dark category. Hues of the softest brown drifted over his attire innocently, mind racing through the endless possibilities of what it is he did around here -- a cook, perhaps? His trousers were far too grubby. A gardener? Possibly. She decided that that was her final conclusion upon spotting a pair of shears wedged between a few other instruments. Making a mental note to ask him for a tour of the castle gardens, Guinevere lifted her attention to his face as he began to speak once more. "It would be." She agreed timidly, eyes cast down to the snow. "Perhaps later when a thicker coat is at hand?" Her expression immediately lit up once more at the possibility. "Pardon me, what did you say your name was?" His lack of facial hair and soft vocal musings settled the girl, she felt no need to avoid this one, instead, she stared at him intently, waiting for a long conversation to ensue; something she had never played out with someone of the opposite gender.

Cedric smiled at the lady that stepped out of the first carriage. The chests and bags were being unloaded and he helped the men bring them to the door before hurrying back to escort the young lady. His first surprise was how kind she was and that she was speaking to him at all. “Yes M’Lady.” he said happily, though his hut would not be quite as warm as her rooms. It was another surprise when she did not move to go indoors but instead lingered and wanted to play in the snow. “Oh, umm, I would advise against that M’Lady, the snow here quickly turns to slush and it would be terrible for you to catch a chill on your first night.”

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Guinevere glided along the foreign ground which was now blanketed in a thick layer of snow, sending chills through her bones with every dainty step. "Oh, I just adore this time of year, don't you?" She questioned, her words aimed at no one in particular as her longing gaze shifted from one location to the next. Although she knew the arrival of the nobles had been long awaited, the idea of heading straight inside was completely lost on her as she revelled in her new surroundings. "Would you like to build a snowman?"

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"What do we want?"

"Would it be terrible of me to want some red roses?" Guinevere’s eyes scanned the gardens, every angle cram packed with a fresh lease of colour from a different specimen of flower, before switching a bemused gaze to her friend. "It is only because I have a hard time finding the pink ones and I already have some white, you see. I was told red and white together form the most beautiful shade of pink. So, perhaps when their petals are mixed together, no one will be able to tell of any true origi—" She cut herself off, eyes alerting to her favourite colour in the distance. Releasing her arm that had previously been curled around Helena’s, Guinevere rushed towards a freshly plucked pile of flowers that sat idly in the distance. "Pink!"

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"If only there was someone who loved you.."

[guinehastings]

Disney Sentence Memes!

Tangled:

"Yes, I always knew this day was coming.."

"Haven't you ever had a dream?!"

"All at once, everything is different.."

"This is best day EVER!"

"I'm a terrible person.."

"You want to go outside?"

"It's the same thing it's always been.."

Frozen:

"I never see you anymore.."

"I wish you would tell me why!"

"What are you so afraid of?!"

"Then leave!"

"Don't let them know?! Well now they know!"

"Let it go!"

"I can't!"

"If only there was someone who loved you.."

"You won't get away with this!"

"Can I just say something crazy?"

"That's what I was going to say!"

Mulan:

"Please believe me!"

"What do we want?"

"It would break my family's heart.."

"You can't go!"

"Be a man!"

"Honey, I've seen worse."

The Princess and The Frog:

"That's just going to have to wait a while"

"If it goes bad, don't blame me!"

"Are you ready?"

"Come on guys!"

"Oh well! Back to business!"

"So, what do you say?"

"Don't you dare disrespect me!"

"You're in MY world now, not YOUR world."

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"It’s time to choose.”

Her brows knitted at a slow pace as the realisation dawned on her. Eyes that usually gave off such warmth and innocence were almost fully concealed by eyelids that acted as a dam to hold back a lake of tears. “I am no good with decisions.” She whispered as she took a daring step back, but her plans of escape worked to no avail, for she was guarded by a stone wall which forced her to face one of her many fears; Isabella. “I refuse to voice my resolution and reasoning with you—” That’s good, remember what Helena taught you — don’t let them taunt you, stand your ground and be the steel thorns rather than the petals."—Now, if you will excuse me." Guinevere took a small step to the side, movements and voice as meek and mild as ever, contradicting the statement that would probably be shot down if she gave Isabella another beat of time. It would be a miracle if she’d managed to convince the woman before her of her faux confidence, she certainly hadn’t convinced herself.

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You owe me.

She’d heard those words before and often had they led to her being ridiculed and belittled just so the other party could gain something; sick satisfaction, perhaps? Granted, they normally let slip from the mouths of Isabella and Catherine, but everyone knew both women were…missing a few screws. Guinevere still quivered at the thought of what was to come. Of course, she blocked those unconscious thoughts out and vied for a warm smile. “Oh, how shall I repay you, Lady Margaret? Perhaps you could attend dinner with us a little later on — I requested dumplings again, they are truly marvellous if dipped in the right soup.”

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