mistressophclia

[mistressophclia]

blushofflowers‌:

          nalini’s footsepts were light, noiseless, as she approached the girl. she knew she should be heading back, and soon— vittoria was many things, but patient was not one of her stronger points. nevertheless, she offered the plate of honeycakes towards her strange and sweet-toothed companion. “these are especially delicious once warmed, and taken with a nightcap besides.”

          nalini knelt, tucking her hair over one shoulder, though a few stray curls managed to fall away from the rest. those, she hooked behind her ears, the gesture slow and deliberate. the woman sounded the slightest bit heartsick, and nalini wondered why. “it sounds like you miss something very much— i am called nalini,” she said, interrupting herself.

Ophelia took a sweet off the tray, her eyes lifting to look at the others with a sheepish smile, her shoulders hunching as if to state her claim to the spot, leave an indication that she planned to remain here, show comfort. “Oh, I know.” She sighed, turning it in her hand but she found she wasn’t able to take her eyes away from the woman in front of her. Even in the dimly lit kitchen, the moon bleaching color from the reminisces of the room she was beautiful. Not beautiful in the way she would describe a person but a painting. She was interesting.

“I do. Well, it’s complicated.” Ophelia shook her head, eyes closing as if this would somehow unwind the strings of thought that tangled in her mind. “Where I come from is very different. Not better, I don’t think. It’s just what I know. I have a hard time letting things go.” 

“Nalini.” She mused. “That’s very pretty. I’ve never heard that name before. I’m Ophelia.”

[mistressophclia]

blushofflowers‌:

          half-hidden as she was through a grille, through pots and pans, she could still see the smallest of women through the gaps. nalini was silent, simply observing for a few minutes. she knew that, in all reality, she should leave, slip away quietly while she still had a chance at being unobserved. she wore no jewelry, nothing that clinked, nothing that could signal her presence. but the expression on the woman’s face was so serene— and such serenity over such a small thing, in such an odd place. nalini was entranced.

          the plate of spiced honey-cakes she held on one hand had other ideas. it had hovered too near one of the pans, clicking against it. nalini’s swift movement to pull the plate back towards her was in vain though, as she woman’s luminous eyes widening, then her panic receding at nalini. she stepped around her hideaway, coming fully into view. “if anyone else finds you in here, they’ll chase you out like a common rat,” nalini said softly, and not unkindly. “but i suppose i cannot judge— i suppose we are both thieves in love with the finer things in life.”

The woman’s comment sent Ophelias smile creeping wider. The staff would chase most anyone out, wouldn’t they? She could imagine the overworked cooks and tired servants wanting their space to themselves, not wanting to have to share the only place they were allowed to speak even the smallest hint of freedom. Some of them would still likely chase even Ophelia out. Her title of mistress didn’t win her a lot of friendships. Half the staff let it go while the other half resented her for ideas of sin or jealousy. She didn’t fear them though. She spent enough time around staff to feel a sense of normalcy with their glares. She learned to live with them.

“Perhaps. I suppose it depended on who was working.” Her brows knitted as if she pondered the thought a moment. “Anyway the breads are the finest things I’ve laid my hands on. unfortunately, they try to bake them fresh each morning. “She plucked gently at the dress she wore. “ These don’t come anywhere close.” She giggled, her hand reaching up to allow herself to take another bite.

[mistressophclia]

@blushofflowers

The kitchens brought a sense of comfort, a tonic for the nerves whenever she got them. It was a place of familiarity, of comfort. The smell of burning coals and bread flour. Sometimes she missed the simplicity of the village. Court could be so overwhelming, the noise and the whispers, the never-ending river of information. It was exciting too, but some nights she needed to ground herself, find a center. 

It was easily found over a warm pastry, the moon carrying in through the back door with the brisk wind. If she closed her eyes, she could hear her father snore in the back room, her mother turning in her bed. Remembering where she came from reminded her of all she had now, no matter how much whiplash it managed to give her. 

A sudden noise sent a chill down her spine, her eyes bursting open wide with a gasp. 

“Oh.” She sighed relieved to see the woman standing in front of her. “Suppose I’m not the only one with a late night sweet tooth.” Ophelia lifted her pastry with a shy smile. 

[mistressophclia]

Court had so many beautiful things to offer, fine linens with embroidery Ophelia could only dream off, breads filled with spices and butter, and music. In the villages as a child people would sing but instruments were expensive, more so that people could afford and so the sounds of court filled Ophelia with wonder and awe. Strings sounded so beautiful, pitches she hadn’t known existed flooded her mind like cotton balls, making it hard for her to think. It sounded even more beautiful echoing down the silent hall. 

Dimples threatened to break loose across her face as she followed the sound, her fingers trailing along the stones of the walls, eyes full of wonder as she gripped the frame of the door to peak in. 

“Oh, not at all!” Ophelia's face broke into a wide grin, her teeth taking up most of her face as she beamed. “It sounds lovely. I’m sorry.” Her head shook as if the action released her from her daze. “I interrupted you didn’t I?” 

@mistressophclia​

Music floated down the hallway, coaxed to life by thin fingers. Being back at court was a good thing, it truly was, but she was wary of upsetting her brothers once more. Not that she’d intended to do so, her soft heart had overruled her head. As tall as she was, it was really no wonder her head was often in the clouds. 

But not anymore, she prayed. 

She couldn’t let Phillip and Elliot down again. Such a thing would be unthinkable. Music was the best way to entertain herself without risking trouble, unsure of what else she could do without risking seeing him again. 

Sensing movement at the open door, she turned around with her violin, the instrument a gift from her brothers to console her when she’d had to leave court. Georgiana, with her skill in music, was now proficient in it, even though it’d only been a year. Seeing a young woman, she couldn’t help but smile. There was nothing wrong with making friends, after all. “Oh, dear, I wasn’t too loud, was I?”