Feb 27, 2016
‡‡
Send me a ‡‡ if you like how I portray my muse.
Thank you!!! I owe you btw I will get right on that. Just, you’re so nice thank you!
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‡‡
Send me a ‡‡ if you like how I portray my muse.
Thank you!!! I owe you btw I will get right on that. Just, you’re so nice thank you!
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( @bravestgascon requested a stater )
Nails drummed against the wood of her vanity as her emerald gaze stared into the reflection of her uninvited guest. She wasn’t quite sure why the young Musketeer would feel the need to enter the room of the King’s Mistress but she certainly was going to find out.
Luckily, they were alone, there would be no prying eyes or ears but she still needed to be careful. They all had willing played their parts, the king was non-the-wiser that she had any former dealings with his Musketeers and she planned on keeping it that way.
“Are you lost D’Artagnan? Your dear Constance doesn’t frequent my rooms if you were looking for her.” She turned in her seat to face him before standing.
“i hate you!”
[ X ]
The wine had numbed all the senses, making the flickering of the candles somewhat hazy and often blurry whenever he'd try and focus on the flame. The night was chilly but the cold breeze was a welcomed distraction and as he stood wobbling on his feet, Athos took a deep breath and threw the knife. One would say this was not a wise decision but rarely were any of them wise, especially intoxicated.
 "I'd say you're jealous young d'Artagnan." He swayed stepping back, placing a hand on the young man's shoulder. The knife had went straight through the wooden plank and he had almost done as good as Porthos. "You just need a bit more practice, a few more years, a decade perhaps." Smiling briefly he picked another pitcher filled with wine and took another gulp.
“We need to talk”
[ X Â ]
Your muse has killed someone
There was a deep cut on his arm and he could feel the warm blood oozing down his forearm to his hand, but that didn't loosen his hold on his sword. Athos ran from the stables dreading that he'd be too late, especially since he couldn't hear anything. The palace gardens were serenely perfect but the sound of metal against metal pierced through and he turned to find D'artagnan standing above a dead body. As he came closer he tried to see if he could recognize the uniform of the man that now blankly stared at the sky above, but there was nothing familiar about it. "Are you alright ?" He finally asked placing his uninjured hand on the young man's shoulder. Â "We have to find the others." Payed assassins hired by one of many enemies of France, and their duty now was to do whatever it takes to capture all of them in the hopes that they'll find how's behind all of this. Â