“Your skin looks beautiful again.” Jameson wore his robes. Emelia assumed he was blushing, but his hood was covering his face. She could see his undershirt hanging out of the side of her knapsack on his back.
She smiled. “It feels much better. Thank you, Jameson.”
“May I question why you’re running from the Palace, Emelia?” He adjusted the hood, his hands rough looking and cracked.
Emelia gave in and told him. It’s not like he could go anywhere, he’s sworn his life to her.
“But, you would make a fine queen.”
“Flattery will not buy you your freedom, Jameson.” She shoved him with side the hood, thus causing it to start to drift back off his face.
Emelia looked back at him as she walked. He had already repositioned it over his forehead, leaving half his face in darkness. “Chides will not make it less true.”
She looked forward once more. “That might be so. But what kind of a princess am I that I haven’t seen the world outside my father’s gates?” Her eyes absorbed the world around her.
Jameson remained silent.
She laughed. “See, even you see that it’s odd.
[He mumbled an incantation, a red glow surfaced out of the dirt path leading ahead of them. He looked at her. “Hungry?”]
He mumbled an incantation, a red glow surfaced out of the path ahead of them. He looked at her as rooted vegetables sprang out of the ground and into the small pack at his hip. “Hungry?”
This is part of the cluster f*** of stories and plot bunnies that I had seven to eight years ago. They are creeping up on me again, and thus why I am again at this blog.
Tell me what you think.