Sick Of The Solace Of Sorrow(Closed)

[chantalrose]

“I am sick of the solace of sorrow, And fear what the prophets foretold; I am tired of the tears of tomorrow, And wish that things were as of old; I have felt of the force of the fetters, I have drunk of the draught that embitters, And all is not gold”
-Unknown

Chantal arose early in the morning, long before even the sun began its ascent into the sky, to stare out the windows of her room. It was during these times that she fed Isadora and sought some semblance of solitude from the guards that were a constant shadow. She understood completely why each man followed her, seen or unseen, whenever she left the house. Yet some days it was as though even in her own home there was never a room empty of eyes. If she even stepped from one room to another suddenly another shadow merged with hers. It was as though she could not escape!

Even if it was for her, and the children's protection, some days Chantal felt like a prisoner. The man in the market had questioned her about the guards, asked if she were a prisoner, and she'd told him no. Except, she was. Not in quite the same way though. Lashes fluttered against her cheeks as lids lowered and even now she could see those bodies...Lareena, Camden, and Keita. God, Keita hadn't even been one yet. Innocents all injured in some twisted web Mikhail had woven them into!

A breath was taken, deep and painful, as tears burned in sapphire eyes and slowly she began to dress. Chantal needed to get outside, to breathe fresh air, to think without being chased around by Seamus or one of his men, and that meant she had to sneak out now. Isadora had recently been fed which meant she'd be good for awhile. She'd just go out for a little bit. There was not any harm in that. Plus, there were always those unseen guards...

It was not a skirt she chose nor a dress. Chantal slipped into an old faded tan pair of trousers that were quite worn. They still fit decently, though still a little tight around the waist due to the additional weight yet to be lost from Isadora. Throwing on a simple green white cotton shirt with ruffled neckline and then choosing mid-calf black boots, she threw a black cloak over it all. Blonde curls were place in a loose bun before the hood was pulled up. Gloves were slid on, black as well, and she hurried downstairs as quietly as possible.

Not that Chantal was foolish. She'd tucked a simple dagger into a sheathe at her waist just incase. Now though the servants passageway was utilized until finally she slipped into the kitchens. Noticing a few servants up and about, she pressed back against the passageway and waited patiently until the sound of their voices traveled further away. And then out the door she went! Straight out the side door and through the tiny gated entrance, blessed by the fact that the guard there was actually asleep, and moved down the cobbled streets.

Already a sense of...relief...overwhelmed her. Chantal was not sure where she was going, but had every intention of just wandering for a bit. Hopefully she was safe this day. Surely even those with evil souls took a day off?

{{End Thread}}