Post by Tenyjah Villette on Dec 22, 2013 20:41:30 GMT -8
Her sleep schedule was somewhat off kilter for the most part but, it never seemed to bother her. Though she was all nerves before the process, once she was in bed, the welcome warmth and soft sheets were enough to convince her of safety and sweet dreams, not matter what the time was.
There have been changes throughout the months that passed, changes in the houses they stayed at, usually manors of sorts, and changes too with her. Teny had finally become comfortable with the regime of makeup or as she called it “face painting”. On her own she would venture towards a slight rouge to her lips and a curl to her long lashes to properly frame those stark blue eyes of hers. But, when left to the whims of the succubi, they tended to accentuate the glamour in her soft features that she was eternally surprised to see. Yet the invention of shoes still evaded her, but her feet were well taken care of, pedicures that tickled and cared for her supple sole and toes were a bi weekly routine.
It seemed widely accepted that she should be the eternal bird in a gilded cage, any forethought or suggestion of an outing made her tense if she would be asked to do so alone, and so for the most part, she had been requisitioned with an escort. She did however enjoy a promenade every now and again int he gardens, the sun warming her caramel toned flesh, she had even taken to sitting on the docks to read by the lake.
These whims of leisure did not take her very often but at least when they did, they did so comfortably. She was still the ever timid sort, always asking for permission, moreso seen than heard. She constantly asks permission, sometimes so much so that she barely gets the askance out before someone gives her a reply. Jean still sighs and rolls his eyes at her, servants still scatter like soap to oil when she wanders in a room being tended to but, she has learned to take it all in stride.
At present she was in the library. She had come in there at first, to pluck a book for her leisure but, as with most things, she had found something to benefit the household and her time, rearranging the books by size as they were already done by genre and author. Before she knew it, she was sitting on the carpeted floors, the bell of her dress covered in books that she was organizing in piles to be put away. Each aisle had the same helter skelter look about them, books taken down and piled near or even on shelves as she plotted her pathway of attack to arrange the setup more cleanly.
Tresses had fallen loose of the bun that was smartly rolled to rest at the nape of her neck. Her dress of dark purple and pale pink had ruffled some during her activity, and she sat now, her brow knotted nibbling her lower lip, completely ensconced in her organizing, that all other noise or scenery about her was obliterated by the sheer strength of her concentration.
There have been changes throughout the months that passed, changes in the houses they stayed at, usually manors of sorts, and changes too with her. Teny had finally become comfortable with the regime of makeup or as she called it “face painting”. On her own she would venture towards a slight rouge to her lips and a curl to her long lashes to properly frame those stark blue eyes of hers. But, when left to the whims of the succubi, they tended to accentuate the glamour in her soft features that she was eternally surprised to see. Yet the invention of shoes still evaded her, but her feet were well taken care of, pedicures that tickled and cared for her supple sole and toes were a bi weekly routine.
It seemed widely accepted that she should be the eternal bird in a gilded cage, any forethought or suggestion of an outing made her tense if she would be asked to do so alone, and so for the most part, she had been requisitioned with an escort. She did however enjoy a promenade every now and again int he gardens, the sun warming her caramel toned flesh, she had even taken to sitting on the docks to read by the lake.
These whims of leisure did not take her very often but at least when they did, they did so comfortably. She was still the ever timid sort, always asking for permission, moreso seen than heard. She constantly asks permission, sometimes so much so that she barely gets the askance out before someone gives her a reply. Jean still sighs and rolls his eyes at her, servants still scatter like soap to oil when she wanders in a room being tended to but, she has learned to take it all in stride.
At present she was in the library. She had come in there at first, to pluck a book for her leisure but, as with most things, she had found something to benefit the household and her time, rearranging the books by size as they were already done by genre and author. Before she knew it, she was sitting on the carpeted floors, the bell of her dress covered in books that she was organizing in piles to be put away. Each aisle had the same helter skelter look about them, books taken down and piled near or even on shelves as she plotted her pathway of attack to arrange the setup more cleanly.
Tresses had fallen loose of the bun that was smartly rolled to rest at the nape of her neck. Her dress of dark purple and pale pink had ruffled some during her activity, and she sat now, her brow knotted nibbling her lower lip, completely ensconced in her organizing, that all other noise or scenery about her was obliterated by the sheer strength of her concentration.