Her hair is a force to be reckoned with.
Snow's rebellious curls lay loose against her bare shoulders as Brida gave up. She sat the brush down the dresser and shook her head in defeat. The two spent hours setting the voluminous strands in a
Despite the multitudes of layers of fabric, the garment remained light and
"It's time, Milday." One of the handmaids came running towards the room as Brida hooked
She stood almost forgetting Torryn's present left inside her. The spheres sent her knees weak as she propped her arm against the table before her. Her insides burnt.
She started to walk towards the main halls when she felt something between her legs ooze. She cleared her throat and felt the spheres torment her again. Her breath quickened as she emerged against a long-curved staircase. It led to the main hallways
A cold drop of sweat trailed against her forehead as she steadied her body. Before she descended the steps she felt
The dark gray coat embroidered in silver settled on his
Snow blushed, her heart racing as every muscle in her body grew restless. Her fingers played
Snow took one step down and felt the spheres inside her turn. Her legs grew weak as she suppressed a moan gaping from her lips. Her hand gripped against Torryn's arm as she balanced herself down the steps. There it was again. She held on to him. His arm felt rock solid against her fingers.
With every step she took, she could sense the metal spheres rock her insides. The sensation was subtle, unpredictable almost aching. The effect on her was unbearable.
"Ah," her eyes squinted as she bit a corner of her lip. She couldn't suppress her building need. From her periphery she could see the pride in Torryn's face as he glanced towards her every now and then teasing.
She did not dare look his way.
He watched Snow reach for the chalice placed before them.
In the main dining hall, the two were seated, Torryn at the far end of the long wooden table and Snow to his right. Ester, as the house elder was seated to Torryn's left. She began to lead them in a short ceremony before the meal.
Torryn didn't like these kinds of ceremonies. He glanced a displeased look at his grandmother who demanded they go forth with the house tradition.
As every soul in the room watched, Torryn felt his neck stiffen as he eased it with the palm of his hand. He should have gotten used to this by now. Still, it made him uneasy. He mastered the art of hiding it, though.
He saw the girl rise up to her seat just to reach the cup. Her arms were long but the chalice was well situated at the center of the table too far from her grasp. He watched her fumble her way to it. He leaned his temple on his index finger with his hand propped to the table. Surveying the girl, he watched her bite her lip as she sat down and stood back up again.