My girl has become rather impossible since her arrival at the Castle, but in the best sense of the word. Her hollow cheeks have begun to fill, and the sharp outline of her ribs have been disguised now by a thin layer of padding. There was still much to be done, a lot of healing and filling out left to go, but I can see in her seemingly endless energy and almost impossibly cheerful nature that she is thriving. Of course, both of these things have led to a number of incidents, most of which she has gotten away with based solely on her adorable face and innocent demeanor. I do my best, of course, to keep the child out of trouble but... I can't deny her a bit of fun, especially when her life has been so hard and cruel up to this point. I will adamantly deny any part of assisting her on this particular plan, but can't seem to stop myself from letting out a giggle (a sound I have not heard originate from my own mouth in many years) all the same. Among Grimbaud's most favorite pursuits is watching the castle's guards and soldiers training, and I feel she has a particular affection for the prince even though he has yet to notice her watching (at least, to my knowledge). Though she has no real interest in battle itself - her heart is too soft and her body too weak for such things - she delights in watching them show off at practice, and knows many of the castle guards will have a sweet or a kind word for her when they finish their exercises. Birch, one of the captains, seemed to have a particular soft spot for her, and would always stop by for a chat whenever she saw my girl.
Today, however, is a different sort of day. Instead of simply watching, Grimbaud has... acquired... some "armor" and has every intention of befriending someone (the poor person, I can't help but think). A large pot, which continues to drop over her eyes with every limping step she takes, sits at a cocky angle on her head, while large trays have been strapped to her front and back. A large ladle is tucked into the tied cord that serves as a belt for her. As training comes to a close, and the others start their walk back to the castle, Grim pounces out from behind a tree with as much grace as her scarred, ill-healed body can manage right into the path of... I halt, worry clutching my chest, as I recognize who she's accosted. The prince himself. I nearly groan, but keep myself still and quiet to see what happens next. She wields her ladle like a sword, haphazardly bringing it up to point in the vague direction of his midsection. The pot has given up its hold and now falls down to her neck, completely obscuring her face and preventing her from seeing who it is in front of her, so her words are both muddled and slightly amplified when she speaks.
"Halt in the name of the Crown!" she crows. Then, with a bit of a struggle, she lifts the pot so she can blink innocently and good-naturedly up at the prince. Her gap-toothed smile suddenly brightens, awe leaping into those gray eyes. "Hi, Your Highness!" She casts a careful glance about them before leaning forward to add, in a stage whisper, "Don't worry, I'm not actually a guard." Grim then claps her hand over her mouth (allowing the pot to tip downwards again) as she lets out a cheerful giggle.
It's rather more familiar than one would expect from a stranger greeting their prince, but I thank my stars that she's at least remembered how to properly address him. I hope he can forgive her... eccentric behavior, and hope he will brush her off with at least a modicum of kindness. |