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In a corridor of stones and bricks walked a lone individual. Her steps were light, dark boots of fine make carrying inaudibly across an ever continuous carpet of red. She walked near the right of it, closer to the windows and at the edge of the red.
Red, like her eyes of crimson which looked not ahead, but at the feet. Downward and dragging, like the soles of her feet. She had not moved far along the corridor, stuck in the middle from two separate paths that lay further ahead.
As for the reason why, one could only reason or guess. She doesn’t seem the type to be open about it either.
In truth, there was a large hint on her face as to why. Her features of usual staunch stoicism was nowhere to be found, and in place of it was a frown quite pronounced. With such a sour expression it would be correct to reason or guess that there were difficulties on her mind. As to how far those problems reached, again, it could only be pondered upon.
“I wonder if…” There would be no further hint to her troubles. She had stopped short of allowing her entire thought to be vocalized, instead lifting her gaze upwards and towards the window from which the evening light shined on through. Though, its shine was rather dimmed by the clouds above. Rather in tandem to the demeanor she currently held.
Walking forward and stopping short, she had reached out to place her palm against the pane of clear glass. Cold. It was reflective of the temperature outside the castle. Even then, the inside was not much warmer. The seasons weren't a significant factor to her. After all, she had worn the same thing for years upon years now in what seems reminiscent of an ancient costume.
There were four notable parts. Starting from the bottom were her dark shoots, as mentioned previously. The soles, or bottom, were enunciated with a layer of something gold, the edges taking a golden shine to them. It was the same with the laces. She doesn’t have the boots fully drawn all the way up. Instead, the top part was bent downward with a v cut in the middle that split evenly at the front, golden edges filling it out too. All in all, it was an enviable pair of shoes to have.
As for the other three parts, well, there were pants of white, a vest of white with golden fabric at the edges of what connects it together, and a dark coat of sorts with golden details, too. Tying the above average outfit was a one-sided cape of sorts. It was fuzzy-looking, sitting upon her shoulder with its massive size dwindling as it curled down near to her boots.
It was also made of blood, which gave it a color of dark red.
As she continued staring out the window, she was reminded that it was time of the year again. Gentle and miniscule dots of white fell from the sky. It littered the ground, and as dawn breaks, the world would turn white. That wouldn’t be for some time, and so a sigh threatened to escape from her.
Fortunately, just then, something blue caught her eye. She had pressed her face closer to the window. There at the steel gate was a familiar head of blue, and another unfamiliar head of blonde. The blonde was of a slightly darker variety from the lone figure’s own, from her own shade of lighter yellow.
“Strange.” She thought so from what she had recalled of the blue figure. If one was so curious, one could surely ask. Pulling back from the window, the lone figure then ran off. Forward, with eyes ahead, and crossing the distance in a flash, the speed of which dragged the wind behind her. Turning towards the right, she continued running. No one was there to scold her.
She ran all the way to the front door, slowing her step once she had reached it.
“Phew.” A breath was taken, not out of exhaustion.
The door was pushed open with a single hand and she casually slipped through. As she exited, her hand returned to her side, allowing the door to close as she strutted towards the gate.
The two figures there had long noticed her presence, as soon as the door had been shifted, actually. One noticed out of an expectancy, and the other more so on the side of attentiveness.
The lone figure walked forward along the stone path. She exuded an air of nobility, of confidence with every step she took. Almost ethereal, the snow didn’t even seem to be able to touch her.
No, it wasn’t just the standing blonde’s imagination. The snow truly didn’t reach her.
“Heya, Sancho. Mind letting us in?” spoke the Knight with a head of blue.
“Bari…” replied Sancho, proceeding even without an affirmative reply, as was the case between them. Bari would ask, and Sancho would open the gates. That’s how it usually went, but this time along, she brought an extra. Sancho didn’t hide her inquisitive and disdain towards the other human. “Who’s he?”
“Ah, this? My Squire, Sancho. All Knights have a Squire or two.”
“Is that so…? I see.” Her gaze, swirling red, softened somewhat slightly.
The other blonde stepped forward, a hand to his chest. “Greetings, Ms. Sancho. My name is Sinclair. I am the Squire of the White Moon.”
“Drop the miss,” Sancho practically spat out. “Simply call me by name without titles.”
“A-ah, okay. I won’t forget,” promised Sinclair who looked up and over to his mentor for guidance.
“Don’t mind it, and just do as she says.” With a nudge, Bari whispered. “She’s nicer than she likes to appear.”
Sinclair gave a solemn nod, body and expression relaxing at the comment.
“Hey…!” Sancho gave Bari a glare, to which the woman simply smiled in turn. The blonde could only sigh. “Come in, then. Father must surely be waiting already.”
“Thanks.” Bari beckoned to Sinclair. “Come, Sinclair. At ease. They won’t bite.”
“If you say so, Bari.” There was something to Sinclair’s tone that indicated otherwise, as if he didn’t fully trust her words. It was the attitude of someone who’s been through much trouble and couldn’t fully take words at face value anymore. He followed after as Bari entered through the gates and started walking towards the entrance door.
Sancho closed the gate not long after, skipping quietly as she caught up to the so-called ‘Squire of the White Moon.’
“Hey,” she called to him while walking by their side. “Are you also a Fixer?”
“Are you talking to me?” Sinclair asks.
Sancho gave him a look.
“Y-yes. I’m a Fixer, following my mentor.”
“Which is Bari?”
“Yes…”
“I see.” Sancho eased the pressure she had consciously been exuding. This would surely be a new opportunity for her, to get away from her Father and instead fill her curiosity in private. She had many plans for him, for a long time to come.