Countess Isplourrdacartha Estillo stands in the doorway, wearing a simple, fitted jumpsuit in browns and cream, long red braid flipped over her shoulder and a datapad in her hand.
She opens her mo--
He isn't wearing a tunic.
He isn't wearing a tunic and his chest and stomach and arms are rock-hard and heavily muscled, and she can see old scars dotted here and there--
Isplourrdacartha swallows. "My prince," she says, with the slightest of bows, her eyes firmly on his face. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to wake you."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2007-08-22 05:27 am (UTC)She opens her mo--
He isn't wearing a tunic.
He isn't wearing a tunic and his chest and stomach and arms are rock-hard and heavily muscled, and she can see old scars dotted here and there--
Isplourrdacartha swallows. "My prince," she says, with the slightest of bows, her eyes firmly on his face. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to wake you."