Post by COLONNELLO VAMSCHIER on Aug 13, 2011 11:10:03 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,width: 410px; background:url(http://62.0.5.134/media.bigoo.ws/content/background/nature/nature_438.gif);border-top:24px solid #E77471;border-bottom:15px solid #E77471; padding: 6px, bTable] ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ My Broken Heart To Pieces |
Her highness has been quite new around Stella Fiore.
She was termed that way; in her place she was called “her highness” or personally “Nello-sama” by her subjects which she never considered much as mere particular subjects them. The red head brunette looked at everyone as an equal person, except for the elders which are worth her respect. It has been part of her vows as a member of the Dark Society and also as a student. She was supposed to continue her studies at Italy, but she has to move along with her parents because it is necessary, for their Company business to spread and also negotiations with other families. Although she happens to be the boss of this so – called international mafia family, she is still a student and she chose half of her path being normal. She wasn’t alienated with stuff when she was deciding that. In fact she really wanted to earn friends and be part of the ordinary. This was her stepping stone towards the line of the current.
She was wearing the regular Stella Fiore uniform that she has in class and preset because it was a certain requirement but then the red head, if permitted, would rather choose wearing the jeans and slacks instead of the sassy skirt. She is a brunette and she also has her own reasons why she would prefer such attire more than the feminine styled ones which was hidden in her past, and also in her present. Her long hair moved at every tilt of her head whereas she would move about swinging a practice fencing sword which happens to be part of her training back there at Italy. There’s no doubt on why she was an expert in these stuff also, and it’s because of her social status and her real persona file. Her red stilettos are also clicking on every stance she would make at the time being, for she was alone inside the Duel Room – probably the type of place that she’d be most interested amongst the other rooms in the Academy itself.
Sweat dropped a bit from the side of her head, her breathing making small pant sounds while she continues to fence over the air, nothing to clash with since it was hovering on blank space. The sparring partner she used to have was like an elder brother, but somewhat a Mafioso who isn’t part of their team. Someone like that may have been after her life but she was really thankful that she wasn’t even targeted nor advanced to kill without defense. How she knew about the sword dance and how one uses it was through the teachings of her father. She suffered bruises, cuts and even wounds on it because of the gesture and the hard, or what can one describe, tough strategy training that was meant for her. She was treated much of a guy more than a lady in her place, though she was termed as her highness – for being able to achieve her trainings and tasks in succession.
Just like a cane, Nello swung again the practice rapier along with her stance, concentrating on her own while minding her own business. No one seems to be disturbed of what she is doing, yes? She doesn’t wish to harm people specifically from a land that is foreign for her. If she had the choice she would have brought her real friends (who knew of her secrets and all) also in this place but it seems to be not necessary because they have their own life in the academy they have been studying. She wasn’t selfish enough to drag anyone from her place to come with her just because she might feel lonely but then the red head brunette does need company. This is how she interacts with the sword at the moment. It seems to her that the thing closest that can understand her at the moment was just the weapon itself – even if it was fake. Still, Nello knew how to handle a real one indeed.
She didn’t stop on swinging for she would get bored in tact of the place when she does. Her hand movements were going faster, sweat dropping a bit much from the previous whereas her feet forwarded with grace. She has her own art of practicing which she never noticed it herself.
WORDS: 729 || TAG/S: open || NOTES: my first post! be patient with my replies though TAT;; || MUSIC: Cantarella - Clear
Now I want to cry loud ♣
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