Lady LeStraud & ⚡ωσи∂єяℓαи∂⚡ {Private, 1x1}

[parlaymars]

xxxxxxxWhen the girl gave him permission to step inside, he gave her a dazzling smile. The plan was going well enough for now, he mused. At her fathers' words he chuckled, briefly touching his hand to his lips; a quirk of his when he was slightly nervous.
xxxxxxx"I assure you, sir, your daughter has more brains than to pick someone like me for her lover." he grinned, though his smile faded after a few moments, turning to a more serious expression.
xxxxxxx"I am Oliver, and I would most appreciate it if I could use a spare room, or perhaps just a spot of dry ground to pitch my tent upon. I am a newcomer to this town, and I seem to have misplaced my coinpurse. If, only for a night, I could share your home, I would be most grateful." he spoke, noting the difference in characteristics between the father and daughter. In fact, if Catia didn't seem so familiar with him, Oliver would've thought he was a stranger to the household. Why, Oliver looked more related to Catia than her 'father'! Yet another difference that put her in favor of being the lost princess.

[W o n d e r l a n d ; ;]

Catia tapped her foot nervously, crossing her toes as she did whenever she got anxious. Her father was no unsympathetic man, and he would offer Oliver a room. "We would most certainly help you, Oliver. We do have a spare room, though it is nothing near glorious. Catia, would you mind showing him to the room? Oh, and I would appreciate it if you returned at night, my dear. Instead Of staying out so incredibly late. ", he gave her a hard look, and she looked away with shame. "Yes father. Oliver, you can follow me. ", she stood up, hesitated, then turned to bring him to te spare.

She led him through a smaller hallway, to the spare room. It was fairly small, with a full size bed and thick, light grey sheets. There was one large window, with curtains the colours of charcoal. The floor was some type of light carpet as well—the whole room seemed to be themed in shades of grey. It had a small desk and a bathroom in the back. "This is where you'll be staying. "

[parlaymars]

xxxxxxxOliver nodded politely to the girls' father before Catia got up. Mirth at her fathers' words bubbled behind his richly hued eyes, but he did not show it on his face. He followed her to the room, thinking rapidly. Now would be an opportune time to abduct the lass, but he still wasn't sure about her parentage - if she wasn't the lost princess, this would severely hinder his chances of finding her. And the girl might scream. No, better to wait until he was certain.
xxxxxxx"I admire fine décor. This room is perfect." he turned to face Catia after inspecting it, noting the obvious taste. He brushed a hand along her arm, not enough to be considered discourteous, but enough that he knew it would throw her off for a while.
xxxxxxx"I would appreciate it if you would give me leave for a few moments, I need to gather myself." he gave her a toothy smile and waited for her to exit so he could organize his meager belongings - mostly weapons - into appropriate spaces.

[W o n d e r l a n d ; ;]

Catia glanced around the room once more, slightly uneasy, but she said nothing about it. "This room was here ever since I was found, so I don't think my parents had made it. But thank you. ", she smiled weakly, but her gaze grew slightly uncomfortable when he touched her arm. She crossed her arms and rubbed the spot slightly, as if it was something unwanted on her.
"Oh, sure thing...", she turned and left, giving him one last, small glance before she went back to her room. Willow scampered in, onto his perch beside her bed, and watched over her as she grabbed her coat. She was once more going to leave, perhaps to the forest. "Ill be back later", she said to her pet, then briskly turned and exited the house through the back entrance.

[parlaymars]

xxxxxxxOliver waited exactly fifteen seconds after she left, not willing to make a sound lest she be listening from outside the door. Satisfied that he wasn't being monitored - why would they? He'd been nothing but perfectly civil. Almost.
xxxxxxxTurning to root through his bag, he quickly found his weapons and hid most of them away. A dagger in the bathroom, a blade between the mattress and the bedframe; two of his own weapons hidden underneath the folds of his clothing. He made a cursory glance of his space, satisfied, he made his way to the kitchen to perhaps help in any way he could. Oliver may have been a spy, a charmer, and though he was no gentleman his mother had raised him right.
xxxxxxxFinding no-one, however, he turned and exited through the front entrance. At this angle he could've seen Catia leaving, but he wasn't looking for her. Mounting his horse, he turned and rode into the forest. Time to update his map of the place.

[W o n d e r l a n d ; ;]

Catia rode directly to the center of the forest, following an old path she had worn down herself. With one fleeting glance behin her, she dismounted and tied her horse to the nearest thin tree. She took off the saddle an set it beside her mare, covering it in leaves. Her blue eyes slowly scanned the sorrounding trees, in search of something to climb. She had a piece of parchment and a small stick of coal, preparing to draw something from the treetops. She wore clothing similar to gothic clothing, dark to match the shade from the trees. She could hear animals in the trees around them, yet she didn't dare to move and disturb them.
Catia was not suspicious of the man at the least; If anything, she had a sympathy for him. Catia, as innocent as she was, truly believed this man was a poor homeless soul. She didnt suspect that he was a spy, or that she was a lost princess. That's not to say that Catia isn't able to defend herself—she knows quite a bit of self defense, and can handle a dagger like nobody's business. She simply was not one to carry a dagger around with her, for she knew it was not child's play. She was a peace guru, often trying to keep fights to loud talking, an beer letting such things get out of hand. She was always the first to apologize.
As she began to sketch the scene of the forest, she began to wonder where he had come from. Oliver had never been seen before, and surely her parents would know him. He could possibly be a traveler, and that was why he had a horse with him. Still, to her, how did he have such a fine horse and not his coin purse? What man in his right mind would lose his money?.

[parlaymars]

xxxxxxxThe dark-haired man rode carefully through the forest, stopping at the edge of a small, pristine lake. He dismounted and grabbed his maps from the saddlebags, piece of charcoal clamped carefully between his teeth. Scaling a pine was no difficultly, and once he was perched several hundred feet up he studied the paper carefully.
xxxxxxxLittle houses marked the town, straight lines with branches marked acres of wild forest. He carefully drew in the cottage and the lake he now resided in, marking in roads and the mountains he could see in the distance. A noise alerted him and he was at once on guard, charcoal pencil crushed into dust in his hand. He saw a figure in a tree like himself, several hundred feet away, and he could not make out more than that. Before he was spotted, Oliver desided it was time to go home and... interview... the parents.

[W o n d e r l a n d ; ;]

Catia's eyes narrowed slightly as she continued to sketch the scenery, her hand delicately moving over the paper. She bit her tongue gently, ye she kept her mouth closed. Every time she made a small mistake, she would bite a bit harder, causing a more distinct focus to finish the drawing. It took only about twenty minutes for her to do so, before she folded it up and lowered herself from the tree. She constantly came to this specific one, for It had a hole that she had carved in its base. She had countless drawings neatly filed in it, and this was another one she added to the collection. If she took them out, she could easily have the same scene at each week, a timeline of the lives and deaths of the nature in this area. Beside her, her steed snorted and stomped impatiently.

Catia murmured sweet nothing's to the horse, her hand trailing down his neck carefully. "We can go home. ", she said, louder and clearer. She patted his solid neck twice, mounting him after applying the saddle once more. She kicked him once, and he took off—heading straight for the home.