Hushed Willows princess's dream

How beautiful it was, even within winter-time. She always loved the willow trees, as they hung low and swayed with the wind. No matter the season they looked beautiful. Even though the leaves were gone, the snow clung to the branches providing almost an imaginary snow-leaves, a winter tree. The area was surrounded by them, and she just knew this was the place of heavens.

Aerasha tuckered within the snow, head above her paws as eyes watched the area in wonder. She was being bathed in the powder of falling snow, as she remained unmoving.

He had lost all hope that he would find the fantastical object, and by proxy, he had lost all hope of returning home to the Sluagh. It was the worst feeling he'd ever experienced! Gut twisting was one thing (he got enough of that at the sight of blood, usually) but the soul-eating existential dread which came with that knowledge, well, that was new and that was utterly overwhelming. He was dragging his heels, moping with his head down in the manner of a sad circus pony or something.

The earth lifted, and he went with it. Although Tiffany did not stare at the weeping trees (honestly oblivious to them as he hiked, nose-down, up one ridge to a gap in some trees), he felt the moodiness of the surroundings deeply. Maybe it was his own diminished energy level and feeling of defeat spoiling an otherwise gorgeous day - but he couldn't help it! He was lost, alone, and without any clue as to where to begin his hunt for this elusive artifact.

And then, when he finally took a breath deep enough to assuage the crushing sensation of his failure, he lifted his head. His eyes caught upon the tendrils of willow as they framed a plush silhouette; soft browns covering a warm, voluptuous coat — Ho! what deceit is this upon mine own eyes? a maiden! He had no idea how loudly he spoke, nor how easily his voice carried in the expanse between the trees, funnelled right to where she lay.

Poising himself as a knight ought to (chest out, fur fluffed, head up) he marched towards her wearing the guise of a well-travelled warrior; but as he came to rest before her, something inside of him deflated a bit and he bumbled through his usual introduction: Fair maiden, thou art here to serve me -- nay, waiteth.  I am -- I am a knight! Tis mine duty to protect those fragile, soft, meek, downtrodden! At thy service — An overabundance of vigor accompanied an attempted bow, during which he might've konked his chin on a rock but he grit his teeth to the pain of it, and shut his eyes as they flooded with a film. —Sir Tiffany!

Her bicolors blinked as the wolf went on, for a very long time. He sounded of a court jester that tried to sway the King in humor, and of the plays the wolves would try to give a jolly toward the nobles. She had heard these voices, but like them, his words never entered, finding it too frivolous to figure out. Aerasha wondered why he spoke similar of some Kingdom wolves, and mocked the voice, "Youuu, speak of a jester.~"

"Why?~" He bowed in a hilarious way with a teary gaze, she was firmly amused. He must've been a thrown away joker, much like the many her father had casted out. Perhaps he was one of them, but of course the Princess who did not care, and was never within the royal sanctions, would never recognize if that was the case.

"Ohhhhh, you're funnny~" Perhaps they were amusing, she never truly watched their act. Their words were a mystery but their actions were a joyful chatter.

Had he known of her thoughts, he would have been quite appalled! What had he done to warrant such insult? He was presently adjusting himself back to a proper seriousness, his chest puffed and body rigid as he assumed the poise of a soldier at-attention. Her lilting voice served to melt all of that away instantly; shoulders slouching, face flushing with warmth — oh, what dulcet tones! How kindly she did sound, how fair-hearted, how — Ohhhhh you're funny~!

How demoralizing. 

Tiffany could not stop the aghast scowl that spawned across his face, overtaking his features in quite a rubbery manner, taking full offense at her comment. He could not remain horrified by it for long though, she was too sweet looking, too soft. He was basking in her beauty. I am nay gleeker! I am a knight.  A heart of pure gold beats beneath mine own breast! To enforce this point he took a single step and struck a new pose, his tail puffing and lifting with temporary dominance.

He denied the role she revealed, and continued the play as a knight. How he continued the talk, that felt too much of a hassle to completely understand. Though she could play that hame! Aerasha came from the courts, and even though the speech was such a dull, she could handle so, "ohhh.. thooouuu art a knight, but act as a gleek'r?~"

The Princess couldn't help but laugh at his display and her own foolish tongue, now wishing she had watched the king's jesters instead of causing mischief. If she knew how fun they would be, surely would've joined, "you're fun.~"

Having come from a backwater place that called itself a kingdom, the manner in which Tiffany spoke was as close to eloquent as he could force himself to muster. The other knights - in fact his own parents - did not speak with such an outlandish flair, although they did have a simplistic manner hearkening back to some sort of medieval culture. To be laughed at, to be called a jester, labelled as fun when he was honestly trying to be serious was the most hurtful thing Tiffany had ever experienced. Next to... That time he got a charlie-horse in the middle of sprint training, or that other time when he'd herded the family's last meal away from the knights (completely accidental, that was!). 

He resorted to pouting. It wasn't the most attractive (nor the most adult) way to express his disdain, but pout he would!

Nay, I am a knight by blood! Tutored by the palmy laird himself — Bran the Dire!  I, trained tactician, watcher, squire-turned-knight, liketh mine own brothers before me.  This is nay gleek, mistress. But it would not matter how he employed his voice, she had made up her mind. All that came across was the jovial quality of his voice and the flamboyance of his awkward body as he continued to emphatically correct her. A great sigh worked its way from his breast; his brows lifting and then creasing as they sagged together in a frown. What, prayeth bid, what would proveth myself? 

From here he launched in to a new diatribe: Quite literally lunging through the snow, causing the softer top layer to spray around him. As he does this, Tiffany proclaims: I did bid myself thy protector! Aye, that is how! I shalt remain with thee and keepeth thee safe, mistress.  Thou art without an honour guard but fortune favors thee, as I am here, and so thee shalt be -- He just couldn't sit still, and as he struck a final pose he managed to trip himself on a patch of ice and was briefly distracted from his rambling, trying not to fall over, looking very much like a thick-set colt rather than the proven warrior he claimed.

Aerasha went on to listen to his long and boring words, which did not go through her head and only whispered by. She was having fun for a while but now it felt similar to the boring Kingdom that she escaped from so often. Not to mention, he wouldn't stooooppp.

While she simply listened with a bored, and nearly dead smile, as he started to move. Somehow, while zoning out, he managed to attack the snow! Aerasha's whole front was now covered by the powder of snow and slush, feeling a shiver come through as the girl looked at him, "Nooww, that's noot verrry knightlyyy.~" 

"You aren't fuunnn anymore.~"