Beauty is Deceiving

Posted by Scourge on September 12, 2009

When the demi-duchess of Klarianu, Celiaria De Prisk, arrived in Barend disguised as a cross between an elfish archer and an extra in a lack-of-morality play, the general consensus was that she made the city look worse than it actually was.

Through no fault of her own, aside from the callous way in which she flaunted her genetics, she made the grubbiness seem grubbier, and the muckiness seem muckier. Golden-haired and alabaster-skinned, she simply shone too bright for Barend at large.

Celiaria was beautiful, that would be obvious to anyone interested in long, blonde hair, perfect skin, even, white teeth, considerable (ahem) assets and legs longer than a Dimatraksian Plainswalker.  But there was something about her beauty that bothered Captain Harlon of the King’s Own Guard. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“That’s it,” he said at last, “That’s exactly it.” He nodded morosefly to himself, digging the toe of his uniform boot into the drift of dust beside Barend’s main road. He watched her carriage roll by, gleaming gilt and enamel in the afternoon sunlight, and bemoaned the fact that he never, ever had a chance, in all his life, to get his fingers on something so delectable.