Lenore
In the intervening time, Lenore had done what little she was able to make the space a bit more comfortable. Most of the riotous showers of flowers had come down, confined into bundles and a few placed in strategic accent-type places here and there. The rest, she honestly didn't know what to do with, and she'd spent a moment in contemplation, chewing her lip as she surveyed the extras laid out over the foot of her too-large bed. She'd poked her head outside to see if there might be some form of person who could take them away, but nobody had been around and she didn't really want word to get to the king anyway in case he was offended or something. Her father had once told her that the nobility were far too sensitive to things that knights and commoners would regard as mere personal taste or practicality, so she'd have to be careful, perhaps.
As she considered her options, a small smile tugged at the corners of Lenore's mouth. It was certainly a little childish, but nobody would have to know, right? Of course not. Glancing surreptitiously about the chamber as though someone might appear to chastise her at any moment, the guard-captain's daughter grabbed an armful of extra pink blossoms and shoved them under her bed, repeating the process until all the rest had disappeared in the same manner. She could leave them there until the poor things completed their slow death, and then have them cleaned out with the rest. No harm done, right?
Without all the pink flowers, the rest of it was a bit more manageable, even if her bedclothes were a horrid shade of fushia. At least the canopy was ivory, and she could leave it drawn all day if she wanted. The bathroom was actually the best part, since the pink was by necessity minimal with the white marble and silver fixtures. Perhaps a little more satisfied than she should have been, Lenore threw open her window and stood with hands on hips, casting a critical eye over the furnishings. She'd never tell anyone, but she was an artist as well as a knight, something she'd inherited from her mother, who was ironically enough a florist of all things. It wasn't to her taste, exactly, but it least it now looked a bit more like the abode of someone who had taste, which had to count for something.
Her room seemed to look over some form of lake on the grounds, though whether it was natural or not was something the landscaper had too much skill for her to guess at. She sat upon the windowsill for a while, simply sketching the features with her eyes. It looked very much like something she'd like to paint, someday.
She sighed. Someday. Her life had always been about someday. Someday, she'd take her father's place. Someday, she'd be the person she truly wanted to be. Someday, she'd allow herself to do something other than to prepare for the future. Someday. Lenore was tired of thinking about someday, but she knew not other way to live. She knew that some people could seize the moment, live in the now, do what they were moved to do, but she was simply incapable. Too much logic, cold reason, strategy. Someday, she might just let herself feel... something.
A knock at the door brought her out of her reverie, and she started, so lost in thought that she hadn't even heard the person coming. That's what you get for losing your focus, she berated internally. She realized with some trepidation that she'd completely lost track of time. This couldn't be Adio again already, could it? And why did she hope it was? Surely it was only because she really wanted that tour. It was only logical; knowing the layout of the place would be instrumental in doing her job effectively. Yes, that must be it.
She tugged open the door to find that it was indeed the silver-hued prince, smiling that odd smile of his again, the one that didn't quite reach his eyes. A shame; she rather liked the soft, genuine one better. Where did that come from? Brushing the thought away, he eyes fell to the bouquet in his hands. Orchids, daffodils, irises, lavender, and a carnation. "You know," she said offhandedly, "a florist would call that a mess." Though her tone didn't modulate much from her usual, she did smile softly, only half-aware of it, and accepted the bundle from his hands. Her fingers brushed his knuckles, and she tried not to flinch. "Thank you. I-I'll be right back."
She retreated temporarily into her room, more than a little embarrassed. She'd never really had cause to care that her slender fingers were callused, but right now it was just one more reminder that she didn't really belong here. Shaking her head, she searched the room for a free vase. Not many, but there was one. The clear receptacle fir the flowers nicely, and she placed it on the center of the low table that anchored her sitting area. It might have been messy, but it was a most welcome gesture. How he'd known that purple was her favorite hue, she did not know. Perhaps he hadn't, but that didn't make it any less kind of him.
Taking up her sword, Lenore affixed it to her back and stepped outside again. "So," she said, trying to regain some semblance of nonplussed grace, "is this the part where the not-so-distressed certainly-not-a damsel gives the knight in rather dull armor a tour of his humble abode?" Okay, that could have been put better, but he was somehow throwing her off. She didn't really understand it, and it was mildly irritating, but somehow not enough for her to quite wish he'd go away.