Oh my. Quite the turn up of nobility just to meet the king, well... the would-be king, so supposedly Miranda had misinformed the blockhead guard about who she had an appointment with. Actually, she wasn't entirely sure about that herself. 'Meh. King. Prince. They're all the same high-horse people, aren't they?', probably. Miranda never quite understood the difference, not that she ever cared to remember.
Still, quite the turn up.
Amber eyes carefully inspected the cultural manifestation of queens and princesses out in the back. Daunting, for sure, and Miranda felt that they'd think her a vagabond. And she had picked out her best suit too. This one only had eight tears total. (and she had been especially cautious to blow off all the cobwebs) Such grace was unheard of from madam Crackpot! Hmm, observations had to suffice until proper introductions were made. Besides, she didn't want to mess up on the first day. That'd be most dramatic.
So the professor stood back a bit, careful not to let her tardiness distract the pompous entourage of suitors eagerly waiting to take a bite out of prince charming while she shamelessly judged them from afar as they sauntered into the castle.
Her pondering gaze first fell, predictably enough, on the one lady (if you could even call it that) towering above the others like some sore, muscular thumb it was difficult not to notice her. 'Snow White's turned huntsman, how utterly... terrifying.' If you're into that. And something told Miranda that the prince would prefer a more delicate appearance, rather than a punch in the gut for breakfast. Definitely opened an enticing debate on who'd wear the trousers in that marriage.
A stifled chuckle broke the neutral expression. The thought that this colossal woman was a potential suitor for the prince had amused her, when Miranda briefly pictured the proud Amazon in a frilly wedding dress before the altar.
A hilarious result to be sure, but unlikely.
Next up came a more traditional and dignified character, certainly unique in her presence but ethically pleasing in the eyes of noble circles. Miranda joyfully recalled the young woman's attire to be representative of Austron artificers, a country she had the honour of visiting once. Learn from the best her uncle always said, and where else would you find a more technologically oriented culture?
“The Silver Hand, was it? How nice to make your indirect acquaintance.” The professor's eyes fell on the mechanical limb that the Austron ruler so proudly displayed without shame. 'Tsk, tsk, tsk... Where is the subtlety in that now?' Miranda glared at the woman with an almost obsessive grin, she certainly found the current line up an interesting bunch. Perhaps she'd find entertainment in this charade after all.
The other two, quite frankly, weren't all that spectacular. Not that modesty was wrong, but... you know, eccentricity is the spice of life (or so the saying goes). She did remember a few impressions, like 'Sunhat sure has spunk' and 'Entourage, eh. Going solo, potentially dangerous, but obviously no fussy mothers around to bother you.'. The rest was already accounted for, and had gained Miranda's... so-so interest to actually stay when offered more than plenty.
That said, after the higher class had introduced themselves and drooled all over the poor, poor prince, it was time for the lesser caste to make acquaintances. Well, not that Miranda wasn't nobility (in some countries she still was), but fate decreed that she had given up the official title not too long ago.
“Presenting, Lady Li-” An oaken cane encrusted with black paint gently prodded the herald, a slim finger pressed against her lips as she hushed his words.
“Tut-tut-tut. Spare your breath, dear. The likes of me don't need no introduction, and if the prince has forgotten about little old me? All the more reason to remain silent, yes?” The woman feigned a poor man's Cheshire grin before once again allowing the cane to press against the floorboard as she shambled towards the, apparently, 'bored out of his eye-sockets' prince. They were by no means friends, but Miranda had the pleasure of spending ample hours engaging in intriguing chatter with the Lancaster boy back when she served the royal family. So it went without saying that they, at the very least, were no strangers to one another.
“The gall of some servants... Preposterous, don't you think?” Miranda began, stifling a laugh before she put a halt to her limp-walk only a mere inches away from the carrot boy; A single hand removing the old tophat, prompting the woman's wild hair to literally spring upward into an even messier arrangement.
“Georgie!” So unorthodox. “I'd say how nice to see you again, but chances are you've completely erased my existence from your memories. Royalty tends to disdain my presence, apparently. Weird.” Her thoughts dwindled for a moment, before she creatively added; “Oh, right. I'm ecstatic to attend the coming ball. I will be on my best behaviour while I reside in your humble home... Your Lordship.”
With another pause for breath, Miranda ominously leaned in closer to George. “Psst, you don't happen to know where your father is, do you? I was actually supposed to see him, but I couldn't resist sneaking a peak at your ball and chains to-be.”
