of marshmallows and oatmeal * -open

[charlie]

“You aught not be here.” A small voice murmured in the back of Viola’s mind; a voice, which, as a general rule, she tried to ignore. “Mother and father said be ready for supper at seven, and yet here you are, frolicking about like some ninny.” . My conscious sounds an awful lot like Lillibet, she thought, and then huffed in spite of herself. “So what if I’m not at dinner? Surely of the many royals here, someone will occupy their time enough. Maybe I just don’t feel like eating. Yes, that’s it! I am not being disobedient, I’m just not hungry!”

Oh how the mighty had fallen. With her red hair tied only slightly out of her face, you could see the adventurous sparkle in Viola's sea-green eyes. Pressing onward, she pushed open the kitchen door and entered, finding herself not in a magnificent land of cutlery and chefs, but rather a small home to a very short staff of cooks. At this time the kitchen was abandoned at the moment, only the twinkling little lights of the ceiling were here to keep Viola company. Odd, she wondered, peering around; It is, after all, almost dinner time..

Slowly but surely, Viola made her way across the tiled floor, towards a row of large wall ovens (or at least, that's what she thought they were). Pressing her hand to the glass of the "oven", she came to see it was not hot, but, in fact, cold. After looking side to side - paranoid of someone coming and finding her in such a juvenile position - Viola opened the large compartment. She breathed in joyfully as the sight met her eyes: food, glorious food.

The apparent "oven" was actually a refrigeration unit, used for storing the less durable food products: cheeses, custards, puddings, and cremes - all of it sat within the refrigeration unit. Or, at least, in this one. Longingly, Viola wondered what the other holes in the wall could be holding. Making her way down the row, she found a vegetable box, a fruit box, a red meat box, a white meat box, a drink box (this one was significantly larger than all other boxes previously mentioned), and last but not least, a box filled with only the fabulous items used to make deserts. The first box had apparently been some kind of "dairy" box. All wheat products were kept outside the ice boxes in cupboards or on countertops. No wonder the staff can work so fast, she deduced, smiling to herself as if she had figured out some sort of worldly conundrum. At sixteen, Viola was less than humble.

Making her way back down the row of ice boxes, she eventually decided upon what she felt like eating; chocolate cake. So, what if one piece goes out with a few crumbs missing? Whose head will get taken off for that? She mused unintentionally as she reached for the desert ice box handle. "An innocent servant's, probably.", said the voice, calmly and crushingly. Viola paused. She couldn't condemn the life of an innocent chef for a wedge of cake, could she? That hardly seemed fair.

And, as she paused, thinking about all of this, something snapped her out of the daze. A small sound, so small she had not an idea where or what it had possibly come from. And yet, it struck a slight fear in her very core. So much so, that, within moments of the noise reaching her ears, she was on the other side of the room, dashing into the biggest, emptiest cabinet. When safely inside, she curled her feet up under herself and waited. Juliet, who had been in a small compartment of her shawl, let out a faint squeak. Viola took her out, stroking the top of her head as she breathed silently, waiting for the next noise. Never had she been so happy to be small.

[Rozalina Romanov]

Rozalina couldn't help but be just the tiniest bit disappointed. Unlike every one else here, she was not on a lavish vacation from her own palace to flaunt herself and make peace with others... well, she wasn't for the first part in any case. This was her home, the palace where she had been raised and where she had grown up her whole life. She was thoroughly disappointed that she was not the little girl going away to a different country. She wanted to see something outside of the walls of the palace for once. Being confined here was not the most pleasurable of things. In fact, she hated being trapped in here. It was almost suffocating, but she dealt with it. Because that's what Romanov's did, they dealt with it.

"Your hair is so pretty today Miss," The old servant said politely, her smile only increasing the numerous wrinkles that already suffered on her gentle face. Rozalina only half smiled back - to annoyed to be able to smile all the way back. In fact, Roz was in rather a bad mood. Her father had requested that she be down for dinner with another royal family, but she had no intentions of making more friends. Her brows furrowed in little concentration as she stared blankly forward into the mirror and scrutinized her own face. Sometimes, she barely even recognized herself. Her hair was elegantly curled and piled on top of her head, blush spread across her cheeks, mascara brushed into her eyelashes, and the tiniest amount of eyeliner to top it off. "So pretty miss," The old lady replied. Roz just bobbed her head slightly, before speaking. "Thank you." Her russian accent was strangely formal - even for a princess.

A few minutes later the servant left the room in search of Rozalina's younger brother. Roz herself sat in the same spot, staring at the same unfamiliar face in the mirror. Any other girl would be thrilled and excited that she got to wear a beautiful dress and have people fuss over what she looked like, but Rozalina had been through it all before. After a few minutes of looking rather guarded in the mirror, Roz decided to do something with herself. She peered down at the dark red dress that hung neatly around her body, and she scrunched the sides so that she could get up from the small chair. She moved up in one graceful movement, dropping the threads of the dress and smoothing it out, before stepping toward the hall.

The only noise was the sound of her heels clicking on the hard, wooden floors. She moved along with the grace of a princess, her hands feeling rather awkward down by her sides. Her hands clenched into fists every now and again, just to ensure she still had some feeling in them. She kept her face straight, and only half smiled at the servants that scurried by her like ants. She listened to them, the compliments they paid her, and couldn't help but feel rather annoyed. Each was kind in their own way, and they ranged from different age groups. After a few minutes, she decided to stop one. He bowed to her, but his eyes were frantically darting to the hall. "Do you know what my father has arranged for us to dine on tonight?" She asked, her russian accent practically dripping off her voice. The man nodded, "A course of salad M'lady." With a huff, she moved on.

In a few seconds of deliberation, Roz decided not to go to the dinner. She put her hand up to her hair and pulled the clips from her hair, the elegant curls falling down around her face. Her long brown hair fell down, contrasting against the red dress. She slipped out of her heels before shoving all the remains into a nearby dresser. She scrunched her dress up so that she could run, and she took off down the hall. Rushing through the various floors, Rozalina was going for one goal. The kitchen. After a few minutes of running down the deserted halls, she finally found the doors. Swinging open the doors, she moved into the kitchen. Scouting the cabinets, she finally found the cabinet where she kept her stocks of food, she swung open the door - to find a girl. Rozalina peered down at the girl, stumped as to why the girl would be in there at first. After a second, Roz's face shifted into one of mockery and contempt. "I do not think you should be hiding in the kitchen, princess." Her voice once again dripped in a russian accent.

^{STARRING : ROZALINA & VIOLA
WORDS : DOESN'T MATTER. ^_^
STATUS : FINISHED
NOTES : THIS SUUUCKS.
LYRICS USED : USE SOMEBODY - KINGS OF LEON
LISTENING TO : NOTHING...
BANNER CREDIT : TANA
TAGGED : TANA}