[center][h2][color=rosybrown]Fareeha Amari[/color][/h2][/center][hr][center][hider=Outfit]Snug black jeans.
[url=http://www.notempire.com/images/uploads/philiplimpatent.jpg]Shiny fancy leather jacket.[/url]
[url=http://www.orospot.com/images/products/P1358YPP-14K-Gold-Eye-of-Horus-Pendant-A.jpg]Gold Eye of Horus pendant[/url]
[url=http://www.ecouterre.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/03/timberland-organic-canvas-military-cap.jpg]Canvas military cap[/url]
[url=https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/12/52/f5/1252f55da19ea2cc8b7a64d3e6f6e7bc.jpg]Functional soft-leather boots[/url][/hider][/center][hr][hr]

Fareeha was, without a doubt, feline in the mornings. For the life of her, she couldn't sit still during the night, twisting and turning in the endless search for the most comfortable, the coolest, the most bestest spot in the whole bed. This didn't spare the bed, at all- every morning, she woke up entangled in sheets and comforter, one pillow on the floor and one nestled underneath her back. One of her legs showed, as well as its opposite arm and shoulder, finding just that perfect balance between the cool of the air and the warmth of the sheets.

And, as usual, completely disregarding those sheets, she immediately stretched upon waking, very much like a cat, stretching out her arms straight above her head, her legs as far down as they can go, toes curling. 

Once she was suitably stretched and ready, she snuggled into her sheets for a little bit longer. It was here that her mind really woke up, and began planning out her day in a peaceful, cozy haze of sleep.

It took another ten minutes for her to finally crawl out of bed, which was followed by another luxurious stretch in the cool air. The air conditioning left a slight breeze in the air, which danced across her mostly-bare skin quite giddily. Shivering slightly, she moved to her dresser, throwing it open as she pondered- what is she going to wear?

[center]-~=~-[/center]

Now dressed in a pair of snug, black jeans, white tank top, and toted along a shiny, somewhat 'fancy' leather jacket, Fareeha was ready for her first stage of the day: a routine of strengthening poses, a 'dance' of various positions in slow motion to test the endurance and strength of one's muscles. When she first started it, even though she regularly did a variety of demanding physical activities, it would bring her to soak her clothing in sweat- now, she was strong and tough enough to do it somewhat easily. It was part of her routine, and had been for years. A dozen different poses, each lasting about ten minutes with very slow movements on each. 

And by the time she was finished, she presumed that the other princesses were just getting up and dressed. A princess who'd rather be known as a soldier always gets up early, earlier than the sun and its dawn. Nonetheless, she applied the usual odor-killing deodorant- she preferred to smell like nothing when working out, not like a princess. After that, she made her way to the garden- those others of her age might be starting to show up for breakfast, but there was a route to be jogged. She ignored her bodyguarding shadows, as per usual, and took her route randomly and in peace, simply exploring the, to her, exotic but plain garden. She jogged only for fifteen minutes- not enough to build up a sweat, or anything more than warm up her muscles. 

Having now been prepared for the day, she returned to her rooms to apply one of her more favored scents- of the rare flower growing in remote deserts, the Desert Ghost. A neutral smell, one that wouldn't offend anyone, and yet, has hints to something fantastic to it. She loved it, and used it often. Despite its expense, of course. Properly dressed (she went ahead and threw on her jacket), scented, warmed up, and ready for the day, she threw on her more more civilian 'military' cap and headed back into the palace for her daily dose of political royalty. 

On her way, an extremely disheveled Prince Peterson stood outside their designated breakfast space with his betrothed, Princess Isabel. Judging from the red on one cheek, the anger in Feora's face, and the general stance of them both, Feora was tearing into Peterson for whatever reason. She didn't really intrude, other than a flashing smile of white teeth.

[color=rosybrown]"Nice look, Peterson,"[/color] were her only words to the 'morning' person as she passed by. Either way, it didn't really concern her.

Striding into the great room that was to house their breakfast, she surveyed everyone with a critical, though subtle, eye. Casually, though, she approached one of the empty seats, unoccupied and untouched, and slid into it with assured ease. She glanced towards the farther end of the room- just eyeing one of the servants was enough to get her point across. As the servant went to get her a fresh plate of breakfast- no point in laying out a bunch of breakfast, but better to bring it on demand- Fareeha turned her attention elsewhere.

She glanced at her right hand side, and smiled at the multitude of princesses and princes talking. Not feeling very much like a princess- much rather, a soldier on an off day, as she used to be- she only gave them a single, general greeting.

[color=rosybrown]"Alssalam ealaykum, and good morning to you all. I trust you've all had a fine night's sleep?"[/color]

A moment after speaking, she immediately noted the absence of habi, of her snake, of Hadi. In an absent gesture, she wordlessly, subconsciously scratched her wrist, where the python would be curled up if it'd been there.