Location: Their Individual Bedrooms ⇢ Palace Courtyard Clearing ⇢ Third Corridor off the Long Walk (Tristan), Queen's Room (Lyra)
"Rise and shine!" an annoyingly chipper voice pervaded Tristan's dreamless sleep. He stirred under the covers, his blue eyes fluttering open. He let out a small groan, rubbing his face before glancing around the room bleary eyed. Movement caught his eye, and he quickly saw that it was his friend Fyror moving about his room, rummaging through his wardrobe and trunks to pull out clothes and weapons. Early morning training it would seem.
Great. Tristan didn't really know why Fyror always insisted upon dragging him along so he could essentially get the crap beaten out of him for an hour. The man claimed it was for "discipline," but he thinks that is just a load of crap. Don't get him wrong, he loved sparring but not at the crack of dawn when he can barely function, let alone wield a sword effectively.
"What time is it?" he muttered.
"6 o'clock," Fyror replied.
Tristan let out a loud groan.
"Go away!!" he yelled, before pulling the covers back over his head. An earsplitting cry suddenly sounded off right next to him.
"By the gods!" he exclaimed startled, abruptly throwing the bedcovers off of him and jumping out of bed, nearly thwacking his Night Transformer Nante in the process. The peregrine falcon apparently had decided to join him in bed, and it let out another shrill cry as it fluttered upwards to narrowly avoid getting smothered by the sheets.
"I'm up! I'm up!" Fyror let out a chuckle, which subsequently earned him a well deserved, at least in Tristan's opinion, glare.
"Hahaha, very funny," Tristan mocked. Fyror threw a wad of clothes in his direction, which he barely caught and then began to change for training practice with Fyror and presumably Lyra.
Meanwhile in Lyra's room, things were less--
eventful. She moved about her room, gathering up her clothes and weapons for the day, before she would head out to a small clearing by the palace courtyard for an early morning training session with Fyror and Tristan. Long before the two delegates from the Land of Long Nights had come to the Castle, she had always done such. She found starting her day with something structured and familiar helped her focus and ultimately set the tone for the day. She had to admit that she found training even more enjoyable now that she had a couple other people to spar with. Granted, she supposed she could have always sparred with her new superior Amarantha, but she didn't feel comfortable enough around the imposing woman to ask of such of her. Never mind the fact that Amarantha may then feel as if she was owed a favor in return, which was most certainly something Lyra did not want held over her head by the woman.
She let out a small sigh before choosing an outfit to wear and going behind the partition to change. She had invested in the simple wood partition some months ago, as the thought of Puck's ghost watching her change gave her the creeps. She had very much considered asking for a room change after Puck's death but ultimately ended up deciding against it as she didn't want to be a burden. In the meantime, she just tried to ignore the fact that the ghost of the former commander of the Young Army was chained inside her room for a year and a day, likely watching her every move if not just out of sheer boredom. An irrational side of her feared that he wouldn't ever leave. A shiver ran down her spine at the thought. She quickly tried to shake off the morose thoughts. She finished changing and brushed out her platinum blonde locks before braiding it to the side so it would be out of the way. She grabbed her sword and then promptly headed out the door.
Tristan let out a grunt as he hit the dirt. He blinked as Lyra's face swam into his view, partially blocking his previous view of the clouds.
"My point!" she exclaimed with seeming eagerness.
"Yup. What is that, 10 to 2 now?" Tristan retorted teasingly. Lyra let out a soft chuckle and offered him a hand up. He took her hand, letting her help haul himself back up onto his feet. Apart from some bumps and bruises, he wasn't seriously injured from their training session. Unless, of course, you wanted to take into account a wounded ego. He glanced over at Fyror with a sigh. Amusement lit up the amber of the man's one good eye, before he turned to address Lyra. "You think we can call it a day on the training, Lady Lauerk?"
"How many times do I have to tell you? You can just call me Lyra," she replied, shaking her head lightly at him.
"And yes, I think the prince has had enough." "Of course. My apologies,
Lyra." Fyror then turned back to Tristan. "You best be getting cleaned up. You're suppose to spend the day with Princess Luna, and I highly doubt she wants to be around you when you're all sweaty." The group said their goodbyes and then parted ways to get cleaned up and ready for the brunt of their day.
Stepping foot outside his bedroom, Tristan was dressed in the rugged "formal" attire of the Land of Long Nights, his blonde hair lightly tousled under his silver engraved crown. He let out a small sigh and adjusted his cloak and furs, before he began making his way down the corridor. He wondered if it would be appropriate to just walk up and knock on Princess Luna's door. They hadn't really discussed an official meeting place, or maybe they had and it had just slipped his mind. He nervously rubbed the back of his neck as he walked over to her bedroom door, which was only a couple doors down from his own. However, just as he was about to knock on her door, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head to investigate it, only to see lo and behold Princess Luna going over to the Messenger Rat bell.
Convenient. He turned away from her door and strode over to her, clearing his throat so as not to startle her.
"Morning, Princess," he greeted her, giving her a slight bow.
Meanwhile, Lyra left the servant's quarters, her sword rattling slightly at her side. She twiddled with her capsule necklace as her blue-green eyes drank everything in. She smiled softly at those she passed, and she went over in her head the queen's duties for the day. Valda had a meeting with the Chief Hermetic Scribe at noon, and there was the wedding between Myth and Bruce at sunset. Attending a wedding was certainly a good change of pace over the incessant meetings. It would be good for Valda, give her a bit of a breather hopefully. Lyra weaved her way in and out of the hallways and passersby before eventually coming to a stop in front of the queen's room. She knocked on the door without hesitation.
"Your Highness? It's Lyra," she called through the door.
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