<span style="font-style: italic">Lady Genevieve, you seem concerned about how I might treat you...publicly and privately</span><br/><br/>This was starting off well. Perhaps he was someone who could come to understand how she felt, but as he continued to speak, any hopes that Genevieve had of this man actually understanding deflated. Some of her suitors, the more hopeful ones, came to this conclusion and it was always best to quell it as soon as possible. It would not do for them to think she had been...tainted. Genevieve had learned that lesson the first time a man assumed as much and she did not pounce on the train of thought immediately.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">"...And that would also explain the hostility!”</span>Hostility?<span style="font-style: italic">Hostility?</span>She hadn't been hostile with the man? She did not raise her voice, nor her hands at him. She merely rejected his arm and spoke her mind. Although if he continued to steer the conversation in the direction it was headed she may get very<span style="font-style: italic">very</span>hostile with him.<br/><br/>"I am still a maiden, if that's what you're implying." Genevieve's voice was flat. Perhaps she could have been a bit gentler, perhaps thankful of his thoughtfulness, but when men assumed she was worried about...tenderness rather than take her words at face value, it upset her.<br/><br/>"You're Majesty." How was she to go about this? She would keep it civil, of course. "I have been treated like any noblewoman. As property. A prize. A pawn." Her own father was trying to sell her to the highest bidder. Now,  Genevieve didn't blame him entirely. It was the world he grew up in, but she wanted to change that. This was something she was passionate about and her passion began to show as she spoke. "I live in a world where my<span style="font-style: italic">only</span>value comes from what prestige I can give my husband. Whether it be a damure queen, wealth, beautiful heirs, or something else." As they continued their slow pace, Genevieve's arms slipped from Motto's own and she gently gestured with them as she spoke.<br/><br/>"We look upon the harlet with disdain and yet am I not like her? I have been sent from suitor to suitor in the hopes that a deal would be made with the end goal of bedding me." Genevieve's voice heated. When she had come to this conclusion years before, it had angered her to no end. "We are more than that.<span style="font-style: italic">I</span>am more than that." There was so much she wanted to tell him, but it would not happen overnight. Genevieve wanted him to learn and she knew too much may be overwhelming.