<div class="floatleft">(http://25.media.tumblr.com/067513c7f31876cd9d23874e183b1597/tumblr_mjppt8YZRB1qbz6f6o1_500.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Diane Thorne<br/><strong>Status:</strong>Countess, House of Garabreth<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Queen's reception room<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Open<br/><hr/><hr/><br/>The chemise felt itchy on her skin, catching at every subtle movement she made. Diane settled, stilling her movements as she had been trained as a Lady of the House, and as one of the Sisterhood. After wearing a dozen pounds of face paint, hair adornments and miles of heavy brocade fabric- this was merely a time consuming irritant. She wiggled her toes inside the supple leather boots that hugged her trim ankles and protected her feet from harm. While a Companion was a battle hardened warrior, everything about her was soft and pliant in this outfit. Her shoulder length mass of wild curls framed her pixie features and made the flush of red around her eyes stand out starkly against all the pale white skin and black hair. Diane's darkly stained lips parted in a exhale of breath she did not know she was holding. Crossing her arms low over her belly, she idly rubbed her finger tips over and over the hilt of her dagger tucked into the belt fitting snugly around her waist- soothing herself with the comfort of being armed.<br/><br/>Inside the House of Garabreth, she had been a no one. Her Uncle had doomed her to a life in the background, which she seized to stay alive. Entering the Sisterhood had been an escape, though left her mother in her Uncle's thrall. He had married her after Diane's father's death, keeping the support of the Count's followers and bolstering his own following. As a Sister, she had no control over that title now- or to even be married to a man to give him the power of the House of Garabreth. It was a cruel thing to be unseen and unwanted. Here though, she had the chance to become a Companion to Prince Randolph, son of a former Companion- Alveena. She had not taken to examining the others, to gauge their worth in front of her's. If she was chosen, she would know each of them intimately in the time between now and whenever their crown had sole ownership or the crown or met an untimely death. It was a great honor to be chosen.<br/><br/>She stood as the Queen entered, feeling the weight of her sword at her hips- and swept across the floor to take a knee in the line of women waiting. Every fiber of her vibrated with apprehension, and she curled her hand over the pommel of her blade into a white knuckled fist. The time had come to see who would meet the Prince and guard him with their lives. Would it be worth it in the end? Perhaps.