[center][h3]Estelle[/h3][/center]

Taka, she decided, was precisely what he described himself as. She'd been tempted to accept the fruit he'd offered but had politely declined by shaking her head—it was unacceptable for a servant to eat in front of her betters, much less to eat while others did not have anything for themselves. What made it even worse was Roane's dragon being attracted to the food.

Estelle had never seen such a beast before and promptly backed away as it approached. What odd colors it had in the firelight, scintillating shades dancing across its scales as it moved! And that maw! It looked like it could snap a person in two just with that, and she hadn't even seen its teeth. Her pale blue eyes were wide as she retreated, caught in a stare before she inadvertently bumped into Alfred.

“[i]Je suis vraiment désolé! Veuillez m'excuser[/i].” She promptly turned, offering an apologetic curtsey before realizing she'd slipped into her native tongue. “Apologies, [i]Monsieur[/i]. I will do my best to see that you are comfortable in camp—we must have our lead mind focused to make the best plans, [i]non[/i]?”

Having embarrassed herself, she would have liked to have excused herself there. A maid's work was never done, and there was cleaning up to do for dinner as well as all the minute details she'd have to sort through getting everyone in the proper tent. There was a lot to consider already—like who could possibly be bunked with a self-declared outlaw and who a noble like [i]Madme[/i] Angelise could comfortably share a tent with. The shy Nyx girl, appearing like a manakete, seemed like she would get along with a down-to-earth dragon rider like Roane. Myno seemed to have less sharp a tongue than Taka, so perhaps he would handle sharing a tent with the sensible Alfred? Yes, and then she could be right there to serve any needs of [i]Madme[/i] Angelise; the arrangements were coming along nicely in her head!

She wanted nothing more than to be back in motion, arranging everything until it was perfect, but [i]Monseigneur[/i] Devraron seemed to just be beginning. Her ivory hands folded in front of her, patient and demure as a dove's wings as she glanced between Alfred and their leader-prince.