Tuesday, August 23, 2011

royal purple.

top: old navy
skirt: thrifted
flower pin: The Looking Glass
pearls: ?

Once upon a time,
there was a little princess who lived in the land where the ancient, proud mountains craned their purple heads to the sky. Her favorite thing to do was read, and her favorite place to read was outside, on the young green grasses at the base of the mountains. She shirked her tutors, her king and queen parents, even her suitors, to come and lie in the sun, her nose in a book.

Often, she would disappear for hours, and her elderly servant-woman would search, in a frenzy, till she found the little princess, in contented sleep, her nose on her book.

On day, her father the king told her that the kingdom was holding a ball in her honor, so she could pick a husband from amongst its attendees. Her old servant gladly dressed her mistress in a fine violet dress and wound flowers in her hair, chattering away with girlish excitement about the ball. The old woman turned away for a moment to pick the perfect pair of shoes, and when she returned to slip the princess's feet into them, the girl was gone.

The princess scurried to the meadow, laughing at her servant's expense. She arranged herself prettily in the grass and opened her book to read.

A little later, a young man stepped into the glade. He had come from the castle, fleeing his own servants at the princess's ball. The boy was a prince; he had a book tucked under his arm. But when he found the perfect hiding place, he stumbled upon a sleeping girl. He approached her, saw her nose in her book and her purple dress bright against the bright green grass, and he pulled a flower from her hair and smelled it. Then the prince draped his cloak over her body. When the princess awoke, he was gone.

The princess came, day after day, back to the meadow at the base of the purple mountains to find the young man who left her his cloak. The wind whipped her deep purple gown, and the flowers drifted out of her hair. One day, she ventured a little further into the wood, past the little private meadow, and found a boy leaning against a gnarled and studious tree, his cap over his face, and his body motionless in repose. A book was in his lap, open, as if he had just set it down.

The little princess knew at once who he was, and she bent to leave a flower in his hand. Of course, for several days afterward, he searched for her again, and found her, as usual, asleep in the meadow, in the sun, below the purple mountains.

The lovers thus teased each other through their childhood-- laughing and leaving tokens of affection: flowers, little teacups with notes, a ribbon for her hair-- until finally he left her a ring, and a kiss, and a question.

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