Development Noun
1: The process in which someone or something grows or changes and becomes more advanced
2: A recent event that is the latest in a series of related events
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Undoubtedly there had been changes, like the change of the balmy summer to the crisp autumn days. New admirers, new acquaintances, new places and new ventures, had filled the time she had. Her book, considered once to be the most intimate of things she owned, had reached its completion. Strangely she was satisfied, an odd feeling as she always felt in her life that there were loose ends, improvements to be made, things to be rid off, but not this time, not with her writing. Many had offered to be the first to look upon its pages, strangers and friends alike, but it was to be Artanion she would bestow this honour to. He would not lie, would not appease her with sweet falsehoods simply to flatter her. He would speak frankly if he thought it not good enough for others to read. Many had asked to look at its pages, produce copies of it, enjoy it in the dark of the night with naught but a flickering candle to protect them from the horrors recorded upon parchment.
The Kings Folly had become a sanctuary from time to time. The proprietor Vincent and the serving woman Syaven were the most unlikely of hosts in her opinion, yet she found herself returning, relishing in the smell of old books, rich wine and the warmth of the fire. The unusual patrons that would oft show, humoured her, for it was rare to find those who delighted in the finer things in Breelands more popular of taverns, The Prancing Pony. She found intrigue in her hosts, a man who looked more suited for war than sweet poetry, and a woman whose mind seemed to drift back and forth like the tide. They were something more, yet she could not quite place her finger upon it yet. Liric, on the other hand, a finely dressed bard who thrived on attention, lusted for recognition and spouted familiarity with all he met, was to her as clear as day. To her, he yearned to make the Folly a place of joviality, regardless if his company be that of a man or woman. Unlike the other two, she and Liric would oft make conversation whenever they crossed paths, and it was always welcomed.
There were other developments, destined perhaps, others unexpected. A friend turned lover, a sinister figure prowling about the grounds of her house, gifts that were not from the aforementioned lover and a reunion with good friends. There was also the matter of parties being planned, one intimate, another a show of benevolence. New acquaintances in the form of a dark skinned woman, accused of slavery and brutality and a woman, seemingly eager to inform others of her status in society and her charitable nature.
She felt more assured, safer, in the company of Artanion. Sweet Arti, a man who did not parade like a peacock, no pretension, yet skilled with bow and steel and the ability to not use either if it could be helped. He now was the most intimate in her life, not her writing, nor work, but an unassuming man that would watch over her, love her and walk at her side. She spared him most of her worries, a perfectly plastered on smile worked wonders to hide them from most, though doubtfully him. His eyes, a quiet stormy sky, like hers, touched her very inner being, he need not speak to her with words to communicate how he felt, be it disapproval or admiration. The concern her dear friends Rue and Florris had shown, and the steps they took to try and protect her, were welcomed. She missed them, but their lives had taken them a different path to when they first met, a slightly bumpy one, though she was glad they seemed -mostly- content. The traps they had set about her home had often sprung without any caught in their jaws.
Two things troubled her though, admittedly the strange shadowy figure oft seen in the night by her home was a very real concern, but it was these. Her growing friendship with Sutmena, and the association with Joselle. She recognised herself in Sutmena, a woman who would serve her family in ways of business. Willing to wed for the prosperity of her family. Operating beyond the borders of her land. A strong, confident character who seemed to garner much attention, though not always for good reason. She also recognised much of what she used to be in Joselle, and it displeased her. Joselle greeted many by her title, spoke of her lineage, of how she wished to give to the poor, cared greatly of her appearance of fine clothing and perfect grooming. Jess was once this way, Lady Jessiwick of Evendim, oozing arrogance at times and thinking herself the most perfect of creatures. A hard nosed business woman and a prize to those she deemed fit enough to keep her company. She had developed though, the town of Bree had grounded her, its people had welcomed her and before long she did not use her title, she did not speak of vast wealth, and she certainly did not mention that her deceased mother, grey of eyes, was of Evendim. She had developed from a singular minded woman, driven by the desires of her father to marry into greater prosperity and expand the family business, to one whom made her own choices, forged her own path, She did not look down upon others, nor did she feel the need to be anyone other than Jess or Jessie, and she certainly was not going to relinquish her new found freedom. Jess, who once was served the finest of wine in jewel encrusted goblets upon highly polished silver trays, now serving drinks, even if just once, in the Folly to allow her friend respite. She still enjoyed the finer things, but there was more now.
She had developed, grown beyond the woman she once was.
