The sensation of a carriage is not one that Isra can recall. It is not like the lull of a boat, the push and pull of the sea. One that she can recognize when she closes her eyes. When she opens them it is neither the sky nor the street nor the waves she thinks of being surrounded by that her eyes are settled on. Isra cannot shake the feeling that something is different.

One hand seems to work at the other endlessly and Isra reaches out to place her own in between. The woman plucks up his hand without a second thought, placing it in her la where both her own settle besides. One presses against his palm, the other traces across the back of his hand, following the lines of the bones.

Isra says nothing at first when she looks at him, taking a moment to choose her words. With him they are candid, she speaks without thinking of how he might respond. She fails to realize it is because he makes her more comfortable than most. "You're not alright right now, are you?" The tilt in her head is slight, but by now he has seen it on her enough to know it well.

Remiel Calcifet

He seems to think that as long as she cannot see him he can get away with it. At least that is what Isra thinks when he looks away from her and says he is fine.

Nonsense.

Without hesitation the woman leans towards him, hellbent on placing herself within his field of view again. She moves to the edge of her seat even to make sure he can't escape her, gladly leaning against him to pin him in his seat between her and the carriage side. Quite the sight really, given how she plays up the idea of being dainty in her perfect dresses meant to make her look like a doll on a shelf and the too big shawl that slips around her shoulders.

The look on her face says otherwise of course. The woman says nothing at all in favor of getting her face as close to his as she possibly can instead.

Remiel Calcifet

She holds her position for a moment, his words fall short and fail to convince her. Her own certainty, a decision made well before he spoke, urging her to hold steady on the matter.

And then, quite suddenly, Isra returns to perfect posture in the seat beside him. She fails to give him space in the sense that she now sits too close to him in the seat but she's not quite so oppressive a presence this way.

That's what her words are for, since he's not taken the hint.

"You're a horrible liar."

Her tone is flat, even, tells nothing.

"And I hate liars."

Especially poorly done lies, if you're going to lie to her at least make it worthwhile.

Remiel Calcifet

She nearly says something else but before she gets the chance the carriage has come to a stop. The crowd outside the opening door of the carriage seems quite lively and Isra quirks a brow. She's not entirely sure what she expects of the endeavor. Such applause almost seem too much in her eyes.

Isra takes his hand to follow him, the smile she offers him in thanks pleasant and warm. There's a quirk to it at his comment, a barely present chuckle as she leans in to whisper. "Good, they should be, not that a one of them knows why." Besides, Isra doubts she herself has anything to really do with the gossiping. Though their name is prominent in Sinnoh the reputation of the Nightingale house has never been anything more than a half truth and her only direct relative that sat in the spotlight has long since tossed it aside.

When she reaches the bottom of the steps Isra is quick to offer the crowd a perfect curtsy of greeting. If she's to be bothered by the lack of warm welcome and whispers she does not show it. The smile she offers them is perfectly placed, well practiced, contained, almost sweet.Then she turns to Remiel, as she expect he will be taking the lead.

Remiel Calcifet

It takes everything Isra has not to chuckle at the response of the crowd, the little girl deciding to defy the silence. It puts a little truth in her smile that wasn't there before. She resists the urge to shake her head, keeping it steady instead as they make their way up the marble steps, the sound of her heels delicate and soft against the stone.

"Something you should have told me back in the carriage?" you know, when they had ample timme to speak of such things but instead here they were, speaking it in hushed whisper and they grow closer to the woman who seems more like a looming statue than anything else.

It is a good thing Isra is used to such entities. Her own mother quite adept at being a looming presence. She's far more interested in the building behind her, the archetecture catching her attention and keeping her focus more than anything else. Well, save for the glances at her dark haired prince, Remiel being the only other thing so far worthy of her attention.

Remiel Calcifet

Under other circumstaces Isra might have laughed at him and called him an idiot for not saying something sooner then but she doesn't get the cance.

She'll have to give him hell for it later.

If Isra is bothered by the exchanges that begin even before they reach the top of the steps she doesn't let it show. No if anything she seems to be the eact opposite, a perfect face. More so than normal, barely there smile unmoving as she watches what transpires.

Her eyes snap up to the woman in front of her when she shifts the converation topic to their relationship. Almost too fast Isra thinks and that is why she lets it hang in the air for a moment before adressing the gentleman wishing to take her umbrella first.

"No, thank you, it's quite alright." it's almost lazy how she turns back to the woman who seems so eager to make inquiries of her. She's calm beneath the obvious atmosphere, it's not really her problem as far as shes concerned. after all "Today? I'm his Principal attendant it would seem."

Surprisingly, she chuckles. It's hard to say if it's because of what she's said or just because.

"Though perhaps more often than just today, he's pleasant company after all." though there is an intinctual want to look at him Isra does not allow herself to do so, keeping her eyes on the current center of attention: his mother.

Remiel Calcifet