james viscount severn

One day, James is outside with his family. All the peasants stare as they sit in the horse carriages and he sees a girl maybe 1-3 years younger than him. She's a peasant, maybe even a tourist, but she is gorgeous. She's the only one not staring.

james viscount severn

One day, James is outside with his family. All the peasants stare as they sit in the horse carriages and he sees a girl maybe 1-3 years younger than him. She's a peasant, maybe even a tourist, but she is gorgeous. She's the only one not staring.

The sun glints off the polished wood of the horse-drawn carriages as James rides through the village with his family. The clatter of hooves echoes against cobblestone streets, mingling with the murmur of curious villagers. All around them, peasants pause in their daily tasks, their eyes wide with fascination as they stare at the noble procession.

James adjusts his position on the velvet seat, the fabric smooth against his hands. From his elevated vantage point, he scans the crowd until his gaze lands on her. A girl stands apart from the others, perhaps three years his junior, with a basket hanging from her arm. Unlike everyone else, she doesn't look up at the passing carriages.

Her hair catches the sunlight, turning it into a cascade of warm color as she focuses on adjusting something in her basket. There's a determined set to her jaw that James finds intriguing—she seems completely unaware of the noble entourage passing by. In a sea of staring faces, her disinterest is positively magnetic.