Becasue everyone does one of these eventually.

Apply:

Kel may not have known the exact shade of rouge to put on her cheeks, or heavens, how much kohl to put on her eyes but at the very least she knew how to make her armor shine like diamonds and her sword glitter like the ropes of jewels that the nobles court ladies wore around their necks.

That was all the flash she needed, thanks.

Morning:

Mithros, Kel groaned as she forced herself out of her bedroll. If the flu that was spreading through the Own didn't pass soon, she was going to collapse from the snoring that kept her from a decent nights rest.

Evening:

Occaisionally, when the Own had a perfect summer's day, without mud up to their ankles or driving sleet, they would catch sight of a beautiful sunset and everything would be worth it.

Face:

Kel's 'Yamani' face was well-known. However, Raoul mused, not many knew to keep a careful watch on the Lady Knights hands. Gnarled and scarred as they were, they usually told the whole story.

Neck:

As Maggur's great double-headed ax rested on the back of her neck, carefully lining up against the knobs on her spine, Kel idly wished he would hurry up. The outstretched position of her neck on the chopping block and the pain of her knees on the hard stone floor was making her irritable.

"Gods," she groaned, after the fifth minute of Maggur's triumphant monologue. "Just kill me already."

Skin:

Kel was used to being in the thick of things- her rather impressive array of scars was a testament to her fighting experience. To Neal's lamentations, she'd become nearly immune to surface healings and her many cuts and scrapes usually had to be tended to with stitches and slings. The most minor of cuts remained as thin white lines and puckered scar tissue from maces and war hammers crossed her torso. To her sister's disgust, she preferred it this way; better for a man to love her for her scars rather than despite them.

Gentle:

Known for being gentle to others, famous for it, in fact, she was not used to people being kind to her.So one night, when she'd been choking on her screams and her dreams were filled with dying children and killing machines, she was surprised to feel Tobe curled up next to her. She had swallowed shakily and, in a rare outburst of female silliness, had gathered the boy to her and had fallen asleep curled around him.

She did not dream.

Intolerant:

Neal knew that the Lady Knight was one of the most tolerant people he knew. It was with surprise that he noted that she abhorred cauliflower, despite her general affection of vegetables in general.

Eyes:

For as long as she'd been able to remember, Kel had been told she had 'dreamers' eyes, same as her father. Kel scoffed; dreamers were people who sat around, moaning about what could be. Lady Knight Kelady and Baron Piers of Mindelan were the farthest thing from dreamers. They were do-ers.

Survivor:

Kel didn't know why she felt out of place when she eventually returned to the palace. All she knew is that she attended even less social functions than Raoul did- she preferred the city of Corus, with its throngs of people who were (usually) hardworking, happy, and had no patience for noble gossip or backstabbing. It wasn't until she started referring to nobles as 'them' did she realize she felt guilty for being nobility. It just didn't feel right to be born to such privilege, while others barely scraped by. She kept those thoughts to herself, of course. None of her friends were that progressive, and such thoughts wouldn't win her any points with King Jon.

Still, it seemed to her that commoners were more sensible.