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Signups Discussion Character list Empire of Edyss ... Heir Amel | 23 | M | Page #6 | Overthink101 Soldiers Acilia/Decius Lucius | 23 | F | Page #2 | Cereal [ Knight ] Thalia Ito | 21 | F | Page #5 | Ciao [ Mercenary ] Servants § Neveyne Ire | 22 | F | Page #1 | Kämpa ... Kingdom of Kagha ... King Nikolas A. | 55 | Page #5 | Shadows in the Mist Queen Kinga A. | 52 | Page #5 | Polly Princes Zacharius | 26 | Page #1 | Kämpa Kristopher | 24 | Page #2 | Ciao Princess Salen V.F. | 23 | Page #3 | Overthink101 Soldiers Kagha Talmeren | 23 | M | Page #4 | Ebanon [ Knight ] Mircea Vasilica Rosenburg | 23 | M | Page #3 | Spellbound [ Knight ] Ashara H. Zanni | 23 | F | Page #3 | Xuân [ Knight ] § Servants Basil | 19 | M | Page #4 | Cereal Sundance Adora-Belle | 19 | F | Page #4 | Vintage Commonfolk Kinley Sinsmore | 22 | M | Page #5 | Fusty-Dudget ... Kingdom of Orin ... King Randolph C. | 53 | Page #4 | Sir Froggington Queen Moriah L. | 49 | Page #5 | NPC Prince Hyacinth M. | 19 | Page #6 | Spellbound Princesses Mirian O. | 23 | Page #2 | Shaows in the Mist Sori R. | 21 | Page #3 | Polly Soldiers Agris Aivars Bairugih | 20 | M | Page #3 | Overthink101 [ Knight ] Edrys Kolsvalk | 22 | F | Page #3 | Covidic [ Knight ] Kazimir Payne | 16 | M | Page #4 | Didelphis [ Squire ] Servant Arisse Karyille | 18 | F | Page #4 | Ebanon ℵ Commonfolk Ryksa Desiree | 29 | F | Page #6 | Nezdu [ Foreign Highborn ] Headers Name | Age | Gender | Role | Kingdom | Mentions: RP info The beginning post should include your characters arriving at the castle in Prira. If your character is from Kagha, they should be prepping for the ball. If your character is a knight from the kingdom of Orin, they should be sticking close to the royals. Same goes for the knights of Kagha. Other less 'important' roles can attend however they wish. The ball is a masquerade ball. Nobody knows each others identities (unless you came to the ball with them). The Kings & Queens are to meet up in a secure room to discuss the alliance as the ball is being held. To not raise suspicion, after of discussing a bit, they will be expected to attend the ball. The masquerade ball is going to begin at sunset and last a couple of hours into the night. After the ball, royals and their knights will be given rooms in the castle of Khaga to stay the night in. In the morning, a hunting tournament is to be held. More information on this will be given later. If you have questions, pm me. Weather/Time Spring :: ~7pm There are a few clouds in the sky being illuminated by the sun that's on the verge of setting. There's a slight, warm, ocean breeze coming in from Prira's shores. :: You may now post. |
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Zacharius Venturi 26 :: Masculine :: Prince of Kagha :: Mentions: Mircea, Kris, Salen, Basil [ ind. ] A flash of scarlet red spurt out in Zacharius’s peripheral. The thunk of steel piercing, burrowing its way through flesh pounded in his ears. It was shortly followed by the woosh of his enemy’s body falling to the ground. He was already on his next opponent before the thump of his previous target was heard smacking the floor. Metal and steel clanking against one another rang out like drums on a set. In some deranged way, it reminded him of music. Every beat would send Zacharius gliding from one place to another. Every short, clattering chorus would be the result of his ax coming down onto his target’s head, splitting their helm with a rippling crack. And like every song that sings its way into your heart, you remember the lyrics. You remember the voices. You remember their faces. Zak’s eyes drearily opened. He didn’t even realize that he took a nap, but now it makes sense. All he remembered was jumping onto his bed; he didn’t even recall feeling his body make contact with the cotton sheets. He needed his beauty sleep anyway. He shifted from his formally comfortable position as he tried to find a better one but ultimately failed. It was quiet in his room, but not deathly so. He could hear giggling maids and water trickling, along with a kettle steaming in the other room. The combination of blurred noises reminded him of something… Hold on.. Zacharius took a moment to gather his thoughts. Were the noises coming from his bathing room? Was it that time already? How long was he asleep? Zacharius lay spread out upon his bed in a starfish shape, completely oblivious to the scurrying maids that rushed candles and soaps into the bathing room. The masquerade ball was probably set to occur in a couple of hours, and he had just finished training with his platoon. He was grimy, sweaty, and reeked of body odor. Reeks a bit harsh- Zak lifted his arm and dared to sniff himself. If he wasn’t already nose blind to most things, he probably would’ve fainted. Even through his tattered senses, he could smell the repelling scent. In fact, for a moment he swore he saw stars. Zak always seemed to sweat the worse in his family. Kris never gets it this bad. Damn one-inch taller bastard. Yes, Zacharius has never gotten over how Kristopher gained height on him. The audacity of his brother’s growth spurt haunts him every waking moment. He lifted his head up, watching a couple of maids splash a bucket of hot water into a tub before gliding around the corner again. Watching them boss each other around reminded him of a certain someone. He could practically hear the nagging voice telling him that he shouldn’t be laying on his bed and traumatizing his blankets with his odor. He caught himself imagining a scene unrolling with his friend and chuckled at the thought. Mircea always managed to amuse him. He was staring blankly at the maids, lost in thought when one of the younger ones glanced up at him. Instinctively, Zak sat up entirely and planted an elbow on one of his popped knees. His lips were on the verge of tugging into a smile when the maid immediately brought her gaze down to the floor, her face growing a beet shade of red. For a moment he felt a little ashamed of himself. Damn you for betraying me, body. Zak corrected his seductive posture. Flirting with a maid would make the nobles think that he hit rock bottom. She was the only decent-looking one though. Not pretty, per se, but she wasn’t aged and calloused like the others. Get a grip. You’ll go after anything that breaths, won’t you? Zak tugged on his lower lip with his teeth, scrunching up his face as he reprimanded himself. He caught the same maid staring again. She must be new. Zak never really paid attention to the maids, so the young woman could’ve been here for years. It’s usually a newly employed kind of habit to glance up at royalty, but with Zak’s growing stories about him being lenient, he’s been catching more eyes. There’s always an inkling in him to tell them off solely for being the responsible prince he is, but then again, he can’t blame their curiosity. If he was in their position, he would want to sneak a glance at his employer. Especially if they were as shirtless as he is right now. Zak rolled off his bed half-heartedly. His bare feet met the cold hard flooring of his room as he did a big, toddler-like stretch, waving his arms about in the air before he hit that good spot. A huff escaped him as he relaxed once more. His posture slouched a bit as he looked at the long mirror that hung beside his windows. His abused, baggy beige pants clung to his calves, sticking to the sweat like glue. He has had these pants for way too long. He can’t remember the last time he switched them out for a new pair. Five winters ago the last pair was ripped after being snagged on a nail during an intense course exercise. Or was that six winters… five summers… Eh, who fuckin’ cares anyway. Zacharius’ onyx flyaways were pressed against his forehead and curled in abnormal shapes, plastered against his warm skin. His chin was freshly shaven this morning and smooth to the touch, for which he was thankful. He didn’t want to be rushed to shave his stubble and knick himself in the process. Zak reached for the bun that sat atop his head, undoing it in a single pluck of the band that held it all together. A wave of black cascaded down his features and tickled the nape of his neck. He ran a hand through it, pushing the overlapping hair on his right side back, only to watch it slide right back into place, showing him that his efforts were for naught. For a searing, moment of lust for vengeance, he considered cutting it all off. I can’t bring myself to do it. He tore his eyes from the mirror, tired of looking at his freshly tattered body. He had gained a couple of extra bruises and cuts from training. He swore that the soldier had some personal grudge against him. None of them ever pick up the chain mace… Maybe I did something to deserve such bold brutality. Zak hunched over slightly, bringing his thumb to his face as he lightly rested his teeth on the edge of his nail; his signature “I’m thinking very hard right now” pose. The doors to his corridors swung open but Zak didn’t even offer the arrivals a glance. In his peripheral, he could see glimpses of gold and see-through fabrics that were strung together on a shaped chest and torso. The mannequin sporting his masquerade outfit lacked legs and a head but still managed to pull the look off in Zak’s opinion. Maybe I went gallivanting around with his daughters or wife. He’s older than me so that’d mean his wife is likely older than me. At least I’d hope… Zak really wished that he could remember faces well. “Eh, I’ll interrogate him later,” His words reached the maid who was tampering with his masquerade outfit, and he could feel the tension in her steps after he muttered those thoughts. I meant ask. Ask him. Zak couldn’t be bothered to audibly correct himself, so he shrugged it off. That maid probably thinks that he’s going to torment some poor soul at Black Hill Prison like it’s in his daily routine. Zak turned his short attention span to the magnificent apparel. “Ooh…” Zak rose his brows amusingly as he ran his fingers down the soft fabric. He pinched the sleeves and picked them up, staring at the extremely thin material that would be covering his chest. The tailor did a magnificent job… Zak’s finger trailed down to the abnormally high-cut waistband that stopped halfway down the mannequin’s torso. On Zak, it would stop just above his belly button. A smile tugged at the edges of his lips as a wide grin formed. I didn’t know the tailor thought so highly of me. He may be partially flashing his audience, but hey, it’s a masquerade ball- and technically he was wearing something. This is going to be fun. Zacharius didn’t even notice the small stool and pestle that was brought in by another maid. The elderly lady was crushing some red substance together until it became a powder. He glanced at the older woman then down to the powder with a raised brow. His curiosity was painstakingly obvious. The maid flinched as he leaned over her shoulder before retreating to his original stance. “What’s in it?” He asked, his deep soothing voice breaking the muttering bits and conversations of the maids. “Eshwar petals picked from Costhyme’s eternally blooming field, Your Royal Highness,” Her voice was timid yet hoarse. An odd combination. Zak flicked his chin up in a half-hearted nod, acting as if he knew what kind of flower that was. It probably wasn’t poisonous anyway. If It is then at least I’ll go out looking hot as fuck—Imagine what my memorial would look like ‘The ruthless bear on the battlefield; death by flowers.’ That was a good way to go out. Basil would be proud of him. What was I going to do again? He didn’t know what he could do other than wait. The bath was almost ready for him, and he could smell the deliciously seducing aromas that seemed to entice him into coming closer. “What’s taking so damn long,” Zak grunted, peering into the bathing room where a couple of maids were gossiping. Their quaint whispers made his stomach churn. He would’ve ordered them out if they weren’t busy perfecting the bath. “The bath is taking exceptionally longer since we couldn’t start the heating process until our former responsibilities were seen through, Your Royal Highness,” The new girl spoke up before wringing her hands together nervously. That makes sense. The maids and servants of the castle would be rushing and working their asses off because of the new arrivals. He didn’t know why he didn’t think that up earlier. Eh, thinking is Salen’s thing. Oh god. Salen. What would she say about his attire for the ball? …Zak we must represent our kingdom, not run around like little sluts. His mock-up of her voice was surprisingly accurate. A mixture of poised, naggy, and a stick up the ass. Perhaps Zak should give her some slack. After all, she’s the youngest of the family- and probably the favorite. Who am I kidding, she’s definitely the golden child. I’ll never admit that to her face, though. Every thought that passed Zak’s mind was quickly replaced by another, and another, and another until he realized he lost track of his original plan. His brain seemed to be extra scrambled this afternoon. Was he getting nervous about the ball? It would be the first time Zak met anyone else from the land of Edyss. He grew up in Kagha’s barriers and only went on expeditions overseas. I wonder what they look like… Are they as attractive as the people here? I hope so… Dammit Zak, stop getting off track. Bathe, dress up, get to the ball... Be a good host... “Right.” Zak lightly clapped his hands together and curled his lips into each other as he stared at the bath. Last-minute touches were being made. It looked so serene and Zak swore he heard it calling his name. Wait, wait, wait. You can’t just go in there without a drink. Zak slowly brought his gaze to the thin, tall green wine bottle standing all alone on his wooden desk. The cork was still plugged deep into the narrow opening of the bottle, waiting for Zak to pop it off. Before he could comprehend what was happening he felt the bottle in his hand. Zak lifted the bottle to his hand and chomped the edge of the cork with his sharp canines. Right before he was going to tear off the barrier that was stopping him from his sweet, well-deserved wine, he felt something. A shiver ran up Zak’s spine, causing him to straighten his posture. My Mircea senses are tingling. His personal guard would arrive shortly. Zak’s sixth sense never failed him. In fact, he swore he could hear the little tip-tapping of a certain pair of shoes. He counted the distance between the strides and confirmed his suspicions. For a moment, he wanted to dive under his bed or hide behind something- that rush of adrenaline that made him want to do something was always short-lived and he managed to tame it within moments. He looked toward the doors, the cork still sandwiched between his teeth, waiting for a knight covered in bulky armor to barge through with a list of things that he must do today. “3…2…1…” |
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Lightbringer
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Mircea Vasilica Rosenburg 23 :: Masculine :: Knight :: Mentions: Zacharius A young man groaned as he looked at the mountain of work before him. He took the book where he usually recorded the daily schedule into his hand and flipped its pages quickly as he walked through the castle. Today was an important day, and he was going to make sure it went off without a hitch - even if it meant fighting God himself. He had a couple errands to run before he made his usual appearance to his Highness's room. A small scoff escaping his lips as he thought of Zacharius - that prince was probably still sleeping after doing some activity, well he would have a rude awakening if he was still in bed. So he had better pray to the gods he wasn't. He watched as servants moved out of his way with swift efficiency- and he held his head highly as he walked through the castle. His heeled boots helping him glide effortlessly down the halls and corridors of the castle. His first task was making sure the riding equipment and outfit for the prince was ready for tomorrow - he knew that what the prince would be wearing to the masquerade tonight should've been delivered already, and if not - someone was being fired. Mircea watched as the tailor regarded him with a gulp and a slight wipe of his brow. Good, he should be fearful. Mircea simply quirked his brow, an invisible question hanging in the air - no words needed to be spoken. A hand on his hip as he tapped his fingers on it - awaiting the answer. "My Lord, the riding equipment and outfit for the prince are prepared and read for inspection whenever your lordship desires. We also have the finest groomers coming in for his Majesty's steed." The man said - a tremor in his voice but with confidence. "Excellent." Mircea said with a curt nod, "I expect everything to be ready for inspection - hours prior to the hunt. And make sure it is kept under strict guard and watch. I need nothing being tampered with. Understood." His words were sharp and concise - leaving no room for argument or refusal of his orders. "Crystal, My Lord." The man replied as he went back to his other needs. Mircea quickly spun on his heels. If one could say he could fly around the castle, well he did. Going to make sure guards were in place, yelling at some slacking knights, making sure food was being prepared and maids and servants were ready for the guest to come into the castle. The man was definitely putting in the work on the boots, but now he had one final stop. As he walked down the hall he felt a shiver up his spine. A slight disappointed sigh came from his lips and he rubbed his temples annoyed. Zacharius is doing something stupid again. And he without announcing himself or caring what the prince was doing burst into the room in all his glory. You see, Mircea wasn't in his usual clunky armor as the prince's bodyguard. Right now he wore a corset vest that held the deep red and black with lavish golden designs on it and a black blouse. The frills sort of puffing as he moved about the room - he also sported a pair of high-waisted black pants with golden buttons. And to finish it off was a pair of heeled black leather boots. His hair wasn't up or hidden away either, it's wild and messy curls were on full display and a simple golden ribbon in the form of a bow wrapped around it into a thick ponytail. Not to mention the makeup, he had black eyeliner on. Mircea was too busy snooping around the prince's room until he found what he was looking for. Under a cabinet was a box of chocolates from the land of Uzuel, they were a spiced dark chocolate that Mircea liked. And he took the box and plopped one in his mouth before assessing the room. He noticed the bed was disturbed. So Zacharius had been taking a nap but he was up now. He felt his nose scrunch up at the sight of filth marring the bedsheets. "Zacharius," he hissed out in annoyance, "I have told you 21 times about these sheets. The next time you do this I am personally burning your sheets and forcing you to sleep on nothing but a rock. These poor, poor cotton sheets - you're lucky they're not expensive threads or I would've had your head on a stake by now." He hissed out and he noticed a maid. "You there, maid. Take these repulsive sheets and have them burned - and get a fresh and clean pair. Tell the laundress that the prince apologizes for ruining some more of their precious sheets." He said to the maid - who nodded at him. The young male flitted around the room as if it was his own. He was checking to make sure everything was in place . He made a mental note that the outfit and makeup were already there and being prepared. He paused in his steps for a second. All he could hear was silence. Why was it silent. Slowly he turned and with a vengeance made his way to the restroom. "Unbelievable." He muttered unamused, and he leaned forward, his hands on his hips in a displeased manner, his eyes practically glowing golden with fury at the maids, "Why isn't the Prince already bathed and preparing for the Masquerade - that is in a couple hours?" He could hear some trying to blubber out excuses and he gave them a furious look that forced them to shut up. "Ladies," he said deadly calm, "this is the Prince of Kagha. A couple hours doesn't mean a couple hours for him - he has to be ready, now. What do you think our guest will think if they aren't greeted by the prince for the ball. Do you want him to have a shameful reputation? Or our nation to have a bad reputation? I know you ladies work hard but someone should've been on top of this. I don't care if he's the prince or if he's doing something important, drag his ass out of there and get him to do what you need." He then turned his fury to Zacharius as he stormed up to him, not taking into account of his lack of a shirt. "Of all the things. You should be on top of this. Goddamnit Zacharius, of all the days. Of course you'd be troublesome on my day off. I outta-" he paused for a moment to take in the sight before him. Zacharius was shirtless. And his hair was a goddamned mess, but hell if the messiness didn't suit him. Mircea had to give an owlish blink, before he felt the heat creeping into his freckled cheeks.
"You're shirtless." He said out loud. "Why the fuck." He said again stepping back trying to gain his composure. If he could jump into a void right now - he would. Now admittedly he had seen Zacharius shirtless before, but this was different. Sure they were kids but now they were adults and not to mention he was chomping on a wine bottle. Wait, he was chomping on a wine bottle. "Why the fuck are you chomping on a wine bottle like a barbarian." He hissed as he snatched the bottle from the male, his hair probably hitting him in the face as he turned to grab the knife off the tray and swiftly decork the bottle without a problem. He then poured a glass of wine and took the bottle. "I'm confiscating this. And you better be finished bathing by the time I finish this bottle." He huffed annoyed as he exited the bathroom. He then put the bottle down on a countertop and checked himself out in the mirror. After all he would be welcoming guests with the prince - so he needed to be presentable. He did a little once over, and turned to check out how the corset fit on him and he was pleased to see the size had been correct. But he frowned when he noticed some strings were still loose. He with annoyance attempted to fix the laces but he had he give a small hmph of annoyance at the fact the damn things weren't cooperating. "Damned corset laces." He hissed out - more focused on the laces now than the troublesome prince. |
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Thalia Ito 21 || Female || Mercenary || Empire of Edyss || Mentions: Open Arrival to Kagha The wind whipped Thalia's dark hair around, plastering itself to her face as she rode upon Winx. She reached her hand up, tucking loose strands behind her ear as she urged the mare faster. The young girl was racing against the clock, Kagha would be hosting a Masquerade in just a week's time, and she intended to be there. The only thing stopping her was the ride from where she was stationed as a night of Edyss, to the outskirts of Kaqit, and then to the heart of Prira. It was there where she would be staying, a small safe house, where she would stow Winx and her belongings. It was there that her dress and mask, handcrafted from her “foreign” city, would be delivered the morning of the ball, and all she needed to do was get there. Thalia leaned into her mare's neck, giving her a light tap to spur her on. Faster. Faster. Faster. She could feel Winx’s canter turn to a gallop, and she seemed to melt into the mare's back. A more arrow-dynamic approach, allowing her to become one with the mare as the city neared. All she could hear was her racing heartbeat, and the heavy breathing of her mare. Thalia’s fingers momentarily let go of the reins, her knuckles were white from gripping it so hard, and her hands ached. To regain control, she intertwined her fingers with her mare's mane, giving her hands a break from the worn leather she had been clutching for hours. Winx’s breath came fast, the mare was tired, she had been running for a while and the kingdom of Kagha was still not in sight. It took another 20 minutes to see the edges of the city come into view. Thalia didn't need to draw more attention to herself. It wasn't every day a horse and its rider going full speed toward the city. She let out a click and pulled the reins ever so slightly, not yanking on the mare's neck and letting Winx come to a walk. Little beads of sweat dripped from her brow, and she and her mare were breathing heavily. Thalia hadn't run here herself but was equally exhausted from the trek here, and she still had days of travel left to actually reach Prira. She took a moment to cool down Winx and herself, pulling out a small flask of water which she drank greedily, a small trickle of it rolled down her chin and she rubbed it off with a swipe of her hand. Thalia had been thinking of ways to enter the city undetected, many including sneaking in at night, but she couldn't leave her horse behind. It was then that she spotted her victim. She chose to approach one of the guards who seemed scrawnier, if worse came to worst she could fight, but perhaps she could offer him something more. Thalia added a limp to her step as he came closer into view. If she seemed weakened perhaps he would take pity on her, and wouldn't alert the others of her arrival. She was right. “I'm requesting entry into Kaqit.” She spoke, standing a few steps from the guard, leaning heavily on Winx, whose head hung slightly, tired from her run. The guard scoffed, looking her up and down before she reached for her pocket. She wasn't dressed as exotically as she would have preferred, perhaps if she wasn't wearing a pair of pants and a button-upped blouse she would have been let in. She reached to undo the top three buttons, fanning herself as if she was hot. The guard was unmoving, still staring at her as if he was waiting for her to do something more. Thalia suppressed an eye roll and kept a hand gripped on a dagger in her back pocket, before flashing a wad of cash in Kagha’s currency towards the man. His expression was unwavering. “You're going to have to offer more if you wish-” was all he could say before she reached deeper into her pocket to pull out double. His eyes bulged, but he recovered quickly, grabbing her wrists and leaning in. The guard's raspy voice filled her ear, “I don't know who you think you are..” “I’ll only offer it once, take it or leave it,” she spoke, voice flat and level, an even expression upon her face before the guard slowly released his grip on her. The guard reached to take the reins of her horse in order to escort her in. Despite her annoyance, she trailed silently behind him, a smile tugging at her lips. It worked. Thalia passed him the money after she had entered. Not looking back as she remounted Winx and began to ride into the city. She grumbled in disgust at the interaction, Thalia could almost feel the guard's eyes burning into the back of her head as she put distance between him and her. She pushed the interaction aside, after all, she had made it into Kagha. Her plan was falling into place. ------------------- Thalia had allowed herself a cool, refreshing shower before she would begin to get ready. The Masquerade was tonight, and she was anxious to leave the small house she was in. Thalia had arrived the night prior but had stayed cooped up so as to not get recognized walking the streets. She had also called in a personal favor. She had an acquaintance who owed her send their boat to one of Kagha's ports. The ship itself was unlike any in the area, it was meant to make it seem as if one from another country had arrived. The ship would depart soon after it was unloaded, it was mostly there for appearances, though there would be a young girl about her age leaving the ship. The girl was meant to act as Thalia since she couldn't reach the ship herself, and it needed to look like someone had actually been on the ship and had come to Kagha. Her cover was supposed to be the Dutches of Malva, and the ship would be from there as well. All a backup plan in case someone questioned how she had arrived. She didn't need her cover blown early. So staying indoors was her only option. But it was dull, staring at the same wall or out the same window all day. In other words, she was ready for a change in scenery. After towel drying off, she dressed in her undergarments which she had received along with her dress that morning. It was a stunning piece, a dark blue fabric was laid over a somewhat flora print, and had a more creamy base color. A delicate silver branch stretched from her waist to above her breasts, covering a portion of her midsection. Her shoes were just as exquisite, the same shade of blue as her dress, with silver leaves wrapping around the heel. Making her stand two inches taller than normal. Her jewelry had arrived late that morning but was equally as stunning, a handcrafted piece for her left hand, with tiny flowers, etched into the silver material. But her chosen mask was the most eye-catching accessory. Silver flowers covered her face and head, with spikes across the top, and chains seemingly dripping off the mask to hide a portion of her lower face, small crosses dangling on the end of them. Thalia reached out a hand to feel the fabric, soft in her hands. Her eyes trailed over the dress before reaching out to take it off the stand and put it on. She had finished and gave a slight twirl. While she enjoyed her duties as a knight, Thalia also enjoyed getting ready for special occasions. The fabric made a quiet swoosh noise and the layers rustled together. She was nearly ready. Quickly reaching towards where her mask rested on her bed, she placed it atop her head. Putting on her remaining jewelry she walked back over to stand in front of her mirror. Stunning. Thalia was ready. |
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Nikolas A. Venturi | 55 | M | King | Kagha | Mentions: Kinga, Adora Belle if you want to be the maid mentioned The main doors of the Kagha ballroom were massive enough to make even the towering king of Kagha look like a child, yet he slammed them open with enough force to make them nearly rebound off the walls. Nikolas stomped out of the ballroom, his normally quiet footsteps echoing down the ornate corridor. A gaggle of harried-looking servants trailed the king at a safe distance, trading nervous glances as they silently negotiated amongst themselves who would try to speak to Nikolas next. Finally, one of the more senior servants managed to gather his courage and catch up with the king. “Your Majesty, we still need you to-” “ENOUGH!” Nikolas roared, causing the servant to flinch both in fear and as an unconscious reaction to the king’s sheer volume. “I am done with picking between identical draperies and equally-shiny candlesticks! The next person who approaches me with a question about flower arrangements should be prepared to have said flowers shoved down their throat!” The servant’s face paled, and he immediately knelt upon the ground and started stammering apologies. Meanwhile the other palace staff had scattered as soon as the king had turned around, face nearly purple with rage. Satisfied that he wouldn’t be bothered again, Nikolas returned to his previous course down the corridor towards his private apartments. As soon as he stepped over the threshold, a sense of calm settled over the king. His rooms had been specially made to be as soothing as possible, with seafoam green walls and plush gray furniture with wood detailing. A maid was just finishing fluffing the pillows on what Nikolas was pleased to note seemed to be his freshly washed sheets. Nikolas inhaled deeply, taking in the scents of the sea from his open balcony as they mixed with the odor of lavender soap emanating from the bed. Without sparing the maid a second glance, Nikolas continued into his dressing room, where his attire for the masquerade was hung neatly beside the full-length mirror that dominated the far end of the room. Nikolas paused just past the entryway to pull on a golden bellpull hanging from a scarlet length of embroidered cloth. With the dressing attendants thus summoned, Nikolas turned his attention to his waiting clothes. The tunic was burgundy with generous gold embroidery, and practically dripped with onyx gems. Over that went a linen surcoat dyed pitch black, adorned with the twin axes of Kagha outlined with gold thread and inlaid with rubies. Pleased that the fabric remained neat and unwrinkled, Nikolas was about to inspect the inky black satin trousers when he was interrupted by the timely arrival of his manservants. Nearly an hour later, the servants were just finishing polishing the king’s coal black mule shoes. After the servants left, Nikolas took a moment to admire himself in the mirror. The heavy gold crown was nearly blinding with gems, while the array of rings on his fingers glittered like miniature stars. Satisfied, Nikolas left his apartments and headed toward his wife’s rooms, hoping that he could sneak in one private dance with her before the ballroom became teeming with guests. |
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Darkseeker
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Basil | 19 | Male | Servant/Gardener | Kingdom of Kagha Mentions: Servant (NPC), Mircea (ind.), Sal (ind.), Zak (ind.), and Kris (ind.) A shovel digs into the rich soil-sweat pouring down his forehead. Like all servants, Basil had to wake up early to tidy everything up before the royals. The dark bags under his eyes tell a whole different story. The young man never slept last night-the reason why slipped out of his feeble mind. Indeed, the poor man has no clue why he did it? Was it for something important? If so, he would've been sure to remember it. His eyes dart to the windows, noticing people's heads flying by. Worrying naive Basil-who was tending to the garden as always. Were they being attacked? He doesn't hear any alarms going off. That couldn't be the reason. Hmm, did someone die? No, no. That's not either. A frown formed on his face. The confusion wasn't letting up. Basil sighs, using the back of his hand to rub the sleep out of his eyes. How long has he stayed up? A yawn left him, Basil shaking his head to wake himself up. His eye settles on the flowers beside him, and he can't help but smile. It was a bundle of lilacs that had recently arrived. That's what he was digging a hole for-Basil was eager to plant them. Basil has always been excited when a new shipment arrives, especially when it involves flowers. Carefully, he picks up the flowers. He was careful with removing the flowers from the pot-not wanting to break the stems. His fingers trace the small purple petals. A hum rumbled in his throat, setting the roots into the hole. Basil holds the flowers with one hand and uses the other to cover the bottom half with soil. Basil made sure the flowers were okay before getting up. Basil gives a glance at the garden-proud of the progress of the garden. When he first arrived, it was dead and overgrown with weeds. Over time, Basil worked nonstop to make it perfect. To make the gardens beautiful once again after years of neglect. He was grateful to the royal family for allowing him to stay. Crazy as it may sound, Basil could hear the flowers cry out to him. So, he took care of it. He bends down to grab the empty pot and wraps his arms around it to secure it. Basil gives one last look at the planted lilacs before heading to the shed in the garden. The man opens the shed's door by using his elbow to push it. He sets the pot down on the table beside the others. Next, he took off his gloves and placed them on the same table. A tired huff left him, and he pushed his bang to the side to wipe his forehead. "Basil! Basil!" A familiar voice called out to him, the man confused as to why they were screaming. They sound angry. Disappointed as well. Did he do something that he wasn't supposed to? "Where on earth is that man?!?" Basil blinks a couple of times before leaving the shed. "I'm here!" He replied to the person shouting at him. The servant he was speaking with has been here for longer, so it's customary to give respect to them. Seeing the servant approach, a frown heavy on her face. "There you are, and you're all dirty!" Flaying her hands in the air dramatically. Basil tilts his head, unable to understand why she's upset with him. His mouth part to say something until she grabbed his wrist. "I know you stayed up late too. Do you ever take care of yourself, Basil?" A shake of her head made his brows lower-not out of anger but disappointment. "I stayed up late before? What makes it any different now?" Being tugged inside the castle and headed to the servant quarters. He looks around, noticing the urgency in every servant's face. The one pulling him stops and turns to face him. She sighs, annoyed at the forgetful man, "The masquerade ball? Did you forget again?" Basil looks down at the ground and his feet while his brain sets the pieces. A masquerade ball? No, it was THE ball. His cheeks flushed in embarrassment. "I, uh, did forget." His voice stumbles out his lips, and his eyes move to stare out the window that faces out to the garden. "A new shipment of flowers recently arrived, so I had stayed up late to plant them. I just got done with the shipment minutes prior." The anger left her face-it was hard to be mad at him for so long. "Alright, you were just doing your job, but you can't neglect yourself like that." Basil looks up, nodding his head, and a smile creeps on his face, "I understand, and it won't happen again." She gave Basil an affirmative nod, examining him for a few seconds before speaking again, "Go wash and get your suit. I'm sure that you have forgotten that you were invited personally by the royal family." Oh, that's right. They did invite him. His heart beats at the thought of his friends who took the time to allow him to participate. Not as a servant but as a friend. "Alright, wash and put my...-" his voice stilled, panic-filled eyes staring at the fellow servant, "-I forgot about my suit." The other was stunned and processed his words. How forgot to pick it up at the tailor's yesterday. He said that he would pick it up along with the flowers. Oh, dear. His upper teeth sink into his lips while panic fills the entirety of his body. What would they think? Would Mir, Zak, Salen, and Kris be made at him? Tears of fear form in his eyes, making the servant in front of him panic. "No! It's okay, Basil! Take deep breaths. I'm sure we'll figure something out." Basil nods his head while wiping the tears off. "Get yourself cleaned up. I'll go ask around for help." Basil smiles, glad to have someone there to help him, but he feels terrible. She shouldn't work hard to fix his problem. People have already done enough for him. He shakes his head, denying her help. "I'm fine. You get yourself ready. I'll figure something out myself." She hesitated to leave, but she did with reluctance. He waited for her to turn the corner before dashing to his room-accidentally bumping into busy servants in the halls. He was quick to apologize, but they paid no mind to him. Crashing inside his room, slamming the door behind him, and pants. Basil waits for his breath to catch up with him. His heart thunders in his chest, "Clothes. Fancy clothes. Party clothes." Rushing to his closet, close to pulling the closet doors off their hinges. His hands sort the clothes with his eye inspecting each one. That's when he spots it-the dress Mircea gifted him long ago. He never had a reason to wear it, but now it might be the time. "I can't put it on. Not while covered in filth." ━━━━━━ • ✿ • ━━━━━━ The dress fitted him perfectly. It clung to his body perfectly, and he couldn't help but smile. They did so much for him. Their actions make Basil even more determined to repay all the favors. A knock came at his door, "Come in." He says-the door opening steadily. Walking in was the servant from before. "I came to check o-," her voice went quiet while staring at Basil in the dress. Basil doesn't know why, but he felt awkward. He slumps, "Does it look bad?" She shakes her head, "No, Basil. It looks beautiful on you. Can I-" her voice riddled with uncertainty, "-help you with the rest?" Basil smiles brightly, his eye beaming with joy. "Of course, you can! Thanks, Julia." Julia chuckles, approaching Basil to help him get everything ready. "At least you remember my name." Basil goes over to the chair in the corner, staring out the window that overlooks the garden. Julia grabs his brush from the table that sits next to his bed. She undoes his hair and brushes his hair. The two were quiet. His room was too. The only sounds were coming from the halls that were swarming with people. "Hey, Basil." "Yes, Julia?" Filling the silence in the room, Basil wondered what she was going to say. "Do you know how to curtsy? Let alone dance? Or formal greetings direction to royals?" Those three questions made Basil's eyes widen. "Son of shasta daisy! No, I don't." His right leg starts to bounce when nervousness swarms the man's head, and Julia frowns heavily. "You hang around royals, and you don't know simple court manners? How do you address the King and Queen?" Basil is trying to remember what he calls the parents of his friends. "I call them by nicknames, but I made sure to add their titles are the beginning." Julia nods, "That's good that you still formally call them. For the other royalties or royalties in general, you call them: your majesty, your royal highness, my queen, my king-" Basil zones while Julia is talking, his face stony as he tries to remember the first word she said. She kept on when formalities, but seeing Basil disoriented made her sigh. "Did you get all of that?" "Can you repeat the first word you said?" Basil sheepishly replied. Julia stops her brushing and raises a brow, "You don't even remember the first words that I said, didn't you?" Basil shook his head, shuffling uncomfortably in his seat with his cheeks flushed. Julia places the brush back on the table. She goes back over to stand in front of Basil, her fingers tracing his features. "Do you have any accessories and make-up? When done with dressing you up, I'll show you the basics of courtly manners." Basil gives her a grateful smile, nodding his head with a thrill in his eye. He was excited about everything going on. For the next few hours, she helped him get ready for the masquerade ball. Julia covers him in make-up, expensive-looking jewelry, and additional pieces of clothing. She worked non-stop while educating Basil-this time, he was paying attention. Basil did have to suppress his laughter when she was putting make-up on, but he held firmly onto his laughter to hold still. Julia takes a step back, admiring her work and the man sitting in the chair. "It's like I'm helping my sister with her wedding. Oh, Basil! You better not get married anytime soon!" Basil shakes his head and stands up. He gives her a large smirk-playfulness in his eye. "Nonsense, Julia. My heart belongs to the royal garden and nothing more." Julia walks over, firmly placing her hands on his shoulders. "As I said, you better not get married. Better yet, don't have a crush on anyone. Actually, don't interact with people in general-stick to yourself." Basil sighs, disheartened at the rules-he shouldn't break them. He wasn't too upset. Basil finds talking to strangers in masks too stressful anyway. Basil rises to his feet and holds out his hand for her to take. "Do you want to escort me to the ballroom? I want to check on the progress of the ballroom. Everyone worked hard to make it possible, so I want to thank them all." Julia grins, wrapping her arm around Basil's instead. "Of course, shall we Basil?" Basil adjusts his mask, letting Julia lead him to the ballroom. The servants in the halls stopped and gawked at Basil as he walked passed. Basil thanked the other servants for their hard work, which affected the morale immensely. Basil and Julia walked together with their arms linked-they walked in silence. The only time they spoke is Basil when he gives thanks to the servants for their work. Entering the ballroom made Basil's eye widen in marvel at the sheer beauty of this place. Though, he frowns at the sloppiness of the flower arrangements. "Excuse me." He removes himself from her arm, marching over to the tables on the side of the dance floor, and arranges the flowers himself. He couldn't help it-it's his instincts. Julia sighed-a smile on her pale face. Truly. His obsession with flowers is adorable to see. "Even the flowers on the pillars are messed up!" He tosses his arms in the air, storming over to fix the mentioned flowers. She lets him rearrange the flowers before calling out to him. "Basil? Don't you think it's time to meet up with the others?" Basil stops and stares at the flowers wrapped around the pillar. What would they think? Would they be disgusted with what he's wearing? He was nervous about meeting with his friends-especially dressed up like this. "I guess I can go see them. Will-will they hate it?" Nervously stroking the petals with his cheeks and ears bright red, "What if they hate what I'm wearing? I never wore a dress before." Julia walks over to him, gently grabbing his hand. "Basil, I'm sure all of them will love it. No need to be worried about anything." She smiles at him to reassure Basil, and it worked. Julia tugs him out of the ballroom, escorting him to the royal hall. "I'm not permitted to enter these halls. I have to leave you alone and finish the rest of my work. Good luck, Basil." She bows before leaving the nervous Basil alone. Who should he meet up with first? Mir and Zak are busy having their secret-couple squabbles. They tried to hide it, but Basil has a keen eye for that sort of stuff. Salen? That's not possible. She's too busy picking up her brother's slack-like always. The Golden Child, Salen, is also a workaholic. Kris, perhaps? That's a hard no. The man might be asleep on anything that isn't his bed. Although, he's curious if he'll ever find Kris sleeping in the bathtub. He swears that the royal children must've hit their heads on something when they were born. All three of them are strange, but he enjoys their strangeness. Basil stands there, patiently waiting for the others to arrive. |
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Darkseeker
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Kristopher Venturi 24 || Male || Prince || Kagha || Mentions: Zacharius[ind.] Open The clash of metal on metal rang in Kristopher’s ears as he parried and struck the knight he was training with. He had been at it for over an hour and he was physically and emotionally drained. His motions were becoming sluggish and his reaction time was dwindling, his hair was completely soaked with sweat and he could see little particles flying off him as he pivoted to avoid a blow. His hair itself had started to become more curly with the added water. He had pushed himself particularly hard that day, though a part of him couldn't pinpoint why. His arms screamed as he raised his sword bringing it down hard towards his opponent, who then sidestepped him. Kristopher's blade hit the ground with a chink. The impact had surprised him and he had lost his balance in the process, falling to his knees. He turned to find the knight behind him, sword pointed at his chest. “I think that's enough for today, your Majesty,” he spoke, offering him a hand. Kris gladly took it, pulling himself up to a standing position, nodding slightly. “You might want to replace your sword, you’ve had it for a while now, eh?” he added. Kristopher's gaze immediately went to his sword, a gift from an old friend that he had received almost a year ago. The edge that had struck the concrete had found an odd spot, and as a result, Kris was the new owner of a bent sword. “Fuck.” he spit, turning the blade over in his hand, before running a hand through his hair, “I really liked this blade too.” Kris had been training near his brother that day, though when he turned to look for him, Zak seemed to have disappeared. The prince gave a shrug, before giving a quick nod towards those he was training with, and turning to head inside. Kris was in the middle of moping and dragging his feet concerning the state of his sword when he arrived at his room. His bedroom was dead silent, so when he reached for the doorknob to enter the room he was rather caught off guard when it let out a squeak. “Someone needs to fix that…” he muttered, the door had been squeaking for a while, but he would always forget to ask a maid to see to it that it was fixed, and when he did remember whatever they did would work for a day or so, and then the squeaking would come back. Turning to face the half-opened door. He slipped inside his room to assess the situation, bracing himself as he moved the door ever so slowly, trying to get it to close without it squeaking. It was the most grueling battle of the day, but his daily fight with the door was over. When it closed successfully without it emitting a noise, he did a silent fist pump and moved to walk towards his bed. Kris immediately kicked off his shoes and undid his belt, peeling the sweat-soaked shirt off of his back and throwing everything into a ball across the room. He fanned himself with a hand before moving to open a window on the far side of his room, letting fresh, cool air in. He had stepped off the rug surrounding his bed to get there, and Kris nearly sighed when his feet touched the cool ground. But now he had a dilemma. He wanted a nap before tonight's festivities, but should he choose his big fluffy, comfy bed? No. No. No. Instead, Kris plopped down onto the cool wooden floor, laying on his stomach with his arms straight at his side, in a soldier position, and fell asleep with his mouth open. Floor naps always hit different. Kris didn't know when he woke up, but when he did he felt gross. He was supposed to have his bath drawn prior to getting ready for the ball, but he could see that wouldn't be happening any time soon. He had forgotten to call for one before he passed out, now he would have to find someone…The prince pushed himself off the ground, stomach red from laying on the ground, and the left side of his face was equally as red from being pressed into the floor for god knows how long. And then he wiped the drool off his face. How embarrassing. Striding towards his bedroom door Kris opened it a crack to look outside. Luckily for him a maid was walking by, carrying a bucket of hot water, “Hey could I get some of that in here?” He called, waving his arm widely in the direction of his bathroom, Kris could nearly smell his own stink and he needed to start getting ready soon. The maid stopped, and her face turned red. “Sir this is actually for his Majesty Zacharius, I can assist you once I have finished his,” and with that, she turned and briskly walked off towards his brother's room. “Damn you, Zak,” he cursed, before ever so carefully closing his door. He stood, hands on his hips staring around his room. A sharp knock came from the door behind him and he nearly jumped out of his skin, “Jesus Christ….Come in!” he yelled, stepping away from the door in time for a different maid to come in, wheeling in a mannequin with his attire for the masquerade. She left it near his bed for Kris to admire before she exited the room, “Before you leave when can I get some water-” Yeah, he was too late. The door shut with another squeak and he ran a hand down his face in exasperation. Though his attention was turned back to his outfit for that night. The suit was black, with intricate, embroidered designs over the entire thing. It was complete with a necklace, a pair of black pants, matching new shoes, and a long, black velvet cape. “I'm going to be sexxyy” he nearly squealed. Kris was very excited. But what caught the male's attention next was the remaining jewelry, a piece for his left hand that would cover his pointer finger and thumb in a claw-like design, connected by chains with a raven skull at the end. And the mask- Kris was nearly speechless. Like the rest of his attire, he had it custom made but this one was special. He had it imported from outside of Kagha, and had paid well for it. He was not disappointed in its beauty, though a more personal piece he had included were the antlers, a replica of three sets of antlers from his first few hunting trips, ever. He thought it was a creative touch on his head, and thought it pulled the mask together. He almost didn't want to touch it but decided to reach out a hand in its direction, flinching back when he remembered he was still gross. “Where's the maid with my water…” Kristopher hardly had time to finish his sentence when another knock at the door sounded, followed by the entry of a few maids. Finally with his hot water. He walked over towards his bathroom from where he was sitting to supervise the making of his bath, watching as the maids worked to add whatever scents to the water, all while bringing in more hot water to fill it. Kris didn't know what it was they were adding, but it smelled good. When it was all said and done, and he was finally alone, Kris slipped into the warm water and closed his eyes. He only meant it to be for a short moment, but he fell asleep propped up on the side of the tub. |
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Darkseeker
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Sori Rye Thezmaer 21 | Female | Princess of Orin | Mentions: Arrivals [Ind] The ginger-haired princess looked up at the castle, face carefully set in a neutral expression. She didn't know what she was expecting, standing directly beneath the towering piece of architecture. That castle housed her kingdoms fate, inside that castle housed those that could decide the fate of all that still withstood the chilling grip of the Empire of Edyss. The thought chilled her, how much power only a few people could hold in their palms. The blue and silver dress that she'd chosen to wear for the ball clung to her body, silver pattersn lined her shoulders, her bodice, abdomen and down her thighs, with some more of the silver patterns down by her wrists, her bodice and abdomen were housed in a silver corset, whilst the rest of her body was housed in a semi-translucent blue material. It was translucent enough to clearly see the tattoos that lined her arms, hands, fingers before it disappeared beneath the silver across her shoulders and abdomen, before it became clear again at her hips and legs. Her hands and wrists were adorned in silver jewellery, patterend metal dancing across her wrists and the back of her hands, attached by metal chains around her limbs and attached to the fake metal claws upon her fingers. Her hair was left down, reaching mid-thigh length, but adorned with a jewelled headdress of silver and pale opal, while her mask was a thing of beauty. Silver with patterns matching her headdress and hand jewellery with thin chains hanging off of it. Blue and silver made her prominent features pop out--her extremely bright red hair, and the silver made her eyes look especially bright. Sori felt a little bad for not wearing the colors of her kingdom or any brooches with their symbol on them, but she wished to not be eye-catching, someone to stare at. Pretty people got attention, people that got attention got information, and information, about anything, would be useful. She was in a city that she didn't know, a kingdom foriegn to her own, a place that she knew no one and everyone seemed to know her. She shoved the anxiety crawling under her skin further down, bringing her face into a gentle smile towards someone passing, before turning to look at her family, their soldiers and their servant, waiting for one or more of them to join her before she entered the castle. |
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Salen Veida-Frez Venturi | 23 | F | Pan+Ambi/Poly | Princess | Kagha | Mentions; Servants(NPCs), Nikolas(Ind), Zak(Ind), Kris(Ind), Open. Salen hadn’t been sleeping, but she had been up all morning getting ready for the masquerade. It was her responsibility to do so, after all. Though she hadn’t changed into her chosen outfit yet, at the time she was busy checking over what the servants were doing to prep the ballroom. -- Which was a lot of cleaning and bothering her father, the last time they’d hosted something like this wasn’t exactly recent, after all. But the servants were certainly making good progress, and she had no doubt the cooks were as well. Though, her father was certainly getting annoyed at how much there was to do and choose. In fact, he’d actually left in anger. She hoped he was able to keep his temper down for the guests whenever the time came… -- Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see someone rushing over to her. One of the older servants, one that at this point had enough respect around here to understand the boundaries and how much they could push them. -- Salen didn’t immediately look over to them though, instead glancing at where one of the servants was having trouble lifting a table. She looked over to where a different one was reentering, a look that Salen could read as them trying to figure out what to do. So she called out, voice clear and precise. “Mister Ragneli, go help Mister Johnston with the table.” -- The one who’d just come in, nodded and hurried over to do as he’d been told. Just in time for a gentle hand to tap her shoulder. So, Salen turned and looked at them. “Yes, Miss Laoni?” -- The older servant looked at her, careful to not meet her eyes and instead kept it on the charoite gem of Salen’s necklace. A choice that Salen had hinted towards for years but that only a few servants figured out. If they looked at the gem instead then they’d never break the rule, after all. -- “It’s time for you to start getting dressed for the event, Your Highness.” -- Salen nodded in dismissal, “Thank you for the update, Miss Laoni. I’ll go ahead and head to my room to do so then, please keep an eye on the progress here.” -- With that, Salen walked away and out of the ballroom, making her way towards her room. She had bathed earlier in the day, making sure to be the first so that she wouldn’t have to wait for hot water like she already knew one of her brothers would have to. Thinking of them brought an amused, annoyed sigh from her lips. She didn’t know what the two would be wearing, or behaving for that matter. She would have to go through how to act accordingly again before the event started, surely. The two were troublemakers at heart, after all. -- Shaking her head lightly, she pushed the door to her room open and stepped inside, the door closing softly behind her. Salen immediately spotted the gold and purple dress on the mannequin stationed in the middle of her chamber. It was everything she could do to not gasp in stunned awe. The mannequin had a head, as well, to show off the mask and headpiece she was to wear. And truly? It was… Well, it was simply stunning. The gold dress had intricate charoite purple designs upon it, with a solid iris purple stripe that made the rest of the dress around it seem almost like a long golden robe that had stitched to it using the intricate patterns of the charoite purple. -- It was, said bluntly, elegantly beautiful. This stated, Salen took extra care after undressing to put it on so that there wasn't any chance of ruining it. It fit her form perfectly, and it was as though her favorite necklace had been thought of when it’d been made, for it was able to lay against her skin with ease. The sleeves stayed firmly to her skin, though the ruffles got flowy and loose and long, as it traveled down her arm. Lifting one up made the ruffles truly show their length. It was expertly tailored, that was certain. She got the shoes on next, and though they didn’t give her much extra height, she didn’t exactly need it even in her family of giants. Salen was still taller than her mother was, after all, so her height wasn’t at all concerning to the princess. -- Taking the headpiece, she set it upon her head. The mask would wait until later, when the event actually began. But for now, Salen could simply marvel at how well put together the outfit was. It was honestly probably the best outfit she’d ever worn. Which was perfect for this event, as it was the biggest one she’d ever attended. -- She hoped there were some interesting people there, people of depth and not only of beautiful appearances. She’d always favored being able to have a worthwhile conversation than simple compliments and pointless small talk, after all. |
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Neutral
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Neveyn Ire 22 :: Feminine :: Empire Servant :: § :: Mentions: Open Neveyn’s hands rubbed against each other. Her palms were warm and on the verge of sweating as she fidgeted her slim thumbs. Every now and again her head would pop up, looking out the carriage window. She had passed through the gates of Kaqit a while ago and hired a cheap coachman to take her to Prira’s castle. The scenery here was so much more different than Thrande. With the lack of mountains that towered in every direction… She felt exposed. At least she felt better than she did back in the empire’s empty, towering halls made of marble. She was thankful to be out of there, and yet nervous at the same time. After deriving gossip from the servants and maids of the castle, she figured out that the heir of the empire would also be attending this masquerade ball. If he was going to be there, then so were other people of the empire- that’s a given. Her stomach lurched. She felt sick. Neveyn took a deep breath, closing her eyes for the slightest moment. Within that moment, she imagined the rocky surface of Thrande and the flickering of fireflies that always hovered above the town. The constant sound of water no matter where you were. The echoes of music that reverberated against the mountains. Suddenly, she felt at ease. She brought her wrist up to her nose and inhaled lightly, not caring about receiving a weird look from the couple across from her. No matter how much time she spent at the empire she still smelled of Thrande’s minerals. It was a scent that she took for granted when she lived in Thrande. She hasn’t visited her home in ages. Or at least it feels like ages. She dropped her pale fingers to her lap, feeling the soft fabric of her dress as she entwined it between her index finger subconsciously. She had a beautifully simple dress that accentuated her curves to the point where she looked her age. The dress was flowy yet hugged her body comfortably. It allowed her to move freely, which was something that Neveyn was adamant about when she was on the market for a dress. Her hair was put up in a ladder braided bun, a style she learned to do when she did the nobles’ hair in the empire. The bun appeared to be held together by a long, thin, silver pin that was only a couple of centimeters thick, by scaled multiple inches in length. This accessory was more of a defense mechanism. Instead of trying to sneak in any weapons to defend herself and risk the chance of getting caught, she decided to hide a weapon in plain sight. The pin was sturdy and sharp enough to pierce hide if she used enough force. Did you really think Neveyn would leave her fate in the hands of Kaghan knights? She’s never even been to this place. The two curly strands of red hair that framed either side of her face tickled her chin, making her slide them behind her ears. The masquerade ball is the perfect chance to report her findings to the king and queen of Orin. Nev had memorized every letter that she ever came across and still, could only discover so many details. She didn’t have any information that was set in stone per se, but she did have suspicions. Are those enough to go off, though? The empire has recently been increasing its military and gathering extra supplies. Strangers have come in and out, communing with the empress and her council. More than the usual odd person. They’re planning something, and it likely won’t end well. They’re going to send you right back to the empire after you deliver the news. They won’t grant you your retirement- This isn’t even enough to fund Erik’s bail. Nev clenched her hands into fists but maintained a blank expression. I’ll make it enough. Nev was determined to get what she needed. A weighty pouch of silver and the promise of her brother’s freedom. If she had to try and haggle with some of the most intimidating and powerful people to do so, she would. I’m tired of playing cat and mouse. Orin’s going to fall anyway. They’re no match for the empire. They’ll fall just like Thrande did. They deserve what’s coming for them. They deserve it. Every last one. Every last backstabbing one. Nev felt that dwelling infuriation begin to rise, the same fury she had been suppressing ever since she was ‘hired’ by the royal highnesses of Orin. A part of her wants the empire to take out the Kingdom of Orin. She wants them to have the same hopeless look in their eyes, the same look her people had when they realized that Orin wasn’t going to back them up. The other part just wants it all to be over with. Whether that’s given to her by death or not. She was tired. She wanted to kick back and relax, but she knew that would never be an option. Don’t think like that. Focus on the goal. Nev tore her eyes from the window, glancing toward the stranger across from her. She needed a distraction. “Are you attending the masquerade?” Stupid question. Nev wanted to converse to keep her mind from filling with doubts, but the man ignored her. Tough room. The carriage shook, causing the woman who was beside the man to make a small noise that was the result of shock. Neveyn hadn’t noticed her until now. The woman was around the same age as the man and was also dressed up, albeit more than the man. Her gown was beautiful and extravagant looking, laced with yellows and oranges. It was so bold. She had to be from Costhyme. Nev realized she was staring, but before she could look away, she caught the woman staring back. Too late now… “I-.. I uh, like your dress ma’am,” Nev managed to muster up an odd tug at the edge of her lips. It was forced and nowhere near genuine, but it’s not like they would notice that. “It’s Lady, Lady Loer,” The woman spoke back, correcting Nev with a condescending tone. I personally don’t give a rat’s ass. Nev didn’t say anything and instead nodded in acknowledgment, withdrawing her stare. Silence filled the carriage for a good while before she heard the airy, feminine voice again. “Where did you get your dress, young woman?” To Nev’s surprise, the woman- Lady Loer, decided to continue the conversation. Honestly? I bought it off a lonely noble whose wife left him for another woman. I know more about their scandal than I’d like to admit- but that’s just because the man didn’t know how to put a cork in it. “I had it made for me in Frain,” For some reason, she let those words out. Even though she knew that they were blatant lies. She didn’t know what she was searching for with these words, but she wanted to see it through, nonetheless. “And it’s Lady, Lady Ire,” Lady Loer’s face dropped into a shameful one. Now, Nev wasn’t usually petty but… this felt good. She’d probably never see this woman again so why not prod her? The woman seemed shook and quickly corrected her posture. The man beside her had also perked up and was now looking at Neveyn with a certain air surrounding him. His face remained still, but it was too easy to read his eyes. Nev wanted to scrunch her face up and show visual disgust to make things awkward, but the carriage stopped just in time. The door flung open, and the driver offered his hand out. Neveyn was the first to take it. She bent over, stepped off the steep stairs, and onto the cobbled street. It was crowded, to say the least. Dresses and suits of all kinds, dazzling and covered in trinkets. Neveyn stood out, and in her eyes, not in a good way. Did she underdress for the occasion? Will she be able to fool people that she is as wealthy as she acts when there are far more extravagant outfits worn by people in with the same title? “Do not worry, my lady, none are as generous as you,” As if sensing her doubt, the man holding her hand did a slight bow, greed filling his eyes. Neveyn raised a brow and pulled her hand away from him. “I’m not tipping you,” Nev’s voice deepened into its flat chorus. The man’s gentle facial features quickly sunk into an irritated expression. She couldn’t help but feel giddy at his frown. She strutted past him with a certain kind of confidence that she scarcely remembered the feeling of. She left the quiet, obedient maid behind in the empire. Tonight, she’s going to be Neveyn Ire. No, Lady Ire. That has a good ring to it. It’s not like she would technically be lying, either. Taking a deep breath, she headed toward the castle, sliding in between arms and hips. Being considerably short among a crowd of diversely tall people, Neveyn was… overlooked. That’s just a nice way of saying pushed aside. Literally. Her existence seemed to be plucked from reality as men and women, commoners, nobles, and bards, pushed past her like she was a lost child. She managed to dodge a few shoulders and bodies, but she couldn’t avoid the upcoming threat; a person was running. Running at her? No. Running past her. He seemed to be a bard of sorts and by the looks of it, a late one. Neveyn, now wide-eyed, turned around to find an escape, but she was surrounded by tall people. Why the fuck is everybody so damn tall here? For a moment she actually considered crawling under them. Nev, accepting her fate, stood idly by as the bard pushed past her, shoving her into the dress of another woman. What she thought was going to be a hard impact turned out to be quite soft. She would’ve relished in the feeling of the smooth rich fabric if she wasn’t being suffocated by it. Nev scrambled to her feet and pushed herself from the figure. “A i r,” She pathetically gasped the words out before fanning herself. Her face was flushed- not only because she was nearly murdered by an absurdly large dress that looked like the downy feathers of your local pigeon, but also because the person who she fell into said the infamous line that Neveyn heard often. “People should really keep a leash on their children.” I’m not even that short- you’re all just freaks of nature. Neveyn grumbled, furrowing her brows slightly as she brushed off her dress and attempted to straighten it. She realized that with it being a free-flowing dress, it didn’t need to be straightened. She supposed the habits she gained as a maid weren’t ever really going to leave her, though. Neveyn looked up toward the towering castle and made a straight line to it, the castle was the only beacon of hope that could guide her out of the crowd. She was tired of tip-toeing around these oblivious fucks and she knew it was an impossible mission to try and make it past them without shoving a pompous tall bitch to the side. She was given small retorts along her way, but eventually, she made it. She was free. Finally. This freedom didn’t last long. As Neveyn fiddled with the mask that lay on her face, making sure it wasn’t crooked or lopsided, she felt a cold hand grip her forearm. A wave of shock ran through her, causing her to release a noise of sorts. One that sounded like a mixture between an angry mother hen and a dying squirrel. She swiveled around to face the owner of the hand and was met by armor. Lots of it. The man standing before her looked to be around his early thirties, at the least. “If you’re lost just follow the herd of people to the ballroom,” His voice was gruff and he gave Neveyn a quick look over before releasing her as if contemplating whether or not he recognized her from somewhere. I just lost the fucking crowd and know you’re telling me to follow it? Also who the hell grabs people like that and then speaks? “I’m not lost,” Neveyn took a few steps back and looked around with an unreadable face. To the naked eye, she looked as though she was simply admiring her surroundings, but in all reality, Neveyn was trying to figure out where the fuck she was. Above her was a stone ceiling, held up by intricate pillars. The ceiling was connected to what she believed was part of the castle. Her eyes fell upon a door that was wide open, leading into a room full of barrels and a couple of manservants frantically scurrying about. “Well, I wouldn’t have expected a fair lady like you to be so attracted to the castle’s winery.” Oh. “You seem quite vain, then.” Neveyn held her stone-faced expression and made her way closer to the winery. If she didn’t stick through with her lie then the soldier would be given a reason to have her kicked out. She walked through the wooden door and entered an immediately cool atmosphere. The place was well lit and had multiple hallways likely leading to the corridors of the palace. The winery smelt so strongly that she had to let out a few coughs. She instinctively looked over her shoulder and spotted the soldier following close behind her. Give me a break, man. She was a harmless, thin woman, so it’s not like he saw her as a threat. Should’ve stuck with the crowd. Neveyn cleared her throat, acting as if the soldier’s presence didn’t bother her. “Do you have a husband?” “Yes.” “What’s his name?” “Erikson Ire.” Neveyn paused for a moment. She hadn’t said that name aloud in years. “I’ve never heard of an Erikson Ire.” “Apparently you haven’t heard much of Frain’s nobility, then.” She felt the man contemplating her words, and after a period of silence that felt like a century, he halted. “I suppose you aren’t wrong. Enjoy your stay, Lady Ire,” Neveyn felt a wave of relief as the soldier bid his farewell and headed out of the winery. For once she was thankful for her pale skin. That was too close... I should leave this place before he decides to come back. Neveyn locked her eyes on one of the doors and pushed it open, revealing towering, warm hallways that were surprisingly empty. She slipped through the door and found herself wandering about, slowly gravitating toward the chatter that she could only suspect was coming from the ballroom. |
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Spring 
Day Weather: 
Flood
