Miss Camille Lavigne

As the female co-ruler of a kingdom best known for its religious fervor, Camille serves as a role model for piousness and humility while simultaneously working behind the scenes to ensure that the atrocities in the kingdom are moderated and the general public's perception of them is controlled. Despite the kingdom's staunchly anti-magic stance, Camille and her brother, Jacques, are defending the kingdom against supernatural forces in a war that has been going on behind closed doors for ages. Somehow, they've managed to ward off any unwanted attention due to people that have disappeared, memories that have come and gone, and the ever-changing landscape of their kingdom with the musings of the old tomes and religious logic such as miracles and chastisements from above.

Somehow, the pair of siblings have also managed to navigate any theories regarding their strange appearance in this land with the same logic. Of course they are the Chosen Ones, sent by the all powerful deities above to rule over the land. And no, they didn't murder the last rulers of this land in cold blood in order to obtain it. Why would you ever think that?

Despite Camille's seemingly submissive and modest nature, there is something about her true nature that points to a person other than that which the public perceives. Her chocolate brown hair is cut with whatever primeval device she can utilize in order to give herself an oddly stylish attempt at bangs, and the ends are straight in a way that ancient technology is incapable of providing. Her fiery amber eyes are a warm hue that does indeed seem ethereal, but there is a coldness to them that points to something beyond the submissive ruler who is only good for praying and healing, someone beyond the role she plays in this kingdom, as if she once lived a life of equality in a distant future. Perhaps this would explain how she had gotten so good at planning out Jacques' every move, allowing him to have the power and the glory as long as she could be the one to strategize. In war, all and nothing is as it seems.

Aridam Fachnan

"Magic Man"

Credits to me.

Aridam is not a man who shows his true self, physically or otherwise. He lives a thousand lives all at once, constantly changing his face to best fit his wants. He may appear to be a short, frail old man one moment and a lanky windmill of a youth the next. Being an expert in the dark arts, or magic in general, has made this shape-shifting come as second nature. He never lets his walls down for others to see who he is; why would his face be any different?

Despite folks not always knowing him by one constant face, he does have a regular appearance. One could even go as far as to call him tall, dark, and handsome. When he is alone, he drops the act, and in the place of the decorated merchant or crippled geriatric stands a fairly normal looking young man. He is a couple inches over six feet tall and lithe, sporting a mildly triangular build that boasts broader shoulders and solid, straight legs. Ari's complexion is a tan one with much of his coloring coming from the sun, which provides him with faint farmer's tan lines during the hotter months. Short, black hair usually remains messy despite any effort he puts in to tame it. His youthful face is fairly angular and hosts a well-proportioned nose, mouth, and eyes. The latter are a cold, electric blue and are framed by dark eyelashes, making them all the more jarring. They sit beneath two sharp, slightly angled eyebrows. His face is smooth with no lines indicating any sort of emotion. No laughter crinkles, brow furrows, dimples -- nothing.

His body is scarred with many smaller, older marks crossing along his arms and torso, though there are a few larger, deeper ones that mark old wounds that tested his will to live. These are easily hidden, though, as the vast majority are located on his chest and stomach. As long as he is clothed (which he nearly always is), the only old gashes that show up could easily be passed off as accidents from carelessness, and many of them were -- but where's the fun in telling that story? For all anyone knows, he got them fighting dragons.

Aridam is not very expressive when he is his actual self. Any emotion he may be displaying is found behind his hard gaze or hinted at in his voice. When he is galavanting around in someone else's skin, though, he plays into the theatrics of it all. However he can best get a ride out of others, that is how he will look and act. Regardless of who he may be cosplaying as, he will always give off a dark, borderline-sinister air. He practically radiates chaos.

Personalitywise, he is an enigma even to himself. The "real" him has been buried so deep for so long, it may very well be lost forever. The main trait that is truly his is his overall bitterness. Ari does not believe in "good people" -- they simply do not exist. Everyone has an agenda, every closet is packed with skeletons, every angel has demons. And Ari just loves to bring those demons out to play.

There is nothing innocent about him. He has portrayed himself to be the polar opposite of all that can be seen as good in the world. If there is a negative adjective to describe someone's personality, Aridam has probably done his best to display it on himself like a badge. Cheat, liar, Casanova, thief, murderer, callous, cruel, arrogant,... The list goes on. Any frail light of hope that springs up around him is immediately and harshly extinguished in despicable ways.

He also has a habit of, ah, ruining reputations. He discovered long ago that secrets were best exposed by someone other than the keeper. Many a nobleman, priest, monk, and high-ranking official have fallen victim to Aridam's antics. When these men and women start looking too perfect, Ari finds and exploits their weaknesses. If he finds out that Friar Wendel has been sneaking out to break some celibacy vows, well, the whole town will have happened to see him loudly flirting with the ladies of the brothel. Ari hears that High Lord Aelic poisoned a member of the court? Wouldn't you know, Aelic was boasting about it at the pub while throwing ale canisters across the room last night.

Of course, people see through the ruses more often than not, but it's always enough to start whispers and sow seeds of doubt, tarnishing or even obliterating someone's reputation. Aridam's mission is simply to wreak havoc and take down everyone with him. There is one woman that he cannot touch, no matter how dirty a mess of his she has to clean. Prissy Princess Pious seems to have no limit to her patience, no flaw to her innocence, no devil in her eyes. Aridam hates it. Can't stand her and her perfect image. He knows it's fake; it has to be! There is no such thing as a Saint. It's impossible. And he's going to prove it.

Lord Coval Valderson sauntered down the putrid streets of the outer city. His fine silk attire and squinty brown eyes sparkled in the dirty light coming from pub windows, open doors, merchants' table lamps, and the occasional wagoner's torch. The waning rays of sunlight warned the approaching night, yet the rather portly man seemed unperturbed at the thought of being alone in the more dangerous part of town. Coval's boots clinked against muddied cobblestones with a loud confidence that he did not normally possess, and the haughty air around the lonely lord was enough to push onlookers backwards. No scent of ale or smoke followed him, yet this was uncharacteristically brash of the mousy, righteous noble.

Coval's boots came to a sudden halt in between two reputable buildings: Seaman's Tavern and Dianne's brothel. The man stood off to the side of the road for a prolonged period of time, making sure that he was noticed by several of the more notorious gossipmongers inside the pub before striding to the dilapidated entrance of the escort house. He placed a deliberately showy kiss on each cheek of the woman draped across the old bench outside before swishing his purple cloak and moving beyond the door.

As soon as the door closed behind him, his ears picked up the shocked, disbelieving buzz of the townsfolk in the tavern and on the street. Coval smirked, ran a hand through his poofy blond hair, and subtly wove through the building and out the back door. Now in the nearly blackened alleyway, the man closed his eyes and allowed a tingling sensation to wash over him. When he opened them again, the ground was farther away and the dim light was reflecting off electric blue irises. Aridam's lips curled into a vile smirk as he shed the lord's appearance and donned his own black clothing once again. How those nobles could stand such itchy, stifling fabric was beyond him. Nevertheless, he doubted the real Valderson would be wearing his true clothes properly when he exited the brothel. What a shame to be willing to go to such lengths to remain unnoticed, all for it to come crashing down...

The building behind him went up in flames. Almost immediately, the shrieks and shouts of surprised customers and employees rose with the smoke, and it wasn't much longer before frantic banging could be heard behind Ari. Changing his voice to that of an older man's, he cried, "It-- it's jammed! Quick, to the front!"

His smirk morphed into a wide grin as he walked up the burning wall with his hands clasped behind his back, ambled across the roof, and fell onto the ground on the other side as a new, scraggly young man. He put on a terrified face as he watched others spill out the front door, including Lord Coval himself in all his half-dressed glory. Ari got up and staggered away with the rest of them but darted back into the alley once he got the chance.

"Fix that one, Your Highness," he muttered under his breath, sending a final glance at the burning building before waving a hand to extinguish the flames. The charred wood whined and creaked as it settled; despite its compromised integrity, Aridam was confident that it would fare far better than Valderson. As of late, the high officials that Ari truly exposed seemed to disappear, though some of the nobles he took the place of vanished regardless of whether or not he had been involved. All the more reason to suspect that the ruling family was not what they seemed.

The young man's lip curled slightly at the fleeting thought of the twins; his mind snatched it from the passing flow of musings and enlarged it until the Lavignes nearly engulfed all else. Their authoritative auras, the way Camille seemed to fade into the background behind Jacques, the sister's apparent sainthood, how the brother always seemed in charge without having two brain cells to put together,... Nothing added up with them, nothing at all. Worst of all, something was guarding those two, and he couldn't determine what it was. He could not mimic either of them, though he'd managed to get a faint semblance of Jacques to stay for more than a flicker -- once. Aridam hated the untouchable. In a world where everyone else was limited by their inability - or unwillingness - to wield magic, someone as adept in the arts as he should have been able to cross whatever barrier there was between his magic and the rulers. But, alas, he could not.

Ari snapped back to the present as he prowled closer to the stronghold that physically separated the Lavigne twins from the rest of their kingdom. He couldn't sense anything that would suggest any sort of supernatural event occurring, which only increased his irritation. They cleaned up after him, yet they didn't seem to use magic to do it. They ruled unchallenged over a witless, clueless people. They were enigmas.

Aridam hated enigmas. As he studied the high stone walls in front of him, his face smoothed over and a dark curiosity entered his gaze. Perhaps it was time to explore in a more intimate manner. If there was no magic being used, he held the upper hand. Who was going to stop him? All he needed to do was steal the face of a servant. Someone that could haunt the corridors unnoticed. He could just poke around a little -- no need to get hands on and dirty quite yet. The more he mulled the idea over, the more appealing it became, and, as luck would have it, a very drunk server was stumbling away from the kitchen clutching three bottles of fine wine. The man's impaired state made it all the easier to catch him by surprise. Aridam decided it would be unwise to go around killing people so close to the castle, so he knocked the servant unconscious with a swift knuckle to the back of the head and dragged him off to the underside of a rocky outcropping. Ari muttered a quick incantation to keep the bloke asleep before closing his eyes and allowing the familiar shiver to pass through him as he changed. Ari frowned slightly as he looked down at himself, somewhat disappointed that this man's body seemed stronger than his own, but he pushed the complaints aside and moved into the castle through the door the servant had come out of.

It seemed the main courses of dinner had just ended; the kitchen crew was frantically trying to clean dishes, save or steal food, and pull out desserts. Ari grabbed a tray of sweets to appear involved and hurried after several other servants carrying similar platters. One of the others tapped him on the arm as they approached a hidden serving door and hissed, "Sam, just set it on the end and don't look drunk!"

"Sam" offered a hazy smile and nod before the door opened and the servers scurried in like little mice. Pathetic, he thought, but he followed suite. He set his dish down at the end of the table as he'd been instructed before pulling back towards the wall with the others. However, while they blended into the intricate woodwork around the great dining hall, Sam took it a step further and left the room entirely. No need to loiter around so many people, especially fancy frauds. He could ruin their lives later; for now, it was time to explore.

Sam ghosted through the hidden passages and paused on occasion to reorient himself. He breezed by most of the rooms he came to, but the scents of dusty old tomes caught his interest. He peered through the cracked door to find a library, though it was small by castle standards. Perhaps a personal collection? Ohoho, now that would be a find. He entered after double checking its vacancy and headed for the shelves. What fun little secrets would be hiding in here? Time to find out.

Sam quickly resumed his drunk and disorderly facade as the library's main door widened to allow in the one and only Camille Lavigne, the picture of meekness, grace, elegance, and religious fervor. If Aridam -- ah, Sam, that is -- was in any more of a devious mood, he would have taken the opportunity to retch. But, he wanted to maintain some level of proper sophistication, and so he opted to push himself away from the wall of books and stagger into a slightly exaggerated bow. As he righted himself, he slurred out, "Yourrrrrexcellemenciny. Excellency. I am... incapacimitated."

Sam added a hiccup for good measure, unfocusing his eyes. At the princess's first question, he mumbled something about helping a maid with the chamber pots, hoping it, and his dopey mannerisms, would grant him a pass. Camille seemed unperturbed by his theatrics, though it was difficult to tell whether she actually believed them or if she was playing the same game. She wasn't acting interested in the old manuscripts lying around; she didn't even glance at them. Oh, right; women weren't supposed to read. Could she really not read? No, it was probably a ploy, and Sam made an effort not to glance at the open writings himself.

As the woman beckoned to him to follow, he gave another series of tipsy bows before carefully walking over and staying a few feet behind and to the side of her smaller frame. Ugh; next time, he'd have to pick a servant to imitate whose physique didn't hit his ego quite so hard. Why was a kitchen rat so in shape, anyway? Was he using wine barrels as dumbbells as he drank from them? Sam hid a scowl and moved on to wondering who in their right mind would abstain from food for an entire week. How was the princess not passed out somewhere? He could barely go three days without turning into a hangry monster, and this was supposed to be her after seven? Unbelievable.

He clasped his hands in front of him as they walked the halls in a stiff silence. The only sounds were clothing rustling and shoes scuffing the heavy stone floors beneath them. It all echoed uncomfortably, only adding to the air of awkwardness. When Camille finally addressed him again, she seemed to be prying at Ari's -- Sam's -- state of being. He couldn't be that bad of an actor; everyone had bought the lord's act not two hours ago.

"I'm feeling under the well. Um. Unwell. Under weather. The weather. Your Majesty," he stammered out, enunciating the wrong syllables and making sure his words swam into each other enough to suggest a drunkard trying to sound less intoxicated. "A prayer... would lovely be."

Once they arrived at the kitchens, Sam excused himself to sweep the floors with several more kowtows as he backed away from her. While the Princess ended her supposed fast, Sam made himself busy with a painstakingly slow and thorough job with the broom. Once she disappeared again, Sam finished with the slightest bit of magical interference before vanishing from the premises as well. While on his way back up to the nook of a library, his attention was stolen by the sounds of distraught sobbing and strange swishing sounds coming from the great hall. He placed his hand on the cold stone of the servant corridor and closed his eyes, barely whispering an incantation for sight. Become the wall. See the crumpled woman and the prayer-filled princeling on the other side. Look at his flailing windmill arms. What in the name of...?

Ah. The string bean was dancing around his dinner. He was looking more like an exotic dancer than the harlot in front of him could ever dream of being, and the tearful woman didn't even seem to be noticing. Hopefully that wasn't a fatal mistake on her part. He could see Camille enter now, and her voice sounded from the hall's entrance. At the mention of the brothel, a slight smirk crossed Ari's features and Sam's became fainter. Oh, what was the point in pretending to be the servant anymore? Putting on a face and holding a sight spell at the same time was getting draining anyway. Ari released the man from his coma and donned his own appearance once more, but he stayed in the dingy corridor. He did not intend to make his presence known. Not today.

His attention snapped back to the three in the hall with some alarm as Camille declared that God had shown his disapproval of the adultery and fornication the building had housed. No, not just the building. The whole land? How was he supposed to embarrass all the horndoggy nobility now, if all the brothels were to be closed? Ari's mild disappointment changed to smug amusement as he realized that the Lavignes were placing the responsibility on their Deity. So Aridam was acting in the name of the Almighty now, hmm? What a turn of events; perhaps he was due for an initiation into sainthood.

Camille dismissed the other woman. Ari waited for her to leave, now invested in the situation. He guessed that the male twin would be a bit irked at his sister's decision, seeing how hungrily he'd been watching the woman at the center of his showy dancing and incantations. Oh, if only Ari had brought a snack from the kitchens to eat while he watched. No playwright could have ever thought of such a dramatic production as this. Of course, he wouldn't be able to stay for the entire ritual; Dianne's brothel employed quite a high count of ladies of the night, and it was sure to be repetitive. But if there was to be any drama between the twins -- any hints as to what was going on behind Camille's perfect mask -- Ari had to be in attendance.