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As soon as the man had offered her a drink, the Leventi took it from his hand, only offering a small smile and a quick "thank-you" before bringing the goblet to her lips: wine had always been a quick fix for her nerves, whenever they did happen to show up, and this was surely one of those moments. This childish, giddy feeling? Worrying about what to say? Nana had never been the sort to harbor inhibitions, and she would not start tonight. No, she would dazzle this prince with her charm, just as she'd done many times before with suitors of the past.
As the Colchian fell into small talk, the Taengean sipped away, eyeing him from behind her cup, before confirming what he'd said. "I don't believe we have, no." Perhaps if she was less worried of scaring the man off, she'd have been a bit more cheeky and told him that she could never forget a face like his, but the stakes were simply too high at this moment in time. She'd have to act demure. Be prim and proper, like Selene.
Alright, perhaps not quite like Selene, but she'd have to tone it down a touch. As her prince finally introduced himself, Nana's face lit up yet again, only to repeat his name, "Timaeus." Thinking back to her research, there was Vangelis, Zanon, Silas, and...yes, Timaeus, that sounded right. Prince Timaeus of Kotas.
Nana was almost about to respond in kind with her own name when Timaeus beat her to the punchline by asking for her name, then taking things a step further by bringing about a delayed realization that she was being compared to her sisters (never fun), and narrowly avoiding her annoyance by distracting her with a kiss to her hand. Everything went by so quick, there was no time for Nana to stop and think about what Prince Timaeus had said.
Eyes wide, the girl blinked rapidly before recalling just where she was and who she was talking to, quickly replacing the look of shock on her face with a saccharine smile. "Nana. It's a pleasure to meet you, Timaeus."
Though, it seemed that their chat was to be cut short, as a silence fell over the room upon the arrival of the new king of Colchis. Vangelis, the prince she'd unsuccessfully flirted with at the Vasiliadon markets only a few short weeks ago, was now the king of his country. It occurred to her at that moment that perhaps, he was a better target than the prince before her, and yet she found herself almost gravitating towards Timaeus, even though the two were nearly identical in appearance. Personality actually did matter, surprisingly enough.
As quickly as her prince had invited her to sit with him, Nana shot back, "I'd love to," and it was only a matter of seconds before she'd grabbed ahold of the arm he held out to her, the pair sailing to the first pair of empty seats they could find among the mostly-filled tables. As Nana took her seat, she looked around the room, suddenly all too aware of the implications of her, an unmarried young lady, sitting and making eyes at one of the Kotas princes, who had thrown away all sense of formality to sit with her. Yet, she felt no nerves now. Surely, he wouldn't do such a thing for just any highborn lady. Of course not. Obviously, he had seen her for the beautiful flower she was, and picked her out of the weeds. And who would Nana be to turn him down? An idiot.
Though the Leventi knew at this moment her attention rightfully belonged to the elder Kotas, she couldn't help but tear her eyes away every few seconds to glance back at the younger, sitting right before her very eyes. And, of course, she couldn't help the stupid smile that demanded to show itself whenever the two made eye contact.
Yet, it didn't seem to matter much. As far as Nana could tell, Prince Timaeus was just as interested in her as she was in him. This would surely be a night to remember.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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As soon as the man had offered her a drink, the Leventi took it from his hand, only offering a small smile and a quick "thank-you" before bringing the goblet to her lips: wine had always been a quick fix for her nerves, whenever they did happen to show up, and this was surely one of those moments. This childish, giddy feeling? Worrying about what to say? Nana had never been the sort to harbor inhibitions, and she would not start tonight. No, she would dazzle this prince with her charm, just as she'd done many times before with suitors of the past.
As the Colchian fell into small talk, the Taengean sipped away, eyeing him from behind her cup, before confirming what he'd said. "I don't believe we have, no." Perhaps if she was less worried of scaring the man off, she'd have been a bit more cheeky and told him that she could never forget a face like his, but the stakes were simply too high at this moment in time. She'd have to act demure. Be prim and proper, like Selene.
Alright, perhaps not quite like Selene, but she'd have to tone it down a touch. As her prince finally introduced himself, Nana's face lit up yet again, only to repeat his name, "Timaeus." Thinking back to her research, there was Vangelis, Zanon, Silas, and...yes, Timaeus, that sounded right. Prince Timaeus of Kotas.
Nana was almost about to respond in kind with her own name when Timaeus beat her to the punchline by asking for her name, then taking things a step further by bringing about a delayed realization that she was being compared to her sisters (never fun), and narrowly avoiding her annoyance by distracting her with a kiss to her hand. Everything went by so quick, there was no time for Nana to stop and think about what Prince Timaeus had said.
Eyes wide, the girl blinked rapidly before recalling just where she was and who she was talking to, quickly replacing the look of shock on her face with a saccharine smile. "Nana. It's a pleasure to meet you, Timaeus."
Though, it seemed that their chat was to be cut short, as a silence fell over the room upon the arrival of the new king of Colchis. Vangelis, the prince she'd unsuccessfully flirted with at the Vasiliadon markets only a few short weeks ago, was now the king of his country. It occurred to her at that moment that perhaps, he was a better target than the prince before her, and yet she found herself almost gravitating towards Timaeus, even though the two were nearly identical in appearance. Personality actually did matter, surprisingly enough.
As quickly as her prince had invited her to sit with him, Nana shot back, "I'd love to," and it was only a matter of seconds before she'd grabbed ahold of the arm he held out to her, the pair sailing to the first pair of empty seats they could find among the mostly-filled tables. As Nana took her seat, she looked around the room, suddenly all too aware of the implications of her, an unmarried young lady, sitting and making eyes at one of the Kotas princes, who had thrown away all sense of formality to sit with her. Yet, she felt no nerves now. Surely, he wouldn't do such a thing for just any highborn lady. Of course not. Obviously, he had seen her for the beautiful flower she was, and picked her out of the weeds. And who would Nana be to turn him down? An idiot.
Though the Leventi knew at this moment her attention rightfully belonged to the elder Kotas, she couldn't help but tear her eyes away every few seconds to glance back at the younger, sitting right before her very eyes. And, of course, she couldn't help the stupid smile that demanded to show itself whenever the two made eye contact.
Yet, it didn't seem to matter much. As far as Nana could tell, Prince Timaeus was just as interested in her as she was in him. This would surely be a night to remember.
As soon as the man had offered her a drink, the Leventi took it from his hand, only offering a small smile and a quick "thank-you" before bringing the goblet to her lips: wine had always been a quick fix for her nerves, whenever they did happen to show up, and this was surely one of those moments. This childish, giddy feeling? Worrying about what to say? Nana had never been the sort to harbor inhibitions, and she would not start tonight. No, she would dazzle this prince with her charm, just as she'd done many times before with suitors of the past.
As the Colchian fell into small talk, the Taengean sipped away, eyeing him from behind her cup, before confirming what he'd said. "I don't believe we have, no." Perhaps if she was less worried of scaring the man off, she'd have been a bit more cheeky and told him that she could never forget a face like his, but the stakes were simply too high at this moment in time. She'd have to act demure. Be prim and proper, like Selene.
Alright, perhaps not quite like Selene, but she'd have to tone it down a touch. As her prince finally introduced himself, Nana's face lit up yet again, only to repeat his name, "Timaeus." Thinking back to her research, there was Vangelis, Zanon, Silas, and...yes, Timaeus, that sounded right. Prince Timaeus of Kotas.
Nana was almost about to respond in kind with her own name when Timaeus beat her to the punchline by asking for her name, then taking things a step further by bringing about a delayed realization that she was being compared to her sisters (never fun), and narrowly avoiding her annoyance by distracting her with a kiss to her hand. Everything went by so quick, there was no time for Nana to stop and think about what Prince Timaeus had said.
Eyes wide, the girl blinked rapidly before recalling just where she was and who she was talking to, quickly replacing the look of shock on her face with a saccharine smile. "Nana. It's a pleasure to meet you, Timaeus."
Though, it seemed that their chat was to be cut short, as a silence fell over the room upon the arrival of the new king of Colchis. Vangelis, the prince she'd unsuccessfully flirted with at the Vasiliadon markets only a few short weeks ago, was now the king of his country. It occurred to her at that moment that perhaps, he was a better target than the prince before her, and yet she found herself almost gravitating towards Timaeus, even though the two were nearly identical in appearance. Personality actually did matter, surprisingly enough.
As quickly as her prince had invited her to sit with him, Nana shot back, "I'd love to," and it was only a matter of seconds before she'd grabbed ahold of the arm he held out to her, the pair sailing to the first pair of empty seats they could find among the mostly-filled tables. As Nana took her seat, she looked around the room, suddenly all too aware of the implications of her, an unmarried young lady, sitting and making eyes at one of the Kotas princes, who had thrown away all sense of formality to sit with her. Yet, she felt no nerves now. Surely, he wouldn't do such a thing for just any highborn lady. Of course not. Obviously, he had seen her for the beautiful flower she was, and picked her out of the weeds. And who would Nana be to turn him down? An idiot.
Though the Leventi knew at this moment her attention rightfully belonged to the elder Kotas, she couldn't help but tear her eyes away every few seconds to glance back at the younger, sitting right before her very eyes. And, of course, she couldn't help the stupid smile that demanded to show itself whenever the two made eye contact.
Yet, it didn't seem to matter much. As far as Nana could tell, Prince Timaeus was just as interested in her as she was in him. This would surely be a night to remember.
Dionysios watched the new king make his speech with eyes as shrewd as his age and cunning mind would commit. Years of experience were kept within his holdings - both physical and mental. He was the envy of any man or woman who wished they had so smart and capable a mind wrapped around the sophisticated machinations of the Colchian court. Whilst his leg was turning gnarled in his late years, his mind had not dulled with age...
The new king was stoic, solid, dependable. He would make a good king but not a remarkable one. He would continue to walk Colchis in the direction Tython had set it, instead of making bold or risky ventures to ensure its greatness. It was exactly the path that a king should take; turning certain the security of his lands and people, over his own hubris and desire to appear grand in the scriptures of history.
It was too bad the man was a Kotas and not a Thanasi. For Dionysios had no qualms against any that were able and smart. And while he would never condone his own offspring seeking such an egotistical moment in the history of the kingdom as to put said kingdom at risk... his greatest desire was to see them chronicled at all. And for that, Thanasi blood had to sit upon the thrown of Colchis...
Dionysios' eye fell upon his grandson Dion, seated beside his mother. All that was required was for the new king to die childless and Thanasi blood was indeed waiting to take over the mantel of monarch.
His attention distracted by his youngest child, Dionysios' eyes darkened to a dangerous level of simmering anger. Had they been in the privacy of their own home, he would have set the back of his hand across his youngest son's face for his arrogance and sheer disrespect to his elder. Such cocky hubris to seep like venom from his lips. Where was the child that had cowered before his imposing frame when he had been young?
It was true that he had been unwell in recent weeks and spent much time in his rooms, his contact with the outside world mostly through communications with his eyes, ears and personal friends. He had assumed his own offspring to, by now, hold the skills that made him obsolete to them on a daily basis. It would appear that he had made a calculated mistake. A son who could neither dress, act nor speak in public as he should was no son to be left without vigilant supervision.
"If you insist on speaking idiocies, Mihail, do so in the privacy of your own chambers. You'll find a more engaged audience in your walls than in I."
And with that, he turned away from the boy, entirely dismissing his little speech as the infantile attempt at bravado that it was. His gaze settled on Nethis, giving her a harsh and scalding look.
So, this is the state you leave our family in... His gaze suggested to her, clearly blaming her for the way in which her younger siblings appeared to have scattered into useless pieces of broken china.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Dionysios watched the new king make his speech with eyes as shrewd as his age and cunning mind would commit. Years of experience were kept within his holdings - both physical and mental. He was the envy of any man or woman who wished they had so smart and capable a mind wrapped around the sophisticated machinations of the Colchian court. Whilst his leg was turning gnarled in his late years, his mind had not dulled with age...
The new king was stoic, solid, dependable. He would make a good king but not a remarkable one. He would continue to walk Colchis in the direction Tython had set it, instead of making bold or risky ventures to ensure its greatness. It was exactly the path that a king should take; turning certain the security of his lands and people, over his own hubris and desire to appear grand in the scriptures of history.
It was too bad the man was a Kotas and not a Thanasi. For Dionysios had no qualms against any that were able and smart. And while he would never condone his own offspring seeking such an egotistical moment in the history of the kingdom as to put said kingdom at risk... his greatest desire was to see them chronicled at all. And for that, Thanasi blood had to sit upon the thrown of Colchis...
Dionysios' eye fell upon his grandson Dion, seated beside his mother. All that was required was for the new king to die childless and Thanasi blood was indeed waiting to take over the mantel of monarch.
His attention distracted by his youngest child, Dionysios' eyes darkened to a dangerous level of simmering anger. Had they been in the privacy of their own home, he would have set the back of his hand across his youngest son's face for his arrogance and sheer disrespect to his elder. Such cocky hubris to seep like venom from his lips. Where was the child that had cowered before his imposing frame when he had been young?
It was true that he had been unwell in recent weeks and spent much time in his rooms, his contact with the outside world mostly through communications with his eyes, ears and personal friends. He had assumed his own offspring to, by now, hold the skills that made him obsolete to them on a daily basis. It would appear that he had made a calculated mistake. A son who could neither dress, act nor speak in public as he should was no son to be left without vigilant supervision.
"If you insist on speaking idiocies, Mihail, do so in the privacy of your own chambers. You'll find a more engaged audience in your walls than in I."
And with that, he turned away from the boy, entirely dismissing his little speech as the infantile attempt at bravado that it was. His gaze settled on Nethis, giving her a harsh and scalding look.
So, this is the state you leave our family in... His gaze suggested to her, clearly blaming her for the way in which her younger siblings appeared to have scattered into useless pieces of broken china.
Dionysios watched the new king make his speech with eyes as shrewd as his age and cunning mind would commit. Years of experience were kept within his holdings - both physical and mental. He was the envy of any man or woman who wished they had so smart and capable a mind wrapped around the sophisticated machinations of the Colchian court. Whilst his leg was turning gnarled in his late years, his mind had not dulled with age...
The new king was stoic, solid, dependable. He would make a good king but not a remarkable one. He would continue to walk Colchis in the direction Tython had set it, instead of making bold or risky ventures to ensure its greatness. It was exactly the path that a king should take; turning certain the security of his lands and people, over his own hubris and desire to appear grand in the scriptures of history.
It was too bad the man was a Kotas and not a Thanasi. For Dionysios had no qualms against any that were able and smart. And while he would never condone his own offspring seeking such an egotistical moment in the history of the kingdom as to put said kingdom at risk... his greatest desire was to see them chronicled at all. And for that, Thanasi blood had to sit upon the thrown of Colchis...
Dionysios' eye fell upon his grandson Dion, seated beside his mother. All that was required was for the new king to die childless and Thanasi blood was indeed waiting to take over the mantel of monarch.
His attention distracted by his youngest child, Dionysios' eyes darkened to a dangerous level of simmering anger. Had they been in the privacy of their own home, he would have set the back of his hand across his youngest son's face for his arrogance and sheer disrespect to his elder. Such cocky hubris to seep like venom from his lips. Where was the child that had cowered before his imposing frame when he had been young?
It was true that he had been unwell in recent weeks and spent much time in his rooms, his contact with the outside world mostly through communications with his eyes, ears and personal friends. He had assumed his own offspring to, by now, hold the skills that made him obsolete to them on a daily basis. It would appear that he had made a calculated mistake. A son who could neither dress, act nor speak in public as he should was no son to be left without vigilant supervision.
"If you insist on speaking idiocies, Mihail, do so in the privacy of your own chambers. You'll find a more engaged audience in your walls than in I."
And with that, he turned away from the boy, entirely dismissing his little speech as the infantile attempt at bravado that it was. His gaze settled on Nethis, giving her a harsh and scalding look.
So, this is the state you leave our family in... His gaze suggested to her, clearly blaming her for the way in which her younger siblings appeared to have scattered into useless pieces of broken china.
Whilst his words were accepted however anyone wished to take them, Vangelis gave little concern for the reactions that sprinkled around the room. He was sure that some would consider his words appropriate, others tiresome and some might entirely disagree with them. But at the risk of a natural arrogance developing, he was now of a position as monarch where he didn't have to care to quite such an extent if people thoughts him a masterful wordsmith or not. He ruled regardless and they would simply have to be used to the idea that they now had a ruler that was not as eloquent as either his father or mother was before him. They would, however, be ruled by a king who could lead and who had experience in overcoming any obstacle set before him. He considered that to be a far more than fair trade for being skilled in pretty words.
As he sat down, Vangelis noted his sister looking towards him with bright and encouraging eyes. He knew that, despite speaking with her once since his return to Colchis, he had not dedicated a lot of time to Athanasia and her needs in her grief. He felt shame that he had not been a better brother to her since his return, as the duties of monarch had suddenly kept the majority of his focus directed elsewhere. Now that his schedule was falling into line and his plans taking a more solid shape, he made a mental note to correct that and spend more time with her. Perhaps another ride? One where they could invite the Lady Selene? Vangelis knew that Asia had developed a good friendship with the woman and there was much the experienced Taengean courtier could offer to the Colchian princess in terms of mentorship and lessons in etiquette.
With a softening of his expression and a slight curl to his lips, Vangelis gave a sign of affection and love to his sister in a wordless glance that only she might be able to interpret, before turning his shoulders to allow a plate of food to be set before him. As was common for members of the noble born world, Vangelis gave little attention to the hands, nor their owner, who brought the food and simply selected the appropriate utensils with which to eat it. There was no need to wait for a taste-tester as he did when he was away from home as all meals served to the royals were checked and assured to be safe before they left the kitchens when within the Dikastirio or the Kotas manor. Anywhere else and Vangelis took his chances where he felt that he could and had a servant of his hosts offer to taste his food where he could not.
Slicing through a leg of brazed meat and beginning to eat, Vangelis was drawn into a momentary conversation with his mother, who offered him soft words of encouragement and approval for his short address and rested a hand upon his forearm in a gentle gesture of support. He smiled at her, one of his rare and true smiles that were reserved to members of his family at certain moments - particularly his mother, whom he found himself feeling naturally closer to since his father's passing. He had honoured his father and loved his mother without end before, and now felt the Queen Dowager to be even more the anchor that might hold him emotionally in place.
Conversation continued normally after that, his brother Zanon offering light comment and translation over certain expressions or clear conversations happening around the room. Vangelis noticed that Lady Nana was in true form of flirting with the Valaoritis baron and the little family of Leventis dined together. He found his gaze land upon the blonde hair of Selene and his eyes turned kind when he happened to meet her gaze by chance. It was only for a brief moment, however, as his attention was distracted elsewhere quickly enough.
After a few mouthfuls of his meal, Vangelis was frowning, the movement of his jaw slowing as he looked around the chamber to check the torches along the walls. He had felt a flush of heat and had wondered if the torches had been set to burn hotter or doors opened to the kitchens. Neither were the cause, and his gaze was thoughtful, as his mind turned inward. There was a tension in his upper belly, just below his lungs, but he had assumed it to be muscle resistance from sitting with good posture for so long - royal and public meals not often something he participated in.
It was as he was assessing himself that he felt a clenching in his stomach - a rejecting of the pig he had been consuming and his lungs start to tighten. He felt a pressure in his throat, and his breathing had become strained within only a minute of him noticing anything to be wrong at all.
Bracing the palms of his hands against the edge of the table and pushing his chair back with a low scrape that attracted the attention only of those nearest, Vangelis tried to take long and deep breaths. This worked for a moment, until his throat closed upon him still further, his lungs were sent into spasms entirely and his eyes shot wide.
He couldn't breathe.
Whilst one part of his brain set his hand reaching out to pat at his mother's arm, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging loose, Vangelis shoved his chair back harder, leaving his seat and his knees hitting the floor. He remained in control of himself, fighting hard to draw in air against his inflamed through, so that his lungs might stop protesting, hurting within his chest. His lips parted in order to suck in air but also the mimic the need to drink. Whilst he had a mostly empty chalice of water on the table it would not be enough to ensure he vomited. And if his food was cutting off his air, he needed to purge himself of it.
At the same time one half of his mind was seeking help and working out a way to survive, the other was noting quite clearly that he had been poisoned. His meal had not been safe as he had assumed but laced with something that had entered the food between the kitchen and his table.
His next breath was able to break through the swollen tightening of his airways, and a rasping, brutal drag of rattling air, drew still more attention that had not already been garnered when he had knelt to the floor. His lips tried to form the words "water" and "poison", for it wouldn't be long before his lack of oxygen had his muscles paralysing him to the floor and unable to cure himself before his suffocated.
Curiously, Vangelis felt little fear. His supposedly boundless courage, had him remaining composed in the event of dying. His only concern was that of how he would appear a weak or disliked ruler upon surviving, or die and leave Colchis with a second regicide in two weeks. He wished for neither, and found himself grasping again at the edge of the table, as if he could pull upon the wood to open his lungs further and drag in another rattling breath - only his second in as many minutes...
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Whilst his words were accepted however anyone wished to take them, Vangelis gave little concern for the reactions that sprinkled around the room. He was sure that some would consider his words appropriate, others tiresome and some might entirely disagree with them. But at the risk of a natural arrogance developing, he was now of a position as monarch where he didn't have to care to quite such an extent if people thoughts him a masterful wordsmith or not. He ruled regardless and they would simply have to be used to the idea that they now had a ruler that was not as eloquent as either his father or mother was before him. They would, however, be ruled by a king who could lead and who had experience in overcoming any obstacle set before him. He considered that to be a far more than fair trade for being skilled in pretty words.
As he sat down, Vangelis noted his sister looking towards him with bright and encouraging eyes. He knew that, despite speaking with her once since his return to Colchis, he had not dedicated a lot of time to Athanasia and her needs in her grief. He felt shame that he had not been a better brother to her since his return, as the duties of monarch had suddenly kept the majority of his focus directed elsewhere. Now that his schedule was falling into line and his plans taking a more solid shape, he made a mental note to correct that and spend more time with her. Perhaps another ride? One where they could invite the Lady Selene? Vangelis knew that Asia had developed a good friendship with the woman and there was much the experienced Taengean courtier could offer to the Colchian princess in terms of mentorship and lessons in etiquette.
With a softening of his expression and a slight curl to his lips, Vangelis gave a sign of affection and love to his sister in a wordless glance that only she might be able to interpret, before turning his shoulders to allow a plate of food to be set before him. As was common for members of the noble born world, Vangelis gave little attention to the hands, nor their owner, who brought the food and simply selected the appropriate utensils with which to eat it. There was no need to wait for a taste-tester as he did when he was away from home as all meals served to the royals were checked and assured to be safe before they left the kitchens when within the Dikastirio or the Kotas manor. Anywhere else and Vangelis took his chances where he felt that he could and had a servant of his hosts offer to taste his food where he could not.
Slicing through a leg of brazed meat and beginning to eat, Vangelis was drawn into a momentary conversation with his mother, who offered him soft words of encouragement and approval for his short address and rested a hand upon his forearm in a gentle gesture of support. He smiled at her, one of his rare and true smiles that were reserved to members of his family at certain moments - particularly his mother, whom he found himself feeling naturally closer to since his father's passing. He had honoured his father and loved his mother without end before, and now felt the Queen Dowager to be even more the anchor that might hold him emotionally in place.
Conversation continued normally after that, his brother Zanon offering light comment and translation over certain expressions or clear conversations happening around the room. Vangelis noticed that Lady Nana was in true form of flirting with the Valaoritis baron and the little family of Leventis dined together. He found his gaze land upon the blonde hair of Selene and his eyes turned kind when he happened to meet her gaze by chance. It was only for a brief moment, however, as his attention was distracted elsewhere quickly enough.
After a few mouthfuls of his meal, Vangelis was frowning, the movement of his jaw slowing as he looked around the chamber to check the torches along the walls. He had felt a flush of heat and had wondered if the torches had been set to burn hotter or doors opened to the kitchens. Neither were the cause, and his gaze was thoughtful, as his mind turned inward. There was a tension in his upper belly, just below his lungs, but he had assumed it to be muscle resistance from sitting with good posture for so long - royal and public meals not often something he participated in.
It was as he was assessing himself that he felt a clenching in his stomach - a rejecting of the pig he had been consuming and his lungs start to tighten. He felt a pressure in his throat, and his breathing had become strained within only a minute of him noticing anything to be wrong at all.
Bracing the palms of his hands against the edge of the table and pushing his chair back with a low scrape that attracted the attention only of those nearest, Vangelis tried to take long and deep breaths. This worked for a moment, until his throat closed upon him still further, his lungs were sent into spasms entirely and his eyes shot wide.
He couldn't breathe.
Whilst one part of his brain set his hand reaching out to pat at his mother's arm, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging loose, Vangelis shoved his chair back harder, leaving his seat and his knees hitting the floor. He remained in control of himself, fighting hard to draw in air against his inflamed through, so that his lungs might stop protesting, hurting within his chest. His lips parted in order to suck in air but also the mimic the need to drink. Whilst he had a mostly empty chalice of water on the table it would not be enough to ensure he vomited. And if his food was cutting off his air, he needed to purge himself of it.
At the same time one half of his mind was seeking help and working out a way to survive, the other was noting quite clearly that he had been poisoned. His meal had not been safe as he had assumed but laced with something that had entered the food between the kitchen and his table.
His next breath was able to break through the swollen tightening of his airways, and a rasping, brutal drag of rattling air, drew still more attention that had not already been garnered when he had knelt to the floor. His lips tried to form the words "water" and "poison", for it wouldn't be long before his lack of oxygen had his muscles paralysing him to the floor and unable to cure himself before his suffocated.
Curiously, Vangelis felt little fear. His supposedly boundless courage, had him remaining composed in the event of dying. His only concern was that of how he would appear a weak or disliked ruler upon surviving, or die and leave Colchis with a second regicide in two weeks. He wished for neither, and found himself grasping again at the edge of the table, as if he could pull upon the wood to open his lungs further and drag in another rattling breath - only his second in as many minutes...
Whilst his words were accepted however anyone wished to take them, Vangelis gave little concern for the reactions that sprinkled around the room. He was sure that some would consider his words appropriate, others tiresome and some might entirely disagree with them. But at the risk of a natural arrogance developing, he was now of a position as monarch where he didn't have to care to quite such an extent if people thoughts him a masterful wordsmith or not. He ruled regardless and they would simply have to be used to the idea that they now had a ruler that was not as eloquent as either his father or mother was before him. They would, however, be ruled by a king who could lead and who had experience in overcoming any obstacle set before him. He considered that to be a far more than fair trade for being skilled in pretty words.
As he sat down, Vangelis noted his sister looking towards him with bright and encouraging eyes. He knew that, despite speaking with her once since his return to Colchis, he had not dedicated a lot of time to Athanasia and her needs in her grief. He felt shame that he had not been a better brother to her since his return, as the duties of monarch had suddenly kept the majority of his focus directed elsewhere. Now that his schedule was falling into line and his plans taking a more solid shape, he made a mental note to correct that and spend more time with her. Perhaps another ride? One where they could invite the Lady Selene? Vangelis knew that Asia had developed a good friendship with the woman and there was much the experienced Taengean courtier could offer to the Colchian princess in terms of mentorship and lessons in etiquette.
With a softening of his expression and a slight curl to his lips, Vangelis gave a sign of affection and love to his sister in a wordless glance that only she might be able to interpret, before turning his shoulders to allow a plate of food to be set before him. As was common for members of the noble born world, Vangelis gave little attention to the hands, nor their owner, who brought the food and simply selected the appropriate utensils with which to eat it. There was no need to wait for a taste-tester as he did when he was away from home as all meals served to the royals were checked and assured to be safe before they left the kitchens when within the Dikastirio or the Kotas manor. Anywhere else and Vangelis took his chances where he felt that he could and had a servant of his hosts offer to taste his food where he could not.
Slicing through a leg of brazed meat and beginning to eat, Vangelis was drawn into a momentary conversation with his mother, who offered him soft words of encouragement and approval for his short address and rested a hand upon his forearm in a gentle gesture of support. He smiled at her, one of his rare and true smiles that were reserved to members of his family at certain moments - particularly his mother, whom he found himself feeling naturally closer to since his father's passing. He had honoured his father and loved his mother without end before, and now felt the Queen Dowager to be even more the anchor that might hold him emotionally in place.
Conversation continued normally after that, his brother Zanon offering light comment and translation over certain expressions or clear conversations happening around the room. Vangelis noticed that Lady Nana was in true form of flirting with the Valaoritis baron and the little family of Leventis dined together. He found his gaze land upon the blonde hair of Selene and his eyes turned kind when he happened to meet her gaze by chance. It was only for a brief moment, however, as his attention was distracted elsewhere quickly enough.
After a few mouthfuls of his meal, Vangelis was frowning, the movement of his jaw slowing as he looked around the chamber to check the torches along the walls. He had felt a flush of heat and had wondered if the torches had been set to burn hotter or doors opened to the kitchens. Neither were the cause, and his gaze was thoughtful, as his mind turned inward. There was a tension in his upper belly, just below his lungs, but he had assumed it to be muscle resistance from sitting with good posture for so long - royal and public meals not often something he participated in.
It was as he was assessing himself that he felt a clenching in his stomach - a rejecting of the pig he had been consuming and his lungs start to tighten. He felt a pressure in his throat, and his breathing had become strained within only a minute of him noticing anything to be wrong at all.
Bracing the palms of his hands against the edge of the table and pushing his chair back with a low scrape that attracted the attention only of those nearest, Vangelis tried to take long and deep breaths. This worked for a moment, until his throat closed upon him still further, his lungs were sent into spasms entirely and his eyes shot wide.
He couldn't breathe.
Whilst one part of his brain set his hand reaching out to pat at his mother's arm, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging loose, Vangelis shoved his chair back harder, leaving his seat and his knees hitting the floor. He remained in control of himself, fighting hard to draw in air against his inflamed through, so that his lungs might stop protesting, hurting within his chest. His lips parted in order to suck in air but also the mimic the need to drink. Whilst he had a mostly empty chalice of water on the table it would not be enough to ensure he vomited. And if his food was cutting off his air, he needed to purge himself of it.
At the same time one half of his mind was seeking help and working out a way to survive, the other was noting quite clearly that he had been poisoned. His meal had not been safe as he had assumed but laced with something that had entered the food between the kitchen and his table.
His next breath was able to break through the swollen tightening of his airways, and a rasping, brutal drag of rattling air, drew still more attention that had not already been garnered when he had knelt to the floor. His lips tried to form the words "water" and "poison", for it wouldn't be long before his lack of oxygen had his muscles paralysing him to the floor and unable to cure himself before his suffocated.
Curiously, Vangelis felt little fear. His supposedly boundless courage, had him remaining composed in the event of dying. His only concern was that of how he would appear a weak or disliked ruler upon surviving, or die and leave Colchis with a second regicide in two weeks. He wished for neither, and found himself grasping again at the edge of the table, as if he could pull upon the wood to open his lungs further and drag in another rattling breath - only his second in as many minutes...
The Queen, now Queen Dowager, ensured that she was grace itself - or as close to it as any human could aspire to be. Her appearance, her manners and her gentility were all marks now of her son's rule, as they had once been of her husband's. But while Tython had had decades to prove himself as a King, military leader and frightfully strong fighter in and of himself, there was little Yanni could have done by the end of his life to diminish his regal image in the eyes of his people. Her eldest son Vangelis had achieved all of this himself, but only prior to attaining the title of King. To the people and nobility (especially the more ambitious of the populace), Vangelis' slate was wiped clean of past duties and his abilities assessed from this day onwards. Ergo, her way of conducting herself could be nothing but impeccable. A solid wall of support, with decades of ruling experience, standing willingly behind the throne and rule of the new king.
As he made his speech regarding the passing of his father and his hopes for the future, the Taengean in Yanni wished that he had consulted a speech-writer. For her son was man things, but no wordsmith among them. On the flip side of this, however, the people before them were Colchian... not Taengean. They would appreciate the simplicity, the honesty and the strength of belief that laced each of his words. Speaking with articulation, elegant language and a flowery linguistic style would have only shown Vangelis to be a fraud to all who knew the true him. It was better that he had spoken to them in his own words and from his heart.
Watching her son as he returned to his seat, Yanni's discerning eye picked up the tightness in his jawline, the stubborn set of his features and a darkness in his eyes. To all who knew him not, the King was musing on a topic of concern. To her own maternal gaze, he was simply tired... It had always been her eldest's habit to appear harder and stronger the weaker he actually felt within - whether emotionally or physically. Her son was tired. And that was of no surprise. Despite being a man dedicated to his work and passionate in his duties - to the point where she had spent the last two decades constantly worried that he was over-working himself - he had now had the duties of King on top of all other responsibilities he held (until the Head of House and barony were officially handed over to others), not to mention his own feelings of grief and difficulties over the change, which she had not seen him personally deal with.
Her efficient eyesight - ne'er fading in her age - spotted the mark upon his neck as his brother's had and Yanni swallowed back a sigh. Whilst she was pleased that her eldest was not immune to the attentions of women and was clearly taking care of his personal needs, such activities were no good to the reign and crown if they did not produce legitimate heirs. But more than that, Yanni longed for her children to find what she had with their father: a strong and loving relationship. It didn't have to be one forged in some great love affair - it could be arranged. So long as there was affection and strength, with which two people could move through life together.
She noted the dark shadows, barely discernible beneath the King's eyes...
Having someone to share your thoughts, emotions and trials in life was so integral to anyone's existence - even more so for a man who held the burdens of kingship.
Speaking with Vangelis a little and with Athanasia on her other side, it was a few moments before she noticed something to be wrong with the new King. In truth, it was more her daughter's expression, looking back along the table as they spoke that had Yanni turning around to see Vangelis grabbing for the table edge and risking losing his seat to fall to his knees.
With a sharp cry of worried outrage, the Queen Dowager Yanni of Kotas finally lost her cool demeanour in a public sphere. It was the first and only time it had happened, but the potential of losing her first born only weeks after the death of her husband, had Yanni reacting more as a mother than a royal. Immediately, she was down upon her own knees, her hands clutching at the shoulders and face of her eldest son, demanding to know what was wrong, her expression worried and growing more frantic as it was clear the King could not respond.
The gestures of his hands towards his neck said that he could not breathe and Yanni turned towards the servants.
"Water! Bring jugs of water! Secure the Dikastirio!"
The king had been poisoned with something that had taken effect within minutes. Which meant that it could not have been dropped into the food that long ago. Not when the kitchens checked everything they prepared. The poisoner would, therefore, most likely still be within the building.
Her hands rushed back to Vangelis' face, her touch brushing his hair from his forehead, her eyes panicked as she watched his lips beginning to turn blue. She swallowed and leaned in close, as - to her horror - the king started to shake with the trembling of someone unable to breathe for too long. His throat made a ghastly noise of rasping and his muscles began to spasm. Paralysed by the trembling, Yanni gave another soft cry as her son fell to his side, unable to remain upright, his eyes rolling into the back of his head and his limbs beyond his control.
Yanni naturally followed her son, glancing up to her second born with a yearning look for help, before she leaned in as close as she could to her dying son's face.
"Hold on, moro mou." She told him softly where no-one else could witness, her eyes brimming with tears of fear. Moro mou... My baby... my child...
Her child would not die if it was done to the decisions of those within the room. And if it was the Fates' cruel choice to take her child from her... then she would have her voice be the last thing he heard... so that he would not be afeared as he went to meet his father in the next world...
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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The Queen, now Queen Dowager, ensured that she was grace itself - or as close to it as any human could aspire to be. Her appearance, her manners and her gentility were all marks now of her son's rule, as they had once been of her husband's. But while Tython had had decades to prove himself as a King, military leader and frightfully strong fighter in and of himself, there was little Yanni could have done by the end of his life to diminish his regal image in the eyes of his people. Her eldest son Vangelis had achieved all of this himself, but only prior to attaining the title of King. To the people and nobility (especially the more ambitious of the populace), Vangelis' slate was wiped clean of past duties and his abilities assessed from this day onwards. Ergo, her way of conducting herself could be nothing but impeccable. A solid wall of support, with decades of ruling experience, standing willingly behind the throne and rule of the new king.
As he made his speech regarding the passing of his father and his hopes for the future, the Taengean in Yanni wished that he had consulted a speech-writer. For her son was man things, but no wordsmith among them. On the flip side of this, however, the people before them were Colchian... not Taengean. They would appreciate the simplicity, the honesty and the strength of belief that laced each of his words. Speaking with articulation, elegant language and a flowery linguistic style would have only shown Vangelis to be a fraud to all who knew the true him. It was better that he had spoken to them in his own words and from his heart.
Watching her son as he returned to his seat, Yanni's discerning eye picked up the tightness in his jawline, the stubborn set of his features and a darkness in his eyes. To all who knew him not, the King was musing on a topic of concern. To her own maternal gaze, he was simply tired... It had always been her eldest's habit to appear harder and stronger the weaker he actually felt within - whether emotionally or physically. Her son was tired. And that was of no surprise. Despite being a man dedicated to his work and passionate in his duties - to the point where she had spent the last two decades constantly worried that he was over-working himself - he had now had the duties of King on top of all other responsibilities he held (until the Head of House and barony were officially handed over to others), not to mention his own feelings of grief and difficulties over the change, which she had not seen him personally deal with.
Her efficient eyesight - ne'er fading in her age - spotted the mark upon his neck as his brother's had and Yanni swallowed back a sigh. Whilst she was pleased that her eldest was not immune to the attentions of women and was clearly taking care of his personal needs, such activities were no good to the reign and crown if they did not produce legitimate heirs. But more than that, Yanni longed for her children to find what she had with their father: a strong and loving relationship. It didn't have to be one forged in some great love affair - it could be arranged. So long as there was affection and strength, with which two people could move through life together.
She noted the dark shadows, barely discernible beneath the King's eyes...
Having someone to share your thoughts, emotions and trials in life was so integral to anyone's existence - even more so for a man who held the burdens of kingship.
Speaking with Vangelis a little and with Athanasia on her other side, it was a few moments before she noticed something to be wrong with the new King. In truth, it was more her daughter's expression, looking back along the table as they spoke that had Yanni turning around to see Vangelis grabbing for the table edge and risking losing his seat to fall to his knees.
With a sharp cry of worried outrage, the Queen Dowager Yanni of Kotas finally lost her cool demeanour in a public sphere. It was the first and only time it had happened, but the potential of losing her first born only weeks after the death of her husband, had Yanni reacting more as a mother than a royal. Immediately, she was down upon her own knees, her hands clutching at the shoulders and face of her eldest son, demanding to know what was wrong, her expression worried and growing more frantic as it was clear the King could not respond.
The gestures of his hands towards his neck said that he could not breathe and Yanni turned towards the servants.
"Water! Bring jugs of water! Secure the Dikastirio!"
The king had been poisoned with something that had taken effect within minutes. Which meant that it could not have been dropped into the food that long ago. Not when the kitchens checked everything they prepared. The poisoner would, therefore, most likely still be within the building.
Her hands rushed back to Vangelis' face, her touch brushing his hair from his forehead, her eyes panicked as she watched his lips beginning to turn blue. She swallowed and leaned in close, as - to her horror - the king started to shake with the trembling of someone unable to breathe for too long. His throat made a ghastly noise of rasping and his muscles began to spasm. Paralysed by the trembling, Yanni gave another soft cry as her son fell to his side, unable to remain upright, his eyes rolling into the back of his head and his limbs beyond his control.
Yanni naturally followed her son, glancing up to her second born with a yearning look for help, before she leaned in as close as she could to her dying son's face.
"Hold on, moro mou." She told him softly where no-one else could witness, her eyes brimming with tears of fear. Moro mou... My baby... my child...
Her child would not die if it was done to the decisions of those within the room. And if it was the Fates' cruel choice to take her child from her... then she would have her voice be the last thing he heard... so that he would not be afeared as he went to meet his father in the next world...
The Queen, now Queen Dowager, ensured that she was grace itself - or as close to it as any human could aspire to be. Her appearance, her manners and her gentility were all marks now of her son's rule, as they had once been of her husband's. But while Tython had had decades to prove himself as a King, military leader and frightfully strong fighter in and of himself, there was little Yanni could have done by the end of his life to diminish his regal image in the eyes of his people. Her eldest son Vangelis had achieved all of this himself, but only prior to attaining the title of King. To the people and nobility (especially the more ambitious of the populace), Vangelis' slate was wiped clean of past duties and his abilities assessed from this day onwards. Ergo, her way of conducting herself could be nothing but impeccable. A solid wall of support, with decades of ruling experience, standing willingly behind the throne and rule of the new king.
As he made his speech regarding the passing of his father and his hopes for the future, the Taengean in Yanni wished that he had consulted a speech-writer. For her son was man things, but no wordsmith among them. On the flip side of this, however, the people before them were Colchian... not Taengean. They would appreciate the simplicity, the honesty and the strength of belief that laced each of his words. Speaking with articulation, elegant language and a flowery linguistic style would have only shown Vangelis to be a fraud to all who knew the true him. It was better that he had spoken to them in his own words and from his heart.
Watching her son as he returned to his seat, Yanni's discerning eye picked up the tightness in his jawline, the stubborn set of his features and a darkness in his eyes. To all who knew him not, the King was musing on a topic of concern. To her own maternal gaze, he was simply tired... It had always been her eldest's habit to appear harder and stronger the weaker he actually felt within - whether emotionally or physically. Her son was tired. And that was of no surprise. Despite being a man dedicated to his work and passionate in his duties - to the point where she had spent the last two decades constantly worried that he was over-working himself - he had now had the duties of King on top of all other responsibilities he held (until the Head of House and barony were officially handed over to others), not to mention his own feelings of grief and difficulties over the change, which she had not seen him personally deal with.
Her efficient eyesight - ne'er fading in her age - spotted the mark upon his neck as his brother's had and Yanni swallowed back a sigh. Whilst she was pleased that her eldest was not immune to the attentions of women and was clearly taking care of his personal needs, such activities were no good to the reign and crown if they did not produce legitimate heirs. But more than that, Yanni longed for her children to find what she had with their father: a strong and loving relationship. It didn't have to be one forged in some great love affair - it could be arranged. So long as there was affection and strength, with which two people could move through life together.
She noted the dark shadows, barely discernible beneath the King's eyes...
Having someone to share your thoughts, emotions and trials in life was so integral to anyone's existence - even more so for a man who held the burdens of kingship.
Speaking with Vangelis a little and with Athanasia on her other side, it was a few moments before she noticed something to be wrong with the new King. In truth, it was more her daughter's expression, looking back along the table as they spoke that had Yanni turning around to see Vangelis grabbing for the table edge and risking losing his seat to fall to his knees.
With a sharp cry of worried outrage, the Queen Dowager Yanni of Kotas finally lost her cool demeanour in a public sphere. It was the first and only time it had happened, but the potential of losing her first born only weeks after the death of her husband, had Yanni reacting more as a mother than a royal. Immediately, she was down upon her own knees, her hands clutching at the shoulders and face of her eldest son, demanding to know what was wrong, her expression worried and growing more frantic as it was clear the King could not respond.
The gestures of his hands towards his neck said that he could not breathe and Yanni turned towards the servants.
"Water! Bring jugs of water! Secure the Dikastirio!"
The king had been poisoned with something that had taken effect within minutes. Which meant that it could not have been dropped into the food that long ago. Not when the kitchens checked everything they prepared. The poisoner would, therefore, most likely still be within the building.
Her hands rushed back to Vangelis' face, her touch brushing his hair from his forehead, her eyes panicked as she watched his lips beginning to turn blue. She swallowed and leaned in close, as - to her horror - the king started to shake with the trembling of someone unable to breathe for too long. His throat made a ghastly noise of rasping and his muscles began to spasm. Paralysed by the trembling, Yanni gave another soft cry as her son fell to his side, unable to remain upright, his eyes rolling into the back of his head and his limbs beyond his control.
Yanni naturally followed her son, glancing up to her second born with a yearning look for help, before she leaned in as close as she could to her dying son's face.
"Hold on, moro mou." She told him softly where no-one else could witness, her eyes brimming with tears of fear. Moro mou... My baby... my child...
Her child would not die if it was done to the decisions of those within the room. And if it was the Fates' cruel choice to take her child from her... then she would have her voice be the last thing he heard... so that he would not be afeared as he went to meet his father in the next world...
She felt far more grounded now that her mother was here. And while she knew that she had the support of the Kotas family. After all, they had gone out of their way to offer them refuge and hospitality. But the Leventis was not their responsibility, not with so much on the royal plate as it was. Having Evelli here meant that there was someone else on her side, with no other focus but her children. It was nice not to feel like a burden.
Selene didn’t mind moving her family to a table, settling them into the background. There was too much going on, to the point where it was nice to just hide. While there had been so much happening on the shores of Colchis, they hadn’t been able to blend in. But this wasn’t about them at all-- it was about the King. And that was something she was happy to focus on instead. On the little bits of joy that happened to appear. It was why she was so happy with her little niece, why she refused to see her gender as anything but a blessing.
”A full night of sleep? I think I will take you up on that, Mama.” She laughed as the took their seats, watching the crowd around them do the same. ”She’s my favorite little princess, but I am wholly biased.” Selene had been more than happy to help her sister out when it came to the care of the baby. But again, it was going to be nice to have assistance. There was joy in carrying the burden with another. She may have to hold the knowledge of their escape by herself, but there was more than could be shared. And it made her happy to know it.
Helping herself to a glass of wine as the room settled, Selene turned to her sister. The exhaustion on Pia’s face was apparent, and it wasn’t as if Selene didn’t know why. She had seen the results of the fight between herself and her husband, the lack of decor only making the fall out obvious. She had watched his lack of consideration for her daughter, almost positive that he had yet to hold the previous girl in his arms since her announced gender. No, her sister was facing the idea of parenthood alone, with a man who had nothing left. With such a violent birth, Selene felt it was her duty to make sure that Olympia rested. She knew she needed to make herself of use to her sister. As soon as she was well enough mentally and physically, the Eldest Leventi would have to return to Taegnea. And that left a bitterness in her chest.
Mentally shaking her head, she offered a smile. “Yes, Lord Timaeus. I met him the last time I was here. He’s quite loyal to the King, from what I’ve heard of him. And he is certainly attractive and kind. Let us hope she does not offend the man, else we may have to find lodging elsewhere.” Of course, she was teasing, knowing that the last thing Vangelis would do would be to kick them out for offending one of his men. But Selene was not wholly sure she would be able to make peace should Nana do just that. Saying a silent prayer to Aphrodite, the blonde focused on the King, on his speech for the evening.
Selene couldn’t help the pride that rose in her chest at his performance. Vangelis hadn’t wanted to be King yet, and he was absolutely the perfect heir. He may not have been ready, but no one watching would have known that. She lost track of what he was saying, her mind assaulted with flashes of a future that she was sure would never be— of herself seated at his side, a jeweled crown atop her head as his Queen. Her cheeks almost flushed at the way her mind wandered, but by the time she stopped seeing the image in her mind, he had already found his seat to allow the celebration to continue. As the meal began to take shape around them, Selene clicked her tongue at her mother. ”Of course not, Mama. If you were not welcome here, the King would have said so. He tends to be direct and would not have sugar-coated the inconvenience if it existed.” It was at that moment that she glanced up to the man in question, his eyes looking into hers. There was little time for her to show her confidence in him, her faith in his ability and her happiness at his performance before he was looking away. Still, the brief but intense gaze brought the heat to her cheeks.
She was trying not to focus on the man who had winked at her, a captain she wasn’t sure she knew when it sounded as if a commotion was taking place around them. But it was the Queen’s cry that had pulled her attention to the head table, just in time to see Vangelis fall to his knees. The room seemed to get louder as people began to talk. Selene was on her feet before she could properly work out what was going on. Panic washed over her as she realized what was going on.
”The King....” She said quietly to her sister, unable to stop her forward motion to the table he had been seated at. The cry of his brother, a name spoken loudly, processed through her brain without knowing exactly who he had asked for. She was not the first to be at his side, and she froze. This wasn’t how she thought it would go.
Would she ever be able to get the sight of him, blue and shaking, out of her mind? Would it haunt her until the end of her days?
It was then that she looked up, eyes locking on Thea who had just arrived at his side. Surprised that her own eyes were wet with tears, her hand reached out to the dark-haired Thanasi’s forearm. ”Save him. Please, you have to save him.” The girl had said she knew of herbs and remedies. She had to know something that would help. Dropping to her knees, her hand rested on Yanni’s shoulder. ”We must give her room, your Majesty.” The words were quietly whispered, but she carefully tugged her back, giving the girl the space she needed for it.
And just as quietly as she had prayed to Aphrodite, she was praying to the Gods to save him. He couldn’t die, not when there was so much to still work out between them.
He had to live.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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She felt far more grounded now that her mother was here. And while she knew that she had the support of the Kotas family. After all, they had gone out of their way to offer them refuge and hospitality. But the Leventis was not their responsibility, not with so much on the royal plate as it was. Having Evelli here meant that there was someone else on her side, with no other focus but her children. It was nice not to feel like a burden.
Selene didn’t mind moving her family to a table, settling them into the background. There was too much going on, to the point where it was nice to just hide. While there had been so much happening on the shores of Colchis, they hadn’t been able to blend in. But this wasn’t about them at all-- it was about the King. And that was something she was happy to focus on instead. On the little bits of joy that happened to appear. It was why she was so happy with her little niece, why she refused to see her gender as anything but a blessing.
”A full night of sleep? I think I will take you up on that, Mama.” She laughed as the took their seats, watching the crowd around them do the same. ”She’s my favorite little princess, but I am wholly biased.” Selene had been more than happy to help her sister out when it came to the care of the baby. But again, it was going to be nice to have assistance. There was joy in carrying the burden with another. She may have to hold the knowledge of their escape by herself, but there was more than could be shared. And it made her happy to know it.
Helping herself to a glass of wine as the room settled, Selene turned to her sister. The exhaustion on Pia’s face was apparent, and it wasn’t as if Selene didn’t know why. She had seen the results of the fight between herself and her husband, the lack of decor only making the fall out obvious. She had watched his lack of consideration for her daughter, almost positive that he had yet to hold the previous girl in his arms since her announced gender. No, her sister was facing the idea of parenthood alone, with a man who had nothing left. With such a violent birth, Selene felt it was her duty to make sure that Olympia rested. She knew she needed to make herself of use to her sister. As soon as she was well enough mentally and physically, the Eldest Leventi would have to return to Taegnea. And that left a bitterness in her chest.
Mentally shaking her head, she offered a smile. “Yes, Lord Timaeus. I met him the last time I was here. He’s quite loyal to the King, from what I’ve heard of him. And he is certainly attractive and kind. Let us hope she does not offend the man, else we may have to find lodging elsewhere.” Of course, she was teasing, knowing that the last thing Vangelis would do would be to kick them out for offending one of his men. But Selene was not wholly sure she would be able to make peace should Nana do just that. Saying a silent prayer to Aphrodite, the blonde focused on the King, on his speech for the evening.
Selene couldn’t help the pride that rose in her chest at his performance. Vangelis hadn’t wanted to be King yet, and he was absolutely the perfect heir. He may not have been ready, but no one watching would have known that. She lost track of what he was saying, her mind assaulted with flashes of a future that she was sure would never be— of herself seated at his side, a jeweled crown atop her head as his Queen. Her cheeks almost flushed at the way her mind wandered, but by the time she stopped seeing the image in her mind, he had already found his seat to allow the celebration to continue. As the meal began to take shape around them, Selene clicked her tongue at her mother. ”Of course not, Mama. If you were not welcome here, the King would have said so. He tends to be direct and would not have sugar-coated the inconvenience if it existed.” It was at that moment that she glanced up to the man in question, his eyes looking into hers. There was little time for her to show her confidence in him, her faith in his ability and her happiness at his performance before he was looking away. Still, the brief but intense gaze brought the heat to her cheeks.
She was trying not to focus on the man who had winked at her, a captain she wasn’t sure she knew when it sounded as if a commotion was taking place around them. But it was the Queen’s cry that had pulled her attention to the head table, just in time to see Vangelis fall to his knees. The room seemed to get louder as people began to talk. Selene was on her feet before she could properly work out what was going on. Panic washed over her as she realized what was going on.
”The King....” She said quietly to her sister, unable to stop her forward motion to the table he had been seated at. The cry of his brother, a name spoken loudly, processed through her brain without knowing exactly who he had asked for. She was not the first to be at his side, and she froze. This wasn’t how she thought it would go.
Would she ever be able to get the sight of him, blue and shaking, out of her mind? Would it haunt her until the end of her days?
It was then that she looked up, eyes locking on Thea who had just arrived at his side. Surprised that her own eyes were wet with tears, her hand reached out to the dark-haired Thanasi’s forearm. ”Save him. Please, you have to save him.” The girl had said she knew of herbs and remedies. She had to know something that would help. Dropping to her knees, her hand rested on Yanni’s shoulder. ”We must give her room, your Majesty.” The words were quietly whispered, but she carefully tugged her back, giving the girl the space she needed for it.
And just as quietly as she had prayed to Aphrodite, she was praying to the Gods to save him. He couldn’t die, not when there was so much to still work out between them.
He had to live.
She felt far more grounded now that her mother was here. And while she knew that she had the support of the Kotas family. After all, they had gone out of their way to offer them refuge and hospitality. But the Leventis was not their responsibility, not with so much on the royal plate as it was. Having Evelli here meant that there was someone else on her side, with no other focus but her children. It was nice not to feel like a burden.
Selene didn’t mind moving her family to a table, settling them into the background. There was too much going on, to the point where it was nice to just hide. While there had been so much happening on the shores of Colchis, they hadn’t been able to blend in. But this wasn’t about them at all-- it was about the King. And that was something she was happy to focus on instead. On the little bits of joy that happened to appear. It was why she was so happy with her little niece, why she refused to see her gender as anything but a blessing.
”A full night of sleep? I think I will take you up on that, Mama.” She laughed as the took their seats, watching the crowd around them do the same. ”She’s my favorite little princess, but I am wholly biased.” Selene had been more than happy to help her sister out when it came to the care of the baby. But again, it was going to be nice to have assistance. There was joy in carrying the burden with another. She may have to hold the knowledge of their escape by herself, but there was more than could be shared. And it made her happy to know it.
Helping herself to a glass of wine as the room settled, Selene turned to her sister. The exhaustion on Pia’s face was apparent, and it wasn’t as if Selene didn’t know why. She had seen the results of the fight between herself and her husband, the lack of decor only making the fall out obvious. She had watched his lack of consideration for her daughter, almost positive that he had yet to hold the previous girl in his arms since her announced gender. No, her sister was facing the idea of parenthood alone, with a man who had nothing left. With such a violent birth, Selene felt it was her duty to make sure that Olympia rested. She knew she needed to make herself of use to her sister. As soon as she was well enough mentally and physically, the Eldest Leventi would have to return to Taegnea. And that left a bitterness in her chest.
Mentally shaking her head, she offered a smile. “Yes, Lord Timaeus. I met him the last time I was here. He’s quite loyal to the King, from what I’ve heard of him. And he is certainly attractive and kind. Let us hope she does not offend the man, else we may have to find lodging elsewhere.” Of course, she was teasing, knowing that the last thing Vangelis would do would be to kick them out for offending one of his men. But Selene was not wholly sure she would be able to make peace should Nana do just that. Saying a silent prayer to Aphrodite, the blonde focused on the King, on his speech for the evening.
Selene couldn’t help the pride that rose in her chest at his performance. Vangelis hadn’t wanted to be King yet, and he was absolutely the perfect heir. He may not have been ready, but no one watching would have known that. She lost track of what he was saying, her mind assaulted with flashes of a future that she was sure would never be— of herself seated at his side, a jeweled crown atop her head as his Queen. Her cheeks almost flushed at the way her mind wandered, but by the time she stopped seeing the image in her mind, he had already found his seat to allow the celebration to continue. As the meal began to take shape around them, Selene clicked her tongue at her mother. ”Of course not, Mama. If you were not welcome here, the King would have said so. He tends to be direct and would not have sugar-coated the inconvenience if it existed.” It was at that moment that she glanced up to the man in question, his eyes looking into hers. There was little time for her to show her confidence in him, her faith in his ability and her happiness at his performance before he was looking away. Still, the brief but intense gaze brought the heat to her cheeks.
She was trying not to focus on the man who had winked at her, a captain she wasn’t sure she knew when it sounded as if a commotion was taking place around them. But it was the Queen’s cry that had pulled her attention to the head table, just in time to see Vangelis fall to his knees. The room seemed to get louder as people began to talk. Selene was on her feet before she could properly work out what was going on. Panic washed over her as she realized what was going on.
”The King....” She said quietly to her sister, unable to stop her forward motion to the table he had been seated at. The cry of his brother, a name spoken loudly, processed through her brain without knowing exactly who he had asked for. She was not the first to be at his side, and she froze. This wasn’t how she thought it would go.
Would she ever be able to get the sight of him, blue and shaking, out of her mind? Would it haunt her until the end of her days?
It was then that she looked up, eyes locking on Thea who had just arrived at his side. Surprised that her own eyes were wet with tears, her hand reached out to the dark-haired Thanasi’s forearm. ”Save him. Please, you have to save him.” The girl had said she knew of herbs and remedies. She had to know something that would help. Dropping to her knees, her hand rested on Yanni’s shoulder. ”We must give her room, your Majesty.” The words were quietly whispered, but she carefully tugged her back, giving the girl the space she needed for it.
And just as quietly as she had prayed to Aphrodite, she was praying to the Gods to save him. He couldn’t die, not when there was so much to still work out between them.
He had to live.
This wasn’t the dullest spot he could have chosen, but it wasn’t the most exciting either. There was something to be said for calm and he wasn’t entirely sure why he’d expected Imeeya to be more talkative. Her companions, he didn’t know or, in Lord Silanos’s case, didn’t know well. His attention wandered towards his wife, where she sat with her family. As much as he’d been avoiding them, and her, he kind of wanted to be over there. Not enough to actually do it; he wasn’t an idiot. Her mother and her sisters would bite him before they’d be kind.
But he missed the brief moments of happiness they’d had before everything came crashing down.
His eyes wandered from there to Nana, preening like a peacock with a lord who looked startlingly like Vangelis. A cousin maybe? He couldn’t place him immediately but he felt like they’d met before. That was how he felt about more than half of this room; faces that he could sort of recall, all belonging to people whose names were out of reach. That was just as well. Probably they didn’t know who he was either.
From there, his attention was on the royal table, where Vangelis was placidly eating and speaking to his family. The pang of jealousy stirred in his chest again. They looked so perfect. And look. Vangelis was even smiling. Well, the world could just end right now, couldn’t it? He forced himself to contain the heavy sigh and his eyes flicked back to Pia again. He’d broken his entire life into dust all on his own.
Stephanos grabbed up his wine, the melancholy returning now that he’d not found lively companions and as he drank, he looked back at the king, who had absolutely everything, and he frowned. Vangelis looked odd. The way the man was looking around was unlike him. Stephanos had never seen Vangelis’s attention wander this way. Vangelis’s coughing made Stephanos narrow his eyes but when Vangelis braced his hands against the table, Stephanos rose from his seat.
No one seemed to notice, right at first, but Stephanos stepped back from his table, moving along the wall that ensconced the room inside the mountain it was carved into. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was going to do once he reached the king, but he couldn’t sit there, either. Poison wasn’t foremost in his mind. More likely Vangelis was choking. Stephanos’s steps grew faster and faster as his vision tunneled onto just Vangelis. For some reason, servants hadn’t noticed quite yet, or at least, not that there was enough of a problem for them to step forward and lay hands on their king.
All at once, Stephanos sprinted. Vangelis had crashed to his knees, and his family was converging on him, and somehow, Stephanos felt that he could help. If he could just reach his friend, he could save him, somehow. That was the overriding thought that carried him Vangelis’s side, right near the queen and someone else’s body. He didn’t see who. It was a woman and he realized belatedly that somehow, both Selene and Thea had reached Vangelis before he was able.
Forced to stand back, Stephanos watched helplessly while help was being administered. Though, as Selene pleaded for herbs, Stephanos was at a loss as to why Thea would have those on her person. “Do you need those fetched?” he asked, grasping for something, anything to do.
The veins on Vangelis’s neck corded out in huge, tunnel-like lines. His skin was mottled in grotesque shades of gray, blue, and purple. On the fringes of his mouth, the pale blue of breathlessness had started to form. Stephanos pressed his back to the stone wall, surveying the sudden surge of family converging on the new king.
The water was brought and Stephanos moved out of the way as the servants frantically obeyed the Dowager Queen, not being the one the water was handed to or any actual help. He looked to Pia to make sure she wasn’t gasping.
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This wasn’t the dullest spot he could have chosen, but it wasn’t the most exciting either. There was something to be said for calm and he wasn’t entirely sure why he’d expected Imeeya to be more talkative. Her companions, he didn’t know or, in Lord Silanos’s case, didn’t know well. His attention wandered towards his wife, where she sat with her family. As much as he’d been avoiding them, and her, he kind of wanted to be over there. Not enough to actually do it; he wasn’t an idiot. Her mother and her sisters would bite him before they’d be kind.
But he missed the brief moments of happiness they’d had before everything came crashing down.
His eyes wandered from there to Nana, preening like a peacock with a lord who looked startlingly like Vangelis. A cousin maybe? He couldn’t place him immediately but he felt like they’d met before. That was how he felt about more than half of this room; faces that he could sort of recall, all belonging to people whose names were out of reach. That was just as well. Probably they didn’t know who he was either.
From there, his attention was on the royal table, where Vangelis was placidly eating and speaking to his family. The pang of jealousy stirred in his chest again. They looked so perfect. And look. Vangelis was even smiling. Well, the world could just end right now, couldn’t it? He forced himself to contain the heavy sigh and his eyes flicked back to Pia again. He’d broken his entire life into dust all on his own.
Stephanos grabbed up his wine, the melancholy returning now that he’d not found lively companions and as he drank, he looked back at the king, who had absolutely everything, and he frowned. Vangelis looked odd. The way the man was looking around was unlike him. Stephanos had never seen Vangelis’s attention wander this way. Vangelis’s coughing made Stephanos narrow his eyes but when Vangelis braced his hands against the table, Stephanos rose from his seat.
No one seemed to notice, right at first, but Stephanos stepped back from his table, moving along the wall that ensconced the room inside the mountain it was carved into. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was going to do once he reached the king, but he couldn’t sit there, either. Poison wasn’t foremost in his mind. More likely Vangelis was choking. Stephanos’s steps grew faster and faster as his vision tunneled onto just Vangelis. For some reason, servants hadn’t noticed quite yet, or at least, not that there was enough of a problem for them to step forward and lay hands on their king.
All at once, Stephanos sprinted. Vangelis had crashed to his knees, and his family was converging on him, and somehow, Stephanos felt that he could help. If he could just reach his friend, he could save him, somehow. That was the overriding thought that carried him Vangelis’s side, right near the queen and someone else’s body. He didn’t see who. It was a woman and he realized belatedly that somehow, both Selene and Thea had reached Vangelis before he was able.
Forced to stand back, Stephanos watched helplessly while help was being administered. Though, as Selene pleaded for herbs, Stephanos was at a loss as to why Thea would have those on her person. “Do you need those fetched?” he asked, grasping for something, anything to do.
The veins on Vangelis’s neck corded out in huge, tunnel-like lines. His skin was mottled in grotesque shades of gray, blue, and purple. On the fringes of his mouth, the pale blue of breathlessness had started to form. Stephanos pressed his back to the stone wall, surveying the sudden surge of family converging on the new king.
The water was brought and Stephanos moved out of the way as the servants frantically obeyed the Dowager Queen, not being the one the water was handed to or any actual help. He looked to Pia to make sure she wasn’t gasping.
This wasn’t the dullest spot he could have chosen, but it wasn’t the most exciting either. There was something to be said for calm and he wasn’t entirely sure why he’d expected Imeeya to be more talkative. Her companions, he didn’t know or, in Lord Silanos’s case, didn’t know well. His attention wandered towards his wife, where she sat with her family. As much as he’d been avoiding them, and her, he kind of wanted to be over there. Not enough to actually do it; he wasn’t an idiot. Her mother and her sisters would bite him before they’d be kind.
But he missed the brief moments of happiness they’d had before everything came crashing down.
His eyes wandered from there to Nana, preening like a peacock with a lord who looked startlingly like Vangelis. A cousin maybe? He couldn’t place him immediately but he felt like they’d met before. That was how he felt about more than half of this room; faces that he could sort of recall, all belonging to people whose names were out of reach. That was just as well. Probably they didn’t know who he was either.
From there, his attention was on the royal table, where Vangelis was placidly eating and speaking to his family. The pang of jealousy stirred in his chest again. They looked so perfect. And look. Vangelis was even smiling. Well, the world could just end right now, couldn’t it? He forced himself to contain the heavy sigh and his eyes flicked back to Pia again. He’d broken his entire life into dust all on his own.
Stephanos grabbed up his wine, the melancholy returning now that he’d not found lively companions and as he drank, he looked back at the king, who had absolutely everything, and he frowned. Vangelis looked odd. The way the man was looking around was unlike him. Stephanos had never seen Vangelis’s attention wander this way. Vangelis’s coughing made Stephanos narrow his eyes but when Vangelis braced his hands against the table, Stephanos rose from his seat.
No one seemed to notice, right at first, but Stephanos stepped back from his table, moving along the wall that ensconced the room inside the mountain it was carved into. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was going to do once he reached the king, but he couldn’t sit there, either. Poison wasn’t foremost in his mind. More likely Vangelis was choking. Stephanos’s steps grew faster and faster as his vision tunneled onto just Vangelis. For some reason, servants hadn’t noticed quite yet, or at least, not that there was enough of a problem for them to step forward and lay hands on their king.
All at once, Stephanos sprinted. Vangelis had crashed to his knees, and his family was converging on him, and somehow, Stephanos felt that he could help. If he could just reach his friend, he could save him, somehow. That was the overriding thought that carried him Vangelis’s side, right near the queen and someone else’s body. He didn’t see who. It was a woman and he realized belatedly that somehow, both Selene and Thea had reached Vangelis before he was able.
Forced to stand back, Stephanos watched helplessly while help was being administered. Though, as Selene pleaded for herbs, Stephanos was at a loss as to why Thea would have those on her person. “Do you need those fetched?” he asked, grasping for something, anything to do.
The veins on Vangelis’s neck corded out in huge, tunnel-like lines. His skin was mottled in grotesque shades of gray, blue, and purple. On the fringes of his mouth, the pale blue of breathlessness had started to form. Stephanos pressed his back to the stone wall, surveying the sudden surge of family converging on the new king.
The water was brought and Stephanos moved out of the way as the servants frantically obeyed the Dowager Queen, not being the one the water was handed to or any actual help. He looked to Pia to make sure she wasn’t gasping.
As his brother’s speech ended and they sat down to their meal, Zanon found himself more relaxed than he had been in what felt like months. The loss of his father weighed heavy on his heart, but having Vangelis back felt as if some balm was helping the hurt and lifting the worst of the pressure from him. Giving the older man a nod of approval at his succinct speech, he set about taking in the crowd around them. The Leventi contingent was obvious, though the former queen hidden among them looked less than well, and Selene shone brightly as ever. Glancing over at him, he wondered again exactly why Vangelis had yet to propose. It was clear enough to the new crown prince that the two would be a perfect match. He’d never met anyone else more prepared to be queen in his life, save his own mother.
His eyes followed Ariah, resisting the urge to reach out and subtly touch her as she presented his brother with his food. It would not do to be so familiar before his wife and the court, and instead the wandering hand found that of Evras, giving it a slight squeeze before beginning his meal. Commenting on the budding connection between Timaeus and the youngest lady Leventi present, he raised his glass in a slight toast to his friend the baron. If Tim managed to snag a Leventi wife nearly all of the famed beauties of Greece would be within their shores. His words faltered ever so slightly as the king beside him coughed, allowing it to pass until he turned to look as his brother stood.
Immediately all blood drained from his features and he stood himself, taking in the symptoms and gripping Vangelis’ shoulder tightly.
”Brother, what is it?”
He felt foolish asking as it became clear the older man could not respond, and Zanon tried to catch him as best he could as the king fell to the floor. Before he even thought better of it, he looked to find the one person he thought might be able to help as he wracked his upsettingly blank memory for methods of making a poisoned man sick.
”Thea, to the king now!”
The rush and press of people around them as their mother cradled her eldest son was too close, too dense, and he gave a roar even as he gestured to Silas to help him lift their brother into a sitting position.
”Everyone get back now! Guards, no one is to leave this chamber, bring me everyone in the kitchens and make sure no one slips away on pain of death!”
On his knees beside his brother, Zanon forced open Vangelis’ mouth and didn’t allow himself a moment to hesitate as he stuck his hand down his throat in an attempt to make him vomit or fish out whatever it was obstructing his airway. Bracing his brother against his shoulder he sent up a prayer to every single god he could think of, begging them to let the king live. When he found the one responsible, he wanted to remove their head himself.
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As his brother’s speech ended and they sat down to their meal, Zanon found himself more relaxed than he had been in what felt like months. The loss of his father weighed heavy on his heart, but having Vangelis back felt as if some balm was helping the hurt and lifting the worst of the pressure from him. Giving the older man a nod of approval at his succinct speech, he set about taking in the crowd around them. The Leventi contingent was obvious, though the former queen hidden among them looked less than well, and Selene shone brightly as ever. Glancing over at him, he wondered again exactly why Vangelis had yet to propose. It was clear enough to the new crown prince that the two would be a perfect match. He’d never met anyone else more prepared to be queen in his life, save his own mother.
His eyes followed Ariah, resisting the urge to reach out and subtly touch her as she presented his brother with his food. It would not do to be so familiar before his wife and the court, and instead the wandering hand found that of Evras, giving it a slight squeeze before beginning his meal. Commenting on the budding connection between Timaeus and the youngest lady Leventi present, he raised his glass in a slight toast to his friend the baron. If Tim managed to snag a Leventi wife nearly all of the famed beauties of Greece would be within their shores. His words faltered ever so slightly as the king beside him coughed, allowing it to pass until he turned to look as his brother stood.
Immediately all blood drained from his features and he stood himself, taking in the symptoms and gripping Vangelis’ shoulder tightly.
”Brother, what is it?”
He felt foolish asking as it became clear the older man could not respond, and Zanon tried to catch him as best he could as the king fell to the floor. Before he even thought better of it, he looked to find the one person he thought might be able to help as he wracked his upsettingly blank memory for methods of making a poisoned man sick.
”Thea, to the king now!”
The rush and press of people around them as their mother cradled her eldest son was too close, too dense, and he gave a roar even as he gestured to Silas to help him lift their brother into a sitting position.
”Everyone get back now! Guards, no one is to leave this chamber, bring me everyone in the kitchens and make sure no one slips away on pain of death!”
On his knees beside his brother, Zanon forced open Vangelis’ mouth and didn’t allow himself a moment to hesitate as he stuck his hand down his throat in an attempt to make him vomit or fish out whatever it was obstructing his airway. Bracing his brother against his shoulder he sent up a prayer to every single god he could think of, begging them to let the king live. When he found the one responsible, he wanted to remove their head himself.
As his brother’s speech ended and they sat down to their meal, Zanon found himself more relaxed than he had been in what felt like months. The loss of his father weighed heavy on his heart, but having Vangelis back felt as if some balm was helping the hurt and lifting the worst of the pressure from him. Giving the older man a nod of approval at his succinct speech, he set about taking in the crowd around them. The Leventi contingent was obvious, though the former queen hidden among them looked less than well, and Selene shone brightly as ever. Glancing over at him, he wondered again exactly why Vangelis had yet to propose. It was clear enough to the new crown prince that the two would be a perfect match. He’d never met anyone else more prepared to be queen in his life, save his own mother.
His eyes followed Ariah, resisting the urge to reach out and subtly touch her as she presented his brother with his food. It would not do to be so familiar before his wife and the court, and instead the wandering hand found that of Evras, giving it a slight squeeze before beginning his meal. Commenting on the budding connection between Timaeus and the youngest lady Leventi present, he raised his glass in a slight toast to his friend the baron. If Tim managed to snag a Leventi wife nearly all of the famed beauties of Greece would be within their shores. His words faltered ever so slightly as the king beside him coughed, allowing it to pass until he turned to look as his brother stood.
Immediately all blood drained from his features and he stood himself, taking in the symptoms and gripping Vangelis’ shoulder tightly.
”Brother, what is it?”
He felt foolish asking as it became clear the older man could not respond, and Zanon tried to catch him as best he could as the king fell to the floor. Before he even thought better of it, he looked to find the one person he thought might be able to help as he wracked his upsettingly blank memory for methods of making a poisoned man sick.
”Thea, to the king now!”
The rush and press of people around them as their mother cradled her eldest son was too close, too dense, and he gave a roar even as he gestured to Silas to help him lift their brother into a sitting position.
”Everyone get back now! Guards, no one is to leave this chamber, bring me everyone in the kitchens and make sure no one slips away on pain of death!”
On his knees beside his brother, Zanon forced open Vangelis’ mouth and didn’t allow himself a moment to hesitate as he stuck his hand down his throat in an attempt to make him vomit or fish out whatever it was obstructing his airway. Bracing his brother against his shoulder he sent up a prayer to every single god he could think of, begging them to let the king live. When he found the one responsible, he wanted to remove their head himself.
Thea’s attempt at conversation with her family had failed, as it often did when she tried to incite anything. The only evidence of being slighted in such a way was a roll of the eyes, a shrug of the shoulders, and a sip of wine.
“Mihail!” Thea hissed, pinning him with an icy stare that asked him if he had lost his mind to bring up such things in a court event, where rumors already ran rampant through the chamber. Her potential scolding words were silenced as the Queen Dowager let out an unsettling cry.
The King made a move to stand only to crumple to his knees, his lungs emitting a ghastly sound in lieu of silent breathing.
Within a breath, Thea was on her feet, her own hands braced against the table as if to steady herself and process what she was seeing. Flashes of suspicion and thought exploded behind her eyes and her feet began to move away from the table, an almost supernatural force pulling her towards the King…
...until Nethis’ eyes pinned her where she stood.
A Thanasi, moved by the distress of a Kotas?
How curious…
Expelling the dread of revealing a weakness to the most dangerous woman in the room - blood be damned - Thea’s head snapped back to the Royal Table as the Crown Prince summoned her by name. It stunned her a moment to hear such a summons, with urgency and without title, yet it gave her the justification that her own body had neglected to consider before catching Nethis’ eye once again, holding it a second before severing the gaze.
By the gods, if she had only waited a moment longer, there would be no suspicion. Her lot had been cast and for the first time in her life, she knew how it felt to have the unblinking eyes of a predator upon her. Soon, she would be the prey.
Clutching and gathering her skirts, Thea raced towards the Royal table at the summons, with courtiers and servants alike moving out of her way as she maneuvered closer. As she approached, she moved with purpose and speed, but not quite with the panic that had permeated the room. There was an odd sense of calm and focus that had claimed her mind, with only the barest of shifts in the usual placidity of her countenance - eyes slightly widened, jaw clenched tight.
Feet stilling upon arrival, her eyes fell on the King, the largest reaction she presented being the parting of her lips in the whisper of a gasp at the initial shock of seeing him in such a state.
That moment was broken when an arm grasped hers, as Lady Selene pleaded. It was not often that Thea was moved by emotion, and yet, something about the desperate beauty in her plea had the Thanasi swallowing hard, offering a softly murmured promise - “I will.”
In an instant, she also fell to her knees, joining the entirety of the Royal family around the fallen King. Lips nearly formed the words, begging pardon and room from the Queen Dowager and others who crowded near, only for Prince Zanon to clear them away in a single roar.
Once she shifted in closer, Thea’s hands reached out to press on the man’s stomach and forehead, moving his hair from his eyes, immediately noting the dilation of his pupils, the veins that crawled across his temples, and the blue tint to his skin from lack of air.
Poison.
One hand splayed across King Vangelis stomach proved the muscles contracted and quivered in combined attempts at breathing and surged in an attempt to expel the poison.
Closing her eyes for a moment, she visualized her life’s work as it sat on the table, filled with sketches and notations of known and unknown uses of herbs - both poisons and remedies.
Hearing the offer to retrieve what she needed, Thea’s eyes opened and sliced toward the refugee-King from Taengea, and with steady tones ordered, “From the kitchens. Powdered mustard seed and salt. Hurry.”
Looking away from the King for the first time, her eyes immediately sought out her sister and pinned her with a rapturous order, “Evras, the blackest charred coals you can find, just like those for Mihail. Go.”
In a flurry of movement, two were gone, leaving Thea there sitting before the two Kotas princes and the King. Her eyes met with each of theirs for a moment, a slightly shuddering breath escaping her lungs. Cautiously, she reached forward to remove Prince Zanon’s hand from the King’s mouth, catching his eye with a slight reassurance of the tenuous trust they had built over the years.
“Lean his head back to open his throat, Your Highness,” she asked instead of ordering, “Like this.” Her own hands guiding the King’s head to crane back, almost over his brother’s shoulder, in order to create a straight line between his mouth and the struggling lungs. Her use of titles once again was a result of her treading lightly as pieces of a realization fell into place.
Every set of eyes was upon her now, all expecting a healing solution from her. If she succeeded, her methods would be questioned, but the King would live.
If she failed…there would be hell to pay.
Regardless, retribution in the form of her sister, Nethis, was unavoidable.
There was nothing she could do except look on helplessly between the faces before her and the mottled face of the King until what she asked for was returned to her.
In that moment, she clenched her eyes closed, issuing a prayer to Apollo, the God of Healing, a god she had yet to know well but whose hand seemed to have guided her to this moment. If he was there, she hoped against hope he could hear her prayer.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Thea’s attempt at conversation with her family had failed, as it often did when she tried to incite anything. The only evidence of being slighted in such a way was a roll of the eyes, a shrug of the shoulders, and a sip of wine.
“Mihail!” Thea hissed, pinning him with an icy stare that asked him if he had lost his mind to bring up such things in a court event, where rumors already ran rampant through the chamber. Her potential scolding words were silenced as the Queen Dowager let out an unsettling cry.
The King made a move to stand only to crumple to his knees, his lungs emitting a ghastly sound in lieu of silent breathing.
Within a breath, Thea was on her feet, her own hands braced against the table as if to steady herself and process what she was seeing. Flashes of suspicion and thought exploded behind her eyes and her feet began to move away from the table, an almost supernatural force pulling her towards the King…
...until Nethis’ eyes pinned her where she stood.
A Thanasi, moved by the distress of a Kotas?
How curious…
Expelling the dread of revealing a weakness to the most dangerous woman in the room - blood be damned - Thea’s head snapped back to the Royal Table as the Crown Prince summoned her by name. It stunned her a moment to hear such a summons, with urgency and without title, yet it gave her the justification that her own body had neglected to consider before catching Nethis’ eye once again, holding it a second before severing the gaze.
By the gods, if she had only waited a moment longer, there would be no suspicion. Her lot had been cast and for the first time in her life, she knew how it felt to have the unblinking eyes of a predator upon her. Soon, she would be the prey.
Clutching and gathering her skirts, Thea raced towards the Royal table at the summons, with courtiers and servants alike moving out of her way as she maneuvered closer. As she approached, she moved with purpose and speed, but not quite with the panic that had permeated the room. There was an odd sense of calm and focus that had claimed her mind, with only the barest of shifts in the usual placidity of her countenance - eyes slightly widened, jaw clenched tight.
Feet stilling upon arrival, her eyes fell on the King, the largest reaction she presented being the parting of her lips in the whisper of a gasp at the initial shock of seeing him in such a state.
That moment was broken when an arm grasped hers, as Lady Selene pleaded. It was not often that Thea was moved by emotion, and yet, something about the desperate beauty in her plea had the Thanasi swallowing hard, offering a softly murmured promise - “I will.”
In an instant, she also fell to her knees, joining the entirety of the Royal family around the fallen King. Lips nearly formed the words, begging pardon and room from the Queen Dowager and others who crowded near, only for Prince Zanon to clear them away in a single roar.
Once she shifted in closer, Thea’s hands reached out to press on the man’s stomach and forehead, moving his hair from his eyes, immediately noting the dilation of his pupils, the veins that crawled across his temples, and the blue tint to his skin from lack of air.
Poison.
One hand splayed across King Vangelis stomach proved the muscles contracted and quivered in combined attempts at breathing and surged in an attempt to expel the poison.
Closing her eyes for a moment, she visualized her life’s work as it sat on the table, filled with sketches and notations of known and unknown uses of herbs - both poisons and remedies.
Hearing the offer to retrieve what she needed, Thea’s eyes opened and sliced toward the refugee-King from Taengea, and with steady tones ordered, “From the kitchens. Powdered mustard seed and salt. Hurry.”
Looking away from the King for the first time, her eyes immediately sought out her sister and pinned her with a rapturous order, “Evras, the blackest charred coals you can find, just like those for Mihail. Go.”
In a flurry of movement, two were gone, leaving Thea there sitting before the two Kotas princes and the King. Her eyes met with each of theirs for a moment, a slightly shuddering breath escaping her lungs. Cautiously, she reached forward to remove Prince Zanon’s hand from the King’s mouth, catching his eye with a slight reassurance of the tenuous trust they had built over the years.
“Lean his head back to open his throat, Your Highness,” she asked instead of ordering, “Like this.” Her own hands guiding the King’s head to crane back, almost over his brother’s shoulder, in order to create a straight line between his mouth and the struggling lungs. Her use of titles once again was a result of her treading lightly as pieces of a realization fell into place.
Every set of eyes was upon her now, all expecting a healing solution from her. If she succeeded, her methods would be questioned, but the King would live.
If she failed…there would be hell to pay.
Regardless, retribution in the form of her sister, Nethis, was unavoidable.
There was nothing she could do except look on helplessly between the faces before her and the mottled face of the King until what she asked for was returned to her.
In that moment, she clenched her eyes closed, issuing a prayer to Apollo, the God of Healing, a god she had yet to know well but whose hand seemed to have guided her to this moment. If he was there, she hoped against hope he could hear her prayer.
Thea’s attempt at conversation with her family had failed, as it often did when she tried to incite anything. The only evidence of being slighted in such a way was a roll of the eyes, a shrug of the shoulders, and a sip of wine.
“Mihail!” Thea hissed, pinning him with an icy stare that asked him if he had lost his mind to bring up such things in a court event, where rumors already ran rampant through the chamber. Her potential scolding words were silenced as the Queen Dowager let out an unsettling cry.
The King made a move to stand only to crumple to his knees, his lungs emitting a ghastly sound in lieu of silent breathing.
Within a breath, Thea was on her feet, her own hands braced against the table as if to steady herself and process what she was seeing. Flashes of suspicion and thought exploded behind her eyes and her feet began to move away from the table, an almost supernatural force pulling her towards the King…
...until Nethis’ eyes pinned her where she stood.
A Thanasi, moved by the distress of a Kotas?
How curious…
Expelling the dread of revealing a weakness to the most dangerous woman in the room - blood be damned - Thea’s head snapped back to the Royal Table as the Crown Prince summoned her by name. It stunned her a moment to hear such a summons, with urgency and without title, yet it gave her the justification that her own body had neglected to consider before catching Nethis’ eye once again, holding it a second before severing the gaze.
By the gods, if she had only waited a moment longer, there would be no suspicion. Her lot had been cast and for the first time in her life, she knew how it felt to have the unblinking eyes of a predator upon her. Soon, she would be the prey.
Clutching and gathering her skirts, Thea raced towards the Royal table at the summons, with courtiers and servants alike moving out of her way as she maneuvered closer. As she approached, she moved with purpose and speed, but not quite with the panic that had permeated the room. There was an odd sense of calm and focus that had claimed her mind, with only the barest of shifts in the usual placidity of her countenance - eyes slightly widened, jaw clenched tight.
Feet stilling upon arrival, her eyes fell on the King, the largest reaction she presented being the parting of her lips in the whisper of a gasp at the initial shock of seeing him in such a state.
That moment was broken when an arm grasped hers, as Lady Selene pleaded. It was not often that Thea was moved by emotion, and yet, something about the desperate beauty in her plea had the Thanasi swallowing hard, offering a softly murmured promise - “I will.”
In an instant, she also fell to her knees, joining the entirety of the Royal family around the fallen King. Lips nearly formed the words, begging pardon and room from the Queen Dowager and others who crowded near, only for Prince Zanon to clear them away in a single roar.
Once she shifted in closer, Thea’s hands reached out to press on the man’s stomach and forehead, moving his hair from his eyes, immediately noting the dilation of his pupils, the veins that crawled across his temples, and the blue tint to his skin from lack of air.
Poison.
One hand splayed across King Vangelis stomach proved the muscles contracted and quivered in combined attempts at breathing and surged in an attempt to expel the poison.
Closing her eyes for a moment, she visualized her life’s work as it sat on the table, filled with sketches and notations of known and unknown uses of herbs - both poisons and remedies.
Hearing the offer to retrieve what she needed, Thea’s eyes opened and sliced toward the refugee-King from Taengea, and with steady tones ordered, “From the kitchens. Powdered mustard seed and salt. Hurry.”
Looking away from the King for the first time, her eyes immediately sought out her sister and pinned her with a rapturous order, “Evras, the blackest charred coals you can find, just like those for Mihail. Go.”
In a flurry of movement, two were gone, leaving Thea there sitting before the two Kotas princes and the King. Her eyes met with each of theirs for a moment, a slightly shuddering breath escaping her lungs. Cautiously, she reached forward to remove Prince Zanon’s hand from the King’s mouth, catching his eye with a slight reassurance of the tenuous trust they had built over the years.
“Lean his head back to open his throat, Your Highness,” she asked instead of ordering, “Like this.” Her own hands guiding the King’s head to crane back, almost over his brother’s shoulder, in order to create a straight line between his mouth and the struggling lungs. Her use of titles once again was a result of her treading lightly as pieces of a realization fell into place.
Every set of eyes was upon her now, all expecting a healing solution from her. If she succeeded, her methods would be questioned, but the King would live.
If she failed…there would be hell to pay.
Regardless, retribution in the form of her sister, Nethis, was unavoidable.
There was nothing she could do except look on helplessly between the faces before her and the mottled face of the King until what she asked for was returned to her.
In that moment, she clenched her eyes closed, issuing a prayer to Apollo, the God of Healing, a god she had yet to know well but whose hand seemed to have guided her to this moment. If he was there, she hoped against hope he could hear her prayer.
Hurrying back upon instructing the servants to have the feast ready once the new King and the royal family had seated themselves, Evras's steps were not as quick nor sprightly as they should be, for she was ever aware of the light pinch in her side everytime. Technically, she should be seeing a physician by now, especially when she's yet to confirm her condition outside of consulting with Thea, but with her courses not appearing for the fourth month now, it was of little doubt, and Evras found the worry within her mounting with every little twinge.
Making a mental note to ask Zanon for the royal physician to be summoned once the night was over, Evras found her seat next to her husband just as Vangelis stood up to address the attendees. Her smile was a little harried first to her husband, and then to the family of her spouse, but in the eyes of others, Evras served the picture of a princess married into the royal house of Colchis.
Unlike others who revelled at the meal however, Evras's nose wrinkled when the smell of meat assailed her nostrils - obviously, the life growing within her rejected the idea of meat for dinner, and was making it very clear to the one who carried them.
Yet nothing was quite like the reaction of the new King just a few seats away from her though. Before Evras could even make it known to Zanon if it was possible for her to get something a little more bland for dinner, the furor started around her as Vangelis's chair scraped backwards - harder still a moment later, and the next thing she knew, her brother in law and the current known ruler of the lands, was on his knees struggling to catch his breathe.
Evras's blue-green eyes were wide as people rushed to Vangelis's side. Her mind quickly ran through the many books she had often pored over with Thea back when she was younger, but years of lack of practice and access to the books she favored, meant the dark-haired Thanasi-born was out of practice and her mind went black at the idea of what to do. She was supposed to know what to do, and Evras was well versed when it came to overimbibing on spirits, for Thea and herself has had to save Mihail from many scrapes before Nethis realized what the youngest of their brood was doing. But was it the same as poison? For poison was no doubt what had happened.
"Water wouldn't do much." she murmured, as if recalling something, but her eyes only truly cleared when Thea came up. Her older sister would know what to do, and Evras would be there. If anything, she needed to make sure no more tragedy befell the Kotas family, because Gods knew she no longer had any wish to have Dion on the throne, not if he was danger to such maladies. Looking around to find her son, she tugged at the young boy's hands, and pushed him towards Athanasia. "Asia, please make sure Dion is unharmed and consumes nothing that hasn't been tested." Evras murmured with a pleading look, before turning to step closer to her sister as she examined the blue and suffocating King.
"Poison, sister." she murmured, a tone only for Thea to hear, but she suspected the lady of herbs would know. Her sister was far more well versed in the matter, and for someone so out of touch as she was, Evras would defer to her judgement. Thea's request of charcoal brought a confused look to her eyes, before the name of their youngest brother brought back clarity in the irises. It was easy enough for her to remember, for Thea and herself had done this countless times before for the young and feckless youngest Thanasi who too oft needed them to bail him out.
Picking up her skirts and ignoring the twinge in her abdomen, Evras took off next to Stephanos to the kitchens where the dinner had been prepared, waving a hand to move the servants aside so the Taengean king would have an easier time seeking what he needed.
The dark-haired woman herself dashed and slid on her knees right next to a burner stove with the charcoals still warm within its stomach. There, Evras picked up a thick cloth and opened its middle, hacking and coughing when a cloud of thick smoke no doubt stained her face with soot. It would make the princess look like a ragamuffin when she returned to the dining hall, but Evras was there on a mission, barely giving that a thought as she quickly sifted through the charcoal with a stick and her hands.
A few times, she hissed as her arms touched the sides of the heavy brass cooking equipment, but she soon found what she sought for at the bottom of the pile - a piece of charcoal which had been thoroughly burned, but somehow protected enough by those around it so it did not crumble at a touch. Hot, but with enough space around it, it has went through a steaming process that rendered this piece of chacoal more porous then its similar others, and it was exactly this piece that would be useful for their needs.
Clutching it to her chest, she searched for Stephanos, and once ensuring the King has gotten what he needed, was quick to hurry back to the dining area where a larger crowd had gathered. Evras weaved her way through the crowd, stumbling a few times when larger bodies jostled against her, out of breath by the time she finally dropped to her knees next to Thea, a bowl in hand, and the charcoal in the other. Looking around wildly, she grabbed a jug of water, trickled some in, and then looked to Thea for a dosage she needed to dilute in the water to ensure it went easier down the throat, and not cause Vangelis to choke from the charcoal instead. "Two?" she murmured asking Thea, holding up two chunks the size of her thumb each - a larger dosage then would be normally used, but Vangelis was a larger man and they weren't sure how much he had consumed, so Evras was treading on being safe rater then sorry.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Hurrying back upon instructing the servants to have the feast ready once the new King and the royal family had seated themselves, Evras's steps were not as quick nor sprightly as they should be, for she was ever aware of the light pinch in her side everytime. Technically, she should be seeing a physician by now, especially when she's yet to confirm her condition outside of consulting with Thea, but with her courses not appearing for the fourth month now, it was of little doubt, and Evras found the worry within her mounting with every little twinge.
Making a mental note to ask Zanon for the royal physician to be summoned once the night was over, Evras found her seat next to her husband just as Vangelis stood up to address the attendees. Her smile was a little harried first to her husband, and then to the family of her spouse, but in the eyes of others, Evras served the picture of a princess married into the royal house of Colchis.
Unlike others who revelled at the meal however, Evras's nose wrinkled when the smell of meat assailed her nostrils - obviously, the life growing within her rejected the idea of meat for dinner, and was making it very clear to the one who carried them.
Yet nothing was quite like the reaction of the new King just a few seats away from her though. Before Evras could even make it known to Zanon if it was possible for her to get something a little more bland for dinner, the furor started around her as Vangelis's chair scraped backwards - harder still a moment later, and the next thing she knew, her brother in law and the current known ruler of the lands, was on his knees struggling to catch his breathe.
Evras's blue-green eyes were wide as people rushed to Vangelis's side. Her mind quickly ran through the many books she had often pored over with Thea back when she was younger, but years of lack of practice and access to the books she favored, meant the dark-haired Thanasi-born was out of practice and her mind went black at the idea of what to do. She was supposed to know what to do, and Evras was well versed when it came to overimbibing on spirits, for Thea and herself has had to save Mihail from many scrapes before Nethis realized what the youngest of their brood was doing. But was it the same as poison? For poison was no doubt what had happened.
"Water wouldn't do much." she murmured, as if recalling something, but her eyes only truly cleared when Thea came up. Her older sister would know what to do, and Evras would be there. If anything, she needed to make sure no more tragedy befell the Kotas family, because Gods knew she no longer had any wish to have Dion on the throne, not if he was danger to such maladies. Looking around to find her son, she tugged at the young boy's hands, and pushed him towards Athanasia. "Asia, please make sure Dion is unharmed and consumes nothing that hasn't been tested." Evras murmured with a pleading look, before turning to step closer to her sister as she examined the blue and suffocating King.
"Poison, sister." she murmured, a tone only for Thea to hear, but she suspected the lady of herbs would know. Her sister was far more well versed in the matter, and for someone so out of touch as she was, Evras would defer to her judgement. Thea's request of charcoal brought a confused look to her eyes, before the name of their youngest brother brought back clarity in the irises. It was easy enough for her to remember, for Thea and herself had done this countless times before for the young and feckless youngest Thanasi who too oft needed them to bail him out.
Picking up her skirts and ignoring the twinge in her abdomen, Evras took off next to Stephanos to the kitchens where the dinner had been prepared, waving a hand to move the servants aside so the Taengean king would have an easier time seeking what he needed.
The dark-haired woman herself dashed and slid on her knees right next to a burner stove with the charcoals still warm within its stomach. There, Evras picked up a thick cloth and opened its middle, hacking and coughing when a cloud of thick smoke no doubt stained her face with soot. It would make the princess look like a ragamuffin when she returned to the dining hall, but Evras was there on a mission, barely giving that a thought as she quickly sifted through the charcoal with a stick and her hands.
A few times, she hissed as her arms touched the sides of the heavy brass cooking equipment, but she soon found what she sought for at the bottom of the pile - a piece of charcoal which had been thoroughly burned, but somehow protected enough by those around it so it did not crumble at a touch. Hot, but with enough space around it, it has went through a steaming process that rendered this piece of chacoal more porous then its similar others, and it was exactly this piece that would be useful for their needs.
Clutching it to her chest, she searched for Stephanos, and once ensuring the King has gotten what he needed, was quick to hurry back to the dining area where a larger crowd had gathered. Evras weaved her way through the crowd, stumbling a few times when larger bodies jostled against her, out of breath by the time she finally dropped to her knees next to Thea, a bowl in hand, and the charcoal in the other. Looking around wildly, she grabbed a jug of water, trickled some in, and then looked to Thea for a dosage she needed to dilute in the water to ensure it went easier down the throat, and not cause Vangelis to choke from the charcoal instead. "Two?" she murmured asking Thea, holding up two chunks the size of her thumb each - a larger dosage then would be normally used, but Vangelis was a larger man and they weren't sure how much he had consumed, so Evras was treading on being safe rater then sorry.
Hurrying back upon instructing the servants to have the feast ready once the new King and the royal family had seated themselves, Evras's steps were not as quick nor sprightly as they should be, for she was ever aware of the light pinch in her side everytime. Technically, she should be seeing a physician by now, especially when she's yet to confirm her condition outside of consulting with Thea, but with her courses not appearing for the fourth month now, it was of little doubt, and Evras found the worry within her mounting with every little twinge.
Making a mental note to ask Zanon for the royal physician to be summoned once the night was over, Evras found her seat next to her husband just as Vangelis stood up to address the attendees. Her smile was a little harried first to her husband, and then to the family of her spouse, but in the eyes of others, Evras served the picture of a princess married into the royal house of Colchis.
Unlike others who revelled at the meal however, Evras's nose wrinkled when the smell of meat assailed her nostrils - obviously, the life growing within her rejected the idea of meat for dinner, and was making it very clear to the one who carried them.
Yet nothing was quite like the reaction of the new King just a few seats away from her though. Before Evras could even make it known to Zanon if it was possible for her to get something a little more bland for dinner, the furor started around her as Vangelis's chair scraped backwards - harder still a moment later, and the next thing she knew, her brother in law and the current known ruler of the lands, was on his knees struggling to catch his breathe.
Evras's blue-green eyes were wide as people rushed to Vangelis's side. Her mind quickly ran through the many books she had often pored over with Thea back when she was younger, but years of lack of practice and access to the books she favored, meant the dark-haired Thanasi-born was out of practice and her mind went black at the idea of what to do. She was supposed to know what to do, and Evras was well versed when it came to overimbibing on spirits, for Thea and herself has had to save Mihail from many scrapes before Nethis realized what the youngest of their brood was doing. But was it the same as poison? For poison was no doubt what had happened.
"Water wouldn't do much." she murmured, as if recalling something, but her eyes only truly cleared when Thea came up. Her older sister would know what to do, and Evras would be there. If anything, she needed to make sure no more tragedy befell the Kotas family, because Gods knew she no longer had any wish to have Dion on the throne, not if he was danger to such maladies. Looking around to find her son, she tugged at the young boy's hands, and pushed him towards Athanasia. "Asia, please make sure Dion is unharmed and consumes nothing that hasn't been tested." Evras murmured with a pleading look, before turning to step closer to her sister as she examined the blue and suffocating King.
"Poison, sister." she murmured, a tone only for Thea to hear, but she suspected the lady of herbs would know. Her sister was far more well versed in the matter, and for someone so out of touch as she was, Evras would defer to her judgement. Thea's request of charcoal brought a confused look to her eyes, before the name of their youngest brother brought back clarity in the irises. It was easy enough for her to remember, for Thea and herself had done this countless times before for the young and feckless youngest Thanasi who too oft needed them to bail him out.
Picking up her skirts and ignoring the twinge in her abdomen, Evras took off next to Stephanos to the kitchens where the dinner had been prepared, waving a hand to move the servants aside so the Taengean king would have an easier time seeking what he needed.
The dark-haired woman herself dashed and slid on her knees right next to a burner stove with the charcoals still warm within its stomach. There, Evras picked up a thick cloth and opened its middle, hacking and coughing when a cloud of thick smoke no doubt stained her face with soot. It would make the princess look like a ragamuffin when she returned to the dining hall, but Evras was there on a mission, barely giving that a thought as she quickly sifted through the charcoal with a stick and her hands.
A few times, she hissed as her arms touched the sides of the heavy brass cooking equipment, but she soon found what she sought for at the bottom of the pile - a piece of charcoal which had been thoroughly burned, but somehow protected enough by those around it so it did not crumble at a touch. Hot, but with enough space around it, it has went through a steaming process that rendered this piece of chacoal more porous then its similar others, and it was exactly this piece that would be useful for their needs.
Clutching it to her chest, she searched for Stephanos, and once ensuring the King has gotten what he needed, was quick to hurry back to the dining area where a larger crowd had gathered. Evras weaved her way through the crowd, stumbling a few times when larger bodies jostled against her, out of breath by the time she finally dropped to her knees next to Thea, a bowl in hand, and the charcoal in the other. Looking around wildly, she grabbed a jug of water, trickled some in, and then looked to Thea for a dosage she needed to dilute in the water to ensure it went easier down the throat, and not cause Vangelis to choke from the charcoal instead. "Two?" she murmured asking Thea, holding up two chunks the size of her thumb each - a larger dosage then would be normally used, but Vangelis was a larger man and they weren't sure how much he had consumed, so Evras was treading on being safe rater then sorry.
Once the royal family had entered the Dikasitrio, Nike had dispersed her men upon a quick briefing. It was simple - two to each entrance, while six more came with her whilst she shadowed the royal family until they took their seat at the table to begin the feast. It was an innocent enough affair, a dinner to celebrate the arrival of two Leventi's, a large and respected family of Nike remembered correctly from their jaunt to the kingdom not too long ago. The family was close friends with the King, so whilst Vangelis would not want to draw attention to the fact that a renegade King and his wife was in residence, the Leventi's were a different matter.
But Nike had not foresaw that the Kotas family isn't exactly in their best position as of now. Yes, she had tightened security, and would remain such till a month after the coronation was done for Vangelis, for the power was always most tenuous during and before a change of leadership. Yet, to think someone would attempt something during a formal court-like event in the Dikasitrio where many eyes would watch seemed surprising.
If they had attempted murder on a King however, Nike should not have let her guard down.
She had long since sent the guards out with the command that no one was to leave the Dikasitrio, just mere moments before Zanon instructed, and the men jumped to her orders. No man or woman, noble or servant alike would be allowed to leave until they found out who had tainted the food, for the food prepared by the servants of the Kotas family were checked by people hired specifically for the job before they left the kitchens. Unlike when they travelled wen Nike ensured the taste tester was there before Vangelis consumed anything, here, she passed a blind eye, trusting the ones they had hired.
But it would seem their trust was misplaced this time round, and the one who had lost it would dearly pay.
With the exits secured, Nike then turned her attention to the royal family surrounding Vangelis's prone form. Her gaze flickered briefly over the sight of the King, her brows furrowing before she turned her back to instead watch the onlookers - she was hired to guard their backs, and that was exactly what she would do, whilst they ensured the man she had guarded most of her life would stay alive.
Because he had to.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Once the royal family had entered the Dikasitrio, Nike had dispersed her men upon a quick briefing. It was simple - two to each entrance, while six more came with her whilst she shadowed the royal family until they took their seat at the table to begin the feast. It was an innocent enough affair, a dinner to celebrate the arrival of two Leventi's, a large and respected family of Nike remembered correctly from their jaunt to the kingdom not too long ago. The family was close friends with the King, so whilst Vangelis would not want to draw attention to the fact that a renegade King and his wife was in residence, the Leventi's were a different matter.
But Nike had not foresaw that the Kotas family isn't exactly in their best position as of now. Yes, she had tightened security, and would remain such till a month after the coronation was done for Vangelis, for the power was always most tenuous during and before a change of leadership. Yet, to think someone would attempt something during a formal court-like event in the Dikasitrio where many eyes would watch seemed surprising.
If they had attempted murder on a King however, Nike should not have let her guard down.
She had long since sent the guards out with the command that no one was to leave the Dikasitrio, just mere moments before Zanon instructed, and the men jumped to her orders. No man or woman, noble or servant alike would be allowed to leave until they found out who had tainted the food, for the food prepared by the servants of the Kotas family were checked by people hired specifically for the job before they left the kitchens. Unlike when they travelled wen Nike ensured the taste tester was there before Vangelis consumed anything, here, she passed a blind eye, trusting the ones they had hired.
But it would seem their trust was misplaced this time round, and the one who had lost it would dearly pay.
With the exits secured, Nike then turned her attention to the royal family surrounding Vangelis's prone form. Her gaze flickered briefly over the sight of the King, her brows furrowing before she turned her back to instead watch the onlookers - she was hired to guard their backs, and that was exactly what she would do, whilst they ensured the man she had guarded most of her life would stay alive.
Because he had to.
Once the royal family had entered the Dikasitrio, Nike had dispersed her men upon a quick briefing. It was simple - two to each entrance, while six more came with her whilst she shadowed the royal family until they took their seat at the table to begin the feast. It was an innocent enough affair, a dinner to celebrate the arrival of two Leventi's, a large and respected family of Nike remembered correctly from their jaunt to the kingdom not too long ago. The family was close friends with the King, so whilst Vangelis would not want to draw attention to the fact that a renegade King and his wife was in residence, the Leventi's were a different matter.
But Nike had not foresaw that the Kotas family isn't exactly in their best position as of now. Yes, she had tightened security, and would remain such till a month after the coronation was done for Vangelis, for the power was always most tenuous during and before a change of leadership. Yet, to think someone would attempt something during a formal court-like event in the Dikasitrio where many eyes would watch seemed surprising.
If they had attempted murder on a King however, Nike should not have let her guard down.
She had long since sent the guards out with the command that no one was to leave the Dikasitrio, just mere moments before Zanon instructed, and the men jumped to her orders. No man or woman, noble or servant alike would be allowed to leave until they found out who had tainted the food, for the food prepared by the servants of the Kotas family were checked by people hired specifically for the job before they left the kitchens. Unlike when they travelled wen Nike ensured the taste tester was there before Vangelis consumed anything, here, she passed a blind eye, trusting the ones they had hired.
But it would seem their trust was misplaced this time round, and the one who had lost it would dearly pay.
With the exits secured, Nike then turned her attention to the royal family surrounding Vangelis's prone form. Her gaze flickered briefly over the sight of the King, her brows furrowing before she turned her back to instead watch the onlookers - she was hired to guard their backs, and that was exactly what she would do, whilst they ensured the man she had guarded most of her life would stay alive.
Because he had to.
Cold dread pricked along her spine, as her eyes scanned the man's body for progression of the poison. If what he consumed was not purged immediately, the effects could be disastrous - no matter the poison's origin. It was surprising the things in the world that could bring one to the verge of death, even those things like drink and opium that could cause such pleasure. More than once, she had witness Mihail on that very precipice, which resulted in her knowledge of what needed to happen next.
Another odd squelch of an attempted breath drew her brows together, furrowing them. A hand reached to pinch tenderly along the sides of his windpipe, exhaling with worry as she felt the tautness beneath - his throat was closing.
"He needs air," Thea said, giving the first glance of fear to the Crown Prince, then a glance to the Queen Dowager, as her eyes drew again to his gaping mouth. Pressing her lips together in a thin, tight line as she considered the option and the oddity of her decision, she inched forward on her knees, in an impossibly close and uncomfortable proximity to the King, whose neck was craned over the Crown Prince's shoulder.
A wincing glance of apology for the inconvenience and the bizarre act she was about to perform, Thea looked back down at the King's face. Just before she moved, a thought arose, and her eyes widened at the potential outcome before she grabbed the edge of her himation and rubbed vigorously across his lips and around his mouth.
Already, she could hear whispers and comments of shock and confusion around her, and she did her best to block them out as she gripped one hand beneath his jaw and one hand from cheekbone to cheekbone across his nose, opening his mouth. One last glance to the Queen Dowager and the Crown Prince before she took a deep breath, filling her lungs before locking her own open mouth against the kings, forcing the air from her lungs into his.
Immediately, she pulled back, feeling the resistance from his closing throat against the influx of air that it denied. It caused her to sputter, coughing back as the air ricochetted back into her own lungs a moment. Steading herself again, she adjusted his neck again, aligning it as best as she could and took another deep gasp of air before trying again. Not as much bounced back. Hissing another half-breath in from the corners of her mouth, she continued to press the air forward, feeling just enough of the air slip through - at least, she hoped enough.
Her head snapped up as she saw Evras return, but eyes scoured again for the Taengean King Stephanos with the other two requirements. As Evras knelt down next to Thea, who tried to catch her breath from her attempts whens he made eyecontact with Lady Selene. There was no hiding the feelings the woman held towards King Vangelis, and while Thea now felt torn between the need to have air in the man's lungs versus preparing the mixture that could stop the poison, Thea reached out and pressed a hand on her arm.
"Try, do the same thing, he needs the air...or the rest of this will mean nothing," Thea rasped, trying to catch her own breath from the attempts as well as the urgency coursing through her veins. Giving the woman's arms a squeeze, her eyes turned to her sister's finds, nodding in affirmation as she collected the water jugs and the bowl, she felt a slight swell of pride as Evras hands worked masterfully to prepare the remedy.
"That should be enough," Thea added, with a slight cough of her own from catching her breath. With the cough, a trickle of fear washed down her like cold water - had she not wiped away the poison enough? The thought chilled her a moment as her eyes flickered to Selene before her attention was held by King Stephanos who offered her the remaining ingredients.
As Evras worked with the charcoals, Thea's hands accepted the ingredients from the King with a hurried thanks, and she worked to mix more salt than mustard powder into a jug. Salt and mustard, when mixed too strongly with water, would purge the stomach immediately of anything that had entered it in the past several hours.
The secret of coals, mixed into water, that coated the tongue and gut and was known to prevent fatality from overindulgence in various substances. It had been a terrifying moment when she tried it for the first time on Mihail, unconscious in his room after a fit of anger sent him into a spiral. It had worked then.
Gods willing, it would work now.
"Is air passing through?" Thea asked, her voice peaking as it toed the line of panic for the first time since her part in this ordeal began. If his throat was not open enough to allow these mixtures to pass through...then all was lost...
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Cold dread pricked along her spine, as her eyes scanned the man's body for progression of the poison. If what he consumed was not purged immediately, the effects could be disastrous - no matter the poison's origin. It was surprising the things in the world that could bring one to the verge of death, even those things like drink and opium that could cause such pleasure. More than once, she had witness Mihail on that very precipice, which resulted in her knowledge of what needed to happen next.
Another odd squelch of an attempted breath drew her brows together, furrowing them. A hand reached to pinch tenderly along the sides of his windpipe, exhaling with worry as she felt the tautness beneath - his throat was closing.
"He needs air," Thea said, giving the first glance of fear to the Crown Prince, then a glance to the Queen Dowager, as her eyes drew again to his gaping mouth. Pressing her lips together in a thin, tight line as she considered the option and the oddity of her decision, she inched forward on her knees, in an impossibly close and uncomfortable proximity to the King, whose neck was craned over the Crown Prince's shoulder.
A wincing glance of apology for the inconvenience and the bizarre act she was about to perform, Thea looked back down at the King's face. Just before she moved, a thought arose, and her eyes widened at the potential outcome before she grabbed the edge of her himation and rubbed vigorously across his lips and around his mouth.
Already, she could hear whispers and comments of shock and confusion around her, and she did her best to block them out as she gripped one hand beneath his jaw and one hand from cheekbone to cheekbone across his nose, opening his mouth. One last glance to the Queen Dowager and the Crown Prince before she took a deep breath, filling her lungs before locking her own open mouth against the kings, forcing the air from her lungs into his.
Immediately, she pulled back, feeling the resistance from his closing throat against the influx of air that it denied. It caused her to sputter, coughing back as the air ricochetted back into her own lungs a moment. Steading herself again, she adjusted his neck again, aligning it as best as she could and took another deep gasp of air before trying again. Not as much bounced back. Hissing another half-breath in from the corners of her mouth, she continued to press the air forward, feeling just enough of the air slip through - at least, she hoped enough.
Her head snapped up as she saw Evras return, but eyes scoured again for the Taengean King Stephanos with the other two requirements. As Evras knelt down next to Thea, who tried to catch her breath from her attempts whens he made eyecontact with Lady Selene. There was no hiding the feelings the woman held towards King Vangelis, and while Thea now felt torn between the need to have air in the man's lungs versus preparing the mixture that could stop the poison, Thea reached out and pressed a hand on her arm.
"Try, do the same thing, he needs the air...or the rest of this will mean nothing," Thea rasped, trying to catch her own breath from the attempts as well as the urgency coursing through her veins. Giving the woman's arms a squeeze, her eyes turned to her sister's finds, nodding in affirmation as she collected the water jugs and the bowl, she felt a slight swell of pride as Evras hands worked masterfully to prepare the remedy.
"That should be enough," Thea added, with a slight cough of her own from catching her breath. With the cough, a trickle of fear washed down her like cold water - had she not wiped away the poison enough? The thought chilled her a moment as her eyes flickered to Selene before her attention was held by King Stephanos who offered her the remaining ingredients.
As Evras worked with the charcoals, Thea's hands accepted the ingredients from the King with a hurried thanks, and she worked to mix more salt than mustard powder into a jug. Salt and mustard, when mixed too strongly with water, would purge the stomach immediately of anything that had entered it in the past several hours.
The secret of coals, mixed into water, that coated the tongue and gut and was known to prevent fatality from overindulgence in various substances. It had been a terrifying moment when she tried it for the first time on Mihail, unconscious in his room after a fit of anger sent him into a spiral. It had worked then.
Gods willing, it would work now.
"Is air passing through?" Thea asked, her voice peaking as it toed the line of panic for the first time since her part in this ordeal began. If his throat was not open enough to allow these mixtures to pass through...then all was lost...
Cold dread pricked along her spine, as her eyes scanned the man's body for progression of the poison. If what he consumed was not purged immediately, the effects could be disastrous - no matter the poison's origin. It was surprising the things in the world that could bring one to the verge of death, even those things like drink and opium that could cause such pleasure. More than once, she had witness Mihail on that very precipice, which resulted in her knowledge of what needed to happen next.
Another odd squelch of an attempted breath drew her brows together, furrowing them. A hand reached to pinch tenderly along the sides of his windpipe, exhaling with worry as she felt the tautness beneath - his throat was closing.
"He needs air," Thea said, giving the first glance of fear to the Crown Prince, then a glance to the Queen Dowager, as her eyes drew again to his gaping mouth. Pressing her lips together in a thin, tight line as she considered the option and the oddity of her decision, she inched forward on her knees, in an impossibly close and uncomfortable proximity to the King, whose neck was craned over the Crown Prince's shoulder.
A wincing glance of apology for the inconvenience and the bizarre act she was about to perform, Thea looked back down at the King's face. Just before she moved, a thought arose, and her eyes widened at the potential outcome before she grabbed the edge of her himation and rubbed vigorously across his lips and around his mouth.
Already, she could hear whispers and comments of shock and confusion around her, and she did her best to block them out as she gripped one hand beneath his jaw and one hand from cheekbone to cheekbone across his nose, opening his mouth. One last glance to the Queen Dowager and the Crown Prince before she took a deep breath, filling her lungs before locking her own open mouth against the kings, forcing the air from her lungs into his.
Immediately, she pulled back, feeling the resistance from his closing throat against the influx of air that it denied. It caused her to sputter, coughing back as the air ricochetted back into her own lungs a moment. Steading herself again, she adjusted his neck again, aligning it as best as she could and took another deep gasp of air before trying again. Not as much bounced back. Hissing another half-breath in from the corners of her mouth, she continued to press the air forward, feeling just enough of the air slip through - at least, she hoped enough.
Her head snapped up as she saw Evras return, but eyes scoured again for the Taengean King Stephanos with the other two requirements. As Evras knelt down next to Thea, who tried to catch her breath from her attempts whens he made eyecontact with Lady Selene. There was no hiding the feelings the woman held towards King Vangelis, and while Thea now felt torn between the need to have air in the man's lungs versus preparing the mixture that could stop the poison, Thea reached out and pressed a hand on her arm.
"Try, do the same thing, he needs the air...or the rest of this will mean nothing," Thea rasped, trying to catch her own breath from the attempts as well as the urgency coursing through her veins. Giving the woman's arms a squeeze, her eyes turned to her sister's finds, nodding in affirmation as she collected the water jugs and the bowl, she felt a slight swell of pride as Evras hands worked masterfully to prepare the remedy.
"That should be enough," Thea added, with a slight cough of her own from catching her breath. With the cough, a trickle of fear washed down her like cold water - had she not wiped away the poison enough? The thought chilled her a moment as her eyes flickered to Selene before her attention was held by King Stephanos who offered her the remaining ingredients.
As Evras worked with the charcoals, Thea's hands accepted the ingredients from the King with a hurried thanks, and she worked to mix more salt than mustard powder into a jug. Salt and mustard, when mixed too strongly with water, would purge the stomach immediately of anything that had entered it in the past several hours.
The secret of coals, mixed into water, that coated the tongue and gut and was known to prevent fatality from overindulgence in various substances. It had been a terrifying moment when she tried it for the first time on Mihail, unconscious in his room after a fit of anger sent him into a spiral. It had worked then.
Gods willing, it would work now.
"Is air passing through?" Thea asked, her voice peaking as it toed the line of panic for the first time since her part in this ordeal began. If his throat was not open enough to allow these mixtures to pass through...then all was lost...
Selene didn’t want to watch, and yet she couldn’t look away. There had been a panic in his blue eyes, one that she had seen once when a stable hand was tossed from a horse he was attempted to break. As he was thrown to the ground, he hit his head. Rushing to his side, she would never forget the way his eyes looked, how terrified he was of the fact that he couldn’t breathe. No one was able to help him as the injured caused him to stop breathing, even though he was still alive. All Selene had been able to do was hold his hand until he crossed the river.
And while the look on Vangelis’s face hadn’t been one of terror, the haunted way he seemed to accept what was happening was far more shocking. He seemed to register that he was dying, but even then he wouldn’t allow fear to show. All she could do now was give them room, allowing Thea to bend down and do what she did best.
The fact that she knew so much about herbs and tonics seemed to be a gift from the Gods.
The woman’s eyes seemed to dart between her and the Queen, and though she was saying something, she didn’t hear it. Too focused on the rigid stillness of the King, it wasn’t until Thea’s head dipped to Vangelis’s, lips on his. Her eyes closed, looking away at what seemed to be a moment of goodbye, only to hear other commotion around her. Puzzled, her eyes opened back up in time to watch Thea’s head dip again. Instead of turning away, she watched the curious way in which his chest seemed to rise and fall. Suddenly, it made sense what she was trying to do.
She didn’t, however, expect Thea to press her into service. ”I am…” She didn’t know what to say, didn’t think that she would be able to do what Thea had just done. But the woman was only one person. So, swallowing down the nerves, she handed the Queen off to Silas and knelt down by his side.
There was no thinking about the blue, lifeless color of his face. She didn’t want to remember the vacant look in his eyes. Instead, she closed her eyes and leaned forward, a hand on his shoulder. His lips were still warm against hers as she quickly forced the air from her lungs into his mouth. Too much escaped from the side of his mouth, she noted. She could hear Thea and her sister working next to her, but she was in tunnel vision, focusing on ways to make this work. The resistance against her mouth made it far less of a kiss and far more… mechanical. After three or four breaths, she had realized that the slower she could exhale into his mouth, the more air seemed to enter into his chest. Lifting his chin seemed to help as well.
But there was no denying that each breath was getting harder and harder to share.
Thea’s voice, loud in comparison to the sound of her own breath in her ears, lifted her head back to the crowd. People were staring at her, and she was trying not to think about what she was doing. Or why she was doing it. ”Yes, I think so.” Breathing for him again, there was a thin layer of sweat on her forehead, the action of forcing someone’s chest to rise far more strenuous than she would have thought. ”Will that work?” She asked, looking between Thea and Evras, pausing her odd work to hopefully get confirmation.
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Selene didn’t want to watch, and yet she couldn’t look away. There had been a panic in his blue eyes, one that she had seen once when a stable hand was tossed from a horse he was attempted to break. As he was thrown to the ground, he hit his head. Rushing to his side, she would never forget the way his eyes looked, how terrified he was of the fact that he couldn’t breathe. No one was able to help him as the injured caused him to stop breathing, even though he was still alive. All Selene had been able to do was hold his hand until he crossed the river.
And while the look on Vangelis’s face hadn’t been one of terror, the haunted way he seemed to accept what was happening was far more shocking. He seemed to register that he was dying, but even then he wouldn’t allow fear to show. All she could do now was give them room, allowing Thea to bend down and do what she did best.
The fact that she knew so much about herbs and tonics seemed to be a gift from the Gods.
The woman’s eyes seemed to dart between her and the Queen, and though she was saying something, she didn’t hear it. Too focused on the rigid stillness of the King, it wasn’t until Thea’s head dipped to Vangelis’s, lips on his. Her eyes closed, looking away at what seemed to be a moment of goodbye, only to hear other commotion around her. Puzzled, her eyes opened back up in time to watch Thea’s head dip again. Instead of turning away, she watched the curious way in which his chest seemed to rise and fall. Suddenly, it made sense what she was trying to do.
She didn’t, however, expect Thea to press her into service. ”I am…” She didn’t know what to say, didn’t think that she would be able to do what Thea had just done. But the woman was only one person. So, swallowing down the nerves, she handed the Queen off to Silas and knelt down by his side.
There was no thinking about the blue, lifeless color of his face. She didn’t want to remember the vacant look in his eyes. Instead, she closed her eyes and leaned forward, a hand on his shoulder. His lips were still warm against hers as she quickly forced the air from her lungs into his mouth. Too much escaped from the side of his mouth, she noted. She could hear Thea and her sister working next to her, but she was in tunnel vision, focusing on ways to make this work. The resistance against her mouth made it far less of a kiss and far more… mechanical. After three or four breaths, she had realized that the slower she could exhale into his mouth, the more air seemed to enter into his chest. Lifting his chin seemed to help as well.
But there was no denying that each breath was getting harder and harder to share.
Thea’s voice, loud in comparison to the sound of her own breath in her ears, lifted her head back to the crowd. People were staring at her, and she was trying not to think about what she was doing. Or why she was doing it. ”Yes, I think so.” Breathing for him again, there was a thin layer of sweat on her forehead, the action of forcing someone’s chest to rise far more strenuous than she would have thought. ”Will that work?” She asked, looking between Thea and Evras, pausing her odd work to hopefully get confirmation.
Selene didn’t want to watch, and yet she couldn’t look away. There had been a panic in his blue eyes, one that she had seen once when a stable hand was tossed from a horse he was attempted to break. As he was thrown to the ground, he hit his head. Rushing to his side, she would never forget the way his eyes looked, how terrified he was of the fact that he couldn’t breathe. No one was able to help him as the injured caused him to stop breathing, even though he was still alive. All Selene had been able to do was hold his hand until he crossed the river.
And while the look on Vangelis’s face hadn’t been one of terror, the haunted way he seemed to accept what was happening was far more shocking. He seemed to register that he was dying, but even then he wouldn’t allow fear to show. All she could do now was give them room, allowing Thea to bend down and do what she did best.
The fact that she knew so much about herbs and tonics seemed to be a gift from the Gods.
The woman’s eyes seemed to dart between her and the Queen, and though she was saying something, she didn’t hear it. Too focused on the rigid stillness of the King, it wasn’t until Thea’s head dipped to Vangelis’s, lips on his. Her eyes closed, looking away at what seemed to be a moment of goodbye, only to hear other commotion around her. Puzzled, her eyes opened back up in time to watch Thea’s head dip again. Instead of turning away, she watched the curious way in which his chest seemed to rise and fall. Suddenly, it made sense what she was trying to do.
She didn’t, however, expect Thea to press her into service. ”I am…” She didn’t know what to say, didn’t think that she would be able to do what Thea had just done. But the woman was only one person. So, swallowing down the nerves, she handed the Queen off to Silas and knelt down by his side.
There was no thinking about the blue, lifeless color of his face. She didn’t want to remember the vacant look in his eyes. Instead, she closed her eyes and leaned forward, a hand on his shoulder. His lips were still warm against hers as she quickly forced the air from her lungs into his mouth. Too much escaped from the side of his mouth, she noted. She could hear Thea and her sister working next to her, but she was in tunnel vision, focusing on ways to make this work. The resistance against her mouth made it far less of a kiss and far more… mechanical. After three or four breaths, she had realized that the slower she could exhale into his mouth, the more air seemed to enter into his chest. Lifting his chin seemed to help as well.
But there was no denying that each breath was getting harder and harder to share.
Thea’s voice, loud in comparison to the sound of her own breath in her ears, lifted her head back to the crowd. People were staring at her, and she was trying not to think about what she was doing. Or why she was doing it. ”Yes, I think so.” Breathing for him again, there was a thin layer of sweat on her forehead, the action of forcing someone’s chest to rise far more strenuous than she would have thought. ”Will that work?” She asked, looking between Thea and Evras, pausing her odd work to hopefully get confirmation.
Yanni felt as if her world was shrinking. Her husband had been taken from her in a manner most cruel - without goodbye or closure. Now it appeared her son was literally being snatched from her grasp in a way worse still... dying such that it should be curable and yet with no hope of stilling the hand of Thanatos. For he was alive! There, in her arms! His gaze still looked at her, his limbs still shifted and his mouth still gasped in an effort to live... and there was nothing she could do about it in order to stop his live slowly slipping away. She wasn't sure which hurt the most. Being absent from a loved one's death. Or being powerless during on.
There were no tears on her cheeks as she felt a soft and feminine hand upon her shoulder. She knew not why but supposed she was simply too far gone in terms of emotional trauma to actually allow such a reaction to cleanse her.
Her gaze practically ripped from the face of her eldest son as he was taken into the grasp of her second, Yanni found her stare clashing with that of the beautiful Selene. The young woman was there, eager to part her from her child, only to allow others to step in and save his life in strange ways she had no knowledge of.
When Zanon thrust his fingers into his brother's mouth, morbid as it seemed, Yanni felt a spark of hope. She knew this to be a good idea; a chance of making the new King reject his food and the poison within and purge his body of the contaminate. When it didn't seem to work, only choking him further, she felt that hope shrivel and die. For how were they to save the poisoned if they could not remove the poison?
Fighting Selene's grasp initially - for if her child was to die, he would do so in her arms - she was only mollified when Selene turned to the sister of her daughter-in-law with a sense of confidence and urgency. Snapping her mouth shut at the vow that passed between them, Yanni was forced to push away her maternal instincts to control and nullify the situation and simply place hope in the next generation of women. For she knew that she could not save her first born with her own knowledge. Maybe they would be able to do what she could not.
Instead, therefore, she simply hovered a step back from the little group, settled upon her knees, where her son Silas came to stand by her, a hand on her shoulder and worry stamped all over his face. The length of Vangelis' limbs allowed her to snatch a hand from his side, stretch out his arm and hold his hand from her position out of the way. If she could not hold him in her arms, she could at least offer him comfort in this...
Silently, Yanni remained on her knees, watching as Zanon supported his brother into a seated position and the two women and the King of Taengea, sought to find the answer for stilling the ticking hands of Vangelis' limited time...
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Yanni felt as if her world was shrinking. Her husband had been taken from her in a manner most cruel - without goodbye or closure. Now it appeared her son was literally being snatched from her grasp in a way worse still... dying such that it should be curable and yet with no hope of stilling the hand of Thanatos. For he was alive! There, in her arms! His gaze still looked at her, his limbs still shifted and his mouth still gasped in an effort to live... and there was nothing she could do about it in order to stop his live slowly slipping away. She wasn't sure which hurt the most. Being absent from a loved one's death. Or being powerless during on.
There were no tears on her cheeks as she felt a soft and feminine hand upon her shoulder. She knew not why but supposed she was simply too far gone in terms of emotional trauma to actually allow such a reaction to cleanse her.
Her gaze practically ripped from the face of her eldest son as he was taken into the grasp of her second, Yanni found her stare clashing with that of the beautiful Selene. The young woman was there, eager to part her from her child, only to allow others to step in and save his life in strange ways she had no knowledge of.
When Zanon thrust his fingers into his brother's mouth, morbid as it seemed, Yanni felt a spark of hope. She knew this to be a good idea; a chance of making the new King reject his food and the poison within and purge his body of the contaminate. When it didn't seem to work, only choking him further, she felt that hope shrivel and die. For how were they to save the poisoned if they could not remove the poison?
Fighting Selene's grasp initially - for if her child was to die, he would do so in her arms - she was only mollified when Selene turned to the sister of her daughter-in-law with a sense of confidence and urgency. Snapping her mouth shut at the vow that passed between them, Yanni was forced to push away her maternal instincts to control and nullify the situation and simply place hope in the next generation of women. For she knew that she could not save her first born with her own knowledge. Maybe they would be able to do what she could not.
Instead, therefore, she simply hovered a step back from the little group, settled upon her knees, where her son Silas came to stand by her, a hand on her shoulder and worry stamped all over his face. The length of Vangelis' limbs allowed her to snatch a hand from his side, stretch out his arm and hold his hand from her position out of the way. If she could not hold him in her arms, she could at least offer him comfort in this...
Silently, Yanni remained on her knees, watching as Zanon supported his brother into a seated position and the two women and the King of Taengea, sought to find the answer for stilling the ticking hands of Vangelis' limited time...
Yanni felt as if her world was shrinking. Her husband had been taken from her in a manner most cruel - without goodbye or closure. Now it appeared her son was literally being snatched from her grasp in a way worse still... dying such that it should be curable and yet with no hope of stilling the hand of Thanatos. For he was alive! There, in her arms! His gaze still looked at her, his limbs still shifted and his mouth still gasped in an effort to live... and there was nothing she could do about it in order to stop his live slowly slipping away. She wasn't sure which hurt the most. Being absent from a loved one's death. Or being powerless during on.
There were no tears on her cheeks as she felt a soft and feminine hand upon her shoulder. She knew not why but supposed she was simply too far gone in terms of emotional trauma to actually allow such a reaction to cleanse her.
Her gaze practically ripped from the face of her eldest son as he was taken into the grasp of her second, Yanni found her stare clashing with that of the beautiful Selene. The young woman was there, eager to part her from her child, only to allow others to step in and save his life in strange ways she had no knowledge of.
When Zanon thrust his fingers into his brother's mouth, morbid as it seemed, Yanni felt a spark of hope. She knew this to be a good idea; a chance of making the new King reject his food and the poison within and purge his body of the contaminate. When it didn't seem to work, only choking him further, she felt that hope shrivel and die. For how were they to save the poisoned if they could not remove the poison?
Fighting Selene's grasp initially - for if her child was to die, he would do so in her arms - she was only mollified when Selene turned to the sister of her daughter-in-law with a sense of confidence and urgency. Snapping her mouth shut at the vow that passed between them, Yanni was forced to push away her maternal instincts to control and nullify the situation and simply place hope in the next generation of women. For she knew that she could not save her first born with her own knowledge. Maybe they would be able to do what she could not.
Instead, therefore, she simply hovered a step back from the little group, settled upon her knees, where her son Silas came to stand by her, a hand on her shoulder and worry stamped all over his face. The length of Vangelis' limbs allowed her to snatch a hand from his side, stretch out his arm and hold his hand from her position out of the way. If she could not hold him in her arms, she could at least offer him comfort in this...
Silently, Yanni remained on her knees, watching as Zanon supported his brother into a seated position and the two women and the King of Taengea, sought to find the answer for stilling the ticking hands of Vangelis' limited time...
When the room erupted into action and orders, Dionysios reacted very little. A man of calm and calculated logic, the Head of the Thanasi family was a viper. Curling in upon himself and perfectly serene most of the time, he gave the impression of a man of both power and smoke, coiling upon his venom. It was only in certain moments - when the acts of the Gods or the acts of the House were required... when defence or attack needed in order to progress desires and ambitions... that Dionysios would strike, fangs bared and aggression at its most deadly. It was why he kept a dagger embedded in the hilt of his walking stick, laced with a poisoned lacquer that he could use whenever necessary. All it took was a single break of skin and the touch of blood to transfer it. So elegant and so easy...
Food was another good way of administering such toxins... he thought, his gaze moving to the royal table without worry or concern, as loyalists rushed to the side of a king too stupid to have his food tested before consumption. He knew better than to look at his eldest daughter who equally knew the best ways of hindering the blood system and breathing means of the body with a few simple additives.
His second born however... she he would needing to keep an eye on. For her reaction was too strong for a Thanasi over a Kotas. It curled his lip and had his skin feel slippery with itchiness. An easy enough fix if the man died, of course... He'd re-evaluate that later...
Instead, for now, he simply turned his gaze to focus on little but the bustling noise of the room and the smell of the roasted meats that no longer seemed to agree with him these days and raising his wine cup to his lips. Everyone in the room knew of the Thanasi distaste for the Kotas family, which meant there was no need to feign concern. Any disinterest in the king's health was hardly a punishable offence. And there was never any chance of them finding a more... significant evidence of treason. And so, he drank from the rim of the cup without panic or concern.
"Oh dear." He commented, in a totally dry and uneventful voice, as if talking to himself. "Such a shame. Whatever shall we do..."
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When the room erupted into action and orders, Dionysios reacted very little. A man of calm and calculated logic, the Head of the Thanasi family was a viper. Curling in upon himself and perfectly serene most of the time, he gave the impression of a man of both power and smoke, coiling upon his venom. It was only in certain moments - when the acts of the Gods or the acts of the House were required... when defence or attack needed in order to progress desires and ambitions... that Dionysios would strike, fangs bared and aggression at its most deadly. It was why he kept a dagger embedded in the hilt of his walking stick, laced with a poisoned lacquer that he could use whenever necessary. All it took was a single break of skin and the touch of blood to transfer it. So elegant and so easy...
Food was another good way of administering such toxins... he thought, his gaze moving to the royal table without worry or concern, as loyalists rushed to the side of a king too stupid to have his food tested before consumption. He knew better than to look at his eldest daughter who equally knew the best ways of hindering the blood system and breathing means of the body with a few simple additives.
His second born however... she he would needing to keep an eye on. For her reaction was too strong for a Thanasi over a Kotas. It curled his lip and had his skin feel slippery with itchiness. An easy enough fix if the man died, of course... He'd re-evaluate that later...
Instead, for now, he simply turned his gaze to focus on little but the bustling noise of the room and the smell of the roasted meats that no longer seemed to agree with him these days and raising his wine cup to his lips. Everyone in the room knew of the Thanasi distaste for the Kotas family, which meant there was no need to feign concern. Any disinterest in the king's health was hardly a punishable offence. And there was never any chance of them finding a more... significant evidence of treason. And so, he drank from the rim of the cup without panic or concern.
"Oh dear." He commented, in a totally dry and uneventful voice, as if talking to himself. "Such a shame. Whatever shall we do..."
When the room erupted into action and orders, Dionysios reacted very little. A man of calm and calculated logic, the Head of the Thanasi family was a viper. Curling in upon himself and perfectly serene most of the time, he gave the impression of a man of both power and smoke, coiling upon his venom. It was only in certain moments - when the acts of the Gods or the acts of the House were required... when defence or attack needed in order to progress desires and ambitions... that Dionysios would strike, fangs bared and aggression at its most deadly. It was why he kept a dagger embedded in the hilt of his walking stick, laced with a poisoned lacquer that he could use whenever necessary. All it took was a single break of skin and the touch of blood to transfer it. So elegant and so easy...
Food was another good way of administering such toxins... he thought, his gaze moving to the royal table without worry or concern, as loyalists rushed to the side of a king too stupid to have his food tested before consumption. He knew better than to look at his eldest daughter who equally knew the best ways of hindering the blood system and breathing means of the body with a few simple additives.
His second born however... she he would needing to keep an eye on. For her reaction was too strong for a Thanasi over a Kotas. It curled his lip and had his skin feel slippery with itchiness. An easy enough fix if the man died, of course... He'd re-evaluate that later...
Instead, for now, he simply turned his gaze to focus on little but the bustling noise of the room and the smell of the roasted meats that no longer seemed to agree with him these days and raising his wine cup to his lips. Everyone in the room knew of the Thanasi distaste for the Kotas family, which meant there was no need to feign concern. Any disinterest in the king's health was hardly a punishable offence. And there was never any chance of them finding a more... significant evidence of treason. And so, he drank from the rim of the cup without panic or concern.
"Oh dear." He commented, in a totally dry and uneventful voice, as if talking to himself. "Such a shame. Whatever shall we do..."
Had Vangelis just smiled at her? It was said the Stone King never smiled, but there is was, a soft curling of his lips as he looked at her. Of course, Athanasia had seen him smile before at home, but never in a public place with so many people watching him. Yet from the way his head was turned, nobody would have noticed it but her. After the ride they had recently shared, the princess felt as if her relationship with Vangelis was changing, that they were finally on their way to becoming as close as she had always wanted them to be.
Unlike her other brothers, he had been gone for much of her life. While not exactly distant, he had never spent much time with her. She had been afraid when she had approached him on the ship and had told him about Lord Silanos kissing her at the market. He had given her some good advice, and had compared her to a beautiful, unattainable horizon and reminded her that she was an important representative of Colchis and belonged to her family and kingdom. It had been, perhaps, an elegantly-worded chastisement, but she had understood. Sometimes she still thought of that conversation, turning it over and over in her mind and cherishing every moment of it.
Was that why she had looked to the table where Imeeya and Lord Silanos sat? She shook her head and turned to her mother who had just spoken to her. They conversed quietly as they ate, at least until she noticed a sudden movement on Queen Yanni's other side. Vangelis had pushed back in his chair and was trying to remain upright, his hands gripping the table so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His face was pale and his eyes wide and he seemed to be having trouble breathing. “Mother ...” she whispered, “Something's wrong with Vang.”
When he collapsed to his knees, time seemed to slow to a crawl. Everything appeared surreal as if she was viewing the world through a dark and frightening haze. She knelt beside her mother, watching him turn blue and gasp for air, her mind screaming that no, this could not be happening. Athanasia had just lost her father. She could not lose her eldest brother too. Had not her family been through enough? Trembling with fear for him, she closed her eyes and prayed to any God who might be listening to save him, to send somebody to him that could purge the poison … for that was what it must be … from his body.
There was a flurry of movement around her, and when she opened her eyes, Selene was kneeling next to him too, along with her sister-in-law Thea who seemed to know what to do. Yes, she knew a lot about herbs and healing. She would be able to help him. He would not die. He could not die. His family and his kingdom needed him. She needed him.
Evras suddenly pushed Dion toward her and told her to take care of him. She would rather have fetched some of the ingredients that Thea had called for, needing action to deal with her terror and the pounding of her heart. But her nephew was important too, and perhaps she could assist Vangelis best by taking care of him so that his mother could help her sister save him. “He'll be safe with me. Evras. I promise.”
Standing up, she took the child by the hand and led him to the far end of the table, trying to shield him from the sight of his uncle's struggle for life. There was nowhere else to go, as guards surrounded the royal family while keeping the other guests away. Athanasia answered his whispered query and assured him that his uncle would be all right. Being strong for Dion helped her to believe her own words and increase her hope. The Gods would not let Vang die.
Speaking softly to Dion, she kept an eye on what was going on around her brother. but she couldn't see much through all the people gathered around him. Her mind was with Vangelis but she was determined to keep Dion from harm. She had told him not to eat anything, that they would be able to finish their meal later, though she doubted that anybody would want to eat after this.
Looking out over the hall, she glanced toward the Thanasi table, trying to catch Lord Mihall's eye. Maybe he would be allowed onto the dais to help her with their nephew.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Had Vangelis just smiled at her? It was said the Stone King never smiled, but there is was, a soft curling of his lips as he looked at her. Of course, Athanasia had seen him smile before at home, but never in a public place with so many people watching him. Yet from the way his head was turned, nobody would have noticed it but her. After the ride they had recently shared, the princess felt as if her relationship with Vangelis was changing, that they were finally on their way to becoming as close as she had always wanted them to be.
Unlike her other brothers, he had been gone for much of her life. While not exactly distant, he had never spent much time with her. She had been afraid when she had approached him on the ship and had told him about Lord Silanos kissing her at the market. He had given her some good advice, and had compared her to a beautiful, unattainable horizon and reminded her that she was an important representative of Colchis and belonged to her family and kingdom. It had been, perhaps, an elegantly-worded chastisement, but she had understood. Sometimes she still thought of that conversation, turning it over and over in her mind and cherishing every moment of it.
Was that why she had looked to the table where Imeeya and Lord Silanos sat? She shook her head and turned to her mother who had just spoken to her. They conversed quietly as they ate, at least until she noticed a sudden movement on Queen Yanni's other side. Vangelis had pushed back in his chair and was trying to remain upright, his hands gripping the table so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His face was pale and his eyes wide and he seemed to be having trouble breathing. “Mother ...” she whispered, “Something's wrong with Vang.”
When he collapsed to his knees, time seemed to slow to a crawl. Everything appeared surreal as if she was viewing the world through a dark and frightening haze. She knelt beside her mother, watching him turn blue and gasp for air, her mind screaming that no, this could not be happening. Athanasia had just lost her father. She could not lose her eldest brother too. Had not her family been through enough? Trembling with fear for him, she closed her eyes and prayed to any God who might be listening to save him, to send somebody to him that could purge the poison … for that was what it must be … from his body.
There was a flurry of movement around her, and when she opened her eyes, Selene was kneeling next to him too, along with her sister-in-law Thea who seemed to know what to do. Yes, she knew a lot about herbs and healing. She would be able to help him. He would not die. He could not die. His family and his kingdom needed him. She needed him.
Evras suddenly pushed Dion toward her and told her to take care of him. She would rather have fetched some of the ingredients that Thea had called for, needing action to deal with her terror and the pounding of her heart. But her nephew was important too, and perhaps she could assist Vangelis best by taking care of him so that his mother could help her sister save him. “He'll be safe with me. Evras. I promise.”
Standing up, she took the child by the hand and led him to the far end of the table, trying to shield him from the sight of his uncle's struggle for life. There was nowhere else to go, as guards surrounded the royal family while keeping the other guests away. Athanasia answered his whispered query and assured him that his uncle would be all right. Being strong for Dion helped her to believe her own words and increase her hope. The Gods would not let Vang die.
Speaking softly to Dion, she kept an eye on what was going on around her brother. but she couldn't see much through all the people gathered around him. Her mind was with Vangelis but she was determined to keep Dion from harm. She had told him not to eat anything, that they would be able to finish their meal later, though she doubted that anybody would want to eat after this.
Looking out over the hall, she glanced toward the Thanasi table, trying to catch Lord Mihall's eye. Maybe he would be allowed onto the dais to help her with their nephew.
Had Vangelis just smiled at her? It was said the Stone King never smiled, but there is was, a soft curling of his lips as he looked at her. Of course, Athanasia had seen him smile before at home, but never in a public place with so many people watching him. Yet from the way his head was turned, nobody would have noticed it but her. After the ride they had recently shared, the princess felt as if her relationship with Vangelis was changing, that they were finally on their way to becoming as close as she had always wanted them to be.
Unlike her other brothers, he had been gone for much of her life. While not exactly distant, he had never spent much time with her. She had been afraid when she had approached him on the ship and had told him about Lord Silanos kissing her at the market. He had given her some good advice, and had compared her to a beautiful, unattainable horizon and reminded her that she was an important representative of Colchis and belonged to her family and kingdom. It had been, perhaps, an elegantly-worded chastisement, but she had understood. Sometimes she still thought of that conversation, turning it over and over in her mind and cherishing every moment of it.
Was that why she had looked to the table where Imeeya and Lord Silanos sat? She shook her head and turned to her mother who had just spoken to her. They conversed quietly as they ate, at least until she noticed a sudden movement on Queen Yanni's other side. Vangelis had pushed back in his chair and was trying to remain upright, his hands gripping the table so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His face was pale and his eyes wide and he seemed to be having trouble breathing. “Mother ...” she whispered, “Something's wrong with Vang.”
When he collapsed to his knees, time seemed to slow to a crawl. Everything appeared surreal as if she was viewing the world through a dark and frightening haze. She knelt beside her mother, watching him turn blue and gasp for air, her mind screaming that no, this could not be happening. Athanasia had just lost her father. She could not lose her eldest brother too. Had not her family been through enough? Trembling with fear for him, she closed her eyes and prayed to any God who might be listening to save him, to send somebody to him that could purge the poison … for that was what it must be … from his body.
There was a flurry of movement around her, and when she opened her eyes, Selene was kneeling next to him too, along with her sister-in-law Thea who seemed to know what to do. Yes, she knew a lot about herbs and healing. She would be able to help him. He would not die. He could not die. His family and his kingdom needed him. She needed him.
Evras suddenly pushed Dion toward her and told her to take care of him. She would rather have fetched some of the ingredients that Thea had called for, needing action to deal with her terror and the pounding of her heart. But her nephew was important too, and perhaps she could assist Vangelis best by taking care of him so that his mother could help her sister save him. “He'll be safe with me. Evras. I promise.”
Standing up, she took the child by the hand and led him to the far end of the table, trying to shield him from the sight of his uncle's struggle for life. There was nowhere else to go, as guards surrounded the royal family while keeping the other guests away. Athanasia answered his whispered query and assured him that his uncle would be all right. Being strong for Dion helped her to believe her own words and increase her hope. The Gods would not let Vang die.
Speaking softly to Dion, she kept an eye on what was going on around her brother. but she couldn't see much through all the people gathered around him. Her mind was with Vangelis but she was determined to keep Dion from harm. She had told him not to eat anything, that they would be able to finish their meal later, though she doubted that anybody would want to eat after this.
Looking out over the hall, she glanced toward the Thanasi table, trying to catch Lord Mihall's eye. Maybe he would be allowed onto the dais to help her with their nephew.