The chatbox has been hidden for this page. It will reopen upon refresh. To hide the CBox permanently, select "Permanently Toggle Cbox" in your profile User Settings.
This chatbox is hidden. To reopen, edit your User Settings.
Circenia couldn’t believe the sight that met her eyes as Elias waltzed into the house, pushing past newly repaired doors as if he wasn’t the reason for their repair. She hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him in days, and even then, it had been from a distance. Since his move into the Palati, her son could rarely be bothered to call on his family unless they deigned to seek him out. The princess was the only one who seemed to do so with any regularity anymore, but even her once frequent visits had started to dwindle. She simply couldn’t look at Elias’s face without wanting to spit with rage.
She’d had such high hopes for the man—boy—in front of her since the moment he came into this world, a precious babe who’d peered at her with such calm curiosity when the midwife first placed him in her arms. A royal child, strong, beautiful, and utterly perfect. Perhaps she’d indulged him more than she ought. Perhaps she’d coddled him a little more than necessary. But Circenia wanted to ensure her only son’s future was secure. ‘Bound for glory’ were the Stravos words, and she would do everything in her power to make sure that’s exactly where Elias was headed.
Never had she been so let down.
Circenia had always been clever and cunning, possessing a vast intuitive intellect that had served her well since she was a child. She could read people with a sharp acuity that was almost unsettling, gifted in seeing through false intentions and sussing out the real meanings behind pretty lies. But a mother’s blind devotion was her downfall. She was consciously aware of her son’s faults—how could she not be? But awareness and acceptance were not one and the same when it came to Elias. All flaws could be overlooked, so long as he came out the victor in the end.
Victory was within their grasp, but misstep after misstep had taken it all from them once and threatened to do so again. Once Elias had secured the Palati, she was sure that meant the worst was over. That with the crown practically in his lap, he would take on the responsibility it demanded and show Athenia why Persephone’s ascension had been a mistake. But once the prize was his, her son seemed to forget all else that accompanied it. He wanted the trappings of king, but none of the sacrifice that demanded. None of the obligations that such a position required.
She should have known. But who has never been blinded by love?
“The citizens starve, the Senate’s doors remain closed, and the nobles whisper foul words of the Stravos, yet here comes my son, the very cause of those whispers, reeking of wine and swaggering with a pride he thinks he deserves.”
Circenia was not one to mince words, and her patience had long since dissolved. Stepping close, the princess moved to intercept Elias’s path before he could go deeper into the house. “You have exactly three minutes to explain to me why I shouldn’t shove you right back out that door,” she hissed in his face, her rage palpable in the flush of her cheeks, the darkening of her eyes. “And I suggest you make it really good, Elias, because I’ve had about enough of your godsdamned excuses.”
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
“You have a lot of nerve, boy.”
Circenia couldn’t believe the sight that met her eyes as Elias waltzed into the house, pushing past newly repaired doors as if he wasn’t the reason for their repair. She hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him in days, and even then, it had been from a distance. Since his move into the Palati, her son could rarely be bothered to call on his family unless they deigned to seek him out. The princess was the only one who seemed to do so with any regularity anymore, but even her once frequent visits had started to dwindle. She simply couldn’t look at Elias’s face without wanting to spit with rage.
She’d had such high hopes for the man—boy—in front of her since the moment he came into this world, a precious babe who’d peered at her with such calm curiosity when the midwife first placed him in her arms. A royal child, strong, beautiful, and utterly perfect. Perhaps she’d indulged him more than she ought. Perhaps she’d coddled him a little more than necessary. But Circenia wanted to ensure her only son’s future was secure. ‘Bound for glory’ were the Stravos words, and she would do everything in her power to make sure that’s exactly where Elias was headed.
Never had she been so let down.
Circenia had always been clever and cunning, possessing a vast intuitive intellect that had served her well since she was a child. She could read people with a sharp acuity that was almost unsettling, gifted in seeing through false intentions and sussing out the real meanings behind pretty lies. But a mother’s blind devotion was her downfall. She was consciously aware of her son’s faults—how could she not be? But awareness and acceptance were not one and the same when it came to Elias. All flaws could be overlooked, so long as he came out the victor in the end.
Victory was within their grasp, but misstep after misstep had taken it all from them once and threatened to do so again. Once Elias had secured the Palati, she was sure that meant the worst was over. That with the crown practically in his lap, he would take on the responsibility it demanded and show Athenia why Persephone’s ascension had been a mistake. But once the prize was his, her son seemed to forget all else that accompanied it. He wanted the trappings of king, but none of the sacrifice that demanded. None of the obligations that such a position required.
She should have known. But who has never been blinded by love?
“The citizens starve, the Senate’s doors remain closed, and the nobles whisper foul words of the Stravos, yet here comes my son, the very cause of those whispers, reeking of wine and swaggering with a pride he thinks he deserves.”
Circenia was not one to mince words, and her patience had long since dissolved. Stepping close, the princess moved to intercept Elias’s path before he could go deeper into the house. “You have exactly three minutes to explain to me why I shouldn’t shove you right back out that door,” she hissed in his face, her rage palpable in the flush of her cheeks, the darkening of her eyes. “And I suggest you make it really good, Elias, because I’ve had about enough of your godsdamned excuses.”
“You have a lot of nerve, boy.”
Circenia couldn’t believe the sight that met her eyes as Elias waltzed into the house, pushing past newly repaired doors as if he wasn’t the reason for their repair. She hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him in days, and even then, it had been from a distance. Since his move into the Palati, her son could rarely be bothered to call on his family unless they deigned to seek him out. The princess was the only one who seemed to do so with any regularity anymore, but even her once frequent visits had started to dwindle. She simply couldn’t look at Elias’s face without wanting to spit with rage.
She’d had such high hopes for the man—boy—in front of her since the moment he came into this world, a precious babe who’d peered at her with such calm curiosity when the midwife first placed him in her arms. A royal child, strong, beautiful, and utterly perfect. Perhaps she’d indulged him more than she ought. Perhaps she’d coddled him a little more than necessary. But Circenia wanted to ensure her only son’s future was secure. ‘Bound for glory’ were the Stravos words, and she would do everything in her power to make sure that’s exactly where Elias was headed.
Never had she been so let down.
Circenia had always been clever and cunning, possessing a vast intuitive intellect that had served her well since she was a child. She could read people with a sharp acuity that was almost unsettling, gifted in seeing through false intentions and sussing out the real meanings behind pretty lies. But a mother’s blind devotion was her downfall. She was consciously aware of her son’s faults—how could she not be? But awareness and acceptance were not one and the same when it came to Elias. All flaws could be overlooked, so long as he came out the victor in the end.
Victory was within their grasp, but misstep after misstep had taken it all from them once and threatened to do so again. Once Elias had secured the Palati, she was sure that meant the worst was over. That with the crown practically in his lap, he would take on the responsibility it demanded and show Athenia why Persephone’s ascension had been a mistake. But once the prize was his, her son seemed to forget all else that accompanied it. He wanted the trappings of king, but none of the sacrifice that demanded. None of the obligations that such a position required.
She should have known. But who has never been blinded by love?
“The citizens starve, the Senate’s doors remain closed, and the nobles whisper foul words of the Stravos, yet here comes my son, the very cause of those whispers, reeking of wine and swaggering with a pride he thinks he deserves.”
Circenia was not one to mince words, and her patience had long since dissolved. Stepping close, the princess moved to intercept Elias’s path before he could go deeper into the house. “You have exactly three minutes to explain to me why I shouldn’t shove you right back out that door,” she hissed in his face, her rage palpable in the flush of her cheeks, the darkening of her eyes. “And I suggest you make it really good, Elias, because I’ve had about enough of your godsdamned excuses.”
Family was a wound that tore into the heart of the dependent.
For Elias, he knew his dependence on those that would have his head for his mistakes, the mounting nature of his ineptitudes weighing on the young man greatly. Elias of Stravos was a specter that dwelled within the Palati, truthfully neither a part of it, nor separate from it. The fact that the Stravos felt discomfort, not for the lavishness of his home, for he'd always known such a life, but because it was not fully his. How Elias craved the throne. How he'd thrown resource after resource, enacted espionage and acts of treason in order to put himself in a position to claim it, only to be thwarted for them all was enough to drive the spoiled heir to Stravos on edge. However, what wounded the boy most was the severity with which those few that, under ideal circumstances, he might trust implicitly, met his gaze. Elias was a danger, a stranger, and more than everything else, the downfall of Stravos. Though clever ploys had pulled the house into the limelight of Athenian nobility again, the scars of their disgrace were clear for anyone who took a moment to study them.
For Elias, those scars were abundantly clear. House Stravos was once laden with foreign furnishings, making what was once an old theater house into the majesty befitting the fiercest of the royal houses. Now, the place was barren, still holding vestiges of its former regality, but nonetheless. Elias drank to each of the pieces that were sold to recoup wealth lost. He drank to each error he'd made in his descent from playboy baron into treasonous curr. He drank for every night he spent languishing within the Palati, nursing the wounds born from his own incompetence. And by the time he'd drank for all of that, Elias was quite drunk, indeed. The world was a blur even as his sinewy form stumbled from room to room. He'd passed by his mother when entering the Stravos estate, reeking of liquor and eyes glazed over with the trappings of intoxication.
"Do I?" he asked of his mother when she deigned it appropriate to speak to him. Elias was thrown onto a fine chair, likely a downgraded replacement for the plush seats he'd known in his youth. His legs were kicked up into another chair, a half-empty bottle glistening in the dim light, hovering closer and closer to his lips before he set it down on the floor. He stumbled forward, catching himself just in time with a hand to the ground. Harsh, berating laughter escaped his lips, and it took a show of strength for the man to return to his previous position.
Elias didn't look away from his mother as she spoke, her words a scathing reminder to the reality that he was, perhaps, losing the love (for respect was very likely far away and gone) of the person who he demanded of it the most from. Elias' lips pursed as he crossed his arms, allowing the princess to finish humiliating him. He allowed her to speak, uninterrupted as the sign of his ultimate respect. For with Elias, speaking was a privilege assigned only to those who very much deserved to be heard. And, for once, the humiliated heir decided to be quite plain. Anger was evident in the tremors that set through him, the firewater burning within his stomach, the chill permeating against his chest as a sheen of damp sweat sharpened his perceptions. Honed as the edge of a fiery spear, Elias detested the truths even as he invalidated them with his internal excuses.
"Nobles will whisper foul words of whatever sow couldn't keep her legs together the night before. Whispers are all that they will ever be. Let the Senators ask their darling Emilia to summon them. Bloated fools feast on their bullion while their lessers starve, and yet it is I that they whisper about in the night!" he shouted out. Fists were balled as he reflexively reached for the bottle. Elias took a breath, shaking with the rage Circenia's words pulled from the depths of his chest. Anger did not befit him, it brought from him a semblance of childishness that his impeccable beauty might deny others the knowledge of. Elias pushed back against the plush back of his seat, feeling trapped in his space as he added,
"There is no pride to be had in this position of mine. The last rock on the climb for power holds the sharpest edge. I've cut open my hands, mother, but I certainly haven't let go just yet."
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
Family was a wound that tore into the heart of the dependent.
For Elias, he knew his dependence on those that would have his head for his mistakes, the mounting nature of his ineptitudes weighing on the young man greatly. Elias of Stravos was a specter that dwelled within the Palati, truthfully neither a part of it, nor separate from it. The fact that the Stravos felt discomfort, not for the lavishness of his home, for he'd always known such a life, but because it was not fully his. How Elias craved the throne. How he'd thrown resource after resource, enacted espionage and acts of treason in order to put himself in a position to claim it, only to be thwarted for them all was enough to drive the spoiled heir to Stravos on edge. However, what wounded the boy most was the severity with which those few that, under ideal circumstances, he might trust implicitly, met his gaze. Elias was a danger, a stranger, and more than everything else, the downfall of Stravos. Though clever ploys had pulled the house into the limelight of Athenian nobility again, the scars of their disgrace were clear for anyone who took a moment to study them.
For Elias, those scars were abundantly clear. House Stravos was once laden with foreign furnishings, making what was once an old theater house into the majesty befitting the fiercest of the royal houses. Now, the place was barren, still holding vestiges of its former regality, but nonetheless. Elias drank to each of the pieces that were sold to recoup wealth lost. He drank to each error he'd made in his descent from playboy baron into treasonous curr. He drank for every night he spent languishing within the Palati, nursing the wounds born from his own incompetence. And by the time he'd drank for all of that, Elias was quite drunk, indeed. The world was a blur even as his sinewy form stumbled from room to room. He'd passed by his mother when entering the Stravos estate, reeking of liquor and eyes glazed over with the trappings of intoxication.
"Do I?" he asked of his mother when she deigned it appropriate to speak to him. Elias was thrown onto a fine chair, likely a downgraded replacement for the plush seats he'd known in his youth. His legs were kicked up into another chair, a half-empty bottle glistening in the dim light, hovering closer and closer to his lips before he set it down on the floor. He stumbled forward, catching himself just in time with a hand to the ground. Harsh, berating laughter escaped his lips, and it took a show of strength for the man to return to his previous position.
Elias didn't look away from his mother as she spoke, her words a scathing reminder to the reality that he was, perhaps, losing the love (for respect was very likely far away and gone) of the person who he demanded of it the most from. Elias' lips pursed as he crossed his arms, allowing the princess to finish humiliating him. He allowed her to speak, uninterrupted as the sign of his ultimate respect. For with Elias, speaking was a privilege assigned only to those who very much deserved to be heard. And, for once, the humiliated heir decided to be quite plain. Anger was evident in the tremors that set through him, the firewater burning within his stomach, the chill permeating against his chest as a sheen of damp sweat sharpened his perceptions. Honed as the edge of a fiery spear, Elias detested the truths even as he invalidated them with his internal excuses.
"Nobles will whisper foul words of whatever sow couldn't keep her legs together the night before. Whispers are all that they will ever be. Let the Senators ask their darling Emilia to summon them. Bloated fools feast on their bullion while their lessers starve, and yet it is I that they whisper about in the night!" he shouted out. Fists were balled as he reflexively reached for the bottle. Elias took a breath, shaking with the rage Circenia's words pulled from the depths of his chest. Anger did not befit him, it brought from him a semblance of childishness that his impeccable beauty might deny others the knowledge of. Elias pushed back against the plush back of his seat, feeling trapped in his space as he added,
"There is no pride to be had in this position of mine. The last rock on the climb for power holds the sharpest edge. I've cut open my hands, mother, but I certainly haven't let go just yet."
Family was a wound that tore into the heart of the dependent.
For Elias, he knew his dependence on those that would have his head for his mistakes, the mounting nature of his ineptitudes weighing on the young man greatly. Elias of Stravos was a specter that dwelled within the Palati, truthfully neither a part of it, nor separate from it. The fact that the Stravos felt discomfort, not for the lavishness of his home, for he'd always known such a life, but because it was not fully his. How Elias craved the throne. How he'd thrown resource after resource, enacted espionage and acts of treason in order to put himself in a position to claim it, only to be thwarted for them all was enough to drive the spoiled heir to Stravos on edge. However, what wounded the boy most was the severity with which those few that, under ideal circumstances, he might trust implicitly, met his gaze. Elias was a danger, a stranger, and more than everything else, the downfall of Stravos. Though clever ploys had pulled the house into the limelight of Athenian nobility again, the scars of their disgrace were clear for anyone who took a moment to study them.
For Elias, those scars were abundantly clear. House Stravos was once laden with foreign furnishings, making what was once an old theater house into the majesty befitting the fiercest of the royal houses. Now, the place was barren, still holding vestiges of its former regality, but nonetheless. Elias drank to each of the pieces that were sold to recoup wealth lost. He drank to each error he'd made in his descent from playboy baron into treasonous curr. He drank for every night he spent languishing within the Palati, nursing the wounds born from his own incompetence. And by the time he'd drank for all of that, Elias was quite drunk, indeed. The world was a blur even as his sinewy form stumbled from room to room. He'd passed by his mother when entering the Stravos estate, reeking of liquor and eyes glazed over with the trappings of intoxication.
"Do I?" he asked of his mother when she deigned it appropriate to speak to him. Elias was thrown onto a fine chair, likely a downgraded replacement for the plush seats he'd known in his youth. His legs were kicked up into another chair, a half-empty bottle glistening in the dim light, hovering closer and closer to his lips before he set it down on the floor. He stumbled forward, catching himself just in time with a hand to the ground. Harsh, berating laughter escaped his lips, and it took a show of strength for the man to return to his previous position.
Elias didn't look away from his mother as she spoke, her words a scathing reminder to the reality that he was, perhaps, losing the love (for respect was very likely far away and gone) of the person who he demanded of it the most from. Elias' lips pursed as he crossed his arms, allowing the princess to finish humiliating him. He allowed her to speak, uninterrupted as the sign of his ultimate respect. For with Elias, speaking was a privilege assigned only to those who very much deserved to be heard. And, for once, the humiliated heir decided to be quite plain. Anger was evident in the tremors that set through him, the firewater burning within his stomach, the chill permeating against his chest as a sheen of damp sweat sharpened his perceptions. Honed as the edge of a fiery spear, Elias detested the truths even as he invalidated them with his internal excuses.
"Nobles will whisper foul words of whatever sow couldn't keep her legs together the night before. Whispers are all that they will ever be. Let the Senators ask their darling Emilia to summon them. Bloated fools feast on their bullion while their lessers starve, and yet it is I that they whisper about in the night!" he shouted out. Fists were balled as he reflexively reached for the bottle. Elias took a breath, shaking with the rage Circenia's words pulled from the depths of his chest. Anger did not befit him, it brought from him a semblance of childishness that his impeccable beauty might deny others the knowledge of. Elias pushed back against the plush back of his seat, feeling trapped in his space as he added,
"There is no pride to be had in this position of mine. The last rock on the climb for power holds the sharpest edge. I've cut open my hands, mother, but I certainly haven't let go just yet."
The princess could feel Elias’s anger like an inferno built up within the forge, but in the face of Circenia’s own rage, it was nothing more than a warm breeze. All pity she might have had for her defeated son had long since dried up, gone with the last of the food that the common folk still begged for. Unflinching and rigid, she listened to his shouting, her facial expression never shifting. His words might have moved her once, but no longer. Her patience was gone like water through a sieve.
“Do you think you are undeserving of those whispers?” she snapped back, leaning in to grasp his chiseled face with an unrelenting hand. “Do you think their words are untrue? Because, Elias, there isn’t a whisper that drifts through the Palati halls that I do not hear, and let me tell you, not a word of it is a lie!” She shook his face none too gently, half tempted to shake it hard enough that she felt his neck crack. “Blame your ineptitude and inaction on Emilia all you like, but the Court will only accept it for so long! Do you not understand the magnitude of the problems you are facing, or do you simply not care?!”
Her grip was tight enough to leave little fingertip-shaped bruises along his cheeks, shaking him again for emphasis. “You dismiss their whispers and their inaction as if they are ones with any responsibility, but they are not! They cannot take action when the door of the Senate remains locked to them, and so they are supposed to look to you for guidance. You are supposed to be their leader, their beacon, and yet here you sit, in my house, piss drunk with a bottle of wine at your feet while you lament your own mistakes.”
Finally releasing his face, Circenia snatched up the bottle in question and smashed it against the wall, heedless of both the echo it produced and the maroon liquid that sluggishly dripped down the once pristine wall. She shook the broken fragment she held at him. “This will not solve your problems, Elias, and if those same nobles you speak of so disdainfully could see you now, they’d lose any respect for you they might have left. You cannot alienate the men you are meant to rule, and you cannot drink away your problems as if they don’t exist. The Queen is gone. We saw fit to that. And now you must take up the mantle she left behind.”
Casting away the broken bottle so that it joined the rest of its remnants on the floor, she glared down at her son. “Speak all the pretty words you like, my boy, and tell me how you’ve been wounded, but words mean nothing without action behind them. If you cannot prove that you are fit to be king, I swear by all the gods above and below that I will find a way to put one of your sisters on the throne instead. The Stravos name will not go up in flames because my son was too foolish to understand what being a king actually means.”
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
The princess could feel Elias’s anger like an inferno built up within the forge, but in the face of Circenia’s own rage, it was nothing more than a warm breeze. All pity she might have had for her defeated son had long since dried up, gone with the last of the food that the common folk still begged for. Unflinching and rigid, she listened to his shouting, her facial expression never shifting. His words might have moved her once, but no longer. Her patience was gone like water through a sieve.
“Do you think you are undeserving of those whispers?” she snapped back, leaning in to grasp his chiseled face with an unrelenting hand. “Do you think their words are untrue? Because, Elias, there isn’t a whisper that drifts through the Palati halls that I do not hear, and let me tell you, not a word of it is a lie!” She shook his face none too gently, half tempted to shake it hard enough that she felt his neck crack. “Blame your ineptitude and inaction on Emilia all you like, but the Court will only accept it for so long! Do you not understand the magnitude of the problems you are facing, or do you simply not care?!”
Her grip was tight enough to leave little fingertip-shaped bruises along his cheeks, shaking him again for emphasis. “You dismiss their whispers and their inaction as if they are ones with any responsibility, but they are not! They cannot take action when the door of the Senate remains locked to them, and so they are supposed to look to you for guidance. You are supposed to be their leader, their beacon, and yet here you sit, in my house, piss drunk with a bottle of wine at your feet while you lament your own mistakes.”
Finally releasing his face, Circenia snatched up the bottle in question and smashed it against the wall, heedless of both the echo it produced and the maroon liquid that sluggishly dripped down the once pristine wall. She shook the broken fragment she held at him. “This will not solve your problems, Elias, and if those same nobles you speak of so disdainfully could see you now, they’d lose any respect for you they might have left. You cannot alienate the men you are meant to rule, and you cannot drink away your problems as if they don’t exist. The Queen is gone. We saw fit to that. And now you must take up the mantle she left behind.”
Casting away the broken bottle so that it joined the rest of its remnants on the floor, she glared down at her son. “Speak all the pretty words you like, my boy, and tell me how you’ve been wounded, but words mean nothing without action behind them. If you cannot prove that you are fit to be king, I swear by all the gods above and below that I will find a way to put one of your sisters on the throne instead. The Stravos name will not go up in flames because my son was too foolish to understand what being a king actually means.”
The princess could feel Elias’s anger like an inferno built up within the forge, but in the face of Circenia’s own rage, it was nothing more than a warm breeze. All pity she might have had for her defeated son had long since dried up, gone with the last of the food that the common folk still begged for. Unflinching and rigid, she listened to his shouting, her facial expression never shifting. His words might have moved her once, but no longer. Her patience was gone like water through a sieve.
“Do you think you are undeserving of those whispers?” she snapped back, leaning in to grasp his chiseled face with an unrelenting hand. “Do you think their words are untrue? Because, Elias, there isn’t a whisper that drifts through the Palati halls that I do not hear, and let me tell you, not a word of it is a lie!” She shook his face none too gently, half tempted to shake it hard enough that she felt his neck crack. “Blame your ineptitude and inaction on Emilia all you like, but the Court will only accept it for so long! Do you not understand the magnitude of the problems you are facing, or do you simply not care?!”
Her grip was tight enough to leave little fingertip-shaped bruises along his cheeks, shaking him again for emphasis. “You dismiss their whispers and their inaction as if they are ones with any responsibility, but they are not! They cannot take action when the door of the Senate remains locked to them, and so they are supposed to look to you for guidance. You are supposed to be their leader, their beacon, and yet here you sit, in my house, piss drunk with a bottle of wine at your feet while you lament your own mistakes.”
Finally releasing his face, Circenia snatched up the bottle in question and smashed it against the wall, heedless of both the echo it produced and the maroon liquid that sluggishly dripped down the once pristine wall. She shook the broken fragment she held at him. “This will not solve your problems, Elias, and if those same nobles you speak of so disdainfully could see you now, they’d lose any respect for you they might have left. You cannot alienate the men you are meant to rule, and you cannot drink away your problems as if they don’t exist. The Queen is gone. We saw fit to that. And now you must take up the mantle she left behind.”
Casting away the broken bottle so that it joined the rest of its remnants on the floor, she glared down at her son. “Speak all the pretty words you like, my boy, and tell me how you’ve been wounded, but words mean nothing without action behind them. If you cannot prove that you are fit to be king, I swear by all the gods above and below that I will find a way to put one of your sisters on the throne instead. The Stravos name will not go up in flames because my son was too foolish to understand what being a king actually means.”
Keikelius had holed himself up in his study in the early morning hours, looking through missives and ledgers. His business ventures were very much afloat, but they were still struggling with all of their main assets frozen. It had been a few weeks, but if this lasted any longer, the Stravos were likely to find themselves destitute. Not to mention their name had been dragged so completely through the mud that the number of clients willing to do business with the family had dropped to a meager level.
The Master of Trade wanted to rip his hair out. Not only were his own business ventures at a standstill, but he had been kept from the Senate and from vital votes that would keep trade moving in and out of the Kingdom, for the betterment of the Kingdom. His own thoughts had long drifted to his anger toward Elias for the way that he had destroyed his entire family's existence, but he couldn't keep blaming his son. This was, in fact, Elias' fault... but there would soon be more pressing matters to think of.
Soon enough, there would be growing dissent and disloyalty blooming within the nobility and royalty as well as the lower classes. If there wasn't already. The more enemies that Elias found, the more likely it would be for the entire family to be buried before the year was over. If not because they would starve to death or all be sentenced for treason, but because even good people did heinous things when their lives were threatened. It would not be long before it was not just Elias that was a target, and many would not be keen to keep them alive simply for the very sake of their connection to their usurper. The man who, under the guise of giving aid to Princess Emilia, was very clearly in control of everything within Athenia.
And was squandering it.
He remained locked up in his study well into the afternoon, only stirring from his thoughts, plans, and work when he heard another person enter the home. Through the doors that he had had to spend a fortune on to replace. Hyper aware of everyone that moved about his home now that it had been mobbed, Keikelius pushed from his chair, reaching for the sword that he kept beside him at all times. He breathed in slowly and then took the steps slowly, moving to the main floor. The man paused when he heard the voice of his wife, hissing and angry at someone.
He was quietly able to figure out that that person was his son. But he did not move into the doorway or make even a single sound, considering the words that both angry participants made toward each other as the conversation continued. His wife liked to speak over people, which he generally allowed because she was all logic and cunning. Besides, no one truly controlled the princess. He had never tried, and he never would. However, it was Elias' assertaions that everything wasn't his own fault that had Keikelius' mind flying through various thoughts and decisions. One after the other.
Leaning his sword against the wall, leaving it behind, Keikelius skirted into the archway of the living space. He still wrinkled his nose at the barren nature of it, so used to it being full of rich, precious furniture and artwork. He found that he had rather liked it that way, and seeing the home he had purchased with his own two hands so empty and nearly lifeless was an affront to all of the work he had put into making his family successful. his dark gaze fixated on his only son, but he did not move any further.
The last time the two of them were in near proximity, Elias had nearly vomited on the floor because Keikelius had struck him so hard. Crossing his arms against his chest, Keikelius stared at his wife's back for a moment before letting his gaze slide back to his drunken son. Having heard the smashing of glass against the wall, a servant rushed toward the room, but Keikelius put a hand out to stop her.
"That will be all. We'll use this moment as one of teaching, if you don't mind," Keikelius instructed the servant girl. A clever smile lit his features as he thought of a way to teach a proper lesson that did not contain the violence he wanted to continue to rain down upon his child.
Having already spoken, and having made his presence known, Keikelius stepped further into the room. "A prideful man is a man who uses excuses and blames others for their failures. You speaking of having no pride in your position makes you look a prideful fool," Keikelius said very calmly, having found a good handle on his own anger since the last time they were in a room together. "Or a pitiful child. I've yet to figure out which best explains the behavior," Keikelius noted, taking one of the chairs from the side of the room, planting it beside Circenia, and then sitting down.
"But since you're here, I think we can take this moment for a little refresher from when you were... what... six? Seven?" the Stravos lord hummed, almost lazily; the way he said things when he knew he was to find a serene enjoyment in the scene that would soon play out before him. Because he would. If Elias was so intent on acting the victim when he had come this far, lessons would be learned, and new motivation would be found. "Stand up," Keikelius motioned, settling into his chair into an almost lazy, coy position. "Your governness taught you how to clean up messes, right? Yours and other people's. It was part of what we wanted you to learn. Silver spoons in mouths mean nothing if you do not have the wherewithal and knowledge of how to take care of and clean up after yourself."
"So stand up, son," his fingers tapped on the arm of the chair, seeming to dare Elias to disobey him. He had, afterall, walked into a home that had long ceased to be his when his trechery and laziness had caused his family so much strife. "And pick up all of the glass. Each and every piece with your own two hands," Keikelius said the words like an order to a little boy. "And if you tell me that you did not make this mess, I will punish you as I would a toddler. You do not get anywhere in life by refusing to step up and do more than what is expected of you. You especially do not get to touch a crown if you aren't willing to go the distance."
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
Keikelius had holed himself up in his study in the early morning hours, looking through missives and ledgers. His business ventures were very much afloat, but they were still struggling with all of their main assets frozen. It had been a few weeks, but if this lasted any longer, the Stravos were likely to find themselves destitute. Not to mention their name had been dragged so completely through the mud that the number of clients willing to do business with the family had dropped to a meager level.
The Master of Trade wanted to rip his hair out. Not only were his own business ventures at a standstill, but he had been kept from the Senate and from vital votes that would keep trade moving in and out of the Kingdom, for the betterment of the Kingdom. His own thoughts had long drifted to his anger toward Elias for the way that he had destroyed his entire family's existence, but he couldn't keep blaming his son. This was, in fact, Elias' fault... but there would soon be more pressing matters to think of.
Soon enough, there would be growing dissent and disloyalty blooming within the nobility and royalty as well as the lower classes. If there wasn't already. The more enemies that Elias found, the more likely it would be for the entire family to be buried before the year was over. If not because they would starve to death or all be sentenced for treason, but because even good people did heinous things when their lives were threatened. It would not be long before it was not just Elias that was a target, and many would not be keen to keep them alive simply for the very sake of their connection to their usurper. The man who, under the guise of giving aid to Princess Emilia, was very clearly in control of everything within Athenia.
And was squandering it.
He remained locked up in his study well into the afternoon, only stirring from his thoughts, plans, and work when he heard another person enter the home. Through the doors that he had had to spend a fortune on to replace. Hyper aware of everyone that moved about his home now that it had been mobbed, Keikelius pushed from his chair, reaching for the sword that he kept beside him at all times. He breathed in slowly and then took the steps slowly, moving to the main floor. The man paused when he heard the voice of his wife, hissing and angry at someone.
He was quietly able to figure out that that person was his son. But he did not move into the doorway or make even a single sound, considering the words that both angry participants made toward each other as the conversation continued. His wife liked to speak over people, which he generally allowed because she was all logic and cunning. Besides, no one truly controlled the princess. He had never tried, and he never would. However, it was Elias' assertaions that everything wasn't his own fault that had Keikelius' mind flying through various thoughts and decisions. One after the other.
Leaning his sword against the wall, leaving it behind, Keikelius skirted into the archway of the living space. He still wrinkled his nose at the barren nature of it, so used to it being full of rich, precious furniture and artwork. He found that he had rather liked it that way, and seeing the home he had purchased with his own two hands so empty and nearly lifeless was an affront to all of the work he had put into making his family successful. his dark gaze fixated on his only son, but he did not move any further.
The last time the two of them were in near proximity, Elias had nearly vomited on the floor because Keikelius had struck him so hard. Crossing his arms against his chest, Keikelius stared at his wife's back for a moment before letting his gaze slide back to his drunken son. Having heard the smashing of glass against the wall, a servant rushed toward the room, but Keikelius put a hand out to stop her.
"That will be all. We'll use this moment as one of teaching, if you don't mind," Keikelius instructed the servant girl. A clever smile lit his features as he thought of a way to teach a proper lesson that did not contain the violence he wanted to continue to rain down upon his child.
Having already spoken, and having made his presence known, Keikelius stepped further into the room. "A prideful man is a man who uses excuses and blames others for their failures. You speaking of having no pride in your position makes you look a prideful fool," Keikelius said very calmly, having found a good handle on his own anger since the last time they were in a room together. "Or a pitiful child. I've yet to figure out which best explains the behavior," Keikelius noted, taking one of the chairs from the side of the room, planting it beside Circenia, and then sitting down.
"But since you're here, I think we can take this moment for a little refresher from when you were... what... six? Seven?" the Stravos lord hummed, almost lazily; the way he said things when he knew he was to find a serene enjoyment in the scene that would soon play out before him. Because he would. If Elias was so intent on acting the victim when he had come this far, lessons would be learned, and new motivation would be found. "Stand up," Keikelius motioned, settling into his chair into an almost lazy, coy position. "Your governness taught you how to clean up messes, right? Yours and other people's. It was part of what we wanted you to learn. Silver spoons in mouths mean nothing if you do not have the wherewithal and knowledge of how to take care of and clean up after yourself."
"So stand up, son," his fingers tapped on the arm of the chair, seeming to dare Elias to disobey him. He had, afterall, walked into a home that had long ceased to be his when his trechery and laziness had caused his family so much strife. "And pick up all of the glass. Each and every piece with your own two hands," Keikelius said the words like an order to a little boy. "And if you tell me that you did not make this mess, I will punish you as I would a toddler. You do not get anywhere in life by refusing to step up and do more than what is expected of you. You especially do not get to touch a crown if you aren't willing to go the distance."
Keikelius had holed himself up in his study in the early morning hours, looking through missives and ledgers. His business ventures were very much afloat, but they were still struggling with all of their main assets frozen. It had been a few weeks, but if this lasted any longer, the Stravos were likely to find themselves destitute. Not to mention their name had been dragged so completely through the mud that the number of clients willing to do business with the family had dropped to a meager level.
The Master of Trade wanted to rip his hair out. Not only were his own business ventures at a standstill, but he had been kept from the Senate and from vital votes that would keep trade moving in and out of the Kingdom, for the betterment of the Kingdom. His own thoughts had long drifted to his anger toward Elias for the way that he had destroyed his entire family's existence, but he couldn't keep blaming his son. This was, in fact, Elias' fault... but there would soon be more pressing matters to think of.
Soon enough, there would be growing dissent and disloyalty blooming within the nobility and royalty as well as the lower classes. If there wasn't already. The more enemies that Elias found, the more likely it would be for the entire family to be buried before the year was over. If not because they would starve to death or all be sentenced for treason, but because even good people did heinous things when their lives were threatened. It would not be long before it was not just Elias that was a target, and many would not be keen to keep them alive simply for the very sake of their connection to their usurper. The man who, under the guise of giving aid to Princess Emilia, was very clearly in control of everything within Athenia.
And was squandering it.
He remained locked up in his study well into the afternoon, only stirring from his thoughts, plans, and work when he heard another person enter the home. Through the doors that he had had to spend a fortune on to replace. Hyper aware of everyone that moved about his home now that it had been mobbed, Keikelius pushed from his chair, reaching for the sword that he kept beside him at all times. He breathed in slowly and then took the steps slowly, moving to the main floor. The man paused when he heard the voice of his wife, hissing and angry at someone.
He was quietly able to figure out that that person was his son. But he did not move into the doorway or make even a single sound, considering the words that both angry participants made toward each other as the conversation continued. His wife liked to speak over people, which he generally allowed because she was all logic and cunning. Besides, no one truly controlled the princess. He had never tried, and he never would. However, it was Elias' assertaions that everything wasn't his own fault that had Keikelius' mind flying through various thoughts and decisions. One after the other.
Leaning his sword against the wall, leaving it behind, Keikelius skirted into the archway of the living space. He still wrinkled his nose at the barren nature of it, so used to it being full of rich, precious furniture and artwork. He found that he had rather liked it that way, and seeing the home he had purchased with his own two hands so empty and nearly lifeless was an affront to all of the work he had put into making his family successful. his dark gaze fixated on his only son, but he did not move any further.
The last time the two of them were in near proximity, Elias had nearly vomited on the floor because Keikelius had struck him so hard. Crossing his arms against his chest, Keikelius stared at his wife's back for a moment before letting his gaze slide back to his drunken son. Having heard the smashing of glass against the wall, a servant rushed toward the room, but Keikelius put a hand out to stop her.
"That will be all. We'll use this moment as one of teaching, if you don't mind," Keikelius instructed the servant girl. A clever smile lit his features as he thought of a way to teach a proper lesson that did not contain the violence he wanted to continue to rain down upon his child.
Having already spoken, and having made his presence known, Keikelius stepped further into the room. "A prideful man is a man who uses excuses and blames others for their failures. You speaking of having no pride in your position makes you look a prideful fool," Keikelius said very calmly, having found a good handle on his own anger since the last time they were in a room together. "Or a pitiful child. I've yet to figure out which best explains the behavior," Keikelius noted, taking one of the chairs from the side of the room, planting it beside Circenia, and then sitting down.
"But since you're here, I think we can take this moment for a little refresher from when you were... what... six? Seven?" the Stravos lord hummed, almost lazily; the way he said things when he knew he was to find a serene enjoyment in the scene that would soon play out before him. Because he would. If Elias was so intent on acting the victim when he had come this far, lessons would be learned, and new motivation would be found. "Stand up," Keikelius motioned, settling into his chair into an almost lazy, coy position. "Your governness taught you how to clean up messes, right? Yours and other people's. It was part of what we wanted you to learn. Silver spoons in mouths mean nothing if you do not have the wherewithal and knowledge of how to take care of and clean up after yourself."
"So stand up, son," his fingers tapped on the arm of the chair, seeming to dare Elias to disobey him. He had, afterall, walked into a home that had long ceased to be his when his trechery and laziness had caused his family so much strife. "And pick up all of the glass. Each and every piece with your own two hands," Keikelius said the words like an order to a little boy. "And if you tell me that you did not make this mess, I will punish you as I would a toddler. You do not get anywhere in life by refusing to step up and do more than what is expected of you. You especially do not get to touch a crown if you aren't willing to go the distance."
Half of the world could starve and Elias would be content to rule over the rest. Avarice had so wholly taken control of Elias' soul that it mattered little to him if the world he recovered from the ashes was intact or in tatters. Elias knew this in the pit within his chest that he might yet call a heart, but he'd never say such things aloud. No, Circenia and now Keikelius rode the wave of criticism and there was little pleasure to be written on any face within the hall of the Stravos house. It was pitiable, how little they could ascertain. How little they understood. Elias was making the best of his situation. Was it the best for the people of Athenia? No. Was it the best for the Stravos lineage?
Only time would tell.
Circenia manhandled him, and thought Elias might retch at the contact, bile rising in his throat before he forced it back down, he did not stop her. She'd have her fill of the violence before turning her eyes on another thing to destroy. Vindictive were those of Stravos blood, and vindictive Circenia proved herself to be. She went for his bottle, and he cringed at its confiscation.
While the name Stravos had been thrown into the mud, so too had the name Xanthos. Every day Elias heard the complaints of those ignorant of his control. How Emilia soaked the blame for his misdoings and with time, all of Athenia might forget Elias' treasonous nature, and throw themselves at his feet once the dissenting voices were silenced or otherwise expunged. Laughter tickled at the youngest Stravos' throat as Circenia sought to pluck at his heartstrings, at the embarrassment he might suffer to be seen in the dead of night in a drunken mess. After several moments, that laughter flowed unwillingly, as the bottle was thown against the wall, its sanguine fluid splattering to the floor with a mess of broken glass.
"Such a valuable bottle, taken from the palace itself," he lamented. Unlike the two in front of him, Elias suffered very little in the palace. There was no threat of starvation, no struggle with the rabble. He reveled in every moment of his intrusion in the grounds, the world of Athenia but an apple to be plucked from its tree and consumed to his satisfaction. Elias of Stravos rose from his seat, narrowing his gaze as his mother ceased speaking and his father followed the parade.
One of teaching? Elias mused, saying nothing and allowing his progenitors to vent out their ails. They twisted his words, shooting them back at him. Was it not human to lament? Was one not allowed a moment to indulge in their sorrows so as to overcome them? Elias could see the frustration as his narrowed, glazed eyes combed over each of their faces. There was hopelessness there, worry, disgrace. Keikelius and Circenia had their worlds dragged into the mud and Elias was to blame. Their boy who could do no wrong was likely seen as little more than a liability. A disappointment. Elias stood, but well after his father instructed him to. He chuckled when he was ordered to clean up after Circenia's outburst, shaking his head. The more that Keikelius spoke, the more that rebellion arose within him.
Elias recalled the Senate meeting after which his father had attacked him like a beast. The recollection burned at Elias, and rather than move further he crossed his arms in defiance. He wobbled just slightly before righting himself on the chair, his equilibrium shifting with each ragged breath he pulled into his lungs in turn. Those narrowed eyes widened before the laughter returned. His head tipped back, and his legs sought to catch underneath him. He turned away from Keikelius, disregarding the older man as he first addressed his mother. His father's tone thrust the rebellion within him, his features were hard as he answered, his tone soft but growing in firmness as he went on.
"It doesn't matter what I think I deserve. The whispers are just that, spoken at a coward's volume, thrown about whenever the fearful believe the ears around them are not mine to listen with,"
Elias waved his hands, lamenting again the loss of his drink with a sorrowful gaze before he began anew. Then, he shooed away what slaves were left eavesdropping about them. What Elias needed to say wasn't for lesser ears to be coaxed into sharing for shiny coins in enemy pockets.
"Have you ever ruled land to know what can and cannot be done? The people will believe whatever I fabricate for them to understand. Once the world was swept from beneath my feet, I've made my play. There is no crown to take, mother, and there's no number of enemies that will escape my notice. Dissent will be heard, and it will be addressed.
But, I'll pick up no such mess," he turned next to his father, moving further away from the both of them. Elias rested his back against a wall as he arched an eyebrow in question,
"You'll punish me, Keikelius?" he mused, placing direct emphasis on his father's name as he let the sneer build upon his lips. "Are you going to beat me again? It's the mark of true authority to wail on the drunk and expect them to learn their lesson. I'll take all of the notes I can so that one day I might be such a man."
Elias never turned his back, using his familiarity with the place he'd called home for so long to take him nearer and nearer to its entrance.
"I have nothing to learn from you, feel free to lament in your continued fears for Athenia's fate in my less than capable hands," he encouraged. There was no reason to trust. Neither of them were bound to believe his machinations, so engrossed by the emotional weight of their crafted tales of his inaction.
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
Half of the world could starve and Elias would be content to rule over the rest. Avarice had so wholly taken control of Elias' soul that it mattered little to him if the world he recovered from the ashes was intact or in tatters. Elias knew this in the pit within his chest that he might yet call a heart, but he'd never say such things aloud. No, Circenia and now Keikelius rode the wave of criticism and there was little pleasure to be written on any face within the hall of the Stravos house. It was pitiable, how little they could ascertain. How little they understood. Elias was making the best of his situation. Was it the best for the people of Athenia? No. Was it the best for the Stravos lineage?
Only time would tell.
Circenia manhandled him, and thought Elias might retch at the contact, bile rising in his throat before he forced it back down, he did not stop her. She'd have her fill of the violence before turning her eyes on another thing to destroy. Vindictive were those of Stravos blood, and vindictive Circenia proved herself to be. She went for his bottle, and he cringed at its confiscation.
While the name Stravos had been thrown into the mud, so too had the name Xanthos. Every day Elias heard the complaints of those ignorant of his control. How Emilia soaked the blame for his misdoings and with time, all of Athenia might forget Elias' treasonous nature, and throw themselves at his feet once the dissenting voices were silenced or otherwise expunged. Laughter tickled at the youngest Stravos' throat as Circenia sought to pluck at his heartstrings, at the embarrassment he might suffer to be seen in the dead of night in a drunken mess. After several moments, that laughter flowed unwillingly, as the bottle was thown against the wall, its sanguine fluid splattering to the floor with a mess of broken glass.
"Such a valuable bottle, taken from the palace itself," he lamented. Unlike the two in front of him, Elias suffered very little in the palace. There was no threat of starvation, no struggle with the rabble. He reveled in every moment of his intrusion in the grounds, the world of Athenia but an apple to be plucked from its tree and consumed to his satisfaction. Elias of Stravos rose from his seat, narrowing his gaze as his mother ceased speaking and his father followed the parade.
One of teaching? Elias mused, saying nothing and allowing his progenitors to vent out their ails. They twisted his words, shooting them back at him. Was it not human to lament? Was one not allowed a moment to indulge in their sorrows so as to overcome them? Elias could see the frustration as his narrowed, glazed eyes combed over each of their faces. There was hopelessness there, worry, disgrace. Keikelius and Circenia had their worlds dragged into the mud and Elias was to blame. Their boy who could do no wrong was likely seen as little more than a liability. A disappointment. Elias stood, but well after his father instructed him to. He chuckled when he was ordered to clean up after Circenia's outburst, shaking his head. The more that Keikelius spoke, the more that rebellion arose within him.
Elias recalled the Senate meeting after which his father had attacked him like a beast. The recollection burned at Elias, and rather than move further he crossed his arms in defiance. He wobbled just slightly before righting himself on the chair, his equilibrium shifting with each ragged breath he pulled into his lungs in turn. Those narrowed eyes widened before the laughter returned. His head tipped back, and his legs sought to catch underneath him. He turned away from Keikelius, disregarding the older man as he first addressed his mother. His father's tone thrust the rebellion within him, his features were hard as he answered, his tone soft but growing in firmness as he went on.
"It doesn't matter what I think I deserve. The whispers are just that, spoken at a coward's volume, thrown about whenever the fearful believe the ears around them are not mine to listen with,"
Elias waved his hands, lamenting again the loss of his drink with a sorrowful gaze before he began anew. Then, he shooed away what slaves were left eavesdropping about them. What Elias needed to say wasn't for lesser ears to be coaxed into sharing for shiny coins in enemy pockets.
"Have you ever ruled land to know what can and cannot be done? The people will believe whatever I fabricate for them to understand. Once the world was swept from beneath my feet, I've made my play. There is no crown to take, mother, and there's no number of enemies that will escape my notice. Dissent will be heard, and it will be addressed.
But, I'll pick up no such mess," he turned next to his father, moving further away from the both of them. Elias rested his back against a wall as he arched an eyebrow in question,
"You'll punish me, Keikelius?" he mused, placing direct emphasis on his father's name as he let the sneer build upon his lips. "Are you going to beat me again? It's the mark of true authority to wail on the drunk and expect them to learn their lesson. I'll take all of the notes I can so that one day I might be such a man."
Elias never turned his back, using his familiarity with the place he'd called home for so long to take him nearer and nearer to its entrance.
"I have nothing to learn from you, feel free to lament in your continued fears for Athenia's fate in my less than capable hands," he encouraged. There was no reason to trust. Neither of them were bound to believe his machinations, so engrossed by the emotional weight of their crafted tales of his inaction.
Half of the world could starve and Elias would be content to rule over the rest. Avarice had so wholly taken control of Elias' soul that it mattered little to him if the world he recovered from the ashes was intact or in tatters. Elias knew this in the pit within his chest that he might yet call a heart, but he'd never say such things aloud. No, Circenia and now Keikelius rode the wave of criticism and there was little pleasure to be written on any face within the hall of the Stravos house. It was pitiable, how little they could ascertain. How little they understood. Elias was making the best of his situation. Was it the best for the people of Athenia? No. Was it the best for the Stravos lineage?
Only time would tell.
Circenia manhandled him, and thought Elias might retch at the contact, bile rising in his throat before he forced it back down, he did not stop her. She'd have her fill of the violence before turning her eyes on another thing to destroy. Vindictive were those of Stravos blood, and vindictive Circenia proved herself to be. She went for his bottle, and he cringed at its confiscation.
While the name Stravos had been thrown into the mud, so too had the name Xanthos. Every day Elias heard the complaints of those ignorant of his control. How Emilia soaked the blame for his misdoings and with time, all of Athenia might forget Elias' treasonous nature, and throw themselves at his feet once the dissenting voices were silenced or otherwise expunged. Laughter tickled at the youngest Stravos' throat as Circenia sought to pluck at his heartstrings, at the embarrassment he might suffer to be seen in the dead of night in a drunken mess. After several moments, that laughter flowed unwillingly, as the bottle was thown against the wall, its sanguine fluid splattering to the floor with a mess of broken glass.
"Such a valuable bottle, taken from the palace itself," he lamented. Unlike the two in front of him, Elias suffered very little in the palace. There was no threat of starvation, no struggle with the rabble. He reveled in every moment of his intrusion in the grounds, the world of Athenia but an apple to be plucked from its tree and consumed to his satisfaction. Elias of Stravos rose from his seat, narrowing his gaze as his mother ceased speaking and his father followed the parade.
One of teaching? Elias mused, saying nothing and allowing his progenitors to vent out their ails. They twisted his words, shooting them back at him. Was it not human to lament? Was one not allowed a moment to indulge in their sorrows so as to overcome them? Elias could see the frustration as his narrowed, glazed eyes combed over each of their faces. There was hopelessness there, worry, disgrace. Keikelius and Circenia had their worlds dragged into the mud and Elias was to blame. Their boy who could do no wrong was likely seen as little more than a liability. A disappointment. Elias stood, but well after his father instructed him to. He chuckled when he was ordered to clean up after Circenia's outburst, shaking his head. The more that Keikelius spoke, the more that rebellion arose within him.
Elias recalled the Senate meeting after which his father had attacked him like a beast. The recollection burned at Elias, and rather than move further he crossed his arms in defiance. He wobbled just slightly before righting himself on the chair, his equilibrium shifting with each ragged breath he pulled into his lungs in turn. Those narrowed eyes widened before the laughter returned. His head tipped back, and his legs sought to catch underneath him. He turned away from Keikelius, disregarding the older man as he first addressed his mother. His father's tone thrust the rebellion within him, his features were hard as he answered, his tone soft but growing in firmness as he went on.
"It doesn't matter what I think I deserve. The whispers are just that, spoken at a coward's volume, thrown about whenever the fearful believe the ears around them are not mine to listen with,"
Elias waved his hands, lamenting again the loss of his drink with a sorrowful gaze before he began anew. Then, he shooed away what slaves were left eavesdropping about them. What Elias needed to say wasn't for lesser ears to be coaxed into sharing for shiny coins in enemy pockets.
"Have you ever ruled land to know what can and cannot be done? The people will believe whatever I fabricate for them to understand. Once the world was swept from beneath my feet, I've made my play. There is no crown to take, mother, and there's no number of enemies that will escape my notice. Dissent will be heard, and it will be addressed.
But, I'll pick up no such mess," he turned next to his father, moving further away from the both of them. Elias rested his back against a wall as he arched an eyebrow in question,
"You'll punish me, Keikelius?" he mused, placing direct emphasis on his father's name as he let the sneer build upon his lips. "Are you going to beat me again? It's the mark of true authority to wail on the drunk and expect them to learn their lesson. I'll take all of the notes I can so that one day I might be such a man."
Elias never turned his back, using his familiarity with the place he'd called home for so long to take him nearer and nearer to its entrance.
"I have nothing to learn from you, feel free to lament in your continued fears for Athenia's fate in my less than capable hands," he encouraged. There was no reason to trust. Neither of them were bound to believe his machinations, so engrossed by the emotional weight of their crafted tales of his inaction.
Had Keikelius not arrived when he did, Circenia was not sure what she might have done with the man-child who sat in front of her. She was poised like the viper she was, ready to strike at any moment if her son said another word out of line. When she’d found out that her husband had struck Elias, her rage had known no bounds, but now… Now, she was ready to do the same. It was only sheer force of will and the desire to have the scene clear of witnesses that stopped her from doing more than she already had.
Her husband’s calming voice relaxed a few muscles in the back of the princess’s neck, taking a step back at his approach. Deferring to his much cooler head and letting her own flame smolder, she watched father and son with stony eyes. Keikelius hearkened back to a simpler time when Elias was of the actual age he was acting now, seeking to impart the same lesson now as he had then.
But just as it was then, their stubborn child refused to hear a word of it.
Elias had always been… willful. All of her children had. While part of her took a measure of pride in the fact that they weren’t afraid to think for themselves, there was a much larger part of her that bemoaned it. Keeping them in line was always difficult, even with her razor tongue and brushfire temper, but their heir had always taken the cake. Much like his mother, Elias always knew he deserved the best, and when presented with anything less than that, heads rolled. Perhaps she had indulged that side of him too much, allowed him more leeway than she really needed to give. Even Keikelius, who so often trusted her judgment without question, had warned against it—that spoiling the boy too much would result in just that. Something spoiled. Rotten. Unusable.
Watching the proud tilt of Elias’s head and listening to the laughter, vitriol, and empty assertions that spilled from her son’s lips, Circenia was starting to worry he had been right.
Before Keikelius could say a word to her son’s dissent, the princess held up a hand to stop him. Her voice was dangerously low as she took another step closer to her inebriated child who was clearly edging toward the door—her own simmering rage obvious in the stiffness of her posture and the tightness of her already thin lips. “You should count yourself lucky if you wind up half the man your father is.” Disrespect to either of them was not something she tolerated well, light eyes flashing dangerously at his presumptive tone. “If you were capable of heeding any words but your own, you might listen to the lessons he tries to impart on you. Look at what he’s achieved in his lifetime. Look at the things he had by the time he was your age. If you could stop preening in your own vanity for longer than thirty seconds, maybe you would actually learn something.”
Self-assuredness warred with a certain kind of defeat in Elias, Circenia’s eyes narrowing slightly at the two conflicting states of being. Was that a trace of doubt in her child’s demeanor? Was there still something in there she could appeal to, or was her golden boy now drifting beyond her reach?
“We’ve given you everything, Elias. Everything. Do you think we do not have the right to say a word as we watch the everything we’ve given you squandered into nothing? Would you have us sit by silently as all that we’ve built for you comes crashing down around us? Do you truly know your family so little?” Before he could take another step toward the door, she pushed her palm against his chest, hand flat as she pinned him up against the wall. “You are a gods-be-damned fool if you think we are just going to sit by meekly while whispers turn to shouts and rebellion lingers just on the horizon. Our house was nearly destroyed, boy. Our gardens lie in ruin. While you linger in the Palati and dine on the finest foods and drown your woes in the finest wines, our very lives are threatened by the starving mouths you dismiss so casually. Yet you dare to laugh in the face of your father and sling barbed self-pity in the face of your mother as if you are the only man innocent in all of this!”
Her hand pressed harder into Elias’s chest, pretty face twisted into a mask of fury. “You think you have nothing to learn from us? You think that your twenty-four years of this life have taught you all you need to know?” She shook her head. “It is an ignorant man’s folly to think he knows everything. That is the path that leads to certain destruction. You would be wise to turn off of it.”
Finally releasing him, Circenia took only a step back. Of a height with her son, she stared straight into his eyes without a hint of doubt in her own. “If you’re so certain that you know what you’re about, tell me what you think you know, Elias. Tell me why you are so convinced that Athenia is not doomed in your fluttering hands. For all your big words and lamentations of victimhood, why are you here if not for some form of validation?”
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 Keikelius not arrived when he did, Circenia was not sure what she might have done with the man-child who sat in front of her. She was poised like the viper she was, ready to strike at any moment if her son said another word out of line. When she’d found out that her husband had struck Elias, her rage had known no bounds, but now… Now, she was ready to do the same. It was only sheer force of will and the desire to have the scene clear of witnesses that stopped her from doing more than she already had.
Her husband’s calming voice relaxed a few muscles in the back of the princess’s neck, taking a step back at his approach. Deferring to his much cooler head and letting her own flame smolder, she watched father and son with stony eyes. Keikelius hearkened back to a simpler time when Elias was of the actual age he was acting now, seeking to impart the same lesson now as he had then.
But just as it was then, their stubborn child refused to hear a word of it.
Elias had always been… willful. All of her children had. While part of her took a measure of pride in the fact that they weren’t afraid to think for themselves, there was a much larger part of her that bemoaned it. Keeping them in line was always difficult, even with her razor tongue and brushfire temper, but their heir had always taken the cake. Much like his mother, Elias always knew he deserved the best, and when presented with anything less than that, heads rolled. Perhaps she had indulged that side of him too much, allowed him more leeway than she really needed to give. Even Keikelius, who so often trusted her judgment without question, had warned against it—that spoiling the boy too much would result in just that. Something spoiled. Rotten. Unusable.
Watching the proud tilt of Elias’s head and listening to the laughter, vitriol, and empty assertions that spilled from her son’s lips, Circenia was starting to worry he had been right.
Before Keikelius could say a word to her son’s dissent, the princess held up a hand to stop him. Her voice was dangerously low as she took another step closer to her inebriated child who was clearly edging toward the door—her own simmering rage obvious in the stiffness of her posture and the tightness of her already thin lips. “You should count yourself lucky if you wind up half the man your father is.” Disrespect to either of them was not something she tolerated well, light eyes flashing dangerously at his presumptive tone. “If you were capable of heeding any words but your own, you might listen to the lessons he tries to impart on you. Look at what he’s achieved in his lifetime. Look at the things he had by the time he was your age. If you could stop preening in your own vanity for longer than thirty seconds, maybe you would actually learn something.”
Self-assuredness warred with a certain kind of defeat in Elias, Circenia’s eyes narrowing slightly at the two conflicting states of being. Was that a trace of doubt in her child’s demeanor? Was there still something in there she could appeal to, or was her golden boy now drifting beyond her reach?
“We’ve given you everything, Elias. Everything. Do you think we do not have the right to say a word as we watch the everything we’ve given you squandered into nothing? Would you have us sit by silently as all that we’ve built for you comes crashing down around us? Do you truly know your family so little?” Before he could take another step toward the door, she pushed her palm against his chest, hand flat as she pinned him up against the wall. “You are a gods-be-damned fool if you think we are just going to sit by meekly while whispers turn to shouts and rebellion lingers just on the horizon. Our house was nearly destroyed, boy. Our gardens lie in ruin. While you linger in the Palati and dine on the finest foods and drown your woes in the finest wines, our very lives are threatened by the starving mouths you dismiss so casually. Yet you dare to laugh in the face of your father and sling barbed self-pity in the face of your mother as if you are the only man innocent in all of this!”
Her hand pressed harder into Elias’s chest, pretty face twisted into a mask of fury. “You think you have nothing to learn from us? You think that your twenty-four years of this life have taught you all you need to know?” She shook her head. “It is an ignorant man’s folly to think he knows everything. That is the path that leads to certain destruction. You would be wise to turn off of it.”
Finally releasing him, Circenia took only a step back. Of a height with her son, she stared straight into his eyes without a hint of doubt in her own. “If you’re so certain that you know what you’re about, tell me what you think you know, Elias. Tell me why you are so convinced that Athenia is not doomed in your fluttering hands. For all your big words and lamentations of victimhood, why are you here if not for some form of validation?”
Had Keikelius not arrived when he did, Circenia was not sure what she might have done with the man-child who sat in front of her. She was poised like the viper she was, ready to strike at any moment if her son said another word out of line. When she’d found out that her husband had struck Elias, her rage had known no bounds, but now… Now, she was ready to do the same. It was only sheer force of will and the desire to have the scene clear of witnesses that stopped her from doing more than she already had.
Her husband’s calming voice relaxed a few muscles in the back of the princess’s neck, taking a step back at his approach. Deferring to his much cooler head and letting her own flame smolder, she watched father and son with stony eyes. Keikelius hearkened back to a simpler time when Elias was of the actual age he was acting now, seeking to impart the same lesson now as he had then.
But just as it was then, their stubborn child refused to hear a word of it.
Elias had always been… willful. All of her children had. While part of her took a measure of pride in the fact that they weren’t afraid to think for themselves, there was a much larger part of her that bemoaned it. Keeping them in line was always difficult, even with her razor tongue and brushfire temper, but their heir had always taken the cake. Much like his mother, Elias always knew he deserved the best, and when presented with anything less than that, heads rolled. Perhaps she had indulged that side of him too much, allowed him more leeway than she really needed to give. Even Keikelius, who so often trusted her judgment without question, had warned against it—that spoiling the boy too much would result in just that. Something spoiled. Rotten. Unusable.
Watching the proud tilt of Elias’s head and listening to the laughter, vitriol, and empty assertions that spilled from her son’s lips, Circenia was starting to worry he had been right.
Before Keikelius could say a word to her son’s dissent, the princess held up a hand to stop him. Her voice was dangerously low as she took another step closer to her inebriated child who was clearly edging toward the door—her own simmering rage obvious in the stiffness of her posture and the tightness of her already thin lips. “You should count yourself lucky if you wind up half the man your father is.” Disrespect to either of them was not something she tolerated well, light eyes flashing dangerously at his presumptive tone. “If you were capable of heeding any words but your own, you might listen to the lessons he tries to impart on you. Look at what he’s achieved in his lifetime. Look at the things he had by the time he was your age. If you could stop preening in your own vanity for longer than thirty seconds, maybe you would actually learn something.”
Self-assuredness warred with a certain kind of defeat in Elias, Circenia’s eyes narrowing slightly at the two conflicting states of being. Was that a trace of doubt in her child’s demeanor? Was there still something in there she could appeal to, or was her golden boy now drifting beyond her reach?
“We’ve given you everything, Elias. Everything. Do you think we do not have the right to say a word as we watch the everything we’ve given you squandered into nothing? Would you have us sit by silently as all that we’ve built for you comes crashing down around us? Do you truly know your family so little?” Before he could take another step toward the door, she pushed her palm against his chest, hand flat as she pinned him up against the wall. “You are a gods-be-damned fool if you think we are just going to sit by meekly while whispers turn to shouts and rebellion lingers just on the horizon. Our house was nearly destroyed, boy. Our gardens lie in ruin. While you linger in the Palati and dine on the finest foods and drown your woes in the finest wines, our very lives are threatened by the starving mouths you dismiss so casually. Yet you dare to laugh in the face of your father and sling barbed self-pity in the face of your mother as if you are the only man innocent in all of this!”
Her hand pressed harder into Elias’s chest, pretty face twisted into a mask of fury. “You think you have nothing to learn from us? You think that your twenty-four years of this life have taught you all you need to know?” She shook her head. “It is an ignorant man’s folly to think he knows everything. That is the path that leads to certain destruction. You would be wise to turn off of it.”
Finally releasing him, Circenia took only a step back. Of a height with her son, she stared straight into his eyes without a hint of doubt in her own. “If you’re so certain that you know what you’re about, tell me what you think you know, Elias. Tell me why you are so convinced that Athenia is not doomed in your fluttering hands. For all your big words and lamentations of victimhood, why are you here if not for some form of validation?”
It was unusual for the demeanor of the eldest Stravos lord to change so quickly. Elias tore apart every single word that fell off Keikelius' lips, and suddenly the older man felt like the scolded child. And suddenly, Keikelius was just so tired. So exhausted. So unsure of what the next step or course of action was that his mind just wouldn't process anything of what either if son or his wife said. They spat venom at each other, his son spewed vitriol at him. But it was the sudden, stark loss of the respect that Elias had always shown his father that truly made him tired. Weary of the world around him and utterly burdened by the weight of things even he could not reach. Not in the way that Elias could.
He should have been angry at the way that Elias spoke to him, using his name rather than calling him his father. He should have been angry at the seeds of doubt and discontentment that Elias sought to sew in Keikelius' heart. The man could only feel... almost numb. The world had once been bright and open to them, but Keikelius did not see that vibrancy anymore. He saw the way the people starved, and while he cared little for them as people, anyone with some semblance of a heart could feel for the pain that his people, his Kingdom, were feeling.
Whose fault it was, it didn't truly matter in that moment. All that mattered was that things changed, that problems were mitigated before they got even worse. After the poor had stormed upon their home in search of food, they'd done little to replenish their own stocks. Keikelius supplied just enough to keep his family fed at meals and food in the bellies of the tireless servants who stayed with them despite the way that they were treated. Distantly and with no more care than a farmer would show chattel.
He felt a new appreciation for them in that moment, the lord's gaze drifting away from the bickering form of his son and wife. Instead, he looked to the broken bottle and the wine that streaked the walls and floor of their sitting room. For all the hell the common folk had been driven through as of late, it seemed unfair to force upon them the cleaning of another's mess. That is all they seemed to do as of late. They cleaned up the rage and vitriol of their betters, flinched away from the anger or seething gazes, and silently filled water and wine goblets. They served food they knew would not fill their own bellies that night.
Keikelius wondered if Elias had ever been forced to humble himself to others. Had that been something that Keikelius and Circenia had ensured their son understood? That was unlikely. They had spoiled the boy to the ends of the earth, often with little regard for what that might mean in the future. He wasn't even listening to the argument anymore. His gaze kept landing on the spilled wine and shattered glass.
The lord couldn't find it in himself to be surprised that a gentle hand landed on his wrist, stirring him from his deepened thoughts, or, rather, the lack of them. Lifting his gaze to the silent servant woman, he observed her closely. Even they were tired, and it showed in the dullness of their eyes. The girl was no older than Chara, but she looked old beyond her years with that one look. And she held a bowl and cloth in hand. Another servant, just a few feet behind her, held a bucket of water and a waste basin that would be used to store the broken bottle until they disposed of it.
"May we-" the servant started softly, her brown eyes flicking to the mess.
"No," Keikelius murmured, then paused. "No, I shall do it myself," the man added, pushing himself up from the chair he had slid toward the center of the room. "You two are dismissed for the night. Get food from the cook and go rest. If the man argues, tell them I told you to do so," and then he waved them off, watching their stunned expressions. But they didn't argue, setting the cleaning supplies down on the floor and both scampering out of the room as if they were afraid he might change his mind.
Keikelius first took the empty waste bin and carried it over to the mess of glass and wine. All the while, he thought of the ravaged gardens that he had spent so much time on in the last years of his marriage. Once there, the man sunk to his knees and got to work. Deftly and carefully, he started to pick out each piece of glass from the puddle of wine. The only thing he heard anymore was the clinking of glass as he dropped it into the bin beside him. He paid absolutely no mind to wife or child, pretending they weren't there at all so that he could focus on his lone task.
The lord didn't think he needed to say anything. He wasn't sure he even had the words to express what he had tried to initially. None of this was working. The fighting and the rage, they were fanning the flames of an inferno that was so far out of control that it threatened to burn everything around them. Keikelius had never wished for the salty sea air more than he did at that moment. If he could have taken himself from Athenia, he would have, but he had a duty here. To his family, to his son. There had been promises of aid that neither Keikelius nor Circenia had really given Elias. This was just as much their mess as it was his.
With each clink of glass into the bin, Keikelius just found himself more and more exhausted. If he weren't sure of it, he would think he was drunk. He wasn't, but the way that his head swam made him think he may have hit the wine too hard that night. Finally, after a herculean effort, Keikelius finally spoke. Keeping his back to both his wife and Elias, he continued his task, unsure if either of them would hear him over their raging at each other and him.
"What do you need from us, Elias, to fix this?"
The olive branch. The offer of help. The offer of healing. It was on everyone else now to humble themselves the way that Keikelius had chosen to do for the sake of his son. A lord on his knees, cleaning a mess that would otherwise be handed off to another person to deal with. That was usually how things were done in their world, but that could not be how things remained if they were to make any sort of progress, personal or political.
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
It was unusual for the demeanor of the eldest Stravos lord to change so quickly. Elias tore apart every single word that fell off Keikelius' lips, and suddenly the older man felt like the scolded child. And suddenly, Keikelius was just so tired. So exhausted. So unsure of what the next step or course of action was that his mind just wouldn't process anything of what either if son or his wife said. They spat venom at each other, his son spewed vitriol at him. But it was the sudden, stark loss of the respect that Elias had always shown his father that truly made him tired. Weary of the world around him and utterly burdened by the weight of things even he could not reach. Not in the way that Elias could.
He should have been angry at the way that Elias spoke to him, using his name rather than calling him his father. He should have been angry at the seeds of doubt and discontentment that Elias sought to sew in Keikelius' heart. The man could only feel... almost numb. The world had once been bright and open to them, but Keikelius did not see that vibrancy anymore. He saw the way the people starved, and while he cared little for them as people, anyone with some semblance of a heart could feel for the pain that his people, his Kingdom, were feeling.
Whose fault it was, it didn't truly matter in that moment. All that mattered was that things changed, that problems were mitigated before they got even worse. After the poor had stormed upon their home in search of food, they'd done little to replenish their own stocks. Keikelius supplied just enough to keep his family fed at meals and food in the bellies of the tireless servants who stayed with them despite the way that they were treated. Distantly and with no more care than a farmer would show chattel.
He felt a new appreciation for them in that moment, the lord's gaze drifting away from the bickering form of his son and wife. Instead, he looked to the broken bottle and the wine that streaked the walls and floor of their sitting room. For all the hell the common folk had been driven through as of late, it seemed unfair to force upon them the cleaning of another's mess. That is all they seemed to do as of late. They cleaned up the rage and vitriol of their betters, flinched away from the anger or seething gazes, and silently filled water and wine goblets. They served food they knew would not fill their own bellies that night.
Keikelius wondered if Elias had ever been forced to humble himself to others. Had that been something that Keikelius and Circenia had ensured their son understood? That was unlikely. They had spoiled the boy to the ends of the earth, often with little regard for what that might mean in the future. He wasn't even listening to the argument anymore. His gaze kept landing on the spilled wine and shattered glass.
The lord couldn't find it in himself to be surprised that a gentle hand landed on his wrist, stirring him from his deepened thoughts, or, rather, the lack of them. Lifting his gaze to the silent servant woman, he observed her closely. Even they were tired, and it showed in the dullness of their eyes. The girl was no older than Chara, but she looked old beyond her years with that one look. And she held a bowl and cloth in hand. Another servant, just a few feet behind her, held a bucket of water and a waste basin that would be used to store the broken bottle until they disposed of it.
"May we-" the servant started softly, her brown eyes flicking to the mess.
"No," Keikelius murmured, then paused. "No, I shall do it myself," the man added, pushing himself up from the chair he had slid toward the center of the room. "You two are dismissed for the night. Get food from the cook and go rest. If the man argues, tell them I told you to do so," and then he waved them off, watching their stunned expressions. But they didn't argue, setting the cleaning supplies down on the floor and both scampering out of the room as if they were afraid he might change his mind.
Keikelius first took the empty waste bin and carried it over to the mess of glass and wine. All the while, he thought of the ravaged gardens that he had spent so much time on in the last years of his marriage. Once there, the man sunk to his knees and got to work. Deftly and carefully, he started to pick out each piece of glass from the puddle of wine. The only thing he heard anymore was the clinking of glass as he dropped it into the bin beside him. He paid absolutely no mind to wife or child, pretending they weren't there at all so that he could focus on his lone task.
The lord didn't think he needed to say anything. He wasn't sure he even had the words to express what he had tried to initially. None of this was working. The fighting and the rage, they were fanning the flames of an inferno that was so far out of control that it threatened to burn everything around them. Keikelius had never wished for the salty sea air more than he did at that moment. If he could have taken himself from Athenia, he would have, but he had a duty here. To his family, to his son. There had been promises of aid that neither Keikelius nor Circenia had really given Elias. This was just as much their mess as it was his.
With each clink of glass into the bin, Keikelius just found himself more and more exhausted. If he weren't sure of it, he would think he was drunk. He wasn't, but the way that his head swam made him think he may have hit the wine too hard that night. Finally, after a herculean effort, Keikelius finally spoke. Keeping his back to both his wife and Elias, he continued his task, unsure if either of them would hear him over their raging at each other and him.
"What do you need from us, Elias, to fix this?"
The olive branch. The offer of help. The offer of healing. It was on everyone else now to humble themselves the way that Keikelius had chosen to do for the sake of his son. A lord on his knees, cleaning a mess that would otherwise be handed off to another person to deal with. That was usually how things were done in their world, but that could not be how things remained if they were to make any sort of progress, personal or political.
It was unusual for the demeanor of the eldest Stravos lord to change so quickly. Elias tore apart every single word that fell off Keikelius' lips, and suddenly the older man felt like the scolded child. And suddenly, Keikelius was just so tired. So exhausted. So unsure of what the next step or course of action was that his mind just wouldn't process anything of what either if son or his wife said. They spat venom at each other, his son spewed vitriol at him. But it was the sudden, stark loss of the respect that Elias had always shown his father that truly made him tired. Weary of the world around him and utterly burdened by the weight of things even he could not reach. Not in the way that Elias could.
He should have been angry at the way that Elias spoke to him, using his name rather than calling him his father. He should have been angry at the seeds of doubt and discontentment that Elias sought to sew in Keikelius' heart. The man could only feel... almost numb. The world had once been bright and open to them, but Keikelius did not see that vibrancy anymore. He saw the way the people starved, and while he cared little for them as people, anyone with some semblance of a heart could feel for the pain that his people, his Kingdom, were feeling.
Whose fault it was, it didn't truly matter in that moment. All that mattered was that things changed, that problems were mitigated before they got even worse. After the poor had stormed upon their home in search of food, they'd done little to replenish their own stocks. Keikelius supplied just enough to keep his family fed at meals and food in the bellies of the tireless servants who stayed with them despite the way that they were treated. Distantly and with no more care than a farmer would show chattel.
He felt a new appreciation for them in that moment, the lord's gaze drifting away from the bickering form of his son and wife. Instead, he looked to the broken bottle and the wine that streaked the walls and floor of their sitting room. For all the hell the common folk had been driven through as of late, it seemed unfair to force upon them the cleaning of another's mess. That is all they seemed to do as of late. They cleaned up the rage and vitriol of their betters, flinched away from the anger or seething gazes, and silently filled water and wine goblets. They served food they knew would not fill their own bellies that night.
Keikelius wondered if Elias had ever been forced to humble himself to others. Had that been something that Keikelius and Circenia had ensured their son understood? That was unlikely. They had spoiled the boy to the ends of the earth, often with little regard for what that might mean in the future. He wasn't even listening to the argument anymore. His gaze kept landing on the spilled wine and shattered glass.
The lord couldn't find it in himself to be surprised that a gentle hand landed on his wrist, stirring him from his deepened thoughts, or, rather, the lack of them. Lifting his gaze to the silent servant woman, he observed her closely. Even they were tired, and it showed in the dullness of their eyes. The girl was no older than Chara, but she looked old beyond her years with that one look. And she held a bowl and cloth in hand. Another servant, just a few feet behind her, held a bucket of water and a waste basin that would be used to store the broken bottle until they disposed of it.
"May we-" the servant started softly, her brown eyes flicking to the mess.
"No," Keikelius murmured, then paused. "No, I shall do it myself," the man added, pushing himself up from the chair he had slid toward the center of the room. "You two are dismissed for the night. Get food from the cook and go rest. If the man argues, tell them I told you to do so," and then he waved them off, watching their stunned expressions. But they didn't argue, setting the cleaning supplies down on the floor and both scampering out of the room as if they were afraid he might change his mind.
Keikelius first took the empty waste bin and carried it over to the mess of glass and wine. All the while, he thought of the ravaged gardens that he had spent so much time on in the last years of his marriage. Once there, the man sunk to his knees and got to work. Deftly and carefully, he started to pick out each piece of glass from the puddle of wine. The only thing he heard anymore was the clinking of glass as he dropped it into the bin beside him. He paid absolutely no mind to wife or child, pretending they weren't there at all so that he could focus on his lone task.
The lord didn't think he needed to say anything. He wasn't sure he even had the words to express what he had tried to initially. None of this was working. The fighting and the rage, they were fanning the flames of an inferno that was so far out of control that it threatened to burn everything around them. Keikelius had never wished for the salty sea air more than he did at that moment. If he could have taken himself from Athenia, he would have, but he had a duty here. To his family, to his son. There had been promises of aid that neither Keikelius nor Circenia had really given Elias. This was just as much their mess as it was his.
With each clink of glass into the bin, Keikelius just found himself more and more exhausted. If he weren't sure of it, he would think he was drunk. He wasn't, but the way that his head swam made him think he may have hit the wine too hard that night. Finally, after a herculean effort, Keikelius finally spoke. Keeping his back to both his wife and Elias, he continued his task, unsure if either of them would hear him over their raging at each other and him.
"What do you need from us, Elias, to fix this?"
The olive branch. The offer of help. The offer of healing. It was on everyone else now to humble themselves the way that Keikelius had chosen to do for the sake of his son. A lord on his knees, cleaning a mess that would otherwise be handed off to another person to deal with. That was usually how things were done in their world, but that could not be how things remained if they were to make any sort of progress, personal or political.
All of the vitriol Elias directed at his father he saw reflected in the visceral gaze of Circenia of Stravos. Was it fear that emanated deep within the soul of the youngest Stravos in the room? He felt the shiver coil deep within his bones, a shiver not for the pain of violence she could enact upon him, but for the fact that it was her.
Circenia of Stravos championed her son more than any other soul ever would or even could. She'd carried him in her womb, then brought him up into a life free from the worries that the filth and degenerates beneath them suffered. Elias of Stravos had once been the apple of his mother's eyes, but as he listened to her speak, he wondered if she might ever think of him as anything but disappointment. Elias felt his teeth grinding into one another, his heart pounding furiously in his chest as she pinned him against the wall. Elias had scarcely listened to the preamble of her verbal assault, the wails of sorrowful complaints about the destruction of property.
Right now, in this ruined echoes of their home, a far more damaging sort of destruction permeated. Fire had swallowed parts of Archontiko Stravos. Famine had wasted away at the stores of food that'd once existed. The wastrels of Athenia had sought to come for the rest of it, and Elias of Stravos knew every bit of the suffering that came to this place was caused by his unwillingness to act. However, Elias of Stravos wasn't playing a game for the moment. Every move that the Stravos pulled once he'd extracted Persephone from the palati was a calculated endeavor. Where Circenia was blinded by the pain her family had gone through, the dangers and rigors that Elias himself was responsible for, their lives were spared and the Stravos fought on.
Every sacrifice is worth the cost of glory, he'd learned so very long ago. Was it Circenia that taught him that lesson? Keikelius? Or was it a truth he'd picked up along the way as he coldly languished within this very place, plotting his rise to power in the wake of the infinite failures of his exposure. Elias knew that so long as those that shared his blood lived, everything else was worth it. The dying populace of Athenia, the uprisings that threatened the lives of the lesser nobility, the dissolution of Xanthos and the imprisonment of the puppet-queen... Every tortured soul that Elias' command sent to Hades was a sacrifice to the God of the Underworld, though no coins had been left on their eyes to pay their toll. Instead, those souls languished in the depths of the Underworld, languishing in the eternal misery without their means of crossing.
No burials are given to the worthless. Their lives aren't worth the coin that pay their passage, he'd affirmed time and again as he demanded their corpses be thrown to the depths instead. Elias of Stravos did not speak, allowing his mother to attack him so relentlessly, to vent out the aggression and rage that he'd forced her to experience. Though the alcohol warmed Elias' blood, the chill of the rifts that formed between mother and son were a deluge of water doused upon his head. The sensation rained down from his shoulders to the tips of his fingers, an eternal chill that seeped into the mind itself.
The words Circenia wanted to know were at the tip of his tongue, to be thrown back at the princess with a chill to his tone. Circenia deserved the same cold rigity as Keikelius had received, but the Stravos' attentions were diverted by the offered assistance of the servant, then his father's dismissal of her and the humble insistence that followed. Elias of Stravos watched, speechless and no longer pinned to the wall, but resting against it willingly. Those honeyed hues clung to each piece of glass as Keikelius picked them up one after the other. It was a moment that stood still, and all that Elias of Stravos could hear was the raging beat of his heart simmer, slowing as he collected himself. A heave of his chest, perhaps his last lamentation, perhaps a response to his utter inability to move -- Elias of Stravos was pinned no longer by his mother, but by the sheer disgust -- or was it confusion? -- of watching a Lord perform the task of the help. When the mess was clean and Keikelius of Stravos turned next towards Elias. There was none of the rage that Elias hoped to see.
Anything is better than this, Elias lamented once more as the utter embarrassment of hiding his plans from those who championed him the most truly hit him. The sheer arrogance of it all truly occurred to him, that he'd let his parents fall by the wayside, uninformed and as enraptured in the myth of their son's incompetence as the rest of the "informed" naysayers of the Senate were.
"What do you need from us, Elias, to fix this?"
Elias repeated the question again and again, feeling it flit through his skull as his answer rang through his senses.
There is nothing to fix.
"I need your confidence, and I need your help," he began, at last admitting that the stage in his plans had reached a point where even the unlimited resources of the crown that he'd taken weren't quite enough. He needed minds that worked on an axis that his did. He needed Keikelius. But more than that, he needed Circenia of Stravos to champion his cause once again.
"I need you to believe in me the way that all of Athenia is to believe in me. It needs to come across as genuine, even if the both of you have to fabricate it into reality. The world has fallen into oblivion by my hands. Yes, this is true. But, it is by our hands and my rule that it will come together again. The famine, the attacks on the houses of the royal families, and the decimation of the people's hopes all teeter in the balance as I play my hand for the throne of Athenia. I need the both of you to guide my hand as it strikes to the heart of the enemies of a Stravos monarchy," he completed. Elias of Stravos allowed himself to take a staggered breath, for his back to rest against the wall until he slumped to the floor, his features creased as he kept himself on the train of thought that might lead him back to glory.
"I need you to believe in me again, mother," he added, letting his eyes meet hers.
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
All of the vitriol Elias directed at his father he saw reflected in the visceral gaze of Circenia of Stravos. Was it fear that emanated deep within the soul of the youngest Stravos in the room? He felt the shiver coil deep within his bones, a shiver not for the pain of violence she could enact upon him, but for the fact that it was her.
Circenia of Stravos championed her son more than any other soul ever would or even could. She'd carried him in her womb, then brought him up into a life free from the worries that the filth and degenerates beneath them suffered. Elias of Stravos had once been the apple of his mother's eyes, but as he listened to her speak, he wondered if she might ever think of him as anything but disappointment. Elias felt his teeth grinding into one another, his heart pounding furiously in his chest as she pinned him against the wall. Elias had scarcely listened to the preamble of her verbal assault, the wails of sorrowful complaints about the destruction of property.
Right now, in this ruined echoes of their home, a far more damaging sort of destruction permeated. Fire had swallowed parts of Archontiko Stravos. Famine had wasted away at the stores of food that'd once existed. The wastrels of Athenia had sought to come for the rest of it, and Elias of Stravos knew every bit of the suffering that came to this place was caused by his unwillingness to act. However, Elias of Stravos wasn't playing a game for the moment. Every move that the Stravos pulled once he'd extracted Persephone from the palati was a calculated endeavor. Where Circenia was blinded by the pain her family had gone through, the dangers and rigors that Elias himself was responsible for, their lives were spared and the Stravos fought on.
Every sacrifice is worth the cost of glory, he'd learned so very long ago. Was it Circenia that taught him that lesson? Keikelius? Or was it a truth he'd picked up along the way as he coldly languished within this very place, plotting his rise to power in the wake of the infinite failures of his exposure. Elias knew that so long as those that shared his blood lived, everything else was worth it. The dying populace of Athenia, the uprisings that threatened the lives of the lesser nobility, the dissolution of Xanthos and the imprisonment of the puppet-queen... Every tortured soul that Elias' command sent to Hades was a sacrifice to the God of the Underworld, though no coins had been left on their eyes to pay their toll. Instead, those souls languished in the depths of the Underworld, languishing in the eternal misery without their means of crossing.
No burials are given to the worthless. Their lives aren't worth the coin that pay their passage, he'd affirmed time and again as he demanded their corpses be thrown to the depths instead. Elias of Stravos did not speak, allowing his mother to attack him so relentlessly, to vent out the aggression and rage that he'd forced her to experience. Though the alcohol warmed Elias' blood, the chill of the rifts that formed between mother and son were a deluge of water doused upon his head. The sensation rained down from his shoulders to the tips of his fingers, an eternal chill that seeped into the mind itself.
The words Circenia wanted to know were at the tip of his tongue, to be thrown back at the princess with a chill to his tone. Circenia deserved the same cold rigity as Keikelius had received, but the Stravos' attentions were diverted by the offered assistance of the servant, then his father's dismissal of her and the humble insistence that followed. Elias of Stravos watched, speechless and no longer pinned to the wall, but resting against it willingly. Those honeyed hues clung to each piece of glass as Keikelius picked them up one after the other. It was a moment that stood still, and all that Elias of Stravos could hear was the raging beat of his heart simmer, slowing as he collected himself. A heave of his chest, perhaps his last lamentation, perhaps a response to his utter inability to move -- Elias of Stravos was pinned no longer by his mother, but by the sheer disgust -- or was it confusion? -- of watching a Lord perform the task of the help. When the mess was clean and Keikelius of Stravos turned next towards Elias. There was none of the rage that Elias hoped to see.
Anything is better than this, Elias lamented once more as the utter embarrassment of hiding his plans from those who championed him the most truly hit him. The sheer arrogance of it all truly occurred to him, that he'd let his parents fall by the wayside, uninformed and as enraptured in the myth of their son's incompetence as the rest of the "informed" naysayers of the Senate were.
"What do you need from us, Elias, to fix this?"
Elias repeated the question again and again, feeling it flit through his skull as his answer rang through his senses.
There is nothing to fix.
"I need your confidence, and I need your help," he began, at last admitting that the stage in his plans had reached a point where even the unlimited resources of the crown that he'd taken weren't quite enough. He needed minds that worked on an axis that his did. He needed Keikelius. But more than that, he needed Circenia of Stravos to champion his cause once again.
"I need you to believe in me the way that all of Athenia is to believe in me. It needs to come across as genuine, even if the both of you have to fabricate it into reality. The world has fallen into oblivion by my hands. Yes, this is true. But, it is by our hands and my rule that it will come together again. The famine, the attacks on the houses of the royal families, and the decimation of the people's hopes all teeter in the balance as I play my hand for the throne of Athenia. I need the both of you to guide my hand as it strikes to the heart of the enemies of a Stravos monarchy," he completed. Elias of Stravos allowed himself to take a staggered breath, for his back to rest against the wall until he slumped to the floor, his features creased as he kept himself on the train of thought that might lead him back to glory.
"I need you to believe in me again, mother," he added, letting his eyes meet hers.
All of the vitriol Elias directed at his father he saw reflected in the visceral gaze of Circenia of Stravos. Was it fear that emanated deep within the soul of the youngest Stravos in the room? He felt the shiver coil deep within his bones, a shiver not for the pain of violence she could enact upon him, but for the fact that it was her.
Circenia of Stravos championed her son more than any other soul ever would or even could. She'd carried him in her womb, then brought him up into a life free from the worries that the filth and degenerates beneath them suffered. Elias of Stravos had once been the apple of his mother's eyes, but as he listened to her speak, he wondered if she might ever think of him as anything but disappointment. Elias felt his teeth grinding into one another, his heart pounding furiously in his chest as she pinned him against the wall. Elias had scarcely listened to the preamble of her verbal assault, the wails of sorrowful complaints about the destruction of property.
Right now, in this ruined echoes of their home, a far more damaging sort of destruction permeated. Fire had swallowed parts of Archontiko Stravos. Famine had wasted away at the stores of food that'd once existed. The wastrels of Athenia had sought to come for the rest of it, and Elias of Stravos knew every bit of the suffering that came to this place was caused by his unwillingness to act. However, Elias of Stravos wasn't playing a game for the moment. Every move that the Stravos pulled once he'd extracted Persephone from the palati was a calculated endeavor. Where Circenia was blinded by the pain her family had gone through, the dangers and rigors that Elias himself was responsible for, their lives were spared and the Stravos fought on.
Every sacrifice is worth the cost of glory, he'd learned so very long ago. Was it Circenia that taught him that lesson? Keikelius? Or was it a truth he'd picked up along the way as he coldly languished within this very place, plotting his rise to power in the wake of the infinite failures of his exposure. Elias knew that so long as those that shared his blood lived, everything else was worth it. The dying populace of Athenia, the uprisings that threatened the lives of the lesser nobility, the dissolution of Xanthos and the imprisonment of the puppet-queen... Every tortured soul that Elias' command sent to Hades was a sacrifice to the God of the Underworld, though no coins had been left on their eyes to pay their toll. Instead, those souls languished in the depths of the Underworld, languishing in the eternal misery without their means of crossing.
No burials are given to the worthless. Their lives aren't worth the coin that pay their passage, he'd affirmed time and again as he demanded their corpses be thrown to the depths instead. Elias of Stravos did not speak, allowing his mother to attack him so relentlessly, to vent out the aggression and rage that he'd forced her to experience. Though the alcohol warmed Elias' blood, the chill of the rifts that formed between mother and son were a deluge of water doused upon his head. The sensation rained down from his shoulders to the tips of his fingers, an eternal chill that seeped into the mind itself.
The words Circenia wanted to know were at the tip of his tongue, to be thrown back at the princess with a chill to his tone. Circenia deserved the same cold rigity as Keikelius had received, but the Stravos' attentions were diverted by the offered assistance of the servant, then his father's dismissal of her and the humble insistence that followed. Elias of Stravos watched, speechless and no longer pinned to the wall, but resting against it willingly. Those honeyed hues clung to each piece of glass as Keikelius picked them up one after the other. It was a moment that stood still, and all that Elias of Stravos could hear was the raging beat of his heart simmer, slowing as he collected himself. A heave of his chest, perhaps his last lamentation, perhaps a response to his utter inability to move -- Elias of Stravos was pinned no longer by his mother, but by the sheer disgust -- or was it confusion? -- of watching a Lord perform the task of the help. When the mess was clean and Keikelius of Stravos turned next towards Elias. There was none of the rage that Elias hoped to see.
Anything is better than this, Elias lamented once more as the utter embarrassment of hiding his plans from those who championed him the most truly hit him. The sheer arrogance of it all truly occurred to him, that he'd let his parents fall by the wayside, uninformed and as enraptured in the myth of their son's incompetence as the rest of the "informed" naysayers of the Senate were.
"What do you need from us, Elias, to fix this?"
Elias repeated the question again and again, feeling it flit through his skull as his answer rang through his senses.
There is nothing to fix.
"I need your confidence, and I need your help," he began, at last admitting that the stage in his plans had reached a point where even the unlimited resources of the crown that he'd taken weren't quite enough. He needed minds that worked on an axis that his did. He needed Keikelius. But more than that, he needed Circenia of Stravos to champion his cause once again.
"I need you to believe in me the way that all of Athenia is to believe in me. It needs to come across as genuine, even if the both of you have to fabricate it into reality. The world has fallen into oblivion by my hands. Yes, this is true. But, it is by our hands and my rule that it will come together again. The famine, the attacks on the houses of the royal families, and the decimation of the people's hopes all teeter in the balance as I play my hand for the throne of Athenia. I need the both of you to guide my hand as it strikes to the heart of the enemies of a Stravos monarchy," he completed. Elias of Stravos allowed himself to take a staggered breath, for his back to rest against the wall until he slumped to the floor, his features creased as he kept himself on the train of thought that might lead him back to glory.
"I need you to believe in me again, mother," he added, letting his eyes meet hers.
The next wave of the viper’s venom was stilled as Circenia froze, watching in blatant disbelief as Keikelius lowered himself to the floor. His bitter exhaustion was nearly palpable on her tongue, mouth dropped open to the point where she could almost taste it. She couldn’t describe the emotion that took her over as she watched her husband turn away the servant’s help and clean up the broken glass himself, a proud man humbling himself before her son. Was she disgusted? Impressed? Endeared? For a woman so viscerally attuned to the emotions of others, not even she could put into words what she was feeling at that moment.
She understood her husband’s exhaustion perhaps better than anyone. These past couple months had taken their toll on all of them, and it always seemed Elias suffered the least for his own errors. But perhaps they’d been mistaken on that; in spite of the fury she’d slung at her son, the emotion he portrayed felt genuine. He couldn’t do this alone. And no matter how justified her rage might be, it was doing none of them any good. She preached familial loyalty and unity until she was blue in the face, but when was the last time she’d shown it to her son behind closed doors?
What do you need from us, Elias, to fix this?
With that understated question falling from her husband’s tired lips, the princess simply… deflated. Her anger left her in an exhale of breath, releasing the pressure she held against her son’s chest. She couldn’t bear to see Keikelius like this, so weary, so… defeated. She nearly reached out to him to take his hand, to offer some sort of comfort or support, but when Elias spoke, she froze again. In the wake of the words he uttered, Keikelius was nearly forgotten.
They were the pleas of a scorned child, a little boy hiding behind the face of a man who wanted the support of his parents. The look of pride in their eyes when he did something right, the commendations and accolades that they’d always been so apt to spill. Circenia swallowed hard, gazing up into Elias’s eyes with an unreadable glint in her own. While she wanted to continue on in the warm comfort of vindictive rage, she found that she just… couldn’t. Her beautiful son, her favorite child… he needed her, and who was she to deny him of that most basic want?
I need you to believe in me again, mother.
At that, her crystal eyes closed, drawing in a shuddering breath that hovered dangerously close to a sob. Had she been in the wrong, after all? Was she so blinded by her own selfish fury that she’d been ignoring what was right before her very eyes? The princess had worried all along that they’d put too much weight on their son’s shoulders, that this would end up breaking him. As she’d watched him crumple, she’d simply let it happen and lashed out after, rather than offer to share it. She may have plotted and schemed to get him on that throne in the first place, but what had she really done to help him keep it?
“I do believe in you, Elias,” she finally whispered, her voice threatening to crack on his name. Opening her eyes again, Circenia blinked away the rare sheen of tears before they could spill over. Her hand rested against his cheek, face softening in an unwonted display of emotion. “You are my son, and I will love you until the stars crumble and the sun turns to ash.” Her other hand reached up to join the first, gently holding his face between her fingers. “But you cannot expect us to put blind faith in you when you do not tell us what it is you plan. If you want our help, you have to include us, Elias. We cannot help you when we don’t know what direction you’re going.”
Leaning forward, she pressed her lips to his forehead and released him, taking a step back to give him more room to breathe. “So, tell us, Elias. What are you planning to do?”
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
The next wave of the viper’s venom was stilled as Circenia froze, watching in blatant disbelief as Keikelius lowered himself to the floor. His bitter exhaustion was nearly palpable on her tongue, mouth dropped open to the point where she could almost taste it. She couldn’t describe the emotion that took her over as she watched her husband turn away the servant’s help and clean up the broken glass himself, a proud man humbling himself before her son. Was she disgusted? Impressed? Endeared? For a woman so viscerally attuned to the emotions of others, not even she could put into words what she was feeling at that moment.
She understood her husband’s exhaustion perhaps better than anyone. These past couple months had taken their toll on all of them, and it always seemed Elias suffered the least for his own errors. But perhaps they’d been mistaken on that; in spite of the fury she’d slung at her son, the emotion he portrayed felt genuine. He couldn’t do this alone. And no matter how justified her rage might be, it was doing none of them any good. She preached familial loyalty and unity until she was blue in the face, but when was the last time she’d shown it to her son behind closed doors?
What do you need from us, Elias, to fix this?
With that understated question falling from her husband’s tired lips, the princess simply… deflated. Her anger left her in an exhale of breath, releasing the pressure she held against her son’s chest. She couldn’t bear to see Keikelius like this, so weary, so… defeated. She nearly reached out to him to take his hand, to offer some sort of comfort or support, but when Elias spoke, she froze again. In the wake of the words he uttered, Keikelius was nearly forgotten.
They were the pleas of a scorned child, a little boy hiding behind the face of a man who wanted the support of his parents. The look of pride in their eyes when he did something right, the commendations and accolades that they’d always been so apt to spill. Circenia swallowed hard, gazing up into Elias’s eyes with an unreadable glint in her own. While she wanted to continue on in the warm comfort of vindictive rage, she found that she just… couldn’t. Her beautiful son, her favorite child… he needed her, and who was she to deny him of that most basic want?
I need you to believe in me again, mother.
At that, her crystal eyes closed, drawing in a shuddering breath that hovered dangerously close to a sob. Had she been in the wrong, after all? Was she so blinded by her own selfish fury that she’d been ignoring what was right before her very eyes? The princess had worried all along that they’d put too much weight on their son’s shoulders, that this would end up breaking him. As she’d watched him crumple, she’d simply let it happen and lashed out after, rather than offer to share it. She may have plotted and schemed to get him on that throne in the first place, but what had she really done to help him keep it?
“I do believe in you, Elias,” she finally whispered, her voice threatening to crack on his name. Opening her eyes again, Circenia blinked away the rare sheen of tears before they could spill over. Her hand rested against his cheek, face softening in an unwonted display of emotion. “You are my son, and I will love you until the stars crumble and the sun turns to ash.” Her other hand reached up to join the first, gently holding his face between her fingers. “But you cannot expect us to put blind faith in you when you do not tell us what it is you plan. If you want our help, you have to include us, Elias. We cannot help you when we don’t know what direction you’re going.”
Leaning forward, she pressed her lips to his forehead and released him, taking a step back to give him more room to breathe. “So, tell us, Elias. What are you planning to do?”
The next wave of the viper’s venom was stilled as Circenia froze, watching in blatant disbelief as Keikelius lowered himself to the floor. His bitter exhaustion was nearly palpable on her tongue, mouth dropped open to the point where she could almost taste it. She couldn’t describe the emotion that took her over as she watched her husband turn away the servant’s help and clean up the broken glass himself, a proud man humbling himself before her son. Was she disgusted? Impressed? Endeared? For a woman so viscerally attuned to the emotions of others, not even she could put into words what she was feeling at that moment.
She understood her husband’s exhaustion perhaps better than anyone. These past couple months had taken their toll on all of them, and it always seemed Elias suffered the least for his own errors. But perhaps they’d been mistaken on that; in spite of the fury she’d slung at her son, the emotion he portrayed felt genuine. He couldn’t do this alone. And no matter how justified her rage might be, it was doing none of them any good. She preached familial loyalty and unity until she was blue in the face, but when was the last time she’d shown it to her son behind closed doors?
What do you need from us, Elias, to fix this?
With that understated question falling from her husband’s tired lips, the princess simply… deflated. Her anger left her in an exhale of breath, releasing the pressure she held against her son’s chest. She couldn’t bear to see Keikelius like this, so weary, so… defeated. She nearly reached out to him to take his hand, to offer some sort of comfort or support, but when Elias spoke, she froze again. In the wake of the words he uttered, Keikelius was nearly forgotten.
They were the pleas of a scorned child, a little boy hiding behind the face of a man who wanted the support of his parents. The look of pride in their eyes when he did something right, the commendations and accolades that they’d always been so apt to spill. Circenia swallowed hard, gazing up into Elias’s eyes with an unreadable glint in her own. While she wanted to continue on in the warm comfort of vindictive rage, she found that she just… couldn’t. Her beautiful son, her favorite child… he needed her, and who was she to deny him of that most basic want?
I need you to believe in me again, mother.
At that, her crystal eyes closed, drawing in a shuddering breath that hovered dangerously close to a sob. Had she been in the wrong, after all? Was she so blinded by her own selfish fury that she’d been ignoring what was right before her very eyes? The princess had worried all along that they’d put too much weight on their son’s shoulders, that this would end up breaking him. As she’d watched him crumple, she’d simply let it happen and lashed out after, rather than offer to share it. She may have plotted and schemed to get him on that throne in the first place, but what had she really done to help him keep it?
“I do believe in you, Elias,” she finally whispered, her voice threatening to crack on his name. Opening her eyes again, Circenia blinked away the rare sheen of tears before they could spill over. Her hand rested against his cheek, face softening in an unwonted display of emotion. “You are my son, and I will love you until the stars crumble and the sun turns to ash.” Her other hand reached up to join the first, gently holding his face between her fingers. “But you cannot expect us to put blind faith in you when you do not tell us what it is you plan. If you want our help, you have to include us, Elias. We cannot help you when we don’t know what direction you’re going.”
Leaning forward, she pressed her lips to his forehead and released him, taking a step back to give him more room to breathe. “So, tell us, Elias. What are you planning to do?”
Keikelius didn't know when he had started to relax. When he had started to feel like all of that increased weight had just left his shoulders. Maybe it was Elias admitting that he truly did need their help, or maybe it was the realization that he did hold true shame when it came to his son. Because Keikelius had resorted to pure, blind rage after the Senate meeting. His own anger had not only struck his child, but also the bond between them. A bond that had once been so iron-clad and unbreakable that Keikelius had been the most proud man in Athenia to know that he had not follwed in his father's footsteps.
But he hadn't been able to stop himself from seeing red as everything that Keikelius and Circenia had built in their lifetime together had quite literally started to wither and shrink around them. Because, at the time, Keikelius had seen his son's actions as a betrayal of his family, but most of all a betrayal of the trust and faith that the elder Stravos lord had so gracefully placed in his son. Circenia was the one that liked to push. Keikelius liked to watch and observe, though he needed to be included. Being blindsided? That appeared to only stoke the fires of fury in him.
The elder lord let both his son and his wife have their moment of reconciliation together, focusing more on the remainder of his task. With the glass picked up and the wine carefully mopped from every inch of the floor and the walls, Keikelius finally pushed himself to his feet. Usually spry and unbothered by anything, the man was particularly bothered by the old war wounds of his youth. Favoring his left side for a moment as he found careful balance, Keikelius motioned to one of the servants who was still lingering back by the archway and pointed to the remainder of the supplies that Keikelius had used to clean his floors with his own two hands. Then he made a motion to illustrate that the man wanted such objects removed from his sight.
Approaching the two of them slowly, Keikelius came to their side, reaching out to touch Elias' shoulder with one hand and the nape of Circenia's with the other. In a single fluid motion, the man pulled both son and wife toward him, showing that rare moment of affection that was not so public as it was just simply abnormal. With his lips pressed to Circenia's forehead for just a moment, the man then turned his attention back toward Elias. "Let it be known that I deeply regret my actions toward you, Elias. My rage was unexpected and it has caused me little more than extreme guilt," the man explained slowly, keeping his gaze on his son's face.
"But your mother is right. We do want you on the throne, but you cannot keep us in the dark when it comes to your plans. We are a team, are we not? We have always been one. So when did you stop trusting us to know what plans you were setting in motion and resort to sneaking and lying instead?" there was no malice or anger in his voice. Simply put, the man was curious. He wanted to know what it was that had made Elias turn from his parents' aid in the first place. "If we are to be of help to you now, there can be nothing but honesty from this moment forward."
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
Keikelius didn't know when he had started to relax. When he had started to feel like all of that increased weight had just left his shoulders. Maybe it was Elias admitting that he truly did need their help, or maybe it was the realization that he did hold true shame when it came to his son. Because Keikelius had resorted to pure, blind rage after the Senate meeting. His own anger had not only struck his child, but also the bond between them. A bond that had once been so iron-clad and unbreakable that Keikelius had been the most proud man in Athenia to know that he had not follwed in his father's footsteps.
But he hadn't been able to stop himself from seeing red as everything that Keikelius and Circenia had built in their lifetime together had quite literally started to wither and shrink around them. Because, at the time, Keikelius had seen his son's actions as a betrayal of his family, but most of all a betrayal of the trust and faith that the elder Stravos lord had so gracefully placed in his son. Circenia was the one that liked to push. Keikelius liked to watch and observe, though he needed to be included. Being blindsided? That appeared to only stoke the fires of fury in him.
The elder lord let both his son and his wife have their moment of reconciliation together, focusing more on the remainder of his task. With the glass picked up and the wine carefully mopped from every inch of the floor and the walls, Keikelius finally pushed himself to his feet. Usually spry and unbothered by anything, the man was particularly bothered by the old war wounds of his youth. Favoring his left side for a moment as he found careful balance, Keikelius motioned to one of the servants who was still lingering back by the archway and pointed to the remainder of the supplies that Keikelius had used to clean his floors with his own two hands. Then he made a motion to illustrate that the man wanted such objects removed from his sight.
Approaching the two of them slowly, Keikelius came to their side, reaching out to touch Elias' shoulder with one hand and the nape of Circenia's with the other. In a single fluid motion, the man pulled both son and wife toward him, showing that rare moment of affection that was not so public as it was just simply abnormal. With his lips pressed to Circenia's forehead for just a moment, the man then turned his attention back toward Elias. "Let it be known that I deeply regret my actions toward you, Elias. My rage was unexpected and it has caused me little more than extreme guilt," the man explained slowly, keeping his gaze on his son's face.
"But your mother is right. We do want you on the throne, but you cannot keep us in the dark when it comes to your plans. We are a team, are we not? We have always been one. So when did you stop trusting us to know what plans you were setting in motion and resort to sneaking and lying instead?" there was no malice or anger in his voice. Simply put, the man was curious. He wanted to know what it was that had made Elias turn from his parents' aid in the first place. "If we are to be of help to you now, there can be nothing but honesty from this moment forward."
Keikelius didn't know when he had started to relax. When he had started to feel like all of that increased weight had just left his shoulders. Maybe it was Elias admitting that he truly did need their help, or maybe it was the realization that he did hold true shame when it came to his son. Because Keikelius had resorted to pure, blind rage after the Senate meeting. His own anger had not only struck his child, but also the bond between them. A bond that had once been so iron-clad and unbreakable that Keikelius had been the most proud man in Athenia to know that he had not follwed in his father's footsteps.
But he hadn't been able to stop himself from seeing red as everything that Keikelius and Circenia had built in their lifetime together had quite literally started to wither and shrink around them. Because, at the time, Keikelius had seen his son's actions as a betrayal of his family, but most of all a betrayal of the trust and faith that the elder Stravos lord had so gracefully placed in his son. Circenia was the one that liked to push. Keikelius liked to watch and observe, though he needed to be included. Being blindsided? That appeared to only stoke the fires of fury in him.
The elder lord let both his son and his wife have their moment of reconciliation together, focusing more on the remainder of his task. With the glass picked up and the wine carefully mopped from every inch of the floor and the walls, Keikelius finally pushed himself to his feet. Usually spry and unbothered by anything, the man was particularly bothered by the old war wounds of his youth. Favoring his left side for a moment as he found careful balance, Keikelius motioned to one of the servants who was still lingering back by the archway and pointed to the remainder of the supplies that Keikelius had used to clean his floors with his own two hands. Then he made a motion to illustrate that the man wanted such objects removed from his sight.
Approaching the two of them slowly, Keikelius came to their side, reaching out to touch Elias' shoulder with one hand and the nape of Circenia's with the other. In a single fluid motion, the man pulled both son and wife toward him, showing that rare moment of affection that was not so public as it was just simply abnormal. With his lips pressed to Circenia's forehead for just a moment, the man then turned his attention back toward Elias. "Let it be known that I deeply regret my actions toward you, Elias. My rage was unexpected and it has caused me little more than extreme guilt," the man explained slowly, keeping his gaze on his son's face.
"But your mother is right. We do want you on the throne, but you cannot keep us in the dark when it comes to your plans. We are a team, are we not? We have always been one. So when did you stop trusting us to know what plans you were setting in motion and resort to sneaking and lying instead?" there was no malice or anger in his voice. Simply put, the man was curious. He wanted to know what it was that had made Elias turn from his parents' aid in the first place. "If we are to be of help to you now, there can be nothing but honesty from this moment forward."
I do believe in you, Elias.
The words flew unexpected from the mouth of Circenia of Stravos. Elias was certain that his mother loved her child, even in the midst of the disaster he'd flung them into. It was his father, not his mother, who had beaten their son after the Senate meeting, but the pair of them looked to him with death in their eyes that lent nothing to his belief that they'd be of any assistance to his ploys. When Elias was flung into his house arrest, they'd given him a wide berth, far too invested in correcting his mistakes than giving any sort of reinforcement that they still accepted him. All of the world could turn against Elias of Stravos and he'd still believe himself better, superior, and worthy of his eventual rise to prominence.
But, those who wore Stravos colors and had his blood in their veins... those opinions mattered more than most. There were those whose opinions mattered little, but a palpable concern nonetheless such as Danae. Then, there was Chara, whose icy demeanor and increased distance had rendered a chill down his spine. Expected, painful, but tolerable nonetheless. It was being beaten by his father, it being tolerated by his mother, and the both of them ignoring him for the weeks following their downfall that truly hurt him. So, Elias wove his machinations independent of their will. Why rely on others if they were compelled to follow the notion that he was useless?
You are my son, and I will love you until the stars crumble and the sun turns to ash.
Elias understood this better than anything else they could say to him. Circenia of Stravos had ended lives to defend her son, she'd woven venomous machinations and conspired with him to take the throne of Athenia. They'd plotted to throw the princess out of the palace and it was because of this that he'd suffered the least out of his family. Elias took his opportunities as they came, but he was allowed to feel nevertheless. A hand rose up to wipe the tear that fell, the moisture clinging to the back of his hand for the first time in years as he listened to what the rest of his mother had to say. She was right, of course. Elias of Stravos had kept silent for too long, had grown too bold and unwilling to heed counsel and then one simple act of negligence had turned his world upside down.
Once Circenia released Elias, he let his head raise at last, considering her question before his gaze fell to Keikelius to listen to what he had to say. While Elias could honestly say that he preferred his mother even before the violence acted upon him, there was no substituting the love a father could give. There were lessons and knowledge that'd been gleaned from the man over time. Elias of Stravos was the capable lord he was and the savvy ship merchant he was because of the man in front of him. When Keikelius spoke, it was muted, but their proximity from the hug that he'd pulled both him and his mother into bled with the affection that surely dwelled within. It was difficult to understand every feeling that materialized within Elias of Stravos, but the questions that were made drew a measure of concern from the Stravos lord.
It's very difficult to ascertain when it was that my plans fell closer to my chest... But if I had to say... Elias took a moment to consider both of their questions before he said,
"I thought that bringing glory to the house independently would prove myself worthy of being king. I made a simple mistake and Lukos showed his hand. I never distrusted either of you. I just wanted to make you proud."
Elias would stand behind the notion that if he'd done everything correctly, he'd have his throne and his enemies would be insects at his feet. Now, Elias of Stravos simply needed to move forward, and so he turned his attentions towards the plans he had laid out in front of him.
"It was folly. But, things may get worse before they get better. You two restored the nobility to the house of Stravos, but everything I do moving forward is to take the crown I deserve. Too deep are the wounds to my path to the monarchy. I cannot simply take the crown. Persephone yet lives and the crown is nowhere to be found in the palace. Eventually, we can allow the Senate to meet, but Xanthos needs to be properly dismantled before it does. Otherwise, the law can never be changed back and my throne will never be mine," he mused aloud.
Still, Elias of Stravos sought to take the monarchy back and install himself as king. The law changing made it impossible without marrying Emilia, and while that was certainly a possibility, she was not a queen yet.
"My plan moving forward is keeping an eye on the oceans to make sure the Queen does not return. It's unlikely that she'll stay away. Not with her sister in the palace," he began.
"From there, there's a few threads to follow along with. I plan to... convince Emilia to fall in love with me, so that a marriage between us is palatable to her and I can claim the throne that way. There's the matter of Aimias and crushing his testimony and reputation. I plan to confront the man soon enough. There's a possibility that tearing apart his reputation can give us an opportunity to vote the succession to its appropriate manner," he continued. Elias of Stravos didn't intend to let every matter on his mind through, but there was enough for him to give them for the rest of his machinations, the lesser ones that he could weave at his leisure, to remain undisclosed. Secrets were, after all, more forgivable than outright lies.
"Then there's the punishment of Xanthos. The rumours fly and they fly far, but things need to stay terrible and remain that way, independent of my actions. The Senate needs to remain closed, and the attacks to Athenia's economy need to remain in place. Everyone will see that Xanthos is unable to restore Athenia to prosperity and they'll have no choice but to obey."
Cast out many lines and catching the biggest fish is inevitable.
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
I do believe in you, Elias.
The words flew unexpected from the mouth of Circenia of Stravos. Elias was certain that his mother loved her child, even in the midst of the disaster he'd flung them into. It was his father, not his mother, who had beaten their son after the Senate meeting, but the pair of them looked to him with death in their eyes that lent nothing to his belief that they'd be of any assistance to his ploys. When Elias was flung into his house arrest, they'd given him a wide berth, far too invested in correcting his mistakes than giving any sort of reinforcement that they still accepted him. All of the world could turn against Elias of Stravos and he'd still believe himself better, superior, and worthy of his eventual rise to prominence.
But, those who wore Stravos colors and had his blood in their veins... those opinions mattered more than most. There were those whose opinions mattered little, but a palpable concern nonetheless such as Danae. Then, there was Chara, whose icy demeanor and increased distance had rendered a chill down his spine. Expected, painful, but tolerable nonetheless. It was being beaten by his father, it being tolerated by his mother, and the both of them ignoring him for the weeks following their downfall that truly hurt him. So, Elias wove his machinations independent of their will. Why rely on others if they were compelled to follow the notion that he was useless?
You are my son, and I will love you until the stars crumble and the sun turns to ash.
Elias understood this better than anything else they could say to him. Circenia of Stravos had ended lives to defend her son, she'd woven venomous machinations and conspired with him to take the throne of Athenia. They'd plotted to throw the princess out of the palace and it was because of this that he'd suffered the least out of his family. Elias took his opportunities as they came, but he was allowed to feel nevertheless. A hand rose up to wipe the tear that fell, the moisture clinging to the back of his hand for the first time in years as he listened to what the rest of his mother had to say. She was right, of course. Elias of Stravos had kept silent for too long, had grown too bold and unwilling to heed counsel and then one simple act of negligence had turned his world upside down.
Once Circenia released Elias, he let his head raise at last, considering her question before his gaze fell to Keikelius to listen to what he had to say. While Elias could honestly say that he preferred his mother even before the violence acted upon him, there was no substituting the love a father could give. There were lessons and knowledge that'd been gleaned from the man over time. Elias of Stravos was the capable lord he was and the savvy ship merchant he was because of the man in front of him. When Keikelius spoke, it was muted, but their proximity from the hug that he'd pulled both him and his mother into bled with the affection that surely dwelled within. It was difficult to understand every feeling that materialized within Elias of Stravos, but the questions that were made drew a measure of concern from the Stravos lord.
It's very difficult to ascertain when it was that my plans fell closer to my chest... But if I had to say... Elias took a moment to consider both of their questions before he said,
"I thought that bringing glory to the house independently would prove myself worthy of being king. I made a simple mistake and Lukos showed his hand. I never distrusted either of you. I just wanted to make you proud."
Elias would stand behind the notion that if he'd done everything correctly, he'd have his throne and his enemies would be insects at his feet. Now, Elias of Stravos simply needed to move forward, and so he turned his attentions towards the plans he had laid out in front of him.
"It was folly. But, things may get worse before they get better. You two restored the nobility to the house of Stravos, but everything I do moving forward is to take the crown I deserve. Too deep are the wounds to my path to the monarchy. I cannot simply take the crown. Persephone yet lives and the crown is nowhere to be found in the palace. Eventually, we can allow the Senate to meet, but Xanthos needs to be properly dismantled before it does. Otherwise, the law can never be changed back and my throne will never be mine," he mused aloud.
Still, Elias of Stravos sought to take the monarchy back and install himself as king. The law changing made it impossible without marrying Emilia, and while that was certainly a possibility, she was not a queen yet.
"My plan moving forward is keeping an eye on the oceans to make sure the Queen does not return. It's unlikely that she'll stay away. Not with her sister in the palace," he began.
"From there, there's a few threads to follow along with. I plan to... convince Emilia to fall in love with me, so that a marriage between us is palatable to her and I can claim the throne that way. There's the matter of Aimias and crushing his testimony and reputation. I plan to confront the man soon enough. There's a possibility that tearing apart his reputation can give us an opportunity to vote the succession to its appropriate manner," he continued. Elias of Stravos didn't intend to let every matter on his mind through, but there was enough for him to give them for the rest of his machinations, the lesser ones that he could weave at his leisure, to remain undisclosed. Secrets were, after all, more forgivable than outright lies.
"Then there's the punishment of Xanthos. The rumours fly and they fly far, but things need to stay terrible and remain that way, independent of my actions. The Senate needs to remain closed, and the attacks to Athenia's economy need to remain in place. Everyone will see that Xanthos is unable to restore Athenia to prosperity and they'll have no choice but to obey."
Cast out many lines and catching the biggest fish is inevitable.
I do believe in you, Elias.
The words flew unexpected from the mouth of Circenia of Stravos. Elias was certain that his mother loved her child, even in the midst of the disaster he'd flung them into. It was his father, not his mother, who had beaten their son after the Senate meeting, but the pair of them looked to him with death in their eyes that lent nothing to his belief that they'd be of any assistance to his ploys. When Elias was flung into his house arrest, they'd given him a wide berth, far too invested in correcting his mistakes than giving any sort of reinforcement that they still accepted him. All of the world could turn against Elias of Stravos and he'd still believe himself better, superior, and worthy of his eventual rise to prominence.
But, those who wore Stravos colors and had his blood in their veins... those opinions mattered more than most. There were those whose opinions mattered little, but a palpable concern nonetheless such as Danae. Then, there was Chara, whose icy demeanor and increased distance had rendered a chill down his spine. Expected, painful, but tolerable nonetheless. It was being beaten by his father, it being tolerated by his mother, and the both of them ignoring him for the weeks following their downfall that truly hurt him. So, Elias wove his machinations independent of their will. Why rely on others if they were compelled to follow the notion that he was useless?
You are my son, and I will love you until the stars crumble and the sun turns to ash.
Elias understood this better than anything else they could say to him. Circenia of Stravos had ended lives to defend her son, she'd woven venomous machinations and conspired with him to take the throne of Athenia. They'd plotted to throw the princess out of the palace and it was because of this that he'd suffered the least out of his family. Elias took his opportunities as they came, but he was allowed to feel nevertheless. A hand rose up to wipe the tear that fell, the moisture clinging to the back of his hand for the first time in years as he listened to what the rest of his mother had to say. She was right, of course. Elias of Stravos had kept silent for too long, had grown too bold and unwilling to heed counsel and then one simple act of negligence had turned his world upside down.
Once Circenia released Elias, he let his head raise at last, considering her question before his gaze fell to Keikelius to listen to what he had to say. While Elias could honestly say that he preferred his mother even before the violence acted upon him, there was no substituting the love a father could give. There were lessons and knowledge that'd been gleaned from the man over time. Elias of Stravos was the capable lord he was and the savvy ship merchant he was because of the man in front of him. When Keikelius spoke, it was muted, but their proximity from the hug that he'd pulled both him and his mother into bled with the affection that surely dwelled within. It was difficult to understand every feeling that materialized within Elias of Stravos, but the questions that were made drew a measure of concern from the Stravos lord.
It's very difficult to ascertain when it was that my plans fell closer to my chest... But if I had to say... Elias took a moment to consider both of their questions before he said,
"I thought that bringing glory to the house independently would prove myself worthy of being king. I made a simple mistake and Lukos showed his hand. I never distrusted either of you. I just wanted to make you proud."
Elias would stand behind the notion that if he'd done everything correctly, he'd have his throne and his enemies would be insects at his feet. Now, Elias of Stravos simply needed to move forward, and so he turned his attentions towards the plans he had laid out in front of him.
"It was folly. But, things may get worse before they get better. You two restored the nobility to the house of Stravos, but everything I do moving forward is to take the crown I deserve. Too deep are the wounds to my path to the monarchy. I cannot simply take the crown. Persephone yet lives and the crown is nowhere to be found in the palace. Eventually, we can allow the Senate to meet, but Xanthos needs to be properly dismantled before it does. Otherwise, the law can never be changed back and my throne will never be mine," he mused aloud.
Still, Elias of Stravos sought to take the monarchy back and install himself as king. The law changing made it impossible without marrying Emilia, and while that was certainly a possibility, she was not a queen yet.
"My plan moving forward is keeping an eye on the oceans to make sure the Queen does not return. It's unlikely that she'll stay away. Not with her sister in the palace," he began.
"From there, there's a few threads to follow along with. I plan to... convince Emilia to fall in love with me, so that a marriage between us is palatable to her and I can claim the throne that way. There's the matter of Aimias and crushing his testimony and reputation. I plan to confront the man soon enough. There's a possibility that tearing apart his reputation can give us an opportunity to vote the succession to its appropriate manner," he continued. Elias of Stravos didn't intend to let every matter on his mind through, but there was enough for him to give them for the rest of his machinations, the lesser ones that he could weave at his leisure, to remain undisclosed. Secrets were, after all, more forgivable than outright lies.
"Then there's the punishment of Xanthos. The rumours fly and they fly far, but things need to stay terrible and remain that way, independent of my actions. The Senate needs to remain closed, and the attacks to Athenia's economy need to remain in place. Everyone will see that Xanthos is unable to restore Athenia to prosperity and they'll have no choice but to obey."
Cast out many lines and catching the biggest fish is inevitable.
Pulled into an embrace with her husband and son, Circenia felt the tension leave her shoulders for the first time in weeks. This was how it had always been, how it was meant to be, and to be here in this room with the two of them and forgiveness clearing the air, it all felt right. Things were as they should be.
And with forgiveness came the opportunity to move forward.
Closing her eyes as Keikelius’s lips touched her forehead, a smile tugged at her mouth while her hand reached to squeeze his shoulder. Briefly resting her fingers against his face, her smile widened as she looked at him, the man who’d been at her side for so long. The man who’d helped to build their family and their reputation nearly from the ground up. The closest she’d ever come to hating him was the day he’d struck Elias in anger, but to hear those words of apology leave his lips… The princess never doubted she’d made the right choice in choosing this man.
As Elias began to speak again, Circenia turned her attention back to him, listening with an avid ear while he began to outline his plans. Nodding thoughtfully, she stepped back to give her child some space while he detailed where he planned to go from here. While she’d had her doubts in the past few weeks, she was glad to hear she had not raised an idiot, though it still pained her that he had not shared his thoughts with them before. Had they truly pushed him so far?
“You’re right, Persephone will not stay away forever,” she replied with a nod. “And we must be prepared for when she returns. The more isolated and confused that we can keep Emilia, the better. She must doubt her sister and her intentions. I have been doing what I can to ensure that, and to keep you in a positive light.”
Though she’d been infuriated by her son’s actions—or lack thereof—Circenia still did what she could to keep up appearances and support her son’s bid. While there was certainly familial strife behind closed doors, she never let it be seen in public, forever singing her son’s praises and striving to maintain what they’d fought so hard to achieve. If there was more she could do, she’d do it in a heartbeat and with a smile on her face.
“Tell us what we can do to help you, Elias,” she urged, taking her son’s hand with a gentle squeeze. “I’m happy to warp Emilia’s head, to keep up the spread of rumors. But if there’s anything more, simply say the word, and I’ll use every tool at my disposal to ensure the ruin of Xanthos.”
While Xanthos was the House Circenia had been born into, it could never be doubted she was a Stravos through and through. Upon her marriage to Keikelius, her loyalty to the swans had significantly diminished and with her brother’s death, it was all but dissipated. Now, all that mattered was that Stravos rose to prominence, that her children’s names lived on for generations. Persephone was no true Queen, and Emilia certainly never would be. It was time for the anchors to shine.
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
Pulled into an embrace with her husband and son, Circenia felt the tension leave her shoulders for the first time in weeks. This was how it had always been, how it was meant to be, and to be here in this room with the two of them and forgiveness clearing the air, it all felt right. Things were as they should be.
And with forgiveness came the opportunity to move forward.
Closing her eyes as Keikelius’s lips touched her forehead, a smile tugged at her mouth while her hand reached to squeeze his shoulder. Briefly resting her fingers against his face, her smile widened as she looked at him, the man who’d been at her side for so long. The man who’d helped to build their family and their reputation nearly from the ground up. The closest she’d ever come to hating him was the day he’d struck Elias in anger, but to hear those words of apology leave his lips… The princess never doubted she’d made the right choice in choosing this man.
As Elias began to speak again, Circenia turned her attention back to him, listening with an avid ear while he began to outline his plans. Nodding thoughtfully, she stepped back to give her child some space while he detailed where he planned to go from here. While she’d had her doubts in the past few weeks, she was glad to hear she had not raised an idiot, though it still pained her that he had not shared his thoughts with them before. Had they truly pushed him so far?
“You’re right, Persephone will not stay away forever,” she replied with a nod. “And we must be prepared for when she returns. The more isolated and confused that we can keep Emilia, the better. She must doubt her sister and her intentions. I have been doing what I can to ensure that, and to keep you in a positive light.”
Though she’d been infuriated by her son’s actions—or lack thereof—Circenia still did what she could to keep up appearances and support her son’s bid. While there was certainly familial strife behind closed doors, she never let it be seen in public, forever singing her son’s praises and striving to maintain what they’d fought so hard to achieve. If there was more she could do, she’d do it in a heartbeat and with a smile on her face.
“Tell us what we can do to help you, Elias,” she urged, taking her son’s hand with a gentle squeeze. “I’m happy to warp Emilia’s head, to keep up the spread of rumors. But if there’s anything more, simply say the word, and I’ll use every tool at my disposal to ensure the ruin of Xanthos.”
While Xanthos was the House Circenia had been born into, it could never be doubted she was a Stravos through and through. Upon her marriage to Keikelius, her loyalty to the swans had significantly diminished and with her brother’s death, it was all but dissipated. Now, all that mattered was that Stravos rose to prominence, that her children’s names lived on for generations. Persephone was no true Queen, and Emilia certainly never would be. It was time for the anchors to shine.
Pulled into an embrace with her husband and son, Circenia felt the tension leave her shoulders for the first time in weeks. This was how it had always been, how it was meant to be, and to be here in this room with the two of them and forgiveness clearing the air, it all felt right. Things were as they should be.
And with forgiveness came the opportunity to move forward.
Closing her eyes as Keikelius’s lips touched her forehead, a smile tugged at her mouth while her hand reached to squeeze his shoulder. Briefly resting her fingers against his face, her smile widened as she looked at him, the man who’d been at her side for so long. The man who’d helped to build their family and their reputation nearly from the ground up. The closest she’d ever come to hating him was the day he’d struck Elias in anger, but to hear those words of apology leave his lips… The princess never doubted she’d made the right choice in choosing this man.
As Elias began to speak again, Circenia turned her attention back to him, listening with an avid ear while he began to outline his plans. Nodding thoughtfully, she stepped back to give her child some space while he detailed where he planned to go from here. While she’d had her doubts in the past few weeks, she was glad to hear she had not raised an idiot, though it still pained her that he had not shared his thoughts with them before. Had they truly pushed him so far?
“You’re right, Persephone will not stay away forever,” she replied with a nod. “And we must be prepared for when she returns. The more isolated and confused that we can keep Emilia, the better. She must doubt her sister and her intentions. I have been doing what I can to ensure that, and to keep you in a positive light.”
Though she’d been infuriated by her son’s actions—or lack thereof—Circenia still did what she could to keep up appearances and support her son’s bid. While there was certainly familial strife behind closed doors, she never let it be seen in public, forever singing her son’s praises and striving to maintain what they’d fought so hard to achieve. If there was more she could do, she’d do it in a heartbeat and with a smile on her face.
“Tell us what we can do to help you, Elias,” she urged, taking her son’s hand with a gentle squeeze. “I’m happy to warp Emilia’s head, to keep up the spread of rumors. But if there’s anything more, simply say the word, and I’ll use every tool at my disposal to ensure the ruin of Xanthos.”
While Xanthos was the House Circenia had been born into, it could never be doubted she was a Stravos through and through. Upon her marriage to Keikelius, her loyalty to the swans had significantly diminished and with her brother’s death, it was all but dissipated. Now, all that mattered was that Stravos rose to prominence, that her children’s names lived on for generations. Persephone was no true Queen, and Emilia certainly never would be. It was time for the anchors to shine.
Keikelius was happy to embrace his wife and son for as long as the two of them let him. With his face buried against Circenia's hair, he finally let out a deep sigh, letting the two of them go when Circenia took a step back in order to give Elias the space he needed. Here, he also stepped back a bit, but kept his connection to his wife, his arm around her waist and his forehead resting, relaxed, against her shoulder. His other hand rest on Elias' shoulder, wanting to keep the three of them connected in at least some way now that they were reconciling with one another.
The man showed great patience, listening to Elias' reasoning and his thoughts as any good advisor or senator would. Where and when Keikelius had lost his patience with the boy before was very much known, though now it seemed that he could keep his temper in proper check. That was the best, most stable part of all of this. His own irritations, his own anger, his own frustrations and tendencies not to trust his own son were gone in that moment. Admitting his guilt and his want to be close to his boy again, that was not something that was done lightly with only the intention to bring them back closer. It was done because Keikelius truly wanted that connection back with his only son.
He had little to say and seemed content to nod along, letting Elias and Circenia speak and formulate their plans. Admittedly, Keikelius had likely stamped his foot on too many of their plans in the past, so this was not a bad step to take. Closing his eyes, he still felt he exhaustion seeping into his bones and now all he could truly focus on was sitting down and resting. With one of the servants slipping back into the room, Keikelius motioned her closer. "Prepare some food for us. We shall be up late," he instructed carefully, lifting his head and letting both wife and son go so that he could rub as his face in the hopes of quelling the tiredness that he felt. "I am at your disposal," Keikelius then murmured to Elias, lifting his chin a little, "Though I think that one of us may have to take a distanced approach. If our enemies are bound to be closer than we thing they are, having one of us on the outside of things might be... lucrative," he said absently, trying to usher the two of them in the direction of the dining room.
"Shall we continue this discussion there?" he questioned, "Hopefully with less wine and fewer tempers," Keikelius hummed, making little shooing motions at his wife and son in order to get them to move in that direction. This would likely be one of many talks that they would start to have in the coming weeks. It would start with the three of them and then escalate to the rest of the family, but for now, he was keen to start outlining the beginnings of a plan that the three of them could agreeon before time got too far away from them.
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
Keikelius was happy to embrace his wife and son for as long as the two of them let him. With his face buried against Circenia's hair, he finally let out a deep sigh, letting the two of them go when Circenia took a step back in order to give Elias the space he needed. Here, he also stepped back a bit, but kept his connection to his wife, his arm around her waist and his forehead resting, relaxed, against her shoulder. His other hand rest on Elias' shoulder, wanting to keep the three of them connected in at least some way now that they were reconciling with one another.
The man showed great patience, listening to Elias' reasoning and his thoughts as any good advisor or senator would. Where and when Keikelius had lost his patience with the boy before was very much known, though now it seemed that he could keep his temper in proper check. That was the best, most stable part of all of this. His own irritations, his own anger, his own frustrations and tendencies not to trust his own son were gone in that moment. Admitting his guilt and his want to be close to his boy again, that was not something that was done lightly with only the intention to bring them back closer. It was done because Keikelius truly wanted that connection back with his only son.
He had little to say and seemed content to nod along, letting Elias and Circenia speak and formulate their plans. Admittedly, Keikelius had likely stamped his foot on too many of their plans in the past, so this was not a bad step to take. Closing his eyes, he still felt he exhaustion seeping into his bones and now all he could truly focus on was sitting down and resting. With one of the servants slipping back into the room, Keikelius motioned her closer. "Prepare some food for us. We shall be up late," he instructed carefully, lifting his head and letting both wife and son go so that he could rub as his face in the hopes of quelling the tiredness that he felt. "I am at your disposal," Keikelius then murmured to Elias, lifting his chin a little, "Though I think that one of us may have to take a distanced approach. If our enemies are bound to be closer than we thing they are, having one of us on the outside of things might be... lucrative," he said absently, trying to usher the two of them in the direction of the dining room.
"Shall we continue this discussion there?" he questioned, "Hopefully with less wine and fewer tempers," Keikelius hummed, making little shooing motions at his wife and son in order to get them to move in that direction. This would likely be one of many talks that they would start to have in the coming weeks. It would start with the three of them and then escalate to the rest of the family, but for now, he was keen to start outlining the beginnings of a plan that the three of them could agreeon before time got too far away from them.
Keikelius was happy to embrace his wife and son for as long as the two of them let him. With his face buried against Circenia's hair, he finally let out a deep sigh, letting the two of them go when Circenia took a step back in order to give Elias the space he needed. Here, he also stepped back a bit, but kept his connection to his wife, his arm around her waist and his forehead resting, relaxed, against her shoulder. His other hand rest on Elias' shoulder, wanting to keep the three of them connected in at least some way now that they were reconciling with one another.
The man showed great patience, listening to Elias' reasoning and his thoughts as any good advisor or senator would. Where and when Keikelius had lost his patience with the boy before was very much known, though now it seemed that he could keep his temper in proper check. That was the best, most stable part of all of this. His own irritations, his own anger, his own frustrations and tendencies not to trust his own son were gone in that moment. Admitting his guilt and his want to be close to his boy again, that was not something that was done lightly with only the intention to bring them back closer. It was done because Keikelius truly wanted that connection back with his only son.
He had little to say and seemed content to nod along, letting Elias and Circenia speak and formulate their plans. Admittedly, Keikelius had likely stamped his foot on too many of their plans in the past, so this was not a bad step to take. Closing his eyes, he still felt he exhaustion seeping into his bones and now all he could truly focus on was sitting down and resting. With one of the servants slipping back into the room, Keikelius motioned her closer. "Prepare some food for us. We shall be up late," he instructed carefully, lifting his head and letting both wife and son go so that he could rub as his face in the hopes of quelling the tiredness that he felt. "I am at your disposal," Keikelius then murmured to Elias, lifting his chin a little, "Though I think that one of us may have to take a distanced approach. If our enemies are bound to be closer than we thing they are, having one of us on the outside of things might be... lucrative," he said absently, trying to usher the two of them in the direction of the dining room.
"Shall we continue this discussion there?" he questioned, "Hopefully with less wine and fewer tempers," Keikelius hummed, making little shooing motions at his wife and son in order to get them to move in that direction. This would likely be one of many talks that they would start to have in the coming weeks. It would start with the three of them and then escalate to the rest of the family, but for now, he was keen to start outlining the beginnings of a plan that the three of them could agreeon before time got too far away from them.