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.
Since his last visit to the palace - where he had subsequently and quite graciously been invited to live for the time being - he had waited for this day. It was strange, perhaps, that when surrounded with those royal comforts he had always been so confident he deserved, his mind was not entirely focussed upon them and, instead, thoroughly involved in all the possibilities of this scheme. It had not been complicated to set up. The man had only to vanish briefly to Thesnia, and, with little more than a single conversation with his steward (who had, for once, proved competent), Rafail had managed to organise all that would be needed for the Harvest Festival. Once everything was in order, he had returned to the capital city and the palace, ready to enjoy every benefit of his temporary residence in full, even if his mind did continue to wander to self-important fantasies of the upcoming event.
Now the long-awaited day had arrived, and every small detail had been carefully prepared for both lords to make their grand entrances and be lauded as heroes by the entirety of the Athenian populace. Papa would be proud to see his son bringing such honour to the family name, and women loved a hero in any form. This was to be a success in every way.
Of course, neither Elias nor Rafail had ever been particularly subtle. As a trait, it simply did not suit either of them, for they were both wealthy, powerful and attractive men, and such prestige did not attract humility. Several large carts had been piled high with all the bounty Thesnia had to offer and, although they did not appear impressive bar the sheer quantity of food they held, the pair of horses assigned to pull each wagon were mighty beasts decked in golden decorations that most would have considered entirely useless. Ahead of this procession of carts would be a pair of expensive chariots, and this was where the two would stand, waving out at the cheering crowd as they arrived unto the festival.
With all the excitement of the event before them, they had both been drinking, though it seemed Rafail had taken to the drink far better than his cousin, and where one seemed unstable in his drunkenness, the older man was of relatively sound mind. Thus, he was designated master of this ostentatious event, and, once satisfied that Elias was in his chariot and ready to set off, had stepped around to check on those driving the food wagons. Not a thing could go wrong, and he did his best to imprint the importance of this statement on the men entrusted with the foodstuffs, with the assurance that if anything did fail, it would be their faults and their price to pay.
When this cavalcade finally made its way into the central plateía, one might have been forgiven in assuming the gods themselves had descended from Mount Olympus. That was how Rafail felt, at least, standing proudly in his chariot with his shining aureate chiton trimmed with black embroidery - Marikas colours, of course, for this was a joint venture between the two houses, no matter how influential Stravos thought itself - and with the crown of laurel leaves dipped in gold and woven into thin silver chains which wound around his head. Elias had arranged for them to be flanked by some frankly stunning ladies who held large and elaborate fans, which both framed them well and added to the spectacle of the moment. He felt like one of the gods, and his arrogance at that moment shone brighter than any of the gold they bore.
He waved at the crowds as they pulled into the open square, beaming his brightest smile at those who had likely been awaiting this bounty for a long while, half-turning to gesture dramatically at the wagons following them as they rode in. "Behold!" he announced, as if the praising words were not his but that of some third party who thought him and Elias to be the greatest men in the world. "Abandoned as you were to starve by your vanished queen, Lord Elias and I have heard of your suffering, and sought only to help, by calling upon the aid of my own, most humble province of Thesnia. Thus, we bring you this glorious bounty, out of the overwhelming goodness of our hearts."
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
This was Rafail's moment.
Since his last visit to the palace - where he had subsequently and quite graciously been invited to live for the time being - he had waited for this day. It was strange, perhaps, that when surrounded with those royal comforts he had always been so confident he deserved, his mind was not entirely focussed upon them and, instead, thoroughly involved in all the possibilities of this scheme. It had not been complicated to set up. The man had only to vanish briefly to Thesnia, and, with little more than a single conversation with his steward (who had, for once, proved competent), Rafail had managed to organise all that would be needed for the Harvest Festival. Once everything was in order, he had returned to the capital city and the palace, ready to enjoy every benefit of his temporary residence in full, even if his mind did continue to wander to self-important fantasies of the upcoming event.
Now the long-awaited day had arrived, and every small detail had been carefully prepared for both lords to make their grand entrances and be lauded as heroes by the entirety of the Athenian populace. Papa would be proud to see his son bringing such honour to the family name, and women loved a hero in any form. This was to be a success in every way.
Of course, neither Elias nor Rafail had ever been particularly subtle. As a trait, it simply did not suit either of them, for they were both wealthy, powerful and attractive men, and such prestige did not attract humility. Several large carts had been piled high with all the bounty Thesnia had to offer and, although they did not appear impressive bar the sheer quantity of food they held, the pair of horses assigned to pull each wagon were mighty beasts decked in golden decorations that most would have considered entirely useless. Ahead of this procession of carts would be a pair of expensive chariots, and this was where the two would stand, waving out at the cheering crowd as they arrived unto the festival.
With all the excitement of the event before them, they had both been drinking, though it seemed Rafail had taken to the drink far better than his cousin, and where one seemed unstable in his drunkenness, the older man was of relatively sound mind. Thus, he was designated master of this ostentatious event, and, once satisfied that Elias was in his chariot and ready to set off, had stepped around to check on those driving the food wagons. Not a thing could go wrong, and he did his best to imprint the importance of this statement on the men entrusted with the foodstuffs, with the assurance that if anything did fail, it would be their faults and their price to pay.
When this cavalcade finally made its way into the central plateía, one might have been forgiven in assuming the gods themselves had descended from Mount Olympus. That was how Rafail felt, at least, standing proudly in his chariot with his shining aureate chiton trimmed with black embroidery - Marikas colours, of course, for this was a joint venture between the two houses, no matter how influential Stravos thought itself - and with the crown of laurel leaves dipped in gold and woven into thin silver chains which wound around his head. Elias had arranged for them to be flanked by some frankly stunning ladies who held large and elaborate fans, which both framed them well and added to the spectacle of the moment. He felt like one of the gods, and his arrogance at that moment shone brighter than any of the gold they bore.
He waved at the crowds as they pulled into the open square, beaming his brightest smile at those who had likely been awaiting this bounty for a long while, half-turning to gesture dramatically at the wagons following them as they rode in. "Behold!" he announced, as if the praising words were not his but that of some third party who thought him and Elias to be the greatest men in the world. "Abandoned as you were to starve by your vanished queen, Lord Elias and I have heard of your suffering, and sought only to help, by calling upon the aid of my own, most humble province of Thesnia. Thus, we bring you this glorious bounty, out of the overwhelming goodness of our hearts."
This was Rafail's moment.
Since his last visit to the palace - where he had subsequently and quite graciously been invited to live for the time being - he had waited for this day. It was strange, perhaps, that when surrounded with those royal comforts he had always been so confident he deserved, his mind was not entirely focussed upon them and, instead, thoroughly involved in all the possibilities of this scheme. It had not been complicated to set up. The man had only to vanish briefly to Thesnia, and, with little more than a single conversation with his steward (who had, for once, proved competent), Rafail had managed to organise all that would be needed for the Harvest Festival. Once everything was in order, he had returned to the capital city and the palace, ready to enjoy every benefit of his temporary residence in full, even if his mind did continue to wander to self-important fantasies of the upcoming event.
Now the long-awaited day had arrived, and every small detail had been carefully prepared for both lords to make their grand entrances and be lauded as heroes by the entirety of the Athenian populace. Papa would be proud to see his son bringing such honour to the family name, and women loved a hero in any form. This was to be a success in every way.
Of course, neither Elias nor Rafail had ever been particularly subtle. As a trait, it simply did not suit either of them, for they were both wealthy, powerful and attractive men, and such prestige did not attract humility. Several large carts had been piled high with all the bounty Thesnia had to offer and, although they did not appear impressive bar the sheer quantity of food they held, the pair of horses assigned to pull each wagon were mighty beasts decked in golden decorations that most would have considered entirely useless. Ahead of this procession of carts would be a pair of expensive chariots, and this was where the two would stand, waving out at the cheering crowd as they arrived unto the festival.
With all the excitement of the event before them, they had both been drinking, though it seemed Rafail had taken to the drink far better than his cousin, and where one seemed unstable in his drunkenness, the older man was of relatively sound mind. Thus, he was designated master of this ostentatious event, and, once satisfied that Elias was in his chariot and ready to set off, had stepped around to check on those driving the food wagons. Not a thing could go wrong, and he did his best to imprint the importance of this statement on the men entrusted with the foodstuffs, with the assurance that if anything did fail, it would be their faults and their price to pay.
When this cavalcade finally made its way into the central plateía, one might have been forgiven in assuming the gods themselves had descended from Mount Olympus. That was how Rafail felt, at least, standing proudly in his chariot with his shining aureate chiton trimmed with black embroidery - Marikas colours, of course, for this was a joint venture between the two houses, no matter how influential Stravos thought itself - and with the crown of laurel leaves dipped in gold and woven into thin silver chains which wound around his head. Elias had arranged for them to be flanked by some frankly stunning ladies who held large and elaborate fans, which both framed them well and added to the spectacle of the moment. He felt like one of the gods, and his arrogance at that moment shone brighter than any of the gold they bore.
He waved at the crowds as they pulled into the open square, beaming his brightest smile at those who had likely been awaiting this bounty for a long while, half-turning to gesture dramatically at the wagons following them as they rode in. "Behold!" he announced, as if the praising words were not his but that of some third party who thought him and Elias to be the greatest men in the world. "Abandoned as you were to starve by your vanished queen, Lord Elias and I have heard of your suffering, and sought only to help, by calling upon the aid of my own, most humble province of Thesnia. Thus, we bring you this glorious bounty, out of the overwhelming goodness of our hearts."
This was the day that all of Elias' machinations were to be laid into rest. For weeks, the Headlord of Stravos had planned the downfall of Xanthos, the burying of their name so deeply into the mud. First, it was Persephone, who upon being targeted for assassination and sent running out of the kingdom for her life... well, her reputation was in tatters. Who would believe that the palace could be infiltrated? No, it was the Queen who abandoned her position and ran off into the void. Clearly, she cared nothing for her people and instead, the new and inferior line of succession put Emilia of Xanthos in charge. Without a crown, the 'Crown Princess' was but a sham, a fool bearing power that she had no means of using. So, it was all to simple for Elias to throw himself into the palace and utilize every bit of her power to his own ends.
Keep her quiet. Keep her isolated. Fill her ears with thoughts of love for the Stravos who protect her and keep Athenia safe.
But, Athenia was never kept safe, nor was it meant to be safe. Allow Emilia her blind perceptions even as everything crumbled. The royals might've known what was happening, but with the disguise of illness in the early days of the season and the Senate closed, the fools in the court were left to dally pointlessly in their efforts at consolidating some kind of knowledge of the facts. But, they were unaware. They were worthless and their talks would result in nothing gained and only time lost. Of course, the Stravos needed to suffer in order for reputation to be turned away from Xanthos favour, and so, they had. The people had sang out their outcries of hunger, they had bolstered themselves with the desire for royal blood to be spilled. And yet, who had they killed? They set fires that towered to the sky, billowing smoke and the signs of royal power weakening as time went further and further. And yet... Elias bided his time. He used the weeks following the absence of the Queen to consolidate his own position, both in the palace and outside of it.
Voices had risen to battle Stravos rule, and one by one, they were being silenced in turn. Aimias, and then the peasant filth who dared have a right mind on the situation. Elias ended lives before the dissent could spread, and the Stravos principalities in particular were reigned in with an iron fist. Elias had every intention of keeping the momentum of his rule going, but first, there was the celebration of what had been done and at last, the first visible signs in two weeks of his position of power. He'd share the glory with only one other person, Rafail of Marikas, his cousin and best friend, who possessed a resource that the people of Athenia needed so desperately: food. Thesnia's bounty was particularly high this year, and Elias would work with Rafail to bring it to Athenia, but not before the Harvest Festival where all eyes would be upon them.
Perhaps, in the celebration of his triumphs, Elias had too much to drink. But, it was irrelevant. Rafail knew that it was Elias who needed to wear the crown, it was him that needed to bear the limelight for it was he that belonged at the top with his best friend at counsel next to him. The responsibilities of the crown were his by birthright, stolen away only by an old man and a vicious witch, both of whom weren't even around anymore to contest it! Elias celebrated the day away, drinking a full bottle of wine in the morn as he supervised the slaves as they built the carriages into a hefty bounty. Then, he'd taken a separate carriage from Rafail, but bore equal signs of the ostentatious showance of power. Elias bore a wreath crown of golden laurel upon his flawless head, the metal scratching somewhat into his skin, but the pleasure of its presence there was marred only for the fact that it could and should be a crown. Elias was at least, content with the golden laurel wreath, but matching with it was a golden-dyed chiton that set to make him appear as one of the Gods themselves. Draped in golden hues, Elias of Stravos sought to relish in the copious attention his godly presence brought to him.
When Rafail shouted out in the adjacent carriage, Elias was having his newly acquired slave, Kalypso, feed him grapes, his hand placed upon her thigh and his breath rank with the scent of wine, another bottle of which was shared between them and left on the floor half-empty. Elias cheered as "Behold!" sounded out in Rafail's voice. The rest of the world was but a blur as Elias of Stravos relished in the utterance of his name, in the due credit given to him by a man who had his best interests at heart. When mentioned, Elias had Kalypso help him to his feet, his arm held securely at her waist as he shouted aloud.
"Hear, hear! Athenia, bring yourselves to us as we provide unto you the sustenance lost that the witch-queen could not bring to you! Draw closer and partake the generous bounty that we provide! Drink, celebrate! The harvest is upon us. Let smiles wear upon your faces, for today is a day for glory and at last, for Athenia to breathe a sigh of relief as all of us end the night with full stomachs and hopes for the future!"
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
This was the day that all of Elias' machinations were to be laid into rest. For weeks, the Headlord of Stravos had planned the downfall of Xanthos, the burying of their name so deeply into the mud. First, it was Persephone, who upon being targeted for assassination and sent running out of the kingdom for her life... well, her reputation was in tatters. Who would believe that the palace could be infiltrated? No, it was the Queen who abandoned her position and ran off into the void. Clearly, she cared nothing for her people and instead, the new and inferior line of succession put Emilia of Xanthos in charge. Without a crown, the 'Crown Princess' was but a sham, a fool bearing power that she had no means of using. So, it was all to simple for Elias to throw himself into the palace and utilize every bit of her power to his own ends.
Keep her quiet. Keep her isolated. Fill her ears with thoughts of love for the Stravos who protect her and keep Athenia safe.
But, Athenia was never kept safe, nor was it meant to be safe. Allow Emilia her blind perceptions even as everything crumbled. The royals might've known what was happening, but with the disguise of illness in the early days of the season and the Senate closed, the fools in the court were left to dally pointlessly in their efforts at consolidating some kind of knowledge of the facts. But, they were unaware. They were worthless and their talks would result in nothing gained and only time lost. Of course, the Stravos needed to suffer in order for reputation to be turned away from Xanthos favour, and so, they had. The people had sang out their outcries of hunger, they had bolstered themselves with the desire for royal blood to be spilled. And yet, who had they killed? They set fires that towered to the sky, billowing smoke and the signs of royal power weakening as time went further and further. And yet... Elias bided his time. He used the weeks following the absence of the Queen to consolidate his own position, both in the palace and outside of it.
Voices had risen to battle Stravos rule, and one by one, they were being silenced in turn. Aimias, and then the peasant filth who dared have a right mind on the situation. Elias ended lives before the dissent could spread, and the Stravos principalities in particular were reigned in with an iron fist. Elias had every intention of keeping the momentum of his rule going, but first, there was the celebration of what had been done and at last, the first visible signs in two weeks of his position of power. He'd share the glory with only one other person, Rafail of Marikas, his cousin and best friend, who possessed a resource that the people of Athenia needed so desperately: food. Thesnia's bounty was particularly high this year, and Elias would work with Rafail to bring it to Athenia, but not before the Harvest Festival where all eyes would be upon them.
Perhaps, in the celebration of his triumphs, Elias had too much to drink. But, it was irrelevant. Rafail knew that it was Elias who needed to wear the crown, it was him that needed to bear the limelight for it was he that belonged at the top with his best friend at counsel next to him. The responsibilities of the crown were his by birthright, stolen away only by an old man and a vicious witch, both of whom weren't even around anymore to contest it! Elias celebrated the day away, drinking a full bottle of wine in the morn as he supervised the slaves as they built the carriages into a hefty bounty. Then, he'd taken a separate carriage from Rafail, but bore equal signs of the ostentatious showance of power. Elias bore a wreath crown of golden laurel upon his flawless head, the metal scratching somewhat into his skin, but the pleasure of its presence there was marred only for the fact that it could and should be a crown. Elias was at least, content with the golden laurel wreath, but matching with it was a golden-dyed chiton that set to make him appear as one of the Gods themselves. Draped in golden hues, Elias of Stravos sought to relish in the copious attention his godly presence brought to him.
When Rafail shouted out in the adjacent carriage, Elias was having his newly acquired slave, Kalypso, feed him grapes, his hand placed upon her thigh and his breath rank with the scent of wine, another bottle of which was shared between them and left on the floor half-empty. Elias cheered as "Behold!" sounded out in Rafail's voice. The rest of the world was but a blur as Elias of Stravos relished in the utterance of his name, in the due credit given to him by a man who had his best interests at heart. When mentioned, Elias had Kalypso help him to his feet, his arm held securely at her waist as he shouted aloud.
"Hear, hear! Athenia, bring yourselves to us as we provide unto you the sustenance lost that the witch-queen could not bring to you! Draw closer and partake the generous bounty that we provide! Drink, celebrate! The harvest is upon us. Let smiles wear upon your faces, for today is a day for glory and at last, for Athenia to breathe a sigh of relief as all of us end the night with full stomachs and hopes for the future!"
This was the day that all of Elias' machinations were to be laid into rest. For weeks, the Headlord of Stravos had planned the downfall of Xanthos, the burying of their name so deeply into the mud. First, it was Persephone, who upon being targeted for assassination and sent running out of the kingdom for her life... well, her reputation was in tatters. Who would believe that the palace could be infiltrated? No, it was the Queen who abandoned her position and ran off into the void. Clearly, she cared nothing for her people and instead, the new and inferior line of succession put Emilia of Xanthos in charge. Without a crown, the 'Crown Princess' was but a sham, a fool bearing power that she had no means of using. So, it was all to simple for Elias to throw himself into the palace and utilize every bit of her power to his own ends.
Keep her quiet. Keep her isolated. Fill her ears with thoughts of love for the Stravos who protect her and keep Athenia safe.
But, Athenia was never kept safe, nor was it meant to be safe. Allow Emilia her blind perceptions even as everything crumbled. The royals might've known what was happening, but with the disguise of illness in the early days of the season and the Senate closed, the fools in the court were left to dally pointlessly in their efforts at consolidating some kind of knowledge of the facts. But, they were unaware. They were worthless and their talks would result in nothing gained and only time lost. Of course, the Stravos needed to suffer in order for reputation to be turned away from Xanthos favour, and so, they had. The people had sang out their outcries of hunger, they had bolstered themselves with the desire for royal blood to be spilled. And yet, who had they killed? They set fires that towered to the sky, billowing smoke and the signs of royal power weakening as time went further and further. And yet... Elias bided his time. He used the weeks following the absence of the Queen to consolidate his own position, both in the palace and outside of it.
Voices had risen to battle Stravos rule, and one by one, they were being silenced in turn. Aimias, and then the peasant filth who dared have a right mind on the situation. Elias ended lives before the dissent could spread, and the Stravos principalities in particular were reigned in with an iron fist. Elias had every intention of keeping the momentum of his rule going, but first, there was the celebration of what had been done and at last, the first visible signs in two weeks of his position of power. He'd share the glory with only one other person, Rafail of Marikas, his cousin and best friend, who possessed a resource that the people of Athenia needed so desperately: food. Thesnia's bounty was particularly high this year, and Elias would work with Rafail to bring it to Athenia, but not before the Harvest Festival where all eyes would be upon them.
Perhaps, in the celebration of his triumphs, Elias had too much to drink. But, it was irrelevant. Rafail knew that it was Elias who needed to wear the crown, it was him that needed to bear the limelight for it was he that belonged at the top with his best friend at counsel next to him. The responsibilities of the crown were his by birthright, stolen away only by an old man and a vicious witch, both of whom weren't even around anymore to contest it! Elias celebrated the day away, drinking a full bottle of wine in the morn as he supervised the slaves as they built the carriages into a hefty bounty. Then, he'd taken a separate carriage from Rafail, but bore equal signs of the ostentatious showance of power. Elias bore a wreath crown of golden laurel upon his flawless head, the metal scratching somewhat into his skin, but the pleasure of its presence there was marred only for the fact that it could and should be a crown. Elias was at least, content with the golden laurel wreath, but matching with it was a golden-dyed chiton that set to make him appear as one of the Gods themselves. Draped in golden hues, Elias of Stravos sought to relish in the copious attention his godly presence brought to him.
When Rafail shouted out in the adjacent carriage, Elias was having his newly acquired slave, Kalypso, feed him grapes, his hand placed upon her thigh and his breath rank with the scent of wine, another bottle of which was shared between them and left on the floor half-empty. Elias cheered as "Behold!" sounded out in Rafail's voice. The rest of the world was but a blur as Elias of Stravos relished in the utterance of his name, in the due credit given to him by a man who had his best interests at heart. When mentioned, Elias had Kalypso help him to his feet, his arm held securely at her waist as he shouted aloud.
"Hear, hear! Athenia, bring yourselves to us as we provide unto you the sustenance lost that the witch-queen could not bring to you! Draw closer and partake the generous bounty that we provide! Drink, celebrate! The harvest is upon us. Let smiles wear upon your faces, for today is a day for glory and at last, for Athenia to breathe a sigh of relief as all of us end the night with full stomachs and hopes for the future!"
After introducing herself, Hero was distracted by the dancing circle happening not too far from them. And with that distraction, she was able to notice a pretty and elegantly tall woman making a beeline towards them. At first she thought the lady must've been walking straight and then would bob to the side to prevent a clash, but her slight tap on Ismene's shoulder proved otherwise. "Of course, she's all yours, m'lady!"Hero replied, smiling earnestly at the older woman before setting her eyes upon Adrestus. "M'lord, we should entertain ourselves with the dancing circle!" Whether the attempt to wheel him away had or hadn't worked didn't matter much to her as she dipped into a small bow for Elysia and walked away with her basket in hand.
The dancing circle brought her great joy as evident by her smile and joyous laughter, pushing the basket handle up her arm helped aid her in clapping to the beat of the music. She so much wanted to join the circle, but alas her dancing skills left much to be desired since she skimped out on her 'How to Be The Perfect Grecian Lady' lessons to gut fish and throw spears. Regardless, it was a wonderful dance that looked to have left the participants parched and out of breath. "Well done! Well done!" Greeted Hero, to each formerly dancing passerby no matter whom. She started to wonder whether her facial paint depicting a crescent-shaped orange across her eye had dried off yet. Eager to find out, the young woman of sixteen's hand rose with her index finger protruded to touch her temple. With her palm extended in front of her, her eyebrows knitted together in frustration as a splotch of green covered her fair fingertip. "Blast..."The fisherwoman muttered, looking around to check if anyone was within vicinity. Most of the festival-goers were too occupied with something hurling pass them on the streets, giving her the opportunity to bend down and smear the small amount of green paint at the lower edge of her chiton. To make sure she wasn't being watched, she bent down even lower to tamper with the straps on her sandal as if she was fixing the blasted shoe.
With that all said and done, she slowly rose up to see why everyone's eyes were guided elsewhere. Passing the crowd was a beautiful chariot with two very handsome men, one wearing a golden chiton... a color at least twenty years worth a fisherman's salary. Dyes were hard to come by, even for those stuck in the middle of the hierarchy or so she thought. It took many years for her grandmother to buy her the black swimming chiton she adorned for swimming, and even that cloth was biding its' time. Based on the clothes, the expensive chariot, and the beautiful fanning girls, these men are of most importance and were treated as such based on most of the crowd gawking at them. Even Hero was entranced, especially by the one near the man wearing the shining chiton. He was... someone that could lure the audience into doing his bidding based on godly good looks. But suddenly, the man next to him opened his mouth and such fascination ended. And all the glamour swept from her mind, replacing refinement with a man balancing a woman that looked to be about her age on his knee whilst plucking bountiful fruit with his teeth from her shackled hand.
In short, the man sullied Queen Persephone's name and gloated praises of him and a 'Lord Elias'. Hero's bright blue eyes flickered between both the man and Elias. So that's who he was... She thought, peering at him with a content expression. As a fisherwoman and chore-girl, people talk and are careless about whether they’re being heard or not. And according to conversations heard at the docks and within homes, Lord Elias was somebody that took over after Queen Persephone’s disappearance and so far he hadn’t upheld expectations. Even Hero noticed that things have gone downhill ever since he took over. While he must’ve not been at fault, he didn’t help his case by badmouthing the former Queen. As a mere visitor of the Plateia and a first-timer, it was expected of her to not care about the slander. But the Queen was a baroness of Arcana, the providence she hailed from. And under her rule, Arcana prospered, especially during droughts and nearly empty seas. Hero might have encountered the Queen and her sister perhaps once or twice in passing (and might’ve forgotten interactions due to her insistence on running others’ errands), but they were still good people in her book even if the Queen vanished.
So, a not so heroic Hero couldn’t stand to hear the sullying and mere name-calling against her baroness’s name.
Punishment might be severe and even cost her her life, and perhaps the Queen will never hear or speak of her if she was still alive. But she spoke not out of glory or recognition, but out of anger. “How dare you-“ Her voice was soft, in the midst of mild cheering amongst the crowd. So she stepped forward so the two men could hear her, and to separate herself from Adrestus so the men wouldn’t associate him with her out of spite. Gently pushing past the others, she eventually got to the front of the chariot and pointed at them. Arched brows, face paint, hand-woven basket and all, her adrenaline and recklessness saved her from feeling worthless in front of the guards, fanning girls, and the Royals.
“How dare you speak of her that way!” She cried, pointing a still finger at the two men. Her voice rising, the more anger fueling her words. “The Queen hasn’t had the chance to display any competence and yet you still judge, standing and looking as if you’re two boys playing dress up in the comfort of your own dreaded Palati’. Hmph, Without the backing of Thesnia, that’s all you’ll probably both ever be!” Hero cared not if anybody was staring at her or whether she was being drowned out, for her eyes were locked on the Royals with no chance of turning back. “Can’t you see?! Outside of this festival nothing has changed! Many are still starving, crime is becoming a lot worse, and nothing has been done about any of this. Yet, we should be thankful because you brought food to one festival?” The blonde turned around, her back facing the ‘boys’. “What do you all think- has anything really gotten better!?” She could tell that she might get backlash, being just a mere peasant girl disrespecting men that were higher to the gods than she’ll ever be in her lifetime. But still, her head was held high and she would -not- buck under pressure. Nor waver.
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
After introducing herself, Hero was distracted by the dancing circle happening not too far from them. And with that distraction, she was able to notice a pretty and elegantly tall woman making a beeline towards them. At first she thought the lady must've been walking straight and then would bob to the side to prevent a clash, but her slight tap on Ismene's shoulder proved otherwise. "Of course, she's all yours, m'lady!"Hero replied, smiling earnestly at the older woman before setting her eyes upon Adrestus. "M'lord, we should entertain ourselves with the dancing circle!" Whether the attempt to wheel him away had or hadn't worked didn't matter much to her as she dipped into a small bow for Elysia and walked away with her basket in hand.
The dancing circle brought her great joy as evident by her smile and joyous laughter, pushing the basket handle up her arm helped aid her in clapping to the beat of the music. She so much wanted to join the circle, but alas her dancing skills left much to be desired since she skimped out on her 'How to Be The Perfect Grecian Lady' lessons to gut fish and throw spears. Regardless, it was a wonderful dance that looked to have left the participants parched and out of breath. "Well done! Well done!" Greeted Hero, to each formerly dancing passerby no matter whom. She started to wonder whether her facial paint depicting a crescent-shaped orange across her eye had dried off yet. Eager to find out, the young woman of sixteen's hand rose with her index finger protruded to touch her temple. With her palm extended in front of her, her eyebrows knitted together in frustration as a splotch of green covered her fair fingertip. "Blast..."The fisherwoman muttered, looking around to check if anyone was within vicinity. Most of the festival-goers were too occupied with something hurling pass them on the streets, giving her the opportunity to bend down and smear the small amount of green paint at the lower edge of her chiton. To make sure she wasn't being watched, she bent down even lower to tamper with the straps on her sandal as if she was fixing the blasted shoe.
With that all said and done, she slowly rose up to see why everyone's eyes were guided elsewhere. Passing the crowd was a beautiful chariot with two very handsome men, one wearing a golden chiton... a color at least twenty years worth a fisherman's salary. Dyes were hard to come by, even for those stuck in the middle of the hierarchy or so she thought. It took many years for her grandmother to buy her the black swimming chiton she adorned for swimming, and even that cloth was biding its' time. Based on the clothes, the expensive chariot, and the beautiful fanning girls, these men are of most importance and were treated as such based on most of the crowd gawking at them. Even Hero was entranced, especially by the one near the man wearing the shining chiton. He was... someone that could lure the audience into doing his bidding based on godly good looks. But suddenly, the man next to him opened his mouth and such fascination ended. And all the glamour swept from her mind, replacing refinement with a man balancing a woman that looked to be about her age on his knee whilst plucking bountiful fruit with his teeth from her shackled hand.
In short, the man sullied Queen Persephone's name and gloated praises of him and a 'Lord Elias'. Hero's bright blue eyes flickered between both the man and Elias. So that's who he was... She thought, peering at him with a content expression. As a fisherwoman and chore-girl, people talk and are careless about whether they’re being heard or not. And according to conversations heard at the docks and within homes, Lord Elias was somebody that took over after Queen Persephone’s disappearance and so far he hadn’t upheld expectations. Even Hero noticed that things have gone downhill ever since he took over. While he must’ve not been at fault, he didn’t help his case by badmouthing the former Queen. As a mere visitor of the Plateia and a first-timer, it was expected of her to not care about the slander. But the Queen was a baroness of Arcana, the providence she hailed from. And under her rule, Arcana prospered, especially during droughts and nearly empty seas. Hero might have encountered the Queen and her sister perhaps once or twice in passing (and might’ve forgotten interactions due to her insistence on running others’ errands), but they were still good people in her book even if the Queen vanished.
So, a not so heroic Hero couldn’t stand to hear the sullying and mere name-calling against her baroness’s name.
Punishment might be severe and even cost her her life, and perhaps the Queen will never hear or speak of her if she was still alive. But she spoke not out of glory or recognition, but out of anger. “How dare you-“ Her voice was soft, in the midst of mild cheering amongst the crowd. So she stepped forward so the two men could hear her, and to separate herself from Adrestus so the men wouldn’t associate him with her out of spite. Gently pushing past the others, she eventually got to the front of the chariot and pointed at them. Arched brows, face paint, hand-woven basket and all, her adrenaline and recklessness saved her from feeling worthless in front of the guards, fanning girls, and the Royals.
“How dare you speak of her that way!” She cried, pointing a still finger at the two men. Her voice rising, the more anger fueling her words. “The Queen hasn’t had the chance to display any competence and yet you still judge, standing and looking as if you’re two boys playing dress up in the comfort of your own dreaded Palati’. Hmph, Without the backing of Thesnia, that’s all you’ll probably both ever be!” Hero cared not if anybody was staring at her or whether she was being drowned out, for her eyes were locked on the Royals with no chance of turning back. “Can’t you see?! Outside of this festival nothing has changed! Many are still starving, crime is becoming a lot worse, and nothing has been done about any of this. Yet, we should be thankful because you brought food to one festival?” The blonde turned around, her back facing the ‘boys’. “What do you all think- has anything really gotten better!?” She could tell that she might get backlash, being just a mere peasant girl disrespecting men that were higher to the gods than she’ll ever be in her lifetime. But still, her head was held high and she would -not- buck under pressure. Nor waver.
After introducing herself, Hero was distracted by the dancing circle happening not too far from them. And with that distraction, she was able to notice a pretty and elegantly tall woman making a beeline towards them. At first she thought the lady must've been walking straight and then would bob to the side to prevent a clash, but her slight tap on Ismene's shoulder proved otherwise. "Of course, she's all yours, m'lady!"Hero replied, smiling earnestly at the older woman before setting her eyes upon Adrestus. "M'lord, we should entertain ourselves with the dancing circle!" Whether the attempt to wheel him away had or hadn't worked didn't matter much to her as she dipped into a small bow for Elysia and walked away with her basket in hand.
The dancing circle brought her great joy as evident by her smile and joyous laughter, pushing the basket handle up her arm helped aid her in clapping to the beat of the music. She so much wanted to join the circle, but alas her dancing skills left much to be desired since she skimped out on her 'How to Be The Perfect Grecian Lady' lessons to gut fish and throw spears. Regardless, it was a wonderful dance that looked to have left the participants parched and out of breath. "Well done! Well done!" Greeted Hero, to each formerly dancing passerby no matter whom. She started to wonder whether her facial paint depicting a crescent-shaped orange across her eye had dried off yet. Eager to find out, the young woman of sixteen's hand rose with her index finger protruded to touch her temple. With her palm extended in front of her, her eyebrows knitted together in frustration as a splotch of green covered her fair fingertip. "Blast..."The fisherwoman muttered, looking around to check if anyone was within vicinity. Most of the festival-goers were too occupied with something hurling pass them on the streets, giving her the opportunity to bend down and smear the small amount of green paint at the lower edge of her chiton. To make sure she wasn't being watched, she bent down even lower to tamper with the straps on her sandal as if she was fixing the blasted shoe.
With that all said and done, she slowly rose up to see why everyone's eyes were guided elsewhere. Passing the crowd was a beautiful chariot with two very handsome men, one wearing a golden chiton... a color at least twenty years worth a fisherman's salary. Dyes were hard to come by, even for those stuck in the middle of the hierarchy or so she thought. It took many years for her grandmother to buy her the black swimming chiton she adorned for swimming, and even that cloth was biding its' time. Based on the clothes, the expensive chariot, and the beautiful fanning girls, these men are of most importance and were treated as such based on most of the crowd gawking at them. Even Hero was entranced, especially by the one near the man wearing the shining chiton. He was... someone that could lure the audience into doing his bidding based on godly good looks. But suddenly, the man next to him opened his mouth and such fascination ended. And all the glamour swept from her mind, replacing refinement with a man balancing a woman that looked to be about her age on his knee whilst plucking bountiful fruit with his teeth from her shackled hand.
In short, the man sullied Queen Persephone's name and gloated praises of him and a 'Lord Elias'. Hero's bright blue eyes flickered between both the man and Elias. So that's who he was... She thought, peering at him with a content expression. As a fisherwoman and chore-girl, people talk and are careless about whether they’re being heard or not. And according to conversations heard at the docks and within homes, Lord Elias was somebody that took over after Queen Persephone’s disappearance and so far he hadn’t upheld expectations. Even Hero noticed that things have gone downhill ever since he took over. While he must’ve not been at fault, he didn’t help his case by badmouthing the former Queen. As a mere visitor of the Plateia and a first-timer, it was expected of her to not care about the slander. But the Queen was a baroness of Arcana, the providence she hailed from. And under her rule, Arcana prospered, especially during droughts and nearly empty seas. Hero might have encountered the Queen and her sister perhaps once or twice in passing (and might’ve forgotten interactions due to her insistence on running others’ errands), but they were still good people in her book even if the Queen vanished.
So, a not so heroic Hero couldn’t stand to hear the sullying and mere name-calling against her baroness’s name.
Punishment might be severe and even cost her her life, and perhaps the Queen will never hear or speak of her if she was still alive. But she spoke not out of glory or recognition, but out of anger. “How dare you-“ Her voice was soft, in the midst of mild cheering amongst the crowd. So she stepped forward so the two men could hear her, and to separate herself from Adrestus so the men wouldn’t associate him with her out of spite. Gently pushing past the others, she eventually got to the front of the chariot and pointed at them. Arched brows, face paint, hand-woven basket and all, her adrenaline and recklessness saved her from feeling worthless in front of the guards, fanning girls, and the Royals.
“How dare you speak of her that way!” She cried, pointing a still finger at the two men. Her voice rising, the more anger fueling her words. “The Queen hasn’t had the chance to display any competence and yet you still judge, standing and looking as if you’re two boys playing dress up in the comfort of your own dreaded Palati’. Hmph, Without the backing of Thesnia, that’s all you’ll probably both ever be!” Hero cared not if anybody was staring at her or whether she was being drowned out, for her eyes were locked on the Royals with no chance of turning back. “Can’t you see?! Outside of this festival nothing has changed! Many are still starving, crime is becoming a lot worse, and nothing has been done about any of this. Yet, we should be thankful because you brought food to one festival?” The blonde turned around, her back facing the ‘boys’. “What do you all think- has anything really gotten better!?” She could tell that she might get backlash, being just a mere peasant girl disrespecting men that were higher to the gods than she’ll ever be in her lifetime. But still, her head was held high and she would -not- buck under pressure. Nor waver.
It felt... odd.
The eagerness with which the Athenian people threw together this festival, that is. With the death of King Minas, the wrongful (in Cyrene's mind, at least) ascension of Persephone to his throne, attacks on House Stravos, and the sudden disappearance of the elder Xanthos sister, and everything in between those moments, it was almost a wonder to Cyrene that the inhabitants of her city could seemingly drop any dark, looming thought about the future of the kingdom in favour of libations and festivity.
Cyrene wished that it was that easy.
With the velocity at which Persephone of Xanthos was named heir, and then became queen, a seed had been planted in the Nikolaos girl's head about how convenient the princess's rise to power had been. It was much too much so for the blonde to not feel a level of suspicion about just what had happened to King Minas.
And yet, she could never voice these feelings, to anyone. The Nikolaos swore their undying loyalty to the Xanthos family ages ago, and if she finally decided to speak her mind now, even after the disappearance of their liege lady, her family's livelihood could disappear in a heartbeat. Cyrene would not allow herself to be the cause of such a thing.
Yet, even with these turbulent thoughts swimming in her head, Cyrene had to go to the festival.
Yes, she wasn't typically a fan of large social gatherings, and yes, the thought of putting on a smile at this point in time made the girl almost cringe, but Cyrene had never been her own person. Firstly, she had an obligation to Lady Sera, who made quite the fuss about her hair and makeup for such an event. There was no way she would be able to sit out of this event. Secondly, she was a Nikolaos, and as such, she would do what she must to uphold the family image. And right now, it seemed that she could do that best by showing up to this party, and trying to act as if she was enjoying herself. She saw the chances of the previously mentioned being slim to none, but...perhaps, she could forget about the chaos that surrounded her in court for a few hours. It was a nice sentiment, if nothing else.
So, there Cyrene was, along with the rest of Lady Sera's entourage.
At least, that is, until they actually arrived at the event. At that point, Sera seemed to think herself "generous" by allowing all but her chief retainer to go about as they pleased during today's festivities. It suddenly seemed that all of Cyrene's planning had fallen by the wayside, as she had not expected to be released from the side of her lady, and to stay would be impertinent, as one could only expect the lady to speak freely, and to linger could mean to eavesdrop. Cyrene would not do such.
So, as she watched the rest of the entourage scatter as to have some of their own merrymaking, Cyrene slowly split from her Marikas employer, and wove her way through the crowds of people, noble and common alike, all seemingly needing this colourful and extravagant reprieve.
Dressed in the deep crimson of Nikolaos, Cyrene was usually sure to make a statement, yet with so many people, she was surprised to find herself feeling almost invisible. At least, that was, until she spotted Lord Rafail riding in on a chariot, with perhaps the most flamboyant and excessive display of ego she could have expected from him...still, fitting, she supposed.
At the seriousness with which Rafail seemed to consider his entrance, Cyrene had to cover her mouth to hide the smile that threatened to pull at the corners of her mouth. She would not laugh right now.
And, somehow, she'd seemed to manage it for the majority of the play-prince's display, and the embarrassment of the Stravos heir's drunkenness. How, she had no clue.
Yet, she could not fight the fit of laughter that demanded to be set free, when she made eye contact with the youngest lord of the Marikas household, and he attempted to wink at her...attempted. The poor fellow only managed to make himself look like a bit of an idiot by blinking instead, and then, any fear she may have had concerning him in that moment gave way to a quick laugh, followed by a snort from the girl, at which point she was quick to cover her mouth with a hand, looking around to see if anyone had been paying attention, and then quickly looking for a way out of the crowd.
Only minutes into the event, and she'd managed to laugh at the brother-in-law of Lady Sera. Great.
She could only hope that the gods would watch over her, or, more immediately, to avoid Lord Rafail for the rest of the festival, or else, she had no clue just how the lord would react, as she hadn't stayed to watch.
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 felt... odd.
The eagerness with which the Athenian people threw together this festival, that is. With the death of King Minas, the wrongful (in Cyrene's mind, at least) ascension of Persephone to his throne, attacks on House Stravos, and the sudden disappearance of the elder Xanthos sister, and everything in between those moments, it was almost a wonder to Cyrene that the inhabitants of her city could seemingly drop any dark, looming thought about the future of the kingdom in favour of libations and festivity.
Cyrene wished that it was that easy.
With the velocity at which Persephone of Xanthos was named heir, and then became queen, a seed had been planted in the Nikolaos girl's head about how convenient the princess's rise to power had been. It was much too much so for the blonde to not feel a level of suspicion about just what had happened to King Minas.
And yet, she could never voice these feelings, to anyone. The Nikolaos swore their undying loyalty to the Xanthos family ages ago, and if she finally decided to speak her mind now, even after the disappearance of their liege lady, her family's livelihood could disappear in a heartbeat. Cyrene would not allow herself to be the cause of such a thing.
Yet, even with these turbulent thoughts swimming in her head, Cyrene had to go to the festival.
Yes, she wasn't typically a fan of large social gatherings, and yes, the thought of putting on a smile at this point in time made the girl almost cringe, but Cyrene had never been her own person. Firstly, she had an obligation to Lady Sera, who made quite the fuss about her hair and makeup for such an event. There was no way she would be able to sit out of this event. Secondly, she was a Nikolaos, and as such, she would do what she must to uphold the family image. And right now, it seemed that she could do that best by showing up to this party, and trying to act as if she was enjoying herself. She saw the chances of the previously mentioned being slim to none, but...perhaps, she could forget about the chaos that surrounded her in court for a few hours. It was a nice sentiment, if nothing else.
So, there Cyrene was, along with the rest of Lady Sera's entourage.
At least, that is, until they actually arrived at the event. At that point, Sera seemed to think herself "generous" by allowing all but her chief retainer to go about as they pleased during today's festivities. It suddenly seemed that all of Cyrene's planning had fallen by the wayside, as she had not expected to be released from the side of her lady, and to stay would be impertinent, as one could only expect the lady to speak freely, and to linger could mean to eavesdrop. Cyrene would not do such.
So, as she watched the rest of the entourage scatter as to have some of their own merrymaking, Cyrene slowly split from her Marikas employer, and wove her way through the crowds of people, noble and common alike, all seemingly needing this colourful and extravagant reprieve.
Dressed in the deep crimson of Nikolaos, Cyrene was usually sure to make a statement, yet with so many people, she was surprised to find herself feeling almost invisible. At least, that was, until she spotted Lord Rafail riding in on a chariot, with perhaps the most flamboyant and excessive display of ego she could have expected from him...still, fitting, she supposed.
At the seriousness with which Rafail seemed to consider his entrance, Cyrene had to cover her mouth to hide the smile that threatened to pull at the corners of her mouth. She would not laugh right now.
And, somehow, she'd seemed to manage it for the majority of the play-prince's display, and the embarrassment of the Stravos heir's drunkenness. How, she had no clue.
Yet, she could not fight the fit of laughter that demanded to be set free, when she made eye contact with the youngest lord of the Marikas household, and he attempted to wink at her...attempted. The poor fellow only managed to make himself look like a bit of an idiot by blinking instead, and then, any fear she may have had concerning him in that moment gave way to a quick laugh, followed by a snort from the girl, at which point she was quick to cover her mouth with a hand, looking around to see if anyone had been paying attention, and then quickly looking for a way out of the crowd.
Only minutes into the event, and she'd managed to laugh at the brother-in-law of Lady Sera. Great.
She could only hope that the gods would watch over her, or, more immediately, to avoid Lord Rafail for the rest of the festival, or else, she had no clue just how the lord would react, as she hadn't stayed to watch.
It felt... odd.
The eagerness with which the Athenian people threw together this festival, that is. With the death of King Minas, the wrongful (in Cyrene's mind, at least) ascension of Persephone to his throne, attacks on House Stravos, and the sudden disappearance of the elder Xanthos sister, and everything in between those moments, it was almost a wonder to Cyrene that the inhabitants of her city could seemingly drop any dark, looming thought about the future of the kingdom in favour of libations and festivity.
Cyrene wished that it was that easy.
With the velocity at which Persephone of Xanthos was named heir, and then became queen, a seed had been planted in the Nikolaos girl's head about how convenient the princess's rise to power had been. It was much too much so for the blonde to not feel a level of suspicion about just what had happened to King Minas.
And yet, she could never voice these feelings, to anyone. The Nikolaos swore their undying loyalty to the Xanthos family ages ago, and if she finally decided to speak her mind now, even after the disappearance of their liege lady, her family's livelihood could disappear in a heartbeat. Cyrene would not allow herself to be the cause of such a thing.
Yet, even with these turbulent thoughts swimming in her head, Cyrene had to go to the festival.
Yes, she wasn't typically a fan of large social gatherings, and yes, the thought of putting on a smile at this point in time made the girl almost cringe, but Cyrene had never been her own person. Firstly, she had an obligation to Lady Sera, who made quite the fuss about her hair and makeup for such an event. There was no way she would be able to sit out of this event. Secondly, she was a Nikolaos, and as such, she would do what she must to uphold the family image. And right now, it seemed that she could do that best by showing up to this party, and trying to act as if she was enjoying herself. She saw the chances of the previously mentioned being slim to none, but...perhaps, she could forget about the chaos that surrounded her in court for a few hours. It was a nice sentiment, if nothing else.
So, there Cyrene was, along with the rest of Lady Sera's entourage.
At least, that is, until they actually arrived at the event. At that point, Sera seemed to think herself "generous" by allowing all but her chief retainer to go about as they pleased during today's festivities. It suddenly seemed that all of Cyrene's planning had fallen by the wayside, as she had not expected to be released from the side of her lady, and to stay would be impertinent, as one could only expect the lady to speak freely, and to linger could mean to eavesdrop. Cyrene would not do such.
So, as she watched the rest of the entourage scatter as to have some of their own merrymaking, Cyrene slowly split from her Marikas employer, and wove her way through the crowds of people, noble and common alike, all seemingly needing this colourful and extravagant reprieve.
Dressed in the deep crimson of Nikolaos, Cyrene was usually sure to make a statement, yet with so many people, she was surprised to find herself feeling almost invisible. At least, that was, until she spotted Lord Rafail riding in on a chariot, with perhaps the most flamboyant and excessive display of ego she could have expected from him...still, fitting, she supposed.
At the seriousness with which Rafail seemed to consider his entrance, Cyrene had to cover her mouth to hide the smile that threatened to pull at the corners of her mouth. She would not laugh right now.
And, somehow, she'd seemed to manage it for the majority of the play-prince's display, and the embarrassment of the Stravos heir's drunkenness. How, she had no clue.
Yet, she could not fight the fit of laughter that demanded to be set free, when she made eye contact with the youngest lord of the Marikas household, and he attempted to wink at her...attempted. The poor fellow only managed to make himself look like a bit of an idiot by blinking instead, and then, any fear she may have had concerning him in that moment gave way to a quick laugh, followed by a snort from the girl, at which point she was quick to cover her mouth with a hand, looking around to see if anyone had been paying attention, and then quickly looking for a way out of the crowd.
Only minutes into the event, and she'd managed to laugh at the brother-in-law of Lady Sera. Great.
She could only hope that the gods would watch over her, or, more immediately, to avoid Lord Rafail for the rest of the festival, or else, she had no clue just how the lord would react, as she hadn't stayed to watch.
Something that always impressed Magnhildr about Greece is how fertile it was. Her homeland has its things, yes, and you could grow many things, but there was a reason why it was preferred for them to raid and plunder. Greece was so… green, so fragrant, with so many things growing and being brought. So much that Athenia has a whole festival dedicated to it; one that Magnhildr attended.
The Nord woman, who towered above the women and most men, enjoyed festivities from time to time. The only perquisite for her is that there should be plenty food and drink, and even though this year has been hard to Athenia, they delivered.
She was wearing a simple, yet pretty linen dress of a vibrant blue color, which she only wore for occasions in which she had to be presentable, and it was one of the few things she had left from her homeland. The only thing that seemed off was the big dagger on her hip, because there wasn’t a chance she was going unarmed anywhere. In her hand, she had a cup of beer, which was decent in her opinion, and her belly was filled with delicious food which she indulged.
Magnhildr was having a good time, even though she wasn’t talking with anybody. Normally, she would be very sociable… but these weren’t her people, and she wasn’t comfortable approaching any of them and talking. She was sure they would mock her speech, anyway… so she stayed on the sidelines, just drinking and enjoying the music and merriment, trying to remember the festivities of her home…
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
Something that always impressed Magnhildr about Greece is how fertile it was. Her homeland has its things, yes, and you could grow many things, but there was a reason why it was preferred for them to raid and plunder. Greece was so… green, so fragrant, with so many things growing and being brought. So much that Athenia has a whole festival dedicated to it; one that Magnhildr attended.
The Nord woman, who towered above the women and most men, enjoyed festivities from time to time. The only perquisite for her is that there should be plenty food and drink, and even though this year has been hard to Athenia, they delivered.
She was wearing a simple, yet pretty linen dress of a vibrant blue color, which she only wore for occasions in which she had to be presentable, and it was one of the few things she had left from her homeland. The only thing that seemed off was the big dagger on her hip, because there wasn’t a chance she was going unarmed anywhere. In her hand, she had a cup of beer, which was decent in her opinion, and her belly was filled with delicious food which she indulged.
Magnhildr was having a good time, even though she wasn’t talking with anybody. Normally, she would be very sociable… but these weren’t her people, and she wasn’t comfortable approaching any of them and talking. She was sure they would mock her speech, anyway… so she stayed on the sidelines, just drinking and enjoying the music and merriment, trying to remember the festivities of her home…
Something that always impressed Magnhildr about Greece is how fertile it was. Her homeland has its things, yes, and you could grow many things, but there was a reason why it was preferred for them to raid and plunder. Greece was so… green, so fragrant, with so many things growing and being brought. So much that Athenia has a whole festival dedicated to it; one that Magnhildr attended.
The Nord woman, who towered above the women and most men, enjoyed festivities from time to time. The only perquisite for her is that there should be plenty food and drink, and even though this year has been hard to Athenia, they delivered.
She was wearing a simple, yet pretty linen dress of a vibrant blue color, which she only wore for occasions in which she had to be presentable, and it was one of the few things she had left from her homeland. The only thing that seemed off was the big dagger on her hip, because there wasn’t a chance she was going unarmed anywhere. In her hand, she had a cup of beer, which was decent in her opinion, and her belly was filled with delicious food which she indulged.
Magnhildr was having a good time, even though she wasn’t talking with anybody. Normally, she would be very sociable… but these weren’t her people, and she wasn’t comfortable approaching any of them and talking. She was sure they would mock her speech, anyway… so she stayed on the sidelines, just drinking and enjoying the music and merriment, trying to remember the festivities of her home…
Persephone moved through the streets of Athenia with careful effort. Fully aware that only the highest echelons of society walked with the kind of poise and posture that she had been trained into for years, she adjusted the gait of her walk in an effort to have her carriage be less obvious in a collective of the common born. Moving her feet a little further apart, turning her shoulders a little inwards and trying to relax her back, she shrugged deeper into the cloak and cowl that she wore to mask her appearance.
Glancing to her left, where a heavy drum of metal sporting goods for sale was mounted on a rung before its store, she bent to assess her own appearance in the hopes that she was not acting with alterations too dramatic to be considered realistic.
What she witnessed looking back at her was enough to convince her of her own disguise. For even she did not think she would have recognised herself.
The week at sea, with an ocean tide that would not leave her stomach in peace had seen to Persephone's sickness. In turn, coupled with the stress of the last few weeks in Taengea and the voyage in the other direction, Persephone had lost weight since she had last been in Athenia. Her cheeks were not so much gaunt as they were more clearly defined, with the fine bones of her face more obvious in her profile. Without powers, paints and the emphasis she normally wore around her eyes, she looked of a sicklier pallor than was the norm for her and in contrast her eyes appeared dark and hollow. Her hair, which she had not bound into some intricate design that morn like normal, was a single rope down her back, hidden in the himation and cloak she wore. One a few, untreated tendrils escaped around her face where they hung with a sense of lank dampness from the breeze of the harbour.
If her face wasn't unfamiliar enough, her clothing was even more so. Dressed in a gown of Iris' serving girl and itching for the effort, Olena had aided her in dressing as commonly as was humanly possible in an attire that would neither draw looks nor spare them in repulsion. She would blend in with the crowd as it was, so long as she avoided the gaze of those who had known her personally.
Licking her dry lips, Persephone adjusted her bearing and then turned towards her friend and lady's maid, who was waiting on her patiently. Olena had also tied her hair back and wrapped it in a shawl, for such tendrils of brilliant red were sure to attract unwanted attention if seen.
Attempting to scratch the back of her shoulder beneath the cloak where the seam of the gown had unravelled and was irritating her skin, Persephone nodded to her friend and then headed together towards the market place.
Having arrived in the capitol at the docks, where hundreds of unknown faces could be seen on a daily basis, they blended far more into the crowds than they might have done at a main gate into the city. From there, they had walked to the central residences of the city and then to the plateia where she knew the festival should be being held.
Despite all those who would claim her actions that day to be horrendously dangerous, Persephone knew them to be entirely necessary.
Since her arrival in Athenia, her friends and advisers had sought her to take up the mantel of the monarch and claim the throne that was legally hers. They wished for her to push out of power a man who would have claimed the throne regardless just a few months ago and take what her father had prepared to leave her as a legacy. Yet, to do so now would be to plunge the kingdom into a civil war.
Elias had played his hand perfectly well, by removing her as an obstacle for long enough to establish popularity and a semblance of control in the kingdom. Now, if she wished to hold power, she would have to fight for it.
And she wasn't willing to send the kingdom into conflict without being entirely certain that she needed to save it from the man who now held the reins.
And for that, she needed to witness him with her own eyes...
Swallowing to still any nerves she might possess over this choice, Persephone walked with Olena, each of them carrying a wicker basket to mask their true purpose there, and melted into the crowd...
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
Persephone moved through the streets of Athenia with careful effort. Fully aware that only the highest echelons of society walked with the kind of poise and posture that she had been trained into for years, she adjusted the gait of her walk in an effort to have her carriage be less obvious in a collective of the common born. Moving her feet a little further apart, turning her shoulders a little inwards and trying to relax her back, she shrugged deeper into the cloak and cowl that she wore to mask her appearance.
Glancing to her left, where a heavy drum of metal sporting goods for sale was mounted on a rung before its store, she bent to assess her own appearance in the hopes that she was not acting with alterations too dramatic to be considered realistic.
What she witnessed looking back at her was enough to convince her of her own disguise. For even she did not think she would have recognised herself.
The week at sea, with an ocean tide that would not leave her stomach in peace had seen to Persephone's sickness. In turn, coupled with the stress of the last few weeks in Taengea and the voyage in the other direction, Persephone had lost weight since she had last been in Athenia. Her cheeks were not so much gaunt as they were more clearly defined, with the fine bones of her face more obvious in her profile. Without powers, paints and the emphasis she normally wore around her eyes, she looked of a sicklier pallor than was the norm for her and in contrast her eyes appeared dark and hollow. Her hair, which she had not bound into some intricate design that morn like normal, was a single rope down her back, hidden in the himation and cloak she wore. One a few, untreated tendrils escaped around her face where they hung with a sense of lank dampness from the breeze of the harbour.
If her face wasn't unfamiliar enough, her clothing was even more so. Dressed in a gown of Iris' serving girl and itching for the effort, Olena had aided her in dressing as commonly as was humanly possible in an attire that would neither draw looks nor spare them in repulsion. She would blend in with the crowd as it was, so long as she avoided the gaze of those who had known her personally.
Licking her dry lips, Persephone adjusted her bearing and then turned towards her friend and lady's maid, who was waiting on her patiently. Olena had also tied her hair back and wrapped it in a shawl, for such tendrils of brilliant red were sure to attract unwanted attention if seen.
Attempting to scratch the back of her shoulder beneath the cloak where the seam of the gown had unravelled and was irritating her skin, Persephone nodded to her friend and then headed together towards the market place.
Having arrived in the capitol at the docks, where hundreds of unknown faces could be seen on a daily basis, they blended far more into the crowds than they might have done at a main gate into the city. From there, they had walked to the central residences of the city and then to the plateia where she knew the festival should be being held.
Despite all those who would claim her actions that day to be horrendously dangerous, Persephone knew them to be entirely necessary.
Since her arrival in Athenia, her friends and advisers had sought her to take up the mantel of the monarch and claim the throne that was legally hers. They wished for her to push out of power a man who would have claimed the throne regardless just a few months ago and take what her father had prepared to leave her as a legacy. Yet, to do so now would be to plunge the kingdom into a civil war.
Elias had played his hand perfectly well, by removing her as an obstacle for long enough to establish popularity and a semblance of control in the kingdom. Now, if she wished to hold power, she would have to fight for it.
And she wasn't willing to send the kingdom into conflict without being entirely certain that she needed to save it from the man who now held the reins.
And for that, she needed to witness him with her own eyes...
Swallowing to still any nerves she might possess over this choice, Persephone walked with Olena, each of them carrying a wicker basket to mask their true purpose there, and melted into the crowd...
Persephone moved through the streets of Athenia with careful effort. Fully aware that only the highest echelons of society walked with the kind of poise and posture that she had been trained into for years, she adjusted the gait of her walk in an effort to have her carriage be less obvious in a collective of the common born. Moving her feet a little further apart, turning her shoulders a little inwards and trying to relax her back, she shrugged deeper into the cloak and cowl that she wore to mask her appearance.
Glancing to her left, where a heavy drum of metal sporting goods for sale was mounted on a rung before its store, she bent to assess her own appearance in the hopes that she was not acting with alterations too dramatic to be considered realistic.
What she witnessed looking back at her was enough to convince her of her own disguise. For even she did not think she would have recognised herself.
The week at sea, with an ocean tide that would not leave her stomach in peace had seen to Persephone's sickness. In turn, coupled with the stress of the last few weeks in Taengea and the voyage in the other direction, Persephone had lost weight since she had last been in Athenia. Her cheeks were not so much gaunt as they were more clearly defined, with the fine bones of her face more obvious in her profile. Without powers, paints and the emphasis she normally wore around her eyes, she looked of a sicklier pallor than was the norm for her and in contrast her eyes appeared dark and hollow. Her hair, which she had not bound into some intricate design that morn like normal, was a single rope down her back, hidden in the himation and cloak she wore. One a few, untreated tendrils escaped around her face where they hung with a sense of lank dampness from the breeze of the harbour.
If her face wasn't unfamiliar enough, her clothing was even more so. Dressed in a gown of Iris' serving girl and itching for the effort, Olena had aided her in dressing as commonly as was humanly possible in an attire that would neither draw looks nor spare them in repulsion. She would blend in with the crowd as it was, so long as she avoided the gaze of those who had known her personally.
Licking her dry lips, Persephone adjusted her bearing and then turned towards her friend and lady's maid, who was waiting on her patiently. Olena had also tied her hair back and wrapped it in a shawl, for such tendrils of brilliant red were sure to attract unwanted attention if seen.
Attempting to scratch the back of her shoulder beneath the cloak where the seam of the gown had unravelled and was irritating her skin, Persephone nodded to her friend and then headed together towards the market place.
Having arrived in the capitol at the docks, where hundreds of unknown faces could be seen on a daily basis, they blended far more into the crowds than they might have done at a main gate into the city. From there, they had walked to the central residences of the city and then to the plateia where she knew the festival should be being held.
Despite all those who would claim her actions that day to be horrendously dangerous, Persephone knew them to be entirely necessary.
Since her arrival in Athenia, her friends and advisers had sought her to take up the mantel of the monarch and claim the throne that was legally hers. They wished for her to push out of power a man who would have claimed the throne regardless just a few months ago and take what her father had prepared to leave her as a legacy. Yet, to do so now would be to plunge the kingdom into a civil war.
Elias had played his hand perfectly well, by removing her as an obstacle for long enough to establish popularity and a semblance of control in the kingdom. Now, if she wished to hold power, she would have to fight for it.
And she wasn't willing to send the kingdom into conflict without being entirely certain that she needed to save it from the man who now held the reins.
And for that, she needed to witness him with her own eyes...
Swallowing to still any nerves she might possess over this choice, Persephone walked with Olena, each of them carrying a wicker basket to mask their true purpose there, and melted into the crowd...
Kalypso knew her place. Even as she may challenge it through suggestions and sultry behavior, she knew that she was nothing more than Elias’ personal attendant. A slave. Yet, she had never experienced such finery in her life. Living in the palati, wearing a chiton that was of fine material despite her station, even now, chariot-bound with her master and his cousin Rafail of Marikas. Of course, they were in separate chariots, the amount of food within each carriage was more than she had ever seen in her life. Where had it all come from? Would it be enough to appease the commoners?
However, she also knew based on rumors alone that Athenia was in a state of famine and of civil unrest. It was quite possible that her position as Elias’ slave could be temporary if his blessings went awry. Still, she was confident that she could keep herself out of harm’s way, and in the meantime, learn of those within this land. Some would seek to use her as she was Elias’ personal slave, seeking to get answers out of her lips by coaxing or by force. The thought sent a thrill through her as she fed Elias another grape.
A game, she enjoyed games. Even as she looked upon his Adonis-like figure, she decided that she would start the game by figuring out all she could about those who attended the festivities today. Whether she decided to share that with Elias, well that certainly depended on his behavior, did it not? Sneakily plucking a grape for herself, she gazed upon the globular finery before ultimately placing it between her lips. If her master would question her, she would simply whisper into his ear, “It was bitter, my lord, and I know you have a preference towards sweets.”
Of course, Kalypso knew that Elias was drunk on fulfillment of his task, on power, on keeping his place. Something the slave found utterly foolish even as she took small sips from the bottle they had shared. She knew that she wouldn’t go out there plastered, so she had to play the role as an accommodating seductress that was Elias’ prize. A companion to his lack of sobriety. Supporting his weight as they both rose, Kalypso felt power in the moment, of having a vulnerable drunk as her charge. A powerful drunkard who sought the crown. If she had been a bit more conniving, she would have sought to pluck the crown from his fingers, but commoners could never be royalty, and slaves were even less than a commoner’s name.
So as he made his announcement, stepping out of the chariot to display his carriage filled with food, Kalypso held him upright, whispering encouragements in his ears. Even as a protestor sought to disturb her master’s peace. “And you have done well, my lord, bringing food to the starving capital. Is there anything you would like your humblest of servants to do?” Humble. She was never humble, but she was unsure if his inebriated mind would get her joke. She still had much to learn about the man.
Personally, she had whispered those words into his ear not to spare the commoner that spoke, but rather to spare the celebrations from ending in execution. She knew that her master was a ruthless sort, one that showed no mercy to those defying his name or his actions. It had been obvious how difficult it had been to get gossip out of anyone in the palati after she had told Elias of discontent between several servants there.
So, she found herself instead, waiting for her lord’s request on what to do. Whether that was to explore by herself and leave him in the company of Rafail or to keep by his side. Either way, she knew this event would be an enjoyable one. For Athenia, despite its civil unrest, was a much prettier place than Colchis.
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
Kalypso knew her place. Even as she may challenge it through suggestions and sultry behavior, she knew that she was nothing more than Elias’ personal attendant. A slave. Yet, she had never experienced such finery in her life. Living in the palati, wearing a chiton that was of fine material despite her station, even now, chariot-bound with her master and his cousin Rafail of Marikas. Of course, they were in separate chariots, the amount of food within each carriage was more than she had ever seen in her life. Where had it all come from? Would it be enough to appease the commoners?
However, she also knew based on rumors alone that Athenia was in a state of famine and of civil unrest. It was quite possible that her position as Elias’ slave could be temporary if his blessings went awry. Still, she was confident that she could keep herself out of harm’s way, and in the meantime, learn of those within this land. Some would seek to use her as she was Elias’ personal slave, seeking to get answers out of her lips by coaxing or by force. The thought sent a thrill through her as she fed Elias another grape.
A game, she enjoyed games. Even as she looked upon his Adonis-like figure, she decided that she would start the game by figuring out all she could about those who attended the festivities today. Whether she decided to share that with Elias, well that certainly depended on his behavior, did it not? Sneakily plucking a grape for herself, she gazed upon the globular finery before ultimately placing it between her lips. If her master would question her, she would simply whisper into his ear, “It was bitter, my lord, and I know you have a preference towards sweets.”
Of course, Kalypso knew that Elias was drunk on fulfillment of his task, on power, on keeping his place. Something the slave found utterly foolish even as she took small sips from the bottle they had shared. She knew that she wouldn’t go out there plastered, so she had to play the role as an accommodating seductress that was Elias’ prize. A companion to his lack of sobriety. Supporting his weight as they both rose, Kalypso felt power in the moment, of having a vulnerable drunk as her charge. A powerful drunkard who sought the crown. If she had been a bit more conniving, she would have sought to pluck the crown from his fingers, but commoners could never be royalty, and slaves were even less than a commoner’s name.
So as he made his announcement, stepping out of the chariot to display his carriage filled with food, Kalypso held him upright, whispering encouragements in his ears. Even as a protestor sought to disturb her master’s peace. “And you have done well, my lord, bringing food to the starving capital. Is there anything you would like your humblest of servants to do?” Humble. She was never humble, but she was unsure if his inebriated mind would get her joke. She still had much to learn about the man.
Personally, she had whispered those words into his ear not to spare the commoner that spoke, but rather to spare the celebrations from ending in execution. She knew that her master was a ruthless sort, one that showed no mercy to those defying his name or his actions. It had been obvious how difficult it had been to get gossip out of anyone in the palati after she had told Elias of discontent between several servants there.
So, she found herself instead, waiting for her lord’s request on what to do. Whether that was to explore by herself and leave him in the company of Rafail or to keep by his side. Either way, she knew this event would be an enjoyable one. For Athenia, despite its civil unrest, was a much prettier place than Colchis.
Kalypso knew her place. Even as she may challenge it through suggestions and sultry behavior, she knew that she was nothing more than Elias’ personal attendant. A slave. Yet, she had never experienced such finery in her life. Living in the palati, wearing a chiton that was of fine material despite her station, even now, chariot-bound with her master and his cousin Rafail of Marikas. Of course, they were in separate chariots, the amount of food within each carriage was more than she had ever seen in her life. Where had it all come from? Would it be enough to appease the commoners?
However, she also knew based on rumors alone that Athenia was in a state of famine and of civil unrest. It was quite possible that her position as Elias’ slave could be temporary if his blessings went awry. Still, she was confident that she could keep herself out of harm’s way, and in the meantime, learn of those within this land. Some would seek to use her as she was Elias’ personal slave, seeking to get answers out of her lips by coaxing or by force. The thought sent a thrill through her as she fed Elias another grape.
A game, she enjoyed games. Even as she looked upon his Adonis-like figure, she decided that she would start the game by figuring out all she could about those who attended the festivities today. Whether she decided to share that with Elias, well that certainly depended on his behavior, did it not? Sneakily plucking a grape for herself, she gazed upon the globular finery before ultimately placing it between her lips. If her master would question her, she would simply whisper into his ear, “It was bitter, my lord, and I know you have a preference towards sweets.”
Of course, Kalypso knew that Elias was drunk on fulfillment of his task, on power, on keeping his place. Something the slave found utterly foolish even as she took small sips from the bottle they had shared. She knew that she wouldn’t go out there plastered, so she had to play the role as an accommodating seductress that was Elias’ prize. A companion to his lack of sobriety. Supporting his weight as they both rose, Kalypso felt power in the moment, of having a vulnerable drunk as her charge. A powerful drunkard who sought the crown. If she had been a bit more conniving, she would have sought to pluck the crown from his fingers, but commoners could never be royalty, and slaves were even less than a commoner’s name.
So as he made his announcement, stepping out of the chariot to display his carriage filled with food, Kalypso held him upright, whispering encouragements in his ears. Even as a protestor sought to disturb her master’s peace. “And you have done well, my lord, bringing food to the starving capital. Is there anything you would like your humblest of servants to do?” Humble. She was never humble, but she was unsure if his inebriated mind would get her joke. She still had much to learn about the man.
Personally, she had whispered those words into his ear not to spare the commoner that spoke, but rather to spare the celebrations from ending in execution. She knew that her master was a ruthless sort, one that showed no mercy to those defying his name or his actions. It had been obvious how difficult it had been to get gossip out of anyone in the palati after she had told Elias of discontent between several servants there.
So, she found herself instead, waiting for her lord’s request on what to do. Whether that was to explore by herself and leave him in the company of Rafail or to keep by his side. Either way, she knew this event would be an enjoyable one. For Athenia, despite its civil unrest, was a much prettier place than Colchis.
Festivals had always been a delight to the Stravos. Even as a girl she had enjoyed the dancing, the singing, the music and the selling of wares. This year was a little different (ha! a little!) in that, she could almost pretend that everything was normal and nothing out of line was going on.
But then, that would be a lie, wouldn't it? Well, maybe it would not be so bad to lie to herself just for today. She could enjoy the festival, though she was not in the mood for dancing or singing. There were far more important things on her mind than dancing or singing.
Like what to buy!
Chara looked from market stall to market stall in search of only the finest for herself. She would find something worth taking home, even if it took the rest of the day. Her searching continued on, looking here and there, but soon finding herself over all unimpressed. Had all the good salesmen shriveled up and died? Well, that was certainly disappointing.
It was only when she caught sight of her sister, father, a girl she did not know and dear, dear cousin that Chara found herself reinvigorated with purpose. No longer was she interested in trying to purchase something for herself. How could she when a perfect opportunity had presented itself?
She made her way over with grace, easily moving through the crowd to reach them. Stopping by them, Chara made no move to embrace any of her family, resorting instead to a verbal greeting.
“Cousin,” she said with a smile though she’d forgone Emilia’s official title.
“Little sister,” the same smile remained.
“Father.” Though her tone remained sweet, the smile on her face did not quite reach her eyes.
Pointedly ignoring the girl she did not know, Chara continued on. “Forgive me if I have interrupted anything -- it’s just good to see you all.”
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
Festivals had always been a delight to the Stravos. Even as a girl she had enjoyed the dancing, the singing, the music and the selling of wares. This year was a little different (ha! a little!) in that, she could almost pretend that everything was normal and nothing out of line was going on.
But then, that would be a lie, wouldn't it? Well, maybe it would not be so bad to lie to herself just for today. She could enjoy the festival, though she was not in the mood for dancing or singing. There were far more important things on her mind than dancing or singing.
Like what to buy!
Chara looked from market stall to market stall in search of only the finest for herself. She would find something worth taking home, even if it took the rest of the day. Her searching continued on, looking here and there, but soon finding herself over all unimpressed. Had all the good salesmen shriveled up and died? Well, that was certainly disappointing.
It was only when she caught sight of her sister, father, a girl she did not know and dear, dear cousin that Chara found herself reinvigorated with purpose. No longer was she interested in trying to purchase something for herself. How could she when a perfect opportunity had presented itself?
She made her way over with grace, easily moving through the crowd to reach them. Stopping by them, Chara made no move to embrace any of her family, resorting instead to a verbal greeting.
“Cousin,” she said with a smile though she’d forgone Emilia’s official title.
“Little sister,” the same smile remained.
“Father.” Though her tone remained sweet, the smile on her face did not quite reach her eyes.
Pointedly ignoring the girl she did not know, Chara continued on. “Forgive me if I have interrupted anything -- it’s just good to see you all.”
Festivals had always been a delight to the Stravos. Even as a girl she had enjoyed the dancing, the singing, the music and the selling of wares. This year was a little different (ha! a little!) in that, she could almost pretend that everything was normal and nothing out of line was going on.
But then, that would be a lie, wouldn't it? Well, maybe it would not be so bad to lie to herself just for today. She could enjoy the festival, though she was not in the mood for dancing or singing. There were far more important things on her mind than dancing or singing.
Like what to buy!
Chara looked from market stall to market stall in search of only the finest for herself. She would find something worth taking home, even if it took the rest of the day. Her searching continued on, looking here and there, but soon finding herself over all unimpressed. Had all the good salesmen shriveled up and died? Well, that was certainly disappointing.
It was only when she caught sight of her sister, father, a girl she did not know and dear, dear cousin that Chara found herself reinvigorated with purpose. No longer was she interested in trying to purchase something for herself. How could she when a perfect opportunity had presented itself?
She made her way over with grace, easily moving through the crowd to reach them. Stopping by them, Chara made no move to embrace any of her family, resorting instead to a verbal greeting.
“Cousin,” she said with a smile though she’d forgone Emilia’s official title.
“Little sister,” the same smile remained.
“Father.” Though her tone remained sweet, the smile on her face did not quite reach her eyes.
Pointedly ignoring the girl she did not know, Chara continued on. “Forgive me if I have interrupted anything -- it’s just good to see you all.”
So far, it seemed the people were welcoming the arrival of the two royal cousins. At least, it appeared that way because Rafail was not paying attention to any of those individuals who seemed remotely displeased, and his entire focus was on scanning through the crowds to select the women who looked the most impressed by the ostentatious display. That Nikolaos girl who tended to his brother's wife was in the masses, and he winked proudly in her direction, though it looked as though she found the action more amusing than anything else. He could see his cousin Chara too, and instinctively smirked in her direction, because he was almost entirely confident that evening would be a delightful one for the both of them.
Of course, positivity was never destined to last. Some girl - pretty if not for her current actions - had pushed her way to the front of the crowds, setting herself directly in front of where Rafail and Elias's chariots were paused. It forced their elaborate dramatics to a temporary halt, and Rafail stared at her with incredulity as she began to shout at the pair of them accusingly, her finger signalling angrily towards them. His features contorted into a frown, eyes narrowed as he glared her down, more outraged that some woman would have the nerve to interrupt him than by her words.
Raising a hand to stall the guards before they moved to interrupt the girl in her words, he chose instead to step down from the chariot, striding purposefully towards her. "The Queen is not here," he announced, as if she had not noticed such a fact. "The Queen abandoned you, and yet when others bring you hope, you feel as though you have the liberty to question them for it? If those who are expected to help you cannot do so, then why not place your trust in those of us who are willing to do something?" Rafail turned away from this idiotic girl as she had done from him, directly facing the crowd as he spoke again. "The Queen's behaviour has only proved that women were never intended to rule, for they are cowards who flee at the first sign of danger. Lord Elias and I have stood by our people, however, and we have brought food to the unhappy populace, thus working to improve overall conditions for all poor Athenians who suffer. Perhaps 'tis only one festival, but it is more than I see any other do for you."
Rafail had no tolerance for dealing with these outbreaks of disobedience from others, and his angered speech at this impertinent woman had stolen away what patience he had possessed. As he stepped back onto his extravagant chariot, he leaned in to whisper to one of the guards. "Quell anymore of these little uprisings; Elias and I do not have time for insolence." Then, back to the mob, in case they had any further ideas of rebellion: "This may well be a gift, and we may offer it to you all with kindness and generosity in mind, but that does not mean respect is not deserved." It would do the people well to realise they were still in the presence of two well-respected lords, and that they could take away this bounty as quickly as they had brought it.
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
So far, it seemed the people were welcoming the arrival of the two royal cousins. At least, it appeared that way because Rafail was not paying attention to any of those individuals who seemed remotely displeased, and his entire focus was on scanning through the crowds to select the women who looked the most impressed by the ostentatious display. That Nikolaos girl who tended to his brother's wife was in the masses, and he winked proudly in her direction, though it looked as though she found the action more amusing than anything else. He could see his cousin Chara too, and instinctively smirked in her direction, because he was almost entirely confident that evening would be a delightful one for the both of them.
Of course, positivity was never destined to last. Some girl - pretty if not for her current actions - had pushed her way to the front of the crowds, setting herself directly in front of where Rafail and Elias's chariots were paused. It forced their elaborate dramatics to a temporary halt, and Rafail stared at her with incredulity as she began to shout at the pair of them accusingly, her finger signalling angrily towards them. His features contorted into a frown, eyes narrowed as he glared her down, more outraged that some woman would have the nerve to interrupt him than by her words.
Raising a hand to stall the guards before they moved to interrupt the girl in her words, he chose instead to step down from the chariot, striding purposefully towards her. "The Queen is not here," he announced, as if she had not noticed such a fact. "The Queen abandoned you, and yet when others bring you hope, you feel as though you have the liberty to question them for it? If those who are expected to help you cannot do so, then why not place your trust in those of us who are willing to do something?" Rafail turned away from this idiotic girl as she had done from him, directly facing the crowd as he spoke again. "The Queen's behaviour has only proved that women were never intended to rule, for they are cowards who flee at the first sign of danger. Lord Elias and I have stood by our people, however, and we have brought food to the unhappy populace, thus working to improve overall conditions for all poor Athenians who suffer. Perhaps 'tis only one festival, but it is more than I see any other do for you."
Rafail had no tolerance for dealing with these outbreaks of disobedience from others, and his angered speech at this impertinent woman had stolen away what patience he had possessed. As he stepped back onto his extravagant chariot, he leaned in to whisper to one of the guards. "Quell anymore of these little uprisings; Elias and I do not have time for insolence." Then, back to the mob, in case they had any further ideas of rebellion: "This may well be a gift, and we may offer it to you all with kindness and generosity in mind, but that does not mean respect is not deserved." It would do the people well to realise they were still in the presence of two well-respected lords, and that they could take away this bounty as quickly as they had brought it.
So far, it seemed the people were welcoming the arrival of the two royal cousins. At least, it appeared that way because Rafail was not paying attention to any of those individuals who seemed remotely displeased, and his entire focus was on scanning through the crowds to select the women who looked the most impressed by the ostentatious display. That Nikolaos girl who tended to his brother's wife was in the masses, and he winked proudly in her direction, though it looked as though she found the action more amusing than anything else. He could see his cousin Chara too, and instinctively smirked in her direction, because he was almost entirely confident that evening would be a delightful one for the both of them.
Of course, positivity was never destined to last. Some girl - pretty if not for her current actions - had pushed her way to the front of the crowds, setting herself directly in front of where Rafail and Elias's chariots were paused. It forced their elaborate dramatics to a temporary halt, and Rafail stared at her with incredulity as she began to shout at the pair of them accusingly, her finger signalling angrily towards them. His features contorted into a frown, eyes narrowed as he glared her down, more outraged that some woman would have the nerve to interrupt him than by her words.
Raising a hand to stall the guards before they moved to interrupt the girl in her words, he chose instead to step down from the chariot, striding purposefully towards her. "The Queen is not here," he announced, as if she had not noticed such a fact. "The Queen abandoned you, and yet when others bring you hope, you feel as though you have the liberty to question them for it? If those who are expected to help you cannot do so, then why not place your trust in those of us who are willing to do something?" Rafail turned away from this idiotic girl as she had done from him, directly facing the crowd as he spoke again. "The Queen's behaviour has only proved that women were never intended to rule, for they are cowards who flee at the first sign of danger. Lord Elias and I have stood by our people, however, and we have brought food to the unhappy populace, thus working to improve overall conditions for all poor Athenians who suffer. Perhaps 'tis only one festival, but it is more than I see any other do for you."
Rafail had no tolerance for dealing with these outbreaks of disobedience from others, and his angered speech at this impertinent woman had stolen away what patience he had possessed. As he stepped back onto his extravagant chariot, he leaned in to whisper to one of the guards. "Quell anymore of these little uprisings; Elias and I do not have time for insolence." Then, back to the mob, in case they had any further ideas of rebellion: "This may well be a gift, and we may offer it to you all with kindness and generosity in mind, but that does not mean respect is not deserved." It would do the people well to realise they were still in the presence of two well-respected lords, and that they could take away this bounty as quickly as they had brought it.
He didn't like this. It was perhaps the most foolish plan Persephone had yet presented, going out in public in such a way with so many people and opportunities for her to be recognized. There was only so much that could be done, and with the absence of Demetrius there was no additional guard that he trusted to look after her. Instead he had taken it on himself to follow behind the two women who had so stubbornly insisted that they should go see the crowds. The former gladiator ought to be back by now, and the fact that he had not yet returned with some note from Emilia to her sister made Iason exceptionally uneasy. If he had been intercepted, if any trace of Persephone’s presence in the country was detected, everything could fall apart and their lives would all be forfeit.
Even in his attempt at a disguise, his beard left unkempt and plain brown tunic, the himation draped over his head in hopes that no one would look at him too closely and recognize any sort of noble birth in his face, he felt as if everyone who looked his way knew exactly who he was and what he was about. Perhaps it was the scowl that had been present on his face ever since it had been decided this was the plan that kept anyone from noticing, or the general apathy the people of Athenia had held for him when he was present. If anyone had actually cared to notice what the Taengean lord had looked like he might have been in more trouble, but thanks to the radical movements of the Xanthos family he had gone mainly as a shadowy figure in the background with few connections along the way.
Disgust was all he felt as he watched the festival play out around them, the sight of nobility ahead had him pushing forward between the two women as if he was irritated at their pace and shoving past strangers. There was enough time for him to mutter as he moved, placing himself as a barrier between anyone who might recognize the woman he’d promised himself to while trying to make it look as if he had no connection to them whatsoever.
”I don’t like this. You shouldn’t be here.”
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
He didn't like this. It was perhaps the most foolish plan Persephone had yet presented, going out in public in such a way with so many people and opportunities for her to be recognized. There was only so much that could be done, and with the absence of Demetrius there was no additional guard that he trusted to look after her. Instead he had taken it on himself to follow behind the two women who had so stubbornly insisted that they should go see the crowds. The former gladiator ought to be back by now, and the fact that he had not yet returned with some note from Emilia to her sister made Iason exceptionally uneasy. If he had been intercepted, if any trace of Persephone’s presence in the country was detected, everything could fall apart and their lives would all be forfeit.
Even in his attempt at a disguise, his beard left unkempt and plain brown tunic, the himation draped over his head in hopes that no one would look at him too closely and recognize any sort of noble birth in his face, he felt as if everyone who looked his way knew exactly who he was and what he was about. Perhaps it was the scowl that had been present on his face ever since it had been decided this was the plan that kept anyone from noticing, or the general apathy the people of Athenia had held for him when he was present. If anyone had actually cared to notice what the Taengean lord had looked like he might have been in more trouble, but thanks to the radical movements of the Xanthos family he had gone mainly as a shadowy figure in the background with few connections along the way.
Disgust was all he felt as he watched the festival play out around them, the sight of nobility ahead had him pushing forward between the two women as if he was irritated at their pace and shoving past strangers. There was enough time for him to mutter as he moved, placing himself as a barrier between anyone who might recognize the woman he’d promised himself to while trying to make it look as if he had no connection to them whatsoever.
”I don’t like this. You shouldn’t be here.”
He didn't like this. It was perhaps the most foolish plan Persephone had yet presented, going out in public in such a way with so many people and opportunities for her to be recognized. There was only so much that could be done, and with the absence of Demetrius there was no additional guard that he trusted to look after her. Instead he had taken it on himself to follow behind the two women who had so stubbornly insisted that they should go see the crowds. The former gladiator ought to be back by now, and the fact that he had not yet returned with some note from Emilia to her sister made Iason exceptionally uneasy. If he had been intercepted, if any trace of Persephone’s presence in the country was detected, everything could fall apart and their lives would all be forfeit.
Even in his attempt at a disguise, his beard left unkempt and plain brown tunic, the himation draped over his head in hopes that no one would look at him too closely and recognize any sort of noble birth in his face, he felt as if everyone who looked his way knew exactly who he was and what he was about. Perhaps it was the scowl that had been present on his face ever since it had been decided this was the plan that kept anyone from noticing, or the general apathy the people of Athenia had held for him when he was present. If anyone had actually cared to notice what the Taengean lord had looked like he might have been in more trouble, but thanks to the radical movements of the Xanthos family he had gone mainly as a shadowy figure in the background with few connections along the way.
Disgust was all he felt as he watched the festival play out around them, the sight of nobility ahead had him pushing forward between the two women as if he was irritated at their pace and shoving past strangers. There was enough time for him to mutter as he moved, placing himself as a barrier between anyone who might recognize the woman he’d promised himself to while trying to make it look as if he had no connection to them whatsoever.
”I don’t like this. You shouldn’t be here.”
Elias had partaken in far too much wine.
The sounds of the word were garbled symphonies, the sensation that rose from the barest flicker of fruit against the flesh that was his lips. He'd celebrated far too readily, and he hardly paid mind to the excuses Kalypso murmured into hie ear. Rather, he felt the coaxing of her breath in his ear, the shiver of pleasure that was her presence as it drew nearer and nearer. In a less compromised state, he'd tell her to know her place, but no such thought occurred to the Stravos. Instead, he rose to his feet and made his glorious announcement, only for the woman to whisper her encouragement again.
Elias of Stravos didn't listen to the word of complaints, but rather, he heard the delicate whisper of Kalypso's praise in his ear. His arm was wrapped firmly about the slave's waist, keeping her pinned next to him as she supported him in standing within the carriage. It did the peasant girl well that Kalypso was so generous to the participants in the festival, for her presence was largely ignored. A chuckle escaped him up until the moment that Rafail of Marikas spoke out. These words, the utterances of nobles and a slave too close to be ignored were what the particularly selective hearing of Elias picked up on.
'The Queen is not here.
The announcement raised Elias' eyebrows, and as he listened to Rafail speak, he felt the suffocating warmth that was his inebriation simper, less restrictive as he found himself obligated to consider what was being said. As Rafail spoke more and more, he began to configure what the girl had said, or at least what he could assume out of it.
The Queen's behaviour has only proved that women were never intended to rule, for they are cowards who flee at the first sign of danger.
Of course Elias of Stravos agreed with the sentiment, but Rafail spoke words that he wouldn't ever speak to a peasant. These wretches did not deserve insight into the mind of Elias of Stravos, however muted it was by any sort of inebriation. A chuckle escaped his lips when at last, his cousin said something he had a reason to support.
Perhaps 'tis only one festival, but it is more than I see any other do for you.
"Only one? This is the first meal that some of these peasants have had for days, girl. You think that nothing will change when peasant stomachs are filled and hope is gradually restored. This is but the beginning... Though perhaps, not for you," he added. The Stravos had no intention of welcoming the Harvest Festival with death, but he could ensure that this wretch felt none of its food, nor any of the pleasure that could be found.
"I've announcements to make, Lord Rafail. I leave this matter to you. And you..." he continued on, pointing to the wretch before he said,
"Get her out of here. She'll have none of Thesnia's reward, nor the privilege to watch the others enjoy it."
Rafail was already on the matter of quelling uprisings, and the Headlord of Stravos was more than pleased to let his cousin, the closest thing he'd ever have to a brother, to do that for him. Today was Elias' day to celebrate the reckoning of everything that was his. His victories that he'd acquired, the liberation from his hardships that were so detrimental. Today, the world was to forget that Elias of Stravos was branded a traitor and instead, assume that he was the hero and king that the kingdom required.
"Help Rafail with what is to come. Utilize his guards with him and distribute the bounty Thesnia offers. Do not give any one peasant too much lest their voracious greed create a craving that we cannot satisfy. And do it with a smile," he advised just before he released her waist. He clasped at the carriage door, making his way to the ground before he addressed one of the pair of guards patrolling the perimeter.
"Watch me. Cover my paths to any advancing peasants. Their lord Elias has an announcement, and my presence is to be seen and heard, but not approached"
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
Elias had partaken in far too much wine.
The sounds of the word were garbled symphonies, the sensation that rose from the barest flicker of fruit against the flesh that was his lips. He'd celebrated far too readily, and he hardly paid mind to the excuses Kalypso murmured into hie ear. Rather, he felt the coaxing of her breath in his ear, the shiver of pleasure that was her presence as it drew nearer and nearer. In a less compromised state, he'd tell her to know her place, but no such thought occurred to the Stravos. Instead, he rose to his feet and made his glorious announcement, only for the woman to whisper her encouragement again.
Elias of Stravos didn't listen to the word of complaints, but rather, he heard the delicate whisper of Kalypso's praise in his ear. His arm was wrapped firmly about the slave's waist, keeping her pinned next to him as she supported him in standing within the carriage. It did the peasant girl well that Kalypso was so generous to the participants in the festival, for her presence was largely ignored. A chuckle escaped him up until the moment that Rafail of Marikas spoke out. These words, the utterances of nobles and a slave too close to be ignored were what the particularly selective hearing of Elias picked up on.
'The Queen is not here.
The announcement raised Elias' eyebrows, and as he listened to Rafail speak, he felt the suffocating warmth that was his inebriation simper, less restrictive as he found himself obligated to consider what was being said. As Rafail spoke more and more, he began to configure what the girl had said, or at least what he could assume out of it.
The Queen's behaviour has only proved that women were never intended to rule, for they are cowards who flee at the first sign of danger.
Of course Elias of Stravos agreed with the sentiment, but Rafail spoke words that he wouldn't ever speak to a peasant. These wretches did not deserve insight into the mind of Elias of Stravos, however muted it was by any sort of inebriation. A chuckle escaped his lips when at last, his cousin said something he had a reason to support.
Perhaps 'tis only one festival, but it is more than I see any other do for you.
"Only one? This is the first meal that some of these peasants have had for days, girl. You think that nothing will change when peasant stomachs are filled and hope is gradually restored. This is but the beginning... Though perhaps, not for you," he added. The Stravos had no intention of welcoming the Harvest Festival with death, but he could ensure that this wretch felt none of its food, nor any of the pleasure that could be found.
"I've announcements to make, Lord Rafail. I leave this matter to you. And you..." he continued on, pointing to the wretch before he said,
"Get her out of here. She'll have none of Thesnia's reward, nor the privilege to watch the others enjoy it."
Rafail was already on the matter of quelling uprisings, and the Headlord of Stravos was more than pleased to let his cousin, the closest thing he'd ever have to a brother, to do that for him. Today was Elias' day to celebrate the reckoning of everything that was his. His victories that he'd acquired, the liberation from his hardships that were so detrimental. Today, the world was to forget that Elias of Stravos was branded a traitor and instead, assume that he was the hero and king that the kingdom required.
"Help Rafail with what is to come. Utilize his guards with him and distribute the bounty Thesnia offers. Do not give any one peasant too much lest their voracious greed create a craving that we cannot satisfy. And do it with a smile," he advised just before he released her waist. He clasped at the carriage door, making his way to the ground before he addressed one of the pair of guards patrolling the perimeter.
"Watch me. Cover my paths to any advancing peasants. Their lord Elias has an announcement, and my presence is to be seen and heard, but not approached"
Elias had partaken in far too much wine.
The sounds of the word were garbled symphonies, the sensation that rose from the barest flicker of fruit against the flesh that was his lips. He'd celebrated far too readily, and he hardly paid mind to the excuses Kalypso murmured into hie ear. Rather, he felt the coaxing of her breath in his ear, the shiver of pleasure that was her presence as it drew nearer and nearer. In a less compromised state, he'd tell her to know her place, but no such thought occurred to the Stravos. Instead, he rose to his feet and made his glorious announcement, only for the woman to whisper her encouragement again.
Elias of Stravos didn't listen to the word of complaints, but rather, he heard the delicate whisper of Kalypso's praise in his ear. His arm was wrapped firmly about the slave's waist, keeping her pinned next to him as she supported him in standing within the carriage. It did the peasant girl well that Kalypso was so generous to the participants in the festival, for her presence was largely ignored. A chuckle escaped him up until the moment that Rafail of Marikas spoke out. These words, the utterances of nobles and a slave too close to be ignored were what the particularly selective hearing of Elias picked up on.
'The Queen is not here.
The announcement raised Elias' eyebrows, and as he listened to Rafail speak, he felt the suffocating warmth that was his inebriation simper, less restrictive as he found himself obligated to consider what was being said. As Rafail spoke more and more, he began to configure what the girl had said, or at least what he could assume out of it.
The Queen's behaviour has only proved that women were never intended to rule, for they are cowards who flee at the first sign of danger.
Of course Elias of Stravos agreed with the sentiment, but Rafail spoke words that he wouldn't ever speak to a peasant. These wretches did not deserve insight into the mind of Elias of Stravos, however muted it was by any sort of inebriation. A chuckle escaped his lips when at last, his cousin said something he had a reason to support.
Perhaps 'tis only one festival, but it is more than I see any other do for you.
"Only one? This is the first meal that some of these peasants have had for days, girl. You think that nothing will change when peasant stomachs are filled and hope is gradually restored. This is but the beginning... Though perhaps, not for you," he added. The Stravos had no intention of welcoming the Harvest Festival with death, but he could ensure that this wretch felt none of its food, nor any of the pleasure that could be found.
"I've announcements to make, Lord Rafail. I leave this matter to you. And you..." he continued on, pointing to the wretch before he said,
"Get her out of here. She'll have none of Thesnia's reward, nor the privilege to watch the others enjoy it."
Rafail was already on the matter of quelling uprisings, and the Headlord of Stravos was more than pleased to let his cousin, the closest thing he'd ever have to a brother, to do that for him. Today was Elias' day to celebrate the reckoning of everything that was his. His victories that he'd acquired, the liberation from his hardships that were so detrimental. Today, the world was to forget that Elias of Stravos was branded a traitor and instead, assume that he was the hero and king that the kingdom required.
"Help Rafail with what is to come. Utilize his guards with him and distribute the bounty Thesnia offers. Do not give any one peasant too much lest their voracious greed create a craving that we cannot satisfy. And do it with a smile," he advised just before he released her waist. He clasped at the carriage door, making his way to the ground before he addressed one of the pair of guards patrolling the perimeter.
"Watch me. Cover my paths to any advancing peasants. Their lord Elias has an announcement, and my presence is to be seen and heard, but not approached"
Following a delectable aroma that made her mouth water, Hebe came upon several food stalls clustered together. The vendors competed with one another for the attention of passersby, trying to entice them to try their various foods they were serving. She walked by each one, stopping and perusing the fare on offer, finally choosing two skewers of spiced lamb, a seafood pastry, and a glass of fruit juice to wash it down with.
There was some kind of commotion quite a distance away, but she couldn’t see much through the bodies of the crowd. The young girl was much too short to see over heads. Maybe it was a theatre group putting on a performance. While she would love to watch a play, she didn’t want to get jostled and drop her food. At the moment, eating was more important than being entertained.
She found a place to sit and watched people walk by while she enjoyed her snacks. Her guard and chaperone stood nearby, not so close that they invaded her privacy. Hebe made up stories about some of the people she saw … like a handsome young man and a pretty young woman who kept glancing at each other. They were in love, of course, but the woman was married and the man was her servant. They had to pretend they had no feelings for each other.
There was a simply-dressed looking around as if everything was new to him. He was a visitor from one of the fantasy lands she had read about in books who had somehow found his way into their realm of existence. Three boys around her own age scampered past her. She imagined that they were street children who were using the festival to rob the attendants. Wait a minute! One of them reached into a man’s pocket and removed a coin pouch. She was right! They really were thieves!
The seafood pastry was exquisite, filled with succulent bites of shrimp and scallops in a creamy sauce. The meat was delicious too. When she was down to her last one, the young girl stood up again and begin to walk back towards the food stalls to buy a couple of stuffed grape leaves.
Still scanning the crowd, she noticed two women carrying wicker baskets. There was something about one of them that told Hebe she had met her before. But if that was so, why did she not immediately know who she was? The youngest member of the Antonis family never forgot anyone that she had met or even noticed from a distance.
What was happening to her? Was her memory failing? Why did the notion upset her when she often wished for that very thing, especially when her head hurt so much she thought she might die? No, she didn’t really want to lose it. Her flawless recall was unique. It made her special and she fancied that her sisters were envious of her for it. Without it, what would she do? The feeling of not knowing was new to her and she couldn’t say she liked it.
Following the two women discreetly, she tripped over something on the ground. It could have been her own two feet for all she knew. She lost her balance and as she struggled to regain it, she accidentally stepped on someone’s foot. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed. Her attention distracted from the strange inability to remember, she looked up at the victim of her clumsiness. “Are you all right?”
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
Following a delectable aroma that made her mouth water, Hebe came upon several food stalls clustered together. The vendors competed with one another for the attention of passersby, trying to entice them to try their various foods they were serving. She walked by each one, stopping and perusing the fare on offer, finally choosing two skewers of spiced lamb, a seafood pastry, and a glass of fruit juice to wash it down with.
There was some kind of commotion quite a distance away, but she couldn’t see much through the bodies of the crowd. The young girl was much too short to see over heads. Maybe it was a theatre group putting on a performance. While she would love to watch a play, she didn’t want to get jostled and drop her food. At the moment, eating was more important than being entertained.
She found a place to sit and watched people walk by while she enjoyed her snacks. Her guard and chaperone stood nearby, not so close that they invaded her privacy. Hebe made up stories about some of the people she saw … like a handsome young man and a pretty young woman who kept glancing at each other. They were in love, of course, but the woman was married and the man was her servant. They had to pretend they had no feelings for each other.
There was a simply-dressed looking around as if everything was new to him. He was a visitor from one of the fantasy lands she had read about in books who had somehow found his way into their realm of existence. Three boys around her own age scampered past her. She imagined that they were street children who were using the festival to rob the attendants. Wait a minute! One of them reached into a man’s pocket and removed a coin pouch. She was right! They really were thieves!
The seafood pastry was exquisite, filled with succulent bites of shrimp and scallops in a creamy sauce. The meat was delicious too. When she was down to her last one, the young girl stood up again and begin to walk back towards the food stalls to buy a couple of stuffed grape leaves.
Still scanning the crowd, she noticed two women carrying wicker baskets. There was something about one of them that told Hebe she had met her before. But if that was so, why did she not immediately know who she was? The youngest member of the Antonis family never forgot anyone that she had met or even noticed from a distance.
What was happening to her? Was her memory failing? Why did the notion upset her when she often wished for that very thing, especially when her head hurt so much she thought she might die? No, she didn’t really want to lose it. Her flawless recall was unique. It made her special and she fancied that her sisters were envious of her for it. Without it, what would she do? The feeling of not knowing was new to her and she couldn’t say she liked it.
Following the two women discreetly, she tripped over something on the ground. It could have been her own two feet for all she knew. She lost her balance and as she struggled to regain it, she accidentally stepped on someone’s foot. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed. Her attention distracted from the strange inability to remember, she looked up at the victim of her clumsiness. “Are you all right?”
Following a delectable aroma that made her mouth water, Hebe came upon several food stalls clustered together. The vendors competed with one another for the attention of passersby, trying to entice them to try their various foods they were serving. She walked by each one, stopping and perusing the fare on offer, finally choosing two skewers of spiced lamb, a seafood pastry, and a glass of fruit juice to wash it down with.
There was some kind of commotion quite a distance away, but she couldn’t see much through the bodies of the crowd. The young girl was much too short to see over heads. Maybe it was a theatre group putting on a performance. While she would love to watch a play, she didn’t want to get jostled and drop her food. At the moment, eating was more important than being entertained.
She found a place to sit and watched people walk by while she enjoyed her snacks. Her guard and chaperone stood nearby, not so close that they invaded her privacy. Hebe made up stories about some of the people she saw … like a handsome young man and a pretty young woman who kept glancing at each other. They were in love, of course, but the woman was married and the man was her servant. They had to pretend they had no feelings for each other.
There was a simply-dressed looking around as if everything was new to him. He was a visitor from one of the fantasy lands she had read about in books who had somehow found his way into their realm of existence. Three boys around her own age scampered past her. She imagined that they were street children who were using the festival to rob the attendants. Wait a minute! One of them reached into a man’s pocket and removed a coin pouch. She was right! They really were thieves!
The seafood pastry was exquisite, filled with succulent bites of shrimp and scallops in a creamy sauce. The meat was delicious too. When she was down to her last one, the young girl stood up again and begin to walk back towards the food stalls to buy a couple of stuffed grape leaves.
Still scanning the crowd, she noticed two women carrying wicker baskets. There was something about one of them that told Hebe she had met her before. But if that was so, why did she not immediately know who she was? The youngest member of the Antonis family never forgot anyone that she had met or even noticed from a distance.
What was happening to her? Was her memory failing? Why did the notion upset her when she often wished for that very thing, especially when her head hurt so much she thought she might die? No, she didn’t really want to lose it. Her flawless recall was unique. It made her special and she fancied that her sisters were envious of her for it. Without it, what would she do? The feeling of not knowing was new to her and she couldn’t say she liked it.
Following the two women discreetly, she tripped over something on the ground. It could have been her own two feet for all she knew. She lost her balance and as she struggled to regain it, she accidentally stepped on someone’s foot. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed. Her attention distracted from the strange inability to remember, she looked up at the victim of her clumsiness. “Are you all right?”
Persephone was jostled as a figure pushed between herself and Olena but she felt no fear when the voice she knew so well came upon her from over his shoulder. She would have answered if it would not be suspicious and, instead, she simply nodded - an agreement of his assessment over the situation.
It was dangerous for her to be here. And she knew that it was a choice of great risk on her part.
But if she was to live her life, either fighting to be Queen of Athenia, or living peacefully in lush, green grasslands of Taengea, she knew that she had to be here if she was to take any comfort in such a thing. For how could she feel a sense of contentment, a life without regret, if she never knew the exact nature of Athenia and her people before making the choice that would change it forever...?
Watching out over the crowds, Persephone had arrived within the mass of people soon enough to bear witness to a young girl - one who was too far away for her to recognise the features of but whose impassioned cry she could make out all the same.
Her gaze moved to towards the figure she knew to be Rafail of Marikas, despite the distance, standing in cousinly support of Elias who was clearly lording his position of power with great joy. The former spoke with snarling displeasure at the girl's impertinence and the latter strode into the crowd with all the arrogance she knew him to have always possessed.
Watching the men with a careful eye, hidden in the cowl of her cloak, Persephone's peripheral distracted her for a moment when the flash of a familiar profile drifted nearby.
Recognising Hebe of Antonis, Persephone turned sharply but with a slow calm that wouldn't attract attention, hoping that she had moved quickly enough that the girl wouldn't recognise her.
Apparently, she had achieved anonymity when the girl's voice spoke from behind her back and, instead of cries of her presence and her own name being raised in surprise, she heard only a soft apology spoken, apparently, to Olena for a perceived slight. Curious to look around see what it might have been, Persephone restrained herself and ensured that she kept her gaze forward, looking towards Elias. He appeared to be clearing a path for himself, for some grand purpose or other. And when Elias had a spectacle to make of himself it wasn't often for good reasons...
This was, after all, the man who had sold their international peace down the river for a personal gain, disregarding politics across nations that kept their currency and military supplied, for the sake of a crown...
Watching him now, Persephone felt a personal anger - a wrath on behalf of those he had risked and squandered for his own means - burn in her belly. Her jaw set at an anger of distaste and her delicate brows drew down into a disapproving frown, each hidden by the shadows of her cowl…
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
Persephone was jostled as a figure pushed between herself and Olena but she felt no fear when the voice she knew so well came upon her from over his shoulder. She would have answered if it would not be suspicious and, instead, she simply nodded - an agreement of his assessment over the situation.
It was dangerous for her to be here. And she knew that it was a choice of great risk on her part.
But if she was to live her life, either fighting to be Queen of Athenia, or living peacefully in lush, green grasslands of Taengea, she knew that she had to be here if she was to take any comfort in such a thing. For how could she feel a sense of contentment, a life without regret, if she never knew the exact nature of Athenia and her people before making the choice that would change it forever...?
Watching out over the crowds, Persephone had arrived within the mass of people soon enough to bear witness to a young girl - one who was too far away for her to recognise the features of but whose impassioned cry she could make out all the same.
Her gaze moved to towards the figure she knew to be Rafail of Marikas, despite the distance, standing in cousinly support of Elias who was clearly lording his position of power with great joy. The former spoke with snarling displeasure at the girl's impertinence and the latter strode into the crowd with all the arrogance she knew him to have always possessed.
Watching the men with a careful eye, hidden in the cowl of her cloak, Persephone's peripheral distracted her for a moment when the flash of a familiar profile drifted nearby.
Recognising Hebe of Antonis, Persephone turned sharply but with a slow calm that wouldn't attract attention, hoping that she had moved quickly enough that the girl wouldn't recognise her.
Apparently, she had achieved anonymity when the girl's voice spoke from behind her back and, instead of cries of her presence and her own name being raised in surprise, she heard only a soft apology spoken, apparently, to Olena for a perceived slight. Curious to look around see what it might have been, Persephone restrained herself and ensured that she kept her gaze forward, looking towards Elias. He appeared to be clearing a path for himself, for some grand purpose or other. And when Elias had a spectacle to make of himself it wasn't often for good reasons...
This was, after all, the man who had sold their international peace down the river for a personal gain, disregarding politics across nations that kept their currency and military supplied, for the sake of a crown...
Watching him now, Persephone felt a personal anger - a wrath on behalf of those he had risked and squandered for his own means - burn in her belly. Her jaw set at an anger of distaste and her delicate brows drew down into a disapproving frown, each hidden by the shadows of her cowl…
Persephone was jostled as a figure pushed between herself and Olena but she felt no fear when the voice she knew so well came upon her from over his shoulder. She would have answered if it would not be suspicious and, instead, she simply nodded - an agreement of his assessment over the situation.
It was dangerous for her to be here. And she knew that it was a choice of great risk on her part.
But if she was to live her life, either fighting to be Queen of Athenia, or living peacefully in lush, green grasslands of Taengea, she knew that she had to be here if she was to take any comfort in such a thing. For how could she feel a sense of contentment, a life without regret, if she never knew the exact nature of Athenia and her people before making the choice that would change it forever...?
Watching out over the crowds, Persephone had arrived within the mass of people soon enough to bear witness to a young girl - one who was too far away for her to recognise the features of but whose impassioned cry she could make out all the same.
Her gaze moved to towards the figure she knew to be Rafail of Marikas, despite the distance, standing in cousinly support of Elias who was clearly lording his position of power with great joy. The former spoke with snarling displeasure at the girl's impertinence and the latter strode into the crowd with all the arrogance she knew him to have always possessed.
Watching the men with a careful eye, hidden in the cowl of her cloak, Persephone's peripheral distracted her for a moment when the flash of a familiar profile drifted nearby.
Recognising Hebe of Antonis, Persephone turned sharply but with a slow calm that wouldn't attract attention, hoping that she had moved quickly enough that the girl wouldn't recognise her.
Apparently, she had achieved anonymity when the girl's voice spoke from behind her back and, instead of cries of her presence and her own name being raised in surprise, she heard only a soft apology spoken, apparently, to Olena for a perceived slight. Curious to look around see what it might have been, Persephone restrained herself and ensured that she kept her gaze forward, looking towards Elias. He appeared to be clearing a path for himself, for some grand purpose or other. And when Elias had a spectacle to make of himself it wasn't often for good reasons...
This was, after all, the man who had sold their international peace down the river for a personal gain, disregarding politics across nations that kept their currency and military supplied, for the sake of a crown...
Watching him now, Persephone felt a personal anger - a wrath on behalf of those he had risked and squandered for his own means - burn in her belly. Her jaw set at an anger of distaste and her delicate brows drew down into a disapproving frown, each hidden by the shadows of her cowl…
Ismene’s name rang out among the crowd causing her to pause whatever conversation she was having with Lord Adrestus. Her blonde raised and her eyes flicked around at the various faces at the festival, briefly raking over her father’s and passing on the inclination to raise an eyebrow at him, before she moved on and landed her gaze on yet another Arcana girl, her friend Hero.
She didn’t have even half the energy or the passion that Hero had. The girl was bounding up to them like some sort of happy puppy ready to seize the day. ‘Thank the gods I found you, I was worried that I lost you and Ariadne.’ Ismene blinked at Hero before her smile widened across her face and she slid an amused look to Adrestus, her tongue in her cheek, before she looked back at Hero who was bubbling over. Her friend turned her head and she felt her mouth fall open slightly at the painting of the orange slice on the side of her face. Oh, Gods! I hope that washes off…
Hero on the other hand continued with her usual jovial, ‘Look what I got Ismene! Isn't it pretty? I never knew such a thing existed - it's practically genius! Which is why it's so bad that I have to wipe it off, hope the bathhouse here isn't as full as this festival.’ Her friend’s gaze seemed to land on Ismene’s companion, ‘Oh I am so rude! Where are my manners? I'm Ismene--’ Ismene slid another amused smile to Adrestus. She opened her mouth to correct Hero, but Hero was already on top of that, ‘No, no, she's Ismene. I'm Hero! Her friend, and who might you be?’
“Hero. Deep Breath.” Ismene chuckled, “This is Lord Adrestus, he’s a dear friend of mine…” The curvy little blonde turned to Adrestus, “And this mess is, Hero, the girl I was telling you about at dinner the other night.” She’d not gotten to continue further when there was a faint touch on her arm and again someone was pulling her attention away.
‘Ismene, yes? Could I borrow you for the smallest moment?’ Ismene looked from the hand to the face and suddenly felt her curiosity pique. ‘I just need to borrow her for the smallest of moments and then I'll have her straight back to you. Promise.’ What did Elysia want with her? Her mouth opened to ask such a question but Hero was speaking up and practically shoving her off on Elysia, ‘Of course, she's all yours, m'lady!’ Pulling her look of warning away from Hero, she smiled at Elysia, her molars gritting against one another. “How may I be of service to you? Has there been an accident?”
Letting Elysia lead her away, she paused at the mayhem created by Lord Rafail and Lord Elias. She might have simply rolled her eyes and continued on leaving the little boys to play with their toys but then that damnable familiar voice rang out, half covered by the sounds of the crowd and festival. Hero. Ismene’s eyes closed for a moment and the lines on her face became strained. This was both what she loved and hated about her friend. Counting in her mind to six before letting out her exhale, she looked back at the Master of Secret’s wife and tried to smile. “That one never has been very subtle I’m afraid.” She murmured more to herself than to Elysia.
Darting a look over her shoulder towards her father in a silent plea to do something to help Hero and get her out of here before looking back at Elysia still not entirely trusting of what was wanted of her. She didn’t know Elysia that well… more of what she’d heard then knew to be true. The slender brunette had never been anything if not charming to her in the few times they had crossed paths… however, there were some rumors tied to her that she’d delved into some rather shady dealings. Ismene blinked and inwardly shrugged at that thought though. Who wasn’t these days?
“I believe you were about to divulge the need to borrow me though,” Her detached grey eyes focused onto the brunette.
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
Ismene’s name rang out among the crowd causing her to pause whatever conversation she was having with Lord Adrestus. Her blonde raised and her eyes flicked around at the various faces at the festival, briefly raking over her father’s and passing on the inclination to raise an eyebrow at him, before she moved on and landed her gaze on yet another Arcana girl, her friend Hero.
She didn’t have even half the energy or the passion that Hero had. The girl was bounding up to them like some sort of happy puppy ready to seize the day. ‘Thank the gods I found you, I was worried that I lost you and Ariadne.’ Ismene blinked at Hero before her smile widened across her face and she slid an amused look to Adrestus, her tongue in her cheek, before she looked back at Hero who was bubbling over. Her friend turned her head and she felt her mouth fall open slightly at the painting of the orange slice on the side of her face. Oh, Gods! I hope that washes off…
Hero on the other hand continued with her usual jovial, ‘Look what I got Ismene! Isn't it pretty? I never knew such a thing existed - it's practically genius! Which is why it's so bad that I have to wipe it off, hope the bathhouse here isn't as full as this festival.’ Her friend’s gaze seemed to land on Ismene’s companion, ‘Oh I am so rude! Where are my manners? I'm Ismene--’ Ismene slid another amused smile to Adrestus. She opened her mouth to correct Hero, but Hero was already on top of that, ‘No, no, she's Ismene. I'm Hero! Her friend, and who might you be?’
“Hero. Deep Breath.” Ismene chuckled, “This is Lord Adrestus, he’s a dear friend of mine…” The curvy little blonde turned to Adrestus, “And this mess is, Hero, the girl I was telling you about at dinner the other night.” She’d not gotten to continue further when there was a faint touch on her arm and again someone was pulling her attention away.
‘Ismene, yes? Could I borrow you for the smallest moment?’ Ismene looked from the hand to the face and suddenly felt her curiosity pique. ‘I just need to borrow her for the smallest of moments and then I'll have her straight back to you. Promise.’ What did Elysia want with her? Her mouth opened to ask such a question but Hero was speaking up and practically shoving her off on Elysia, ‘Of course, she's all yours, m'lady!’ Pulling her look of warning away from Hero, she smiled at Elysia, her molars gritting against one another. “How may I be of service to you? Has there been an accident?”
Letting Elysia lead her away, she paused at the mayhem created by Lord Rafail and Lord Elias. She might have simply rolled her eyes and continued on leaving the little boys to play with their toys but then that damnable familiar voice rang out, half covered by the sounds of the crowd and festival. Hero. Ismene’s eyes closed for a moment and the lines on her face became strained. This was both what she loved and hated about her friend. Counting in her mind to six before letting out her exhale, she looked back at the Master of Secret’s wife and tried to smile. “That one never has been very subtle I’m afraid.” She murmured more to herself than to Elysia.
Darting a look over her shoulder towards her father in a silent plea to do something to help Hero and get her out of here before looking back at Elysia still not entirely trusting of what was wanted of her. She didn’t know Elysia that well… more of what she’d heard then knew to be true. The slender brunette had never been anything if not charming to her in the few times they had crossed paths… however, there were some rumors tied to her that she’d delved into some rather shady dealings. Ismene blinked and inwardly shrugged at that thought though. Who wasn’t these days?
“I believe you were about to divulge the need to borrow me though,” Her detached grey eyes focused onto the brunette.
Ismene’s name rang out among the crowd causing her to pause whatever conversation she was having with Lord Adrestus. Her blonde raised and her eyes flicked around at the various faces at the festival, briefly raking over her father’s and passing on the inclination to raise an eyebrow at him, before she moved on and landed her gaze on yet another Arcana girl, her friend Hero.
She didn’t have even half the energy or the passion that Hero had. The girl was bounding up to them like some sort of happy puppy ready to seize the day. ‘Thank the gods I found you, I was worried that I lost you and Ariadne.’ Ismene blinked at Hero before her smile widened across her face and she slid an amused look to Adrestus, her tongue in her cheek, before she looked back at Hero who was bubbling over. Her friend turned her head and she felt her mouth fall open slightly at the painting of the orange slice on the side of her face. Oh, Gods! I hope that washes off…
Hero on the other hand continued with her usual jovial, ‘Look what I got Ismene! Isn't it pretty? I never knew such a thing existed - it's practically genius! Which is why it's so bad that I have to wipe it off, hope the bathhouse here isn't as full as this festival.’ Her friend’s gaze seemed to land on Ismene’s companion, ‘Oh I am so rude! Where are my manners? I'm Ismene--’ Ismene slid another amused smile to Adrestus. She opened her mouth to correct Hero, but Hero was already on top of that, ‘No, no, she's Ismene. I'm Hero! Her friend, and who might you be?’
“Hero. Deep Breath.” Ismene chuckled, “This is Lord Adrestus, he’s a dear friend of mine…” The curvy little blonde turned to Adrestus, “And this mess is, Hero, the girl I was telling you about at dinner the other night.” She’d not gotten to continue further when there was a faint touch on her arm and again someone was pulling her attention away.
‘Ismene, yes? Could I borrow you for the smallest moment?’ Ismene looked from the hand to the face and suddenly felt her curiosity pique. ‘I just need to borrow her for the smallest of moments and then I'll have her straight back to you. Promise.’ What did Elysia want with her? Her mouth opened to ask such a question but Hero was speaking up and practically shoving her off on Elysia, ‘Of course, she's all yours, m'lady!’ Pulling her look of warning away from Hero, she smiled at Elysia, her molars gritting against one another. “How may I be of service to you? Has there been an accident?”
Letting Elysia lead her away, she paused at the mayhem created by Lord Rafail and Lord Elias. She might have simply rolled her eyes and continued on leaving the little boys to play with their toys but then that damnable familiar voice rang out, half covered by the sounds of the crowd and festival. Hero. Ismene’s eyes closed for a moment and the lines on her face became strained. This was both what she loved and hated about her friend. Counting in her mind to six before letting out her exhale, she looked back at the Master of Secret’s wife and tried to smile. “That one never has been very subtle I’m afraid.” She murmured more to herself than to Elysia.
Darting a look over her shoulder towards her father in a silent plea to do something to help Hero and get her out of here before looking back at Elysia still not entirely trusting of what was wanted of her. She didn’t know Elysia that well… more of what she’d heard then knew to be true. The slender brunette had never been anything if not charming to her in the few times they had crossed paths… however, there were some rumors tied to her that she’d delved into some rather shady dealings. Ismene blinked and inwardly shrugged at that thought though. Who wasn’t these days?
“I believe you were about to divulge the need to borrow me though,” Her detached grey eyes focused onto the brunette.
Circenia’s day began with disaster.
The princess had everything planned out for the morning of the harvest festival. What she would wear, when she would arrive, who she would arrive with… But when that bright morning actually dawned, nothing seemed to go according to plan.
Summoning one of the servants to help her dress in the golden chiton she’d had commissioned especially for this occasion, she soon discovered, to her deep and abiding horror, a gash was torn right down the middle of the gown. Red in the face at its discovery, the Stravos matriarch glared daggers at the poor serving girl that attended her.
“How did this happen?” she snarled, roughly grabbing the girl by the front of her peplos and giving her a little shake. “Who laid out my clothing last night?”
“I-I’m not sure, Your Highness,” the young woman stammered, wide-eyed and trembling in the princess’s grasp. “It wasn’t me, b-but I can try to find out who it was?”
Releasing her and none too gently shoving her away, Circenia rolled her eyes with an exasperated sigh. “That won’t be necessary, girl. But I do expect this error to be fixed, you understand?” Her glare made it clear what answer the servant should give. “This gown will not be a wasted investment.”
Looking at the rent garment in distress, she shook her head. No time to repair it now. She’d simply have to wear something else and save this one for another time.
Sifting through her sizable collection of chitons, though considerably thinned from what it had been before, Circenia made a face. She’d have to pick a new himation, new jewelry, new sandals… gods, she’d been relying on that dress, and now that she couldn’t wear it, everything was thrown off just enough to put her in a foul mood.
In the end, she chose another of smoothly spun silk, pure ivory in color and edged with crimson. Draped with a golden himation, and ears, neck, and wrists dripping with gold and diamonds, the princess stopped to admire herself in the looking glass. A gold tiara rested among immaculately dressed curls, tiny diamonds reflecting the light filtering through the window. It wasn’t quite the look she’d anticipated, but it would have to do. At least she had other options at the ready.
Applying the last touch of carmine to her lips, she nodded to her flustered and obviously overworked servant before heading for the entrance of the archontiko. By the time she’d finished getting ready after her untimely set back, the rest of the family was already gone, and the chariots with them. Another frustrated sigh expressed her irritation, waiting impatiently for one of them to return. Surely the charioteers would have noticed that she was the only Stravos not in attendance and return for her?
It was another half hour by the time one did, the princess hurriedly waving the driver down before he disconnected the vehicle from the bay stallion. Seeing the exasperation on Circenia’s face, he didn’t dare question the princess, simply nodded to her as she climbed in.
“Joining your family at the festival, Your Highness?” was all he asked, the Stravos matriarch offering a curt nod in return.
“Yes. Quick as you please, now.”
Luckily, it was not a long ride before Circenia was stepping from the chariot and into the crowd at the festival, seeking out the other members of her family. She did her best to erase the annoyance from her features, presenting an amiable exterior that showed nothing to suggest she hadn’t been there the whole time.
Spotting her husband and both daughters surrounding the Princess Emilia, Circenia simply nodded and moved on. There was no need for the entire family to be attending their young ward; she was sure the others were more than capable of keeping her under control. Too many of them might add to the (mostly true) rumors surrounding their presence in the Palati, so she kept scanning the gathering of Athenians until she found her son.
Spotting him, it didn’t take long for her to realize he was spitting drunk.
Her face tightened almost imperceptibly, disapproval flickering in her icy gaze. What was he thinking to appear at an event like this in such a state of inebriation? He ought to be appearing regal and kingly, with dignity and honor, rather than stumbling, slurring, and leaning so heavily on his little tramp of a slave. The carriages full of food that he and Rafail both attended were a good touch, but the rest…
Weaving through the sea of bodies, she made her way toward Elias, hoping she might intercept him before he stood at the forefront of the crowd and made a fool of himself. Unfortunately, there were far too many people between them, and she had a feeling she was going to be just a moment too late…
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
Circenia’s day began with disaster.
The princess had everything planned out for the morning of the harvest festival. What she would wear, when she would arrive, who she would arrive with… But when that bright morning actually dawned, nothing seemed to go according to plan.
Summoning one of the servants to help her dress in the golden chiton she’d had commissioned especially for this occasion, she soon discovered, to her deep and abiding horror, a gash was torn right down the middle of the gown. Red in the face at its discovery, the Stravos matriarch glared daggers at the poor serving girl that attended her.
“How did this happen?” she snarled, roughly grabbing the girl by the front of her peplos and giving her a little shake. “Who laid out my clothing last night?”
“I-I’m not sure, Your Highness,” the young woman stammered, wide-eyed and trembling in the princess’s grasp. “It wasn’t me, b-but I can try to find out who it was?”
Releasing her and none too gently shoving her away, Circenia rolled her eyes with an exasperated sigh. “That won’t be necessary, girl. But I do expect this error to be fixed, you understand?” Her glare made it clear what answer the servant should give. “This gown will not be a wasted investment.”
Looking at the rent garment in distress, she shook her head. No time to repair it now. She’d simply have to wear something else and save this one for another time.
Sifting through her sizable collection of chitons, though considerably thinned from what it had been before, Circenia made a face. She’d have to pick a new himation, new jewelry, new sandals… gods, she’d been relying on that dress, and now that she couldn’t wear it, everything was thrown off just enough to put her in a foul mood.
In the end, she chose another of smoothly spun silk, pure ivory in color and edged with crimson. Draped with a golden himation, and ears, neck, and wrists dripping with gold and diamonds, the princess stopped to admire herself in the looking glass. A gold tiara rested among immaculately dressed curls, tiny diamonds reflecting the light filtering through the window. It wasn’t quite the look she’d anticipated, but it would have to do. At least she had other options at the ready.
Applying the last touch of carmine to her lips, she nodded to her flustered and obviously overworked servant before heading for the entrance of the archontiko. By the time she’d finished getting ready after her untimely set back, the rest of the family was already gone, and the chariots with them. Another frustrated sigh expressed her irritation, waiting impatiently for one of them to return. Surely the charioteers would have noticed that she was the only Stravos not in attendance and return for her?
It was another half hour by the time one did, the princess hurriedly waving the driver down before he disconnected the vehicle from the bay stallion. Seeing the exasperation on Circenia’s face, he didn’t dare question the princess, simply nodded to her as she climbed in.
“Joining your family at the festival, Your Highness?” was all he asked, the Stravos matriarch offering a curt nod in return.
“Yes. Quick as you please, now.”
Luckily, it was not a long ride before Circenia was stepping from the chariot and into the crowd at the festival, seeking out the other members of her family. She did her best to erase the annoyance from her features, presenting an amiable exterior that showed nothing to suggest she hadn’t been there the whole time.
Spotting her husband and both daughters surrounding the Princess Emilia, Circenia simply nodded and moved on. There was no need for the entire family to be attending their young ward; she was sure the others were more than capable of keeping her under control. Too many of them might add to the (mostly true) rumors surrounding their presence in the Palati, so she kept scanning the gathering of Athenians until she found her son.
Spotting him, it didn’t take long for her to realize he was spitting drunk.
Her face tightened almost imperceptibly, disapproval flickering in her icy gaze. What was he thinking to appear at an event like this in such a state of inebriation? He ought to be appearing regal and kingly, with dignity and honor, rather than stumbling, slurring, and leaning so heavily on his little tramp of a slave. The carriages full of food that he and Rafail both attended were a good touch, but the rest…
Weaving through the sea of bodies, she made her way toward Elias, hoping she might intercept him before he stood at the forefront of the crowd and made a fool of himself. Unfortunately, there were far too many people between them, and she had a feeling she was going to be just a moment too late…
Circenia’s day began with disaster.
The princess had everything planned out for the morning of the harvest festival. What she would wear, when she would arrive, who she would arrive with… But when that bright morning actually dawned, nothing seemed to go according to plan.
Summoning one of the servants to help her dress in the golden chiton she’d had commissioned especially for this occasion, she soon discovered, to her deep and abiding horror, a gash was torn right down the middle of the gown. Red in the face at its discovery, the Stravos matriarch glared daggers at the poor serving girl that attended her.
“How did this happen?” she snarled, roughly grabbing the girl by the front of her peplos and giving her a little shake. “Who laid out my clothing last night?”
“I-I’m not sure, Your Highness,” the young woman stammered, wide-eyed and trembling in the princess’s grasp. “It wasn’t me, b-but I can try to find out who it was?”
Releasing her and none too gently shoving her away, Circenia rolled her eyes with an exasperated sigh. “That won’t be necessary, girl. But I do expect this error to be fixed, you understand?” Her glare made it clear what answer the servant should give. “This gown will not be a wasted investment.”
Looking at the rent garment in distress, she shook her head. No time to repair it now. She’d simply have to wear something else and save this one for another time.
Sifting through her sizable collection of chitons, though considerably thinned from what it had been before, Circenia made a face. She’d have to pick a new himation, new jewelry, new sandals… gods, she’d been relying on that dress, and now that she couldn’t wear it, everything was thrown off just enough to put her in a foul mood.
In the end, she chose another of smoothly spun silk, pure ivory in color and edged with crimson. Draped with a golden himation, and ears, neck, and wrists dripping with gold and diamonds, the princess stopped to admire herself in the looking glass. A gold tiara rested among immaculately dressed curls, tiny diamonds reflecting the light filtering through the window. It wasn’t quite the look she’d anticipated, but it would have to do. At least she had other options at the ready.
Applying the last touch of carmine to her lips, she nodded to her flustered and obviously overworked servant before heading for the entrance of the archontiko. By the time she’d finished getting ready after her untimely set back, the rest of the family was already gone, and the chariots with them. Another frustrated sigh expressed her irritation, waiting impatiently for one of them to return. Surely the charioteers would have noticed that she was the only Stravos not in attendance and return for her?
It was another half hour by the time one did, the princess hurriedly waving the driver down before he disconnected the vehicle from the bay stallion. Seeing the exasperation on Circenia’s face, he didn’t dare question the princess, simply nodded to her as she climbed in.
“Joining your family at the festival, Your Highness?” was all he asked, the Stravos matriarch offering a curt nod in return.
“Yes. Quick as you please, now.”
Luckily, it was not a long ride before Circenia was stepping from the chariot and into the crowd at the festival, seeking out the other members of her family. She did her best to erase the annoyance from her features, presenting an amiable exterior that showed nothing to suggest she hadn’t been there the whole time.
Spotting her husband and both daughters surrounding the Princess Emilia, Circenia simply nodded and moved on. There was no need for the entire family to be attending their young ward; she was sure the others were more than capable of keeping her under control. Too many of them might add to the (mostly true) rumors surrounding their presence in the Palati, so she kept scanning the gathering of Athenians until she found her son.
Spotting him, it didn’t take long for her to realize he was spitting drunk.
Her face tightened almost imperceptibly, disapproval flickering in her icy gaze. What was he thinking to appear at an event like this in such a state of inebriation? He ought to be appearing regal and kingly, with dignity and honor, rather than stumbling, slurring, and leaning so heavily on his little tramp of a slave. The carriages full of food that he and Rafail both attended were a good touch, but the rest…
Weaving through the sea of bodies, she made her way toward Elias, hoping she might intercept him before he stood at the forefront of the crowd and made a fool of himself. Unfortunately, there were far too many people between them, and she had a feeling she was going to be just a moment too late…