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The words were said with a surprise that the servant could not quite hold back or render unspoken but then Persephone was not one to judge when her sudden appearance had been unforetold by letter or servant. What she could do, however, was appreciate the skill with which the experience man servant - or perhaps steward - of the household corrected himself and his tone, sinking into a deep and respectful bow.
The surprise in his reaction was understandable, for the air was surprising cold that afternoon, despite the summer month and Persephone had been gowned in not only her chiton and himation, but an additional cloak of thick wool, the hood of which had been pulled up over her head and masked some of her features into shadow. It had been as she had ridden into the open courtyard of the Marikas estate with only two guardsmen and her lady’s maid Ariadne to accompany her that the steward had watched her approach with a cautious and confused look upon his face. Then she had lowered the hood and the older gentleman had reacted with all the surprise due to him for her unannounced visit.
"Welcome to the Marikas estate..." he greeted her, as he bowed, and Persephone nodded with all the regality that her years of etiquette training had instilled in her.
Awaiting the aid of one of her guardsmen, Persephone took his hand before jumping down from the back of her mount and landing with more grace than any descending lady should possess. It was moment like these that had spread rumour of her being blessed by the Gods in such things.
"Your welcome is warming." Persephone stated with a smile, as her cloak was taken from her by the experienced hands of her lady’s maid. What was laid to bare beneath was a gown of sapphire blue, silver workmanship entwined with the shoulder fibulae and descending down her bare arms and across the bodice. Her hair was pulled back into an intricate braided design that sat at the base of her neck where it would not be disturbed by her white himation, nor the cloak she had worn over the top.
"I was returning home from a tour of the city and thought I might enquire as to whether Lord Rafail is at home."
Thankfully, Persephone's monstrous training in keeping her emotions from her face saved her blushes or her voice from transforming into that of a feminine lilt; the kind that young girls wore when speaking of a childhood crush. Instead she remained the cool and impartial princess of the realm before this servant.
Though she could not say if this would remain in the presence of the Lord Rafail.
The second son of Panos of Marikas had been, over the last two months, progressively showing her great care and attention. First there was the invitation to his home - this same estate - in which her favourite flowers had bloomed for the summer. Then there had been the archery contest and the gift of a fine necklace. Whilst it had not been to her personal taste, the object had clearly been of expense and therefore of affection.
She had spoken with Ariadne a little on the topic, knew that such attentions could not be without an end goal when she was born as who she was. And such an idea of future commitment and stability with the House of Marikas - with a young man who flattered her so - was hardly an unpleasant thought.
"I believe so, Your Highness." The steward spoke, an apologetic glance drifting over his features. "Though I have not seen him for perhaps an hour. If you would follow me, perhaps you would grace our gardens with your presence whilst I look for him and inform him of your presence?"
Persephone's lips curled into a smile and her head bowed with a graceful nod of acceptance. With a staying of her hand, Persephone ensured that her guardsmen waited by their horses - for she was in little danger within the household of the Marikas bloodline and progressed to follow in the servant’s footsteps, Ariadne the beloved shadow in her wake. A shadow whom Persephone looked over her shoulder towards and shared a private smile of excitement at the meeting of a man so flattering in his attentions...
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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"Your Highness!"
The words were said with a surprise that the servant could not quite hold back or render unspoken but then Persephone was not one to judge when her sudden appearance had been unforetold by letter or servant. What she could do, however, was appreciate the skill with which the experience man servant - or perhaps steward - of the household corrected himself and his tone, sinking into a deep and respectful bow.
The surprise in his reaction was understandable, for the air was surprising cold that afternoon, despite the summer month and Persephone had been gowned in not only her chiton and himation, but an additional cloak of thick wool, the hood of which had been pulled up over her head and masked some of her features into shadow. It had been as she had ridden into the open courtyard of the Marikas estate with only two guardsmen and her lady’s maid Ariadne to accompany her that the steward had watched her approach with a cautious and confused look upon his face. Then she had lowered the hood and the older gentleman had reacted with all the surprise due to him for her unannounced visit.
"Welcome to the Marikas estate..." he greeted her, as he bowed, and Persephone nodded with all the regality that her years of etiquette training had instilled in her.
Awaiting the aid of one of her guardsmen, Persephone took his hand before jumping down from the back of her mount and landing with more grace than any descending lady should possess. It was moment like these that had spread rumour of her being blessed by the Gods in such things.
"Your welcome is warming." Persephone stated with a smile, as her cloak was taken from her by the experienced hands of her lady’s maid. What was laid to bare beneath was a gown of sapphire blue, silver workmanship entwined with the shoulder fibulae and descending down her bare arms and across the bodice. Her hair was pulled back into an intricate braided design that sat at the base of her neck where it would not be disturbed by her white himation, nor the cloak she had worn over the top.
"I was returning home from a tour of the city and thought I might enquire as to whether Lord Rafail is at home."
Thankfully, Persephone's monstrous training in keeping her emotions from her face saved her blushes or her voice from transforming into that of a feminine lilt; the kind that young girls wore when speaking of a childhood crush. Instead she remained the cool and impartial princess of the realm before this servant.
Though she could not say if this would remain in the presence of the Lord Rafail.
The second son of Panos of Marikas had been, over the last two months, progressively showing her great care and attention. First there was the invitation to his home - this same estate - in which her favourite flowers had bloomed for the summer. Then there had been the archery contest and the gift of a fine necklace. Whilst it had not been to her personal taste, the object had clearly been of expense and therefore of affection.
She had spoken with Ariadne a little on the topic, knew that such attentions could not be without an end goal when she was born as who she was. And such an idea of future commitment and stability with the House of Marikas - with a young man who flattered her so - was hardly an unpleasant thought.
"I believe so, Your Highness." The steward spoke, an apologetic glance drifting over his features. "Though I have not seen him for perhaps an hour. If you would follow me, perhaps you would grace our gardens with your presence whilst I look for him and inform him of your presence?"
Persephone's lips curled into a smile and her head bowed with a graceful nod of acceptance. With a staying of her hand, Persephone ensured that her guardsmen waited by their horses - for she was in little danger within the household of the Marikas bloodline and progressed to follow in the servant’s footsteps, Ariadne the beloved shadow in her wake. A shadow whom Persephone looked over her shoulder towards and shared a private smile of excitement at the meeting of a man so flattering in his attentions...
"Your Highness!"
The words were said with a surprise that the servant could not quite hold back or render unspoken but then Persephone was not one to judge when her sudden appearance had been unforetold by letter or servant. What she could do, however, was appreciate the skill with which the experience man servant - or perhaps steward - of the household corrected himself and his tone, sinking into a deep and respectful bow.
The surprise in his reaction was understandable, for the air was surprising cold that afternoon, despite the summer month and Persephone had been gowned in not only her chiton and himation, but an additional cloak of thick wool, the hood of which had been pulled up over her head and masked some of her features into shadow. It had been as she had ridden into the open courtyard of the Marikas estate with only two guardsmen and her lady’s maid Ariadne to accompany her that the steward had watched her approach with a cautious and confused look upon his face. Then she had lowered the hood and the older gentleman had reacted with all the surprise due to him for her unannounced visit.
"Welcome to the Marikas estate..." he greeted her, as he bowed, and Persephone nodded with all the regality that her years of etiquette training had instilled in her.
Awaiting the aid of one of her guardsmen, Persephone took his hand before jumping down from the back of her mount and landing with more grace than any descending lady should possess. It was moment like these that had spread rumour of her being blessed by the Gods in such things.
"Your welcome is warming." Persephone stated with a smile, as her cloak was taken from her by the experienced hands of her lady’s maid. What was laid to bare beneath was a gown of sapphire blue, silver workmanship entwined with the shoulder fibulae and descending down her bare arms and across the bodice. Her hair was pulled back into an intricate braided design that sat at the base of her neck where it would not be disturbed by her white himation, nor the cloak she had worn over the top.
"I was returning home from a tour of the city and thought I might enquire as to whether Lord Rafail is at home."
Thankfully, Persephone's monstrous training in keeping her emotions from her face saved her blushes or her voice from transforming into that of a feminine lilt; the kind that young girls wore when speaking of a childhood crush. Instead she remained the cool and impartial princess of the realm before this servant.
Though she could not say if this would remain in the presence of the Lord Rafail.
The second son of Panos of Marikas had been, over the last two months, progressively showing her great care and attention. First there was the invitation to his home - this same estate - in which her favourite flowers had bloomed for the summer. Then there had been the archery contest and the gift of a fine necklace. Whilst it had not been to her personal taste, the object had clearly been of expense and therefore of affection.
She had spoken with Ariadne a little on the topic, knew that such attentions could not be without an end goal when she was born as who she was. And such an idea of future commitment and stability with the House of Marikas - with a young man who flattered her so - was hardly an unpleasant thought.
"I believe so, Your Highness." The steward spoke, an apologetic glance drifting over his features. "Though I have not seen him for perhaps an hour. If you would follow me, perhaps you would grace our gardens with your presence whilst I look for him and inform him of your presence?"
Persephone's lips curled into a smile and her head bowed with a graceful nod of acceptance. With a staying of her hand, Persephone ensured that her guardsmen waited by their horses - for she was in little danger within the household of the Marikas bloodline and progressed to follow in the servant’s footsteps, Ariadne the beloved shadow in her wake. A shadow whom Persephone looked over her shoulder towards and shared a private smile of excitement at the meeting of a man so flattering in his attentions...
It was always an adventure with Persephone, Ariadne found. Even when things were boring, Ari was always learning. Over the past two years, she had become closer with the princess. Their age difference didn’t seem to matter all that much. Ari had always been mature for her age and living in the royal palati had only helped to accelerate her maturity. There was not time for her to behave as a child. Especially when she had to look after a princess.
Though, she was learning it was about more than looking after Persephone. The princess could look after herself plenty. She was smart and accomplished and Ariadne already aspired to be her someday. One thing that Ariadne especially hoped for herself was to find true love. She wanted to be in love like her parents were. To know something magical like love would be something spectacular. And she hoped that for Persephone as well. She had been receiving special notes and gifts from an admirer as of late and Ariadne had gushed over it every moment. Oh, how fantastic it must be to be the subject of such attention. It seemed that Perse wasn’t completely immune to it as well. After weeks of talking, suddenly she had made the decision for the two of them (and some guards) to visit the sender of such admiration. It was a bold move, Ari thought, one that was too much for her shy personality, but fit Persephone exactly. She was so brave. And Ari would get to witness the meeting. How lucky!
Ari was dressed modestly for the meeting, though her hair was braided maturely, hoping to make up for her small stature. Although she was nearing 12 years of age, she wanted to give the impression that she was older. At the very least so that she wasn’t looked at as if she was too young to understand anything. Not that she really expected to be looked at at all. No, Ariadne was here to support Persephone no matter what happened and she would be there for the princess every step of the way.
As Persephone quickly reminded everyone at the Marikas estate that she was a princess, Ariadne took the moment to look around the place and as always was slightly awestruck. She had gotten better at experiencing such places after spending so much time in the capital, but some people’s opulence still startled her. It was a far cry from where she had grown up. As the exchange was made and the servant off to hunt down Lord Rafail, Ariadne followed Persephone, further exploring the home. She was carefully attentive to her princess, knowing that she was likely more nervous than she let on. The next few hours could prove to be life changing for her.
Ariadne returned Persephone’s smile, wanting to give her friend a hug, but kept her close distance in the space. They had already spoken some about the moment, so she wouldn’t voice any more aloud, especially when others might hear. Instead, she hoped to give Persephone some comfort and sent a silent prayer up for good luck for whatever was in store for her.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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It was always an adventure with Persephone, Ariadne found. Even when things were boring, Ari was always learning. Over the past two years, she had become closer with the princess. Their age difference didn’t seem to matter all that much. Ari had always been mature for her age and living in the royal palati had only helped to accelerate her maturity. There was not time for her to behave as a child. Especially when she had to look after a princess.
Though, she was learning it was about more than looking after Persephone. The princess could look after herself plenty. She was smart and accomplished and Ariadne already aspired to be her someday. One thing that Ariadne especially hoped for herself was to find true love. She wanted to be in love like her parents were. To know something magical like love would be something spectacular. And she hoped that for Persephone as well. She had been receiving special notes and gifts from an admirer as of late and Ariadne had gushed over it every moment. Oh, how fantastic it must be to be the subject of such attention. It seemed that Perse wasn’t completely immune to it as well. After weeks of talking, suddenly she had made the decision for the two of them (and some guards) to visit the sender of such admiration. It was a bold move, Ari thought, one that was too much for her shy personality, but fit Persephone exactly. She was so brave. And Ari would get to witness the meeting. How lucky!
Ari was dressed modestly for the meeting, though her hair was braided maturely, hoping to make up for her small stature. Although she was nearing 12 years of age, she wanted to give the impression that she was older. At the very least so that she wasn’t looked at as if she was too young to understand anything. Not that she really expected to be looked at at all. No, Ariadne was here to support Persephone no matter what happened and she would be there for the princess every step of the way.
As Persephone quickly reminded everyone at the Marikas estate that she was a princess, Ariadne took the moment to look around the place and as always was slightly awestruck. She had gotten better at experiencing such places after spending so much time in the capital, but some people’s opulence still startled her. It was a far cry from where she had grown up. As the exchange was made and the servant off to hunt down Lord Rafail, Ariadne followed Persephone, further exploring the home. She was carefully attentive to her princess, knowing that she was likely more nervous than she let on. The next few hours could prove to be life changing for her.
Ariadne returned Persephone’s smile, wanting to give her friend a hug, but kept her close distance in the space. They had already spoken some about the moment, so she wouldn’t voice any more aloud, especially when others might hear. Instead, she hoped to give Persephone some comfort and sent a silent prayer up for good luck for whatever was in store for her.
It was always an adventure with Persephone, Ariadne found. Even when things were boring, Ari was always learning. Over the past two years, she had become closer with the princess. Their age difference didn’t seem to matter all that much. Ari had always been mature for her age and living in the royal palati had only helped to accelerate her maturity. There was not time for her to behave as a child. Especially when she had to look after a princess.
Though, she was learning it was about more than looking after Persephone. The princess could look after herself plenty. She was smart and accomplished and Ariadne already aspired to be her someday. One thing that Ariadne especially hoped for herself was to find true love. She wanted to be in love like her parents were. To know something magical like love would be something spectacular. And she hoped that for Persephone as well. She had been receiving special notes and gifts from an admirer as of late and Ariadne had gushed over it every moment. Oh, how fantastic it must be to be the subject of such attention. It seemed that Perse wasn’t completely immune to it as well. After weeks of talking, suddenly she had made the decision for the two of them (and some guards) to visit the sender of such admiration. It was a bold move, Ari thought, one that was too much for her shy personality, but fit Persephone exactly. She was so brave. And Ari would get to witness the meeting. How lucky!
Ari was dressed modestly for the meeting, though her hair was braided maturely, hoping to make up for her small stature. Although she was nearing 12 years of age, she wanted to give the impression that she was older. At the very least so that she wasn’t looked at as if she was too young to understand anything. Not that she really expected to be looked at at all. No, Ariadne was here to support Persephone no matter what happened and she would be there for the princess every step of the way.
As Persephone quickly reminded everyone at the Marikas estate that she was a princess, Ariadne took the moment to look around the place and as always was slightly awestruck. She had gotten better at experiencing such places after spending so much time in the capital, but some people’s opulence still startled her. It was a far cry from where she had grown up. As the exchange was made and the servant off to hunt down Lord Rafail, Ariadne followed Persephone, further exploring the home. She was carefully attentive to her princess, knowing that she was likely more nervous than she let on. The next few hours could prove to be life changing for her.
Ariadne returned Persephone’s smile, wanting to give her friend a hug, but kept her close distance in the space. They had already spoken some about the moment, so she wouldn’t voice any more aloud, especially when others might hear. Instead, she hoped to give Persephone some comfort and sent a silent prayer up for good luck for whatever was in store for her.
When there was no reason for Rafail to be stuck in Thesnia tending to that boring business which was the management of a province of farmers, and he could while away his hours back at the Marikas estate in Athenia, he did not tend to make a secret of the fact that he valued enjoying himself over any kind of dull business. There was little of import he had to do in the capital (at least, there was little that could not generally be handled by Papa and Pavlos), and he could spend his summer months entertaining himself with all that which interested him more. Women were a particular favourite, if not solely because he enjoyed the pleasures of sex but because there was always a thrill in discovering a new one and tricking her into the comfort of his bed (allegedly, this was 'an exceptionally vulgar way of thinking of women', but the girl who had said so had not complained once she had fallen into his arms that evening, so Rafail had chosen to take that particular complaint with a pinch of salt).
Today, he had not quite been intending to find romance. In truth, he had only wandered down to the stables with the intention of visiting his beloved horses and, if the mood struck him, taking one out for a short ride. As it happened, the mood had struck, and the short trip had turned into a longer one, and he had found himself chatting with the pretty dark-haired daughter of some merchant while the man folded away his impulsive purchase and passed them across his stand to the Marikas guard. She had been as enthralled by Rafail's kind words as he had hoped, and had even giggled when he had offered her a ride back to the estate so that she might experience a better ride yet.
Now, perhaps Rafail should not have allowed himself to succumb to his philandering nature as of late, for he had spent a while now attempting to woo Princess Persephone (and doing an excellent job of it, in his never-humble opinion), but he had barely remained chaste when he had returned to Thesnia, and the young lord did not see how he could be expected to do so in Athenia. When one was as desirable as he considered himself, it was difficult to restrict oneself to a single woman, even if she was both a princess and delightful to look at. He needed the adventure and the pleasure of multiple.
Thus, instead of limiting himself as most would have expected, he had led the merchant's daughter back to his home, and soon brought her around to the expansive gardens. It was a trick which usually worked with women - it had with the princess - because, so far as Rafail was aware, there must have been something in their minds which naturally drew them to flowers, and meant that if a man gave them the gift of one, they were easily seduced. He did not claim to understand the female mind (it was far too ridiculous half the time), but he had enough experience with the fairer sex to make the assumption.
Their path through the gardens had been a leisurely one, which Rafail had explicitly chosen to best display the brightest blooms, and which ended beneath an intricate stone structure wound with flowering vines and hidden from the view of most, where many a young lady over the years had had her heart stolen. This one was no exception, as he had offered her a seat and a flower and whispered something sweet in her ear before he had moved in for a kiss.
"My Lord..." she had breathed when he attempted to take things further. It was the demure response of any lady who was too nervous and too proper to admit how much she wanted his touch.
He had smiled, and promised her that it would be alright - because the assurance of protection was all a woman needed, most of the time - and then he had leaned in as if to prove his words, though his kisses had slipped down to the soft skin of her collarbone, half-exposed as his hands started to tug away that imposing chiton.
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When there was no reason for Rafail to be stuck in Thesnia tending to that boring business which was the management of a province of farmers, and he could while away his hours back at the Marikas estate in Athenia, he did not tend to make a secret of the fact that he valued enjoying himself over any kind of dull business. There was little of import he had to do in the capital (at least, there was little that could not generally be handled by Papa and Pavlos), and he could spend his summer months entertaining himself with all that which interested him more. Women were a particular favourite, if not solely because he enjoyed the pleasures of sex but because there was always a thrill in discovering a new one and tricking her into the comfort of his bed (allegedly, this was 'an exceptionally vulgar way of thinking of women', but the girl who had said so had not complained once she had fallen into his arms that evening, so Rafail had chosen to take that particular complaint with a pinch of salt).
Today, he had not quite been intending to find romance. In truth, he had only wandered down to the stables with the intention of visiting his beloved horses and, if the mood struck him, taking one out for a short ride. As it happened, the mood had struck, and the short trip had turned into a longer one, and he had found himself chatting with the pretty dark-haired daughter of some merchant while the man folded away his impulsive purchase and passed them across his stand to the Marikas guard. She had been as enthralled by Rafail's kind words as he had hoped, and had even giggled when he had offered her a ride back to the estate so that she might experience a better ride yet.
Now, perhaps Rafail should not have allowed himself to succumb to his philandering nature as of late, for he had spent a while now attempting to woo Princess Persephone (and doing an excellent job of it, in his never-humble opinion), but he had barely remained chaste when he had returned to Thesnia, and the young lord did not see how he could be expected to do so in Athenia. When one was as desirable as he considered himself, it was difficult to restrict oneself to a single woman, even if she was both a princess and delightful to look at. He needed the adventure and the pleasure of multiple.
Thus, instead of limiting himself as most would have expected, he had led the merchant's daughter back to his home, and soon brought her around to the expansive gardens. It was a trick which usually worked with women - it had with the princess - because, so far as Rafail was aware, there must have been something in their minds which naturally drew them to flowers, and meant that if a man gave them the gift of one, they were easily seduced. He did not claim to understand the female mind (it was far too ridiculous half the time), but he had enough experience with the fairer sex to make the assumption.
Their path through the gardens had been a leisurely one, which Rafail had explicitly chosen to best display the brightest blooms, and which ended beneath an intricate stone structure wound with flowering vines and hidden from the view of most, where many a young lady over the years had had her heart stolen. This one was no exception, as he had offered her a seat and a flower and whispered something sweet in her ear before he had moved in for a kiss.
"My Lord..." she had breathed when he attempted to take things further. It was the demure response of any lady who was too nervous and too proper to admit how much she wanted his touch.
He had smiled, and promised her that it would be alright - because the assurance of protection was all a woman needed, most of the time - and then he had leaned in as if to prove his words, though his kisses had slipped down to the soft skin of her collarbone, half-exposed as his hands started to tug away that imposing chiton.
When there was no reason for Rafail to be stuck in Thesnia tending to that boring business which was the management of a province of farmers, and he could while away his hours back at the Marikas estate in Athenia, he did not tend to make a secret of the fact that he valued enjoying himself over any kind of dull business. There was little of import he had to do in the capital (at least, there was little that could not generally be handled by Papa and Pavlos), and he could spend his summer months entertaining himself with all that which interested him more. Women were a particular favourite, if not solely because he enjoyed the pleasures of sex but because there was always a thrill in discovering a new one and tricking her into the comfort of his bed (allegedly, this was 'an exceptionally vulgar way of thinking of women', but the girl who had said so had not complained once she had fallen into his arms that evening, so Rafail had chosen to take that particular complaint with a pinch of salt).
Today, he had not quite been intending to find romance. In truth, he had only wandered down to the stables with the intention of visiting his beloved horses and, if the mood struck him, taking one out for a short ride. As it happened, the mood had struck, and the short trip had turned into a longer one, and he had found himself chatting with the pretty dark-haired daughter of some merchant while the man folded away his impulsive purchase and passed them across his stand to the Marikas guard. She had been as enthralled by Rafail's kind words as he had hoped, and had even giggled when he had offered her a ride back to the estate so that she might experience a better ride yet.
Now, perhaps Rafail should not have allowed himself to succumb to his philandering nature as of late, for he had spent a while now attempting to woo Princess Persephone (and doing an excellent job of it, in his never-humble opinion), but he had barely remained chaste when he had returned to Thesnia, and the young lord did not see how he could be expected to do so in Athenia. When one was as desirable as he considered himself, it was difficult to restrict oneself to a single woman, even if she was both a princess and delightful to look at. He needed the adventure and the pleasure of multiple.
Thus, instead of limiting himself as most would have expected, he had led the merchant's daughter back to his home, and soon brought her around to the expansive gardens. It was a trick which usually worked with women - it had with the princess - because, so far as Rafail was aware, there must have been something in their minds which naturally drew them to flowers, and meant that if a man gave them the gift of one, they were easily seduced. He did not claim to understand the female mind (it was far too ridiculous half the time), but he had enough experience with the fairer sex to make the assumption.
Their path through the gardens had been a leisurely one, which Rafail had explicitly chosen to best display the brightest blooms, and which ended beneath an intricate stone structure wound with flowering vines and hidden from the view of most, where many a young lady over the years had had her heart stolen. This one was no exception, as he had offered her a seat and a flower and whispered something sweet in her ear before he had moved in for a kiss.
"My Lord..." she had breathed when he attempted to take things further. It was the demure response of any lady who was too nervous and too proper to admit how much she wanted his touch.
He had smiled, and promised her that it would be alright - because the assurance of protection was all a woman needed, most of the time - and then he had leaned in as if to prove his words, though his kisses had slipped down to the soft skin of her collarbone, half-exposed as his hands started to tug away that imposing chiton.
Whilst a lady's maid, on a technicality, was a servant to the woman they tended to, there was a difference between those that honoured a single individual of noble birth and those who worked within the palace as a whole. Servants that tended to the Xanthos and their home were dressed in staple chitons and tunics with a simple uniform and singular purpose in life - to follow the orders of the stewards of the estate and see to it that all practical care was given to the family that resided there. They would not commonly converse with the king or his family and would, instead, take their instructions from their closest superior within the servant’s quarter's.
A lady's maid operated on a slightly different level. Dressed in fine gowns over a uniform - normally the chitons that had passed out of favour with their lady, or their own gowns that were purchased for them by their benefactor - and expected to be in close proximity and company to the women they tended to... a lady's maid was responsible for being as much a friend to their employer as they were a servant. Whilst it was true that their duties included the dressing, cleaning and otherwise ensuring the practical care of those they were assigned to, they were also expected to provide friendship, companionship and an ear for discussion and personal gossip.
Whilst Persephone and Ariadne held very different personality types - one strong and the other shy - the two of them had gradually formed a sweet and loyal bond of friendship since the blonde had come to live and work in the palace. Which meant that Persephone had confided in her a few times over the attentions of the Lord Rafail.
Such confidences had included Persephone's eagerness to see him once more, and the hopeful possibility that a union with the House of Marikas would be an appropriate match for her. Childish hopes that had naturally escalated a little attention, some flowers and some jewellery into something real and substantial enough to merit the thoughts of marriage. Persephone had been perfectly fain towards the advances of Lord Rafail of Marikas and Ariadne was the only one truly aware of such things...
So, it was with a soft smile of camaraderie and secret connection that the two ladies wandered through the gardens of the Marikas estate, waiting to be joined by the lord in question when the steward was able to locate him.
Persephone wandered the beds of flowers with Ariadne at her side and just a step behind, occasionally stopping to notice the buds that were still in bloom even in the latter half of summer. Those that were Persephone's favourites would have likely died by now, wilting away in the heat only to return next year, but the gardens were still glorious in colour nonetheless.
Moving along through the gardens to keep herself warm, despite the summer month, Persephone was quick through the rows of flowers and moved towards the darker, more shadowy end of the gardens with a speed that was a quiet as it was brisk.
Intending to make a turned around a particular bed of roses and then head back towards the manor, her steps halted, brought to a stop that was as abrupt as it was graceful her eyes focused on the clear and easy view of Lord Rafail enjoying himself in the shade with a young woman...
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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Whilst a lady's maid, on a technicality, was a servant to the woman they tended to, there was a difference between those that honoured a single individual of noble birth and those who worked within the palace as a whole. Servants that tended to the Xanthos and their home were dressed in staple chitons and tunics with a simple uniform and singular purpose in life - to follow the orders of the stewards of the estate and see to it that all practical care was given to the family that resided there. They would not commonly converse with the king or his family and would, instead, take their instructions from their closest superior within the servant’s quarter's.
A lady's maid operated on a slightly different level. Dressed in fine gowns over a uniform - normally the chitons that had passed out of favour with their lady, or their own gowns that were purchased for them by their benefactor - and expected to be in close proximity and company to the women they tended to... a lady's maid was responsible for being as much a friend to their employer as they were a servant. Whilst it was true that their duties included the dressing, cleaning and otherwise ensuring the practical care of those they were assigned to, they were also expected to provide friendship, companionship and an ear for discussion and personal gossip.
Whilst Persephone and Ariadne held very different personality types - one strong and the other shy - the two of them had gradually formed a sweet and loyal bond of friendship since the blonde had come to live and work in the palace. Which meant that Persephone had confided in her a few times over the attentions of the Lord Rafail.
Such confidences had included Persephone's eagerness to see him once more, and the hopeful possibility that a union with the House of Marikas would be an appropriate match for her. Childish hopes that had naturally escalated a little attention, some flowers and some jewellery into something real and substantial enough to merit the thoughts of marriage. Persephone had been perfectly fain towards the advances of Lord Rafail of Marikas and Ariadne was the only one truly aware of such things...
So, it was with a soft smile of camaraderie and secret connection that the two ladies wandered through the gardens of the Marikas estate, waiting to be joined by the lord in question when the steward was able to locate him.
Persephone wandered the beds of flowers with Ariadne at her side and just a step behind, occasionally stopping to notice the buds that were still in bloom even in the latter half of summer. Those that were Persephone's favourites would have likely died by now, wilting away in the heat only to return next year, but the gardens were still glorious in colour nonetheless.
Moving along through the gardens to keep herself warm, despite the summer month, Persephone was quick through the rows of flowers and moved towards the darker, more shadowy end of the gardens with a speed that was a quiet as it was brisk.
Intending to make a turned around a particular bed of roses and then head back towards the manor, her steps halted, brought to a stop that was as abrupt as it was graceful her eyes focused on the clear and easy view of Lord Rafail enjoying himself in the shade with a young woman...
Whilst a lady's maid, on a technicality, was a servant to the woman they tended to, there was a difference between those that honoured a single individual of noble birth and those who worked within the palace as a whole. Servants that tended to the Xanthos and their home were dressed in staple chitons and tunics with a simple uniform and singular purpose in life - to follow the orders of the stewards of the estate and see to it that all practical care was given to the family that resided there. They would not commonly converse with the king or his family and would, instead, take their instructions from their closest superior within the servant’s quarter's.
A lady's maid operated on a slightly different level. Dressed in fine gowns over a uniform - normally the chitons that had passed out of favour with their lady, or their own gowns that were purchased for them by their benefactor - and expected to be in close proximity and company to the women they tended to... a lady's maid was responsible for being as much a friend to their employer as they were a servant. Whilst it was true that their duties included the dressing, cleaning and otherwise ensuring the practical care of those they were assigned to, they were also expected to provide friendship, companionship and an ear for discussion and personal gossip.
Whilst Persephone and Ariadne held very different personality types - one strong and the other shy - the two of them had gradually formed a sweet and loyal bond of friendship since the blonde had come to live and work in the palace. Which meant that Persephone had confided in her a few times over the attentions of the Lord Rafail.
Such confidences had included Persephone's eagerness to see him once more, and the hopeful possibility that a union with the House of Marikas would be an appropriate match for her. Childish hopes that had naturally escalated a little attention, some flowers and some jewellery into something real and substantial enough to merit the thoughts of marriage. Persephone had been perfectly fain towards the advances of Lord Rafail of Marikas and Ariadne was the only one truly aware of such things...
So, it was with a soft smile of camaraderie and secret connection that the two ladies wandered through the gardens of the Marikas estate, waiting to be joined by the lord in question when the steward was able to locate him.
Persephone wandered the beds of flowers with Ariadne at her side and just a step behind, occasionally stopping to notice the buds that were still in bloom even in the latter half of summer. Those that were Persephone's favourites would have likely died by now, wilting away in the heat only to return next year, but the gardens were still glorious in colour nonetheless.
Moving along through the gardens to keep herself warm, despite the summer month, Persephone was quick through the rows of flowers and moved towards the darker, more shadowy end of the gardens with a speed that was a quiet as it was brisk.
Intending to make a turned around a particular bed of roses and then head back towards the manor, her steps halted, brought to a stop that was as abrupt as it was graceful her eyes focused on the clear and easy view of Lord Rafail enjoying himself in the shade with a young woman...
Even though Ariadne was so young, she had always been a bit of a romantic. Her father had told stories of his relationship with her mother, instilling in Ari from a young age the idea of romanticism. She firmly believed that true love existed and that she was destined to find it. Even at twelve years of age, Ari knew it wasn’t a matter of if, but when. She knew that she was bound to find love eventually if she was just patient long enough. Besides, she was awfully young as it was. Love was going to happen to her. She was certain.
As it was, she was learning so much from her time with Persephone. Of course, it was different to experience a princess’ suitor than her own, but she loved listening, perhaps even helping, Persephone as she navigated this new suitor and relationship. She agreed that Lord Rafail seemed dreamy, but she understood Persephone’s worry that he was courting her because she was a princess. In this way, Ariadne didn’t have to worry bout her own life. She knew that she had nothing much to offer a man in the way of title or rank and hoped that meant that whoever decided to love her would do so because of who she was. There were plenty of things about Persephone to love, Ariadne thought, but she only wished that everyone could see them the same way. That they weren’t blinded by her title and could see her for who she really was.
The two young women wandered the area, waiting for signs of Lord Rafail to appear. Ariadne found herself anxiously awaiting his arrival perhaps just as much as her princess. The two of them had been talking about this meeting with some excitement for some time now and she could not wait for them to meet face to face. Would it be love? Ariadne secretly hoped that she would have to discreetly fade into the background, waiting for her mistress to finish an embrace or passionate kiss. Then, once it all was over, the two girls could debate over such a meeting, wondering when he was going to propose marriage. Oh, how wonderful that would be!
She exchanged a smile with Persephone as they continued walking throughout the gardens, more or less admiring their beauty, but secretly thinking about the romance that was to be. Ari was less focused on the flowers than Persephone, carefully watching her lady for any sign that she would be needed. She thought the garden to be beautiful, but had long since learned that it was more important to watch the princess than anything else. Ari couldn’t be caught looking at something else when Persephone might need her.
It was due to such diligence that Ariadne immediately spotted a change in Persephone before she could even see what the princess was looking at. She took a few more steps to come even with the princess, gasping slightly once she saw what Persephone saw. It was unbecoming of her station to admit such a noise – she was merely to be an observer with no stake in the matter. However, the sight of Lord Rafail kissing another woman was a complete and utter shock! How could he be doing such a thing when he claimed to love Persephone!?
Ariadne simultaneously clapped a hand over her mouth, knowing that her gasp was far too audible not to be heard, and grasped Persephone’s arm with her other hand, hoping to give some sort of comfort. How could he?!
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Even though Ariadne was so young, she had always been a bit of a romantic. Her father had told stories of his relationship with her mother, instilling in Ari from a young age the idea of romanticism. She firmly believed that true love existed and that she was destined to find it. Even at twelve years of age, Ari knew it wasn’t a matter of if, but when. She knew that she was bound to find love eventually if she was just patient long enough. Besides, she was awfully young as it was. Love was going to happen to her. She was certain.
As it was, she was learning so much from her time with Persephone. Of course, it was different to experience a princess’ suitor than her own, but she loved listening, perhaps even helping, Persephone as she navigated this new suitor and relationship. She agreed that Lord Rafail seemed dreamy, but she understood Persephone’s worry that he was courting her because she was a princess. In this way, Ariadne didn’t have to worry bout her own life. She knew that she had nothing much to offer a man in the way of title or rank and hoped that meant that whoever decided to love her would do so because of who she was. There were plenty of things about Persephone to love, Ariadne thought, but she only wished that everyone could see them the same way. That they weren’t blinded by her title and could see her for who she really was.
The two young women wandered the area, waiting for signs of Lord Rafail to appear. Ariadne found herself anxiously awaiting his arrival perhaps just as much as her princess. The two of them had been talking about this meeting with some excitement for some time now and she could not wait for them to meet face to face. Would it be love? Ariadne secretly hoped that she would have to discreetly fade into the background, waiting for her mistress to finish an embrace or passionate kiss. Then, once it all was over, the two girls could debate over such a meeting, wondering when he was going to propose marriage. Oh, how wonderful that would be!
She exchanged a smile with Persephone as they continued walking throughout the gardens, more or less admiring their beauty, but secretly thinking about the romance that was to be. Ari was less focused on the flowers than Persephone, carefully watching her lady for any sign that she would be needed. She thought the garden to be beautiful, but had long since learned that it was more important to watch the princess than anything else. Ari couldn’t be caught looking at something else when Persephone might need her.
It was due to such diligence that Ariadne immediately spotted a change in Persephone before she could even see what the princess was looking at. She took a few more steps to come even with the princess, gasping slightly once she saw what Persephone saw. It was unbecoming of her station to admit such a noise – she was merely to be an observer with no stake in the matter. However, the sight of Lord Rafail kissing another woman was a complete and utter shock! How could he be doing such a thing when he claimed to love Persephone!?
Ariadne simultaneously clapped a hand over her mouth, knowing that her gasp was far too audible not to be heard, and grasped Persephone’s arm with her other hand, hoping to give some sort of comfort. How could he?!
Even though Ariadne was so young, she had always been a bit of a romantic. Her father had told stories of his relationship with her mother, instilling in Ari from a young age the idea of romanticism. She firmly believed that true love existed and that she was destined to find it. Even at twelve years of age, Ari knew it wasn’t a matter of if, but when. She knew that she was bound to find love eventually if she was just patient long enough. Besides, she was awfully young as it was. Love was going to happen to her. She was certain.
As it was, she was learning so much from her time with Persephone. Of course, it was different to experience a princess’ suitor than her own, but she loved listening, perhaps even helping, Persephone as she navigated this new suitor and relationship. She agreed that Lord Rafail seemed dreamy, but she understood Persephone’s worry that he was courting her because she was a princess. In this way, Ariadne didn’t have to worry bout her own life. She knew that she had nothing much to offer a man in the way of title or rank and hoped that meant that whoever decided to love her would do so because of who she was. There were plenty of things about Persephone to love, Ariadne thought, but she only wished that everyone could see them the same way. That they weren’t blinded by her title and could see her for who she really was.
The two young women wandered the area, waiting for signs of Lord Rafail to appear. Ariadne found herself anxiously awaiting his arrival perhaps just as much as her princess. The two of them had been talking about this meeting with some excitement for some time now and she could not wait for them to meet face to face. Would it be love? Ariadne secretly hoped that she would have to discreetly fade into the background, waiting for her mistress to finish an embrace or passionate kiss. Then, once it all was over, the two girls could debate over such a meeting, wondering when he was going to propose marriage. Oh, how wonderful that would be!
She exchanged a smile with Persephone as they continued walking throughout the gardens, more or less admiring their beauty, but secretly thinking about the romance that was to be. Ari was less focused on the flowers than Persephone, carefully watching her lady for any sign that she would be needed. She thought the garden to be beautiful, but had long since learned that it was more important to watch the princess than anything else. Ari couldn’t be caught looking at something else when Persephone might need her.
It was due to such diligence that Ariadne immediately spotted a change in Persephone before she could even see what the princess was looking at. She took a few more steps to come even with the princess, gasping slightly once she saw what Persephone saw. It was unbecoming of her station to admit such a noise – she was merely to be an observer with no stake in the matter. However, the sight of Lord Rafail kissing another woman was a complete and utter shock! How could he be doing such a thing when he claimed to love Persephone!?
Ariadne simultaneously clapped a hand over her mouth, knowing that her gasp was far too audible not to be heard, and grasped Persephone’s arm with her other hand, hoping to give some sort of comfort. How could he?!
Rafail might not have noticed Persephone nor her lady's approach. He had been far more distracted in tempting the girl seated by his side, for he had now managed to slide her gown off enough to expose more of her fair skin, and his attentions were slipping further down her front, one hand draped gently around her waist to pull her ever closer. He was thoroughly uninterested in the world around him, and he would have remained oblivious to the presence of his two visitors had one of them not gasped in shock.
He spun his head around, expression harsh and prepared to inform whichever idiotic individual had stumbled across them that this was not their place and to leave the pair alone. However, his critical gaze did not meet that of a startled servant but, rather, the faces of Princess Persephone and some apparently loudmouthed child, the latter of which was clutching her mistress's arm as though she had just witnessed the greatest crime of the century. It was a ridiculous overreaction, made worse only by the girl at his side and the way she, now realising as well the identity of their interrupters, squealed in panic and rushed to cover her modesty.
In all honesty, Rafail did not quite understand what was going on. He had always believed that it was within the rights of any nobleman to take a mistress or three, and that their brides - princesses or otherwise - should have understood that was the case (he was even somewhat of the mind that there was no wrong in one's wife having another lover, so long as she could ensure the legitimacy of all her children). But it was far from a woman's place to interfere with his romantic relations, and, ordinarily, he would have thoroughly berated whoever dared meddle with his temporary enjoyment, indifferent about causing them any offence. Princess Persephone, unfortunately enough, was a special case with which Rafail had to watch his words lest he accidentally cause the downfall of his entire family.
"Y-your Highness," he stumbled out, the words far less eloquent than he thought typical for him, rushing to pull himself to his feet and stepping before the brunette so that she was out of sight of both Persephone and her lady, though the damage had been done. Papa had told him to ensure things went well with the girl, and though Rafail thought himself skilled at clawing his way out of unsavoury situations with ill-treated women, he was not so prepared to handle this. He had not expected this to happen, rather assuming that he was in control of the budding relationship, and that the princess would not visit his home without warning. This was just further evidence that one should never trust strong-willed women, and perhaps that standards were dropping significantly when it came to the appropriate raising of proper and well-behaved daughters.
He brushed down the front of his handsome chiton in an attempt to regain his composure before the pair, instinctively running fingers through his hair to tidy it. "This is...nothing," the man attempted, as if that was excuse enough, though it only made it sound as if he was doing worse elsewhere. "This was nothing. I had no intention of offending you, my Princess, I was..." Urgh, what a situation this was! There seemed little chance that anything Rafail now said would help his case, and. yet here he was, attempting to smooth things over as though he really cared about anything other than reclaiming the deserved royal title of House Marikas. "It was only a silly fling." He moved closer to the girls, trying to smile at Persephone in the most reassuring manner possible, reaching out a hand in the hope that she would respond positively to his feigned apology. "I am only interested in you, nothing else. What we have is special - it's different to anything else I have - and I do truly care for you as I have no others. Please, my Princess, you must forgive me."
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Rafail might not have noticed Persephone nor her lady's approach. He had been far more distracted in tempting the girl seated by his side, for he had now managed to slide her gown off enough to expose more of her fair skin, and his attentions were slipping further down her front, one hand draped gently around her waist to pull her ever closer. He was thoroughly uninterested in the world around him, and he would have remained oblivious to the presence of his two visitors had one of them not gasped in shock.
He spun his head around, expression harsh and prepared to inform whichever idiotic individual had stumbled across them that this was not their place and to leave the pair alone. However, his critical gaze did not meet that of a startled servant but, rather, the faces of Princess Persephone and some apparently loudmouthed child, the latter of which was clutching her mistress's arm as though she had just witnessed the greatest crime of the century. It was a ridiculous overreaction, made worse only by the girl at his side and the way she, now realising as well the identity of their interrupters, squealed in panic and rushed to cover her modesty.
In all honesty, Rafail did not quite understand what was going on. He had always believed that it was within the rights of any nobleman to take a mistress or three, and that their brides - princesses or otherwise - should have understood that was the case (he was even somewhat of the mind that there was no wrong in one's wife having another lover, so long as she could ensure the legitimacy of all her children). But it was far from a woman's place to interfere with his romantic relations, and, ordinarily, he would have thoroughly berated whoever dared meddle with his temporary enjoyment, indifferent about causing them any offence. Princess Persephone, unfortunately enough, was a special case with which Rafail had to watch his words lest he accidentally cause the downfall of his entire family.
"Y-your Highness," he stumbled out, the words far less eloquent than he thought typical for him, rushing to pull himself to his feet and stepping before the brunette so that she was out of sight of both Persephone and her lady, though the damage had been done. Papa had told him to ensure things went well with the girl, and though Rafail thought himself skilled at clawing his way out of unsavoury situations with ill-treated women, he was not so prepared to handle this. He had not expected this to happen, rather assuming that he was in control of the budding relationship, and that the princess would not visit his home without warning. This was just further evidence that one should never trust strong-willed women, and perhaps that standards were dropping significantly when it came to the appropriate raising of proper and well-behaved daughters.
He brushed down the front of his handsome chiton in an attempt to regain his composure before the pair, instinctively running fingers through his hair to tidy it. "This is...nothing," the man attempted, as if that was excuse enough, though it only made it sound as if he was doing worse elsewhere. "This was nothing. I had no intention of offending you, my Princess, I was..." Urgh, what a situation this was! There seemed little chance that anything Rafail now said would help his case, and. yet here he was, attempting to smooth things over as though he really cared about anything other than reclaiming the deserved royal title of House Marikas. "It was only a silly fling." He moved closer to the girls, trying to smile at Persephone in the most reassuring manner possible, reaching out a hand in the hope that she would respond positively to his feigned apology. "I am only interested in you, nothing else. What we have is special - it's different to anything else I have - and I do truly care for you as I have no others. Please, my Princess, you must forgive me."
Rafail might not have noticed Persephone nor her lady's approach. He had been far more distracted in tempting the girl seated by his side, for he had now managed to slide her gown off enough to expose more of her fair skin, and his attentions were slipping further down her front, one hand draped gently around her waist to pull her ever closer. He was thoroughly uninterested in the world around him, and he would have remained oblivious to the presence of his two visitors had one of them not gasped in shock.
He spun his head around, expression harsh and prepared to inform whichever idiotic individual had stumbled across them that this was not their place and to leave the pair alone. However, his critical gaze did not meet that of a startled servant but, rather, the faces of Princess Persephone and some apparently loudmouthed child, the latter of which was clutching her mistress's arm as though she had just witnessed the greatest crime of the century. It was a ridiculous overreaction, made worse only by the girl at his side and the way she, now realising as well the identity of their interrupters, squealed in panic and rushed to cover her modesty.
In all honesty, Rafail did not quite understand what was going on. He had always believed that it was within the rights of any nobleman to take a mistress or three, and that their brides - princesses or otherwise - should have understood that was the case (he was even somewhat of the mind that there was no wrong in one's wife having another lover, so long as she could ensure the legitimacy of all her children). But it was far from a woman's place to interfere with his romantic relations, and, ordinarily, he would have thoroughly berated whoever dared meddle with his temporary enjoyment, indifferent about causing them any offence. Princess Persephone, unfortunately enough, was a special case with which Rafail had to watch his words lest he accidentally cause the downfall of his entire family.
"Y-your Highness," he stumbled out, the words far less eloquent than he thought typical for him, rushing to pull himself to his feet and stepping before the brunette so that she was out of sight of both Persephone and her lady, though the damage had been done. Papa had told him to ensure things went well with the girl, and though Rafail thought himself skilled at clawing his way out of unsavoury situations with ill-treated women, he was not so prepared to handle this. He had not expected this to happen, rather assuming that he was in control of the budding relationship, and that the princess would not visit his home without warning. This was just further evidence that one should never trust strong-willed women, and perhaps that standards were dropping significantly when it came to the appropriate raising of proper and well-behaved daughters.
He brushed down the front of his handsome chiton in an attempt to regain his composure before the pair, instinctively running fingers through his hair to tidy it. "This is...nothing," the man attempted, as if that was excuse enough, though it only made it sound as if he was doing worse elsewhere. "This was nothing. I had no intention of offending you, my Princess, I was..." Urgh, what a situation this was! There seemed little chance that anything Rafail now said would help his case, and. yet here he was, attempting to smooth things over as though he really cared about anything other than reclaiming the deserved royal title of House Marikas. "It was only a silly fling." He moved closer to the girls, trying to smile at Persephone in the most reassuring manner possible, reaching out a hand in the hope that she would respond positively to his feigned apology. "I am only interested in you, nothing else. What we have is special - it's different to anything else I have - and I do truly care for you as I have no others. Please, my Princess, you must forgive me."
Persephone had been trained for years to keep her personal feelings from her face. It gave her no advantage to show her weaknesses and her vulnerabilities upon her features. Instead, she had been taught the art of the masquerade. She wasn't naturally deceitful enough to place false emotions onto her face, to arrange her features in a way that was at odds with her true feelings. But she knew how to erect a mask of cool disdain that lacked both emotion and tells for her true thoughts beneath. It was to this mask that Persephone turned now.
Almost without meaning to, Persephone's face shifted into a visage of cool calm. Serene almost. It was unreadable, totally lost of all emotion and blank of all thought. Those that new Persephone well would know that a face so devoid of anything was a defence against showing something but what that something might be was harder to tell. A woman, in such situations, after all could show a variety of emotions.
For one, she could be heartbroken. Her ego and her value as a woman somehow depreciated by the fact that the Lord Rafail was content to take another lover whilst also courting her. That he was not prepared to wait for physical love until the two of them had been married. She could feel thar her own being was not enough for a man that was socially lower than herself, if only just. What did that say of herself? Of her worth as a woman? Of her worth as a potential bride? Of her worth as a Xanthos?
Then might come rage. Wrathful vengeance that Rafail would risk the negotiations and unspoken understandings between their families for the sake of a single woman that now scrambled to retain a dignity that had been lost the moment she permitted a man to see her bare skin before marital rites had been performed. Just what did that say of his respect - or lack thereof - of the House of Xanthos? A feud of wounded pride and family name was a natural conclusion to form from events such as these and Persephone could well understand why. Her own anger at the man before her, of the fool that he had made her, burned in her gut with a power she was surprised by.
Thirdly, the last emotion that she could perhaps hold onto would be that of pity. Not for herself, but for that of the man before her. Who saw fit to throw away chances of profitable union for an afternoon of salacious activity. But such a feeling was a slippery one to pin down. And no matter how much the logical part of Persephone's mind tried to summon the belief that Rafail would be the inferior party when the dust had settled in this, her heart was still more than a little clawed and her ego wilted.
When the Lord Rafail came to his feet, he seemed more than a little surprised to see them. Clearly the servant that had gone in search of his master had not yet found him, forewarning him of the arrival of the princess. He stammered over his words, tried to hide the girl as if she were some simple letter or token of meaning, easy enough to slip into his pocket. The female scurried and clawed at her gown to become decent once more, clearly wide eyed and shocked at the turn of events. Persephone didn't recognise the woman which meant she was either of the very lower noble families that rarely attended Court, or she was of no noble status at all. Either way, the woman had hardly expected to see the royal princess before her that day. Let alone be seen at the cuckold that had stolen her intended man.
As Rafail spoke of the woman as nothing, of a simple fling, Persephone spotted the flare of hurt that flickered over his lover's face. She wasn't entirely certain that the lady in question had believed their interlude to have mattered so little.
Curiously, it was this that cemented Persephone's thoughts. Less her own hurt and that of the stranger that stood behind Rafail. She witnessed the way in which the man flung the lady aside, without second thought. He disgraced her as nothing with a single speech and a wave of his hand, as if she were not human with thoughts, feelings and a ruined reputation of her own to consider. Whilst it would have been difficult to process and harmful to her feelings to have discovered that the Lord Rafail was in love with two women, torn between them, she would have at least seen the good in a man able to love. Here, Rafail stood as a discarder of women. One who had barely looked over his shoulder at his lover since Persephone had come upon them.
He reached out to her, with the hand that had been wrapped around the woman's waist just a moment before. he begged her for forgiveness, insisting that she 'must' give it. Persephone felt her spine straighten. As princess of Athenia she didn't have to do anything.
Keeping her mask of calm in place, Persephone looked between Rafail and the woman shielded behind him. She wondered if he did that for her benefit or for his own.
"Lord Rafail..." Two simple words, spoken with chilly sort of calm. "What is this lady's name?"
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Persephone had been trained for years to keep her personal feelings from her face. It gave her no advantage to show her weaknesses and her vulnerabilities upon her features. Instead, she had been taught the art of the masquerade. She wasn't naturally deceitful enough to place false emotions onto her face, to arrange her features in a way that was at odds with her true feelings. But she knew how to erect a mask of cool disdain that lacked both emotion and tells for her true thoughts beneath. It was to this mask that Persephone turned now.
Almost without meaning to, Persephone's face shifted into a visage of cool calm. Serene almost. It was unreadable, totally lost of all emotion and blank of all thought. Those that new Persephone well would know that a face so devoid of anything was a defence against showing something but what that something might be was harder to tell. A woman, in such situations, after all could show a variety of emotions.
For one, she could be heartbroken. Her ego and her value as a woman somehow depreciated by the fact that the Lord Rafail was content to take another lover whilst also courting her. That he was not prepared to wait for physical love until the two of them had been married. She could feel thar her own being was not enough for a man that was socially lower than herself, if only just. What did that say of herself? Of her worth as a woman? Of her worth as a potential bride? Of her worth as a Xanthos?
Then might come rage. Wrathful vengeance that Rafail would risk the negotiations and unspoken understandings between their families for the sake of a single woman that now scrambled to retain a dignity that had been lost the moment she permitted a man to see her bare skin before marital rites had been performed. Just what did that say of his respect - or lack thereof - of the House of Xanthos? A feud of wounded pride and family name was a natural conclusion to form from events such as these and Persephone could well understand why. Her own anger at the man before her, of the fool that he had made her, burned in her gut with a power she was surprised by.
Thirdly, the last emotion that she could perhaps hold onto would be that of pity. Not for herself, but for that of the man before her. Who saw fit to throw away chances of profitable union for an afternoon of salacious activity. But such a feeling was a slippery one to pin down. And no matter how much the logical part of Persephone's mind tried to summon the belief that Rafail would be the inferior party when the dust had settled in this, her heart was still more than a little clawed and her ego wilted.
When the Lord Rafail came to his feet, he seemed more than a little surprised to see them. Clearly the servant that had gone in search of his master had not yet found him, forewarning him of the arrival of the princess. He stammered over his words, tried to hide the girl as if she were some simple letter or token of meaning, easy enough to slip into his pocket. The female scurried and clawed at her gown to become decent once more, clearly wide eyed and shocked at the turn of events. Persephone didn't recognise the woman which meant she was either of the very lower noble families that rarely attended Court, or she was of no noble status at all. Either way, the woman had hardly expected to see the royal princess before her that day. Let alone be seen at the cuckold that had stolen her intended man.
As Rafail spoke of the woman as nothing, of a simple fling, Persephone spotted the flare of hurt that flickered over his lover's face. She wasn't entirely certain that the lady in question had believed their interlude to have mattered so little.
Curiously, it was this that cemented Persephone's thoughts. Less her own hurt and that of the stranger that stood behind Rafail. She witnessed the way in which the man flung the lady aside, without second thought. He disgraced her as nothing with a single speech and a wave of his hand, as if she were not human with thoughts, feelings and a ruined reputation of her own to consider. Whilst it would have been difficult to process and harmful to her feelings to have discovered that the Lord Rafail was in love with two women, torn between them, she would have at least seen the good in a man able to love. Here, Rafail stood as a discarder of women. One who had barely looked over his shoulder at his lover since Persephone had come upon them.
He reached out to her, with the hand that had been wrapped around the woman's waist just a moment before. he begged her for forgiveness, insisting that she 'must' give it. Persephone felt her spine straighten. As princess of Athenia she didn't have to do anything.
Keeping her mask of calm in place, Persephone looked between Rafail and the woman shielded behind him. She wondered if he did that for her benefit or for his own.
"Lord Rafail..." Two simple words, spoken with chilly sort of calm. "What is this lady's name?"
Persephone had been trained for years to keep her personal feelings from her face. It gave her no advantage to show her weaknesses and her vulnerabilities upon her features. Instead, she had been taught the art of the masquerade. She wasn't naturally deceitful enough to place false emotions onto her face, to arrange her features in a way that was at odds with her true feelings. But she knew how to erect a mask of cool disdain that lacked both emotion and tells for her true thoughts beneath. It was to this mask that Persephone turned now.
Almost without meaning to, Persephone's face shifted into a visage of cool calm. Serene almost. It was unreadable, totally lost of all emotion and blank of all thought. Those that new Persephone well would know that a face so devoid of anything was a defence against showing something but what that something might be was harder to tell. A woman, in such situations, after all could show a variety of emotions.
For one, she could be heartbroken. Her ego and her value as a woman somehow depreciated by the fact that the Lord Rafail was content to take another lover whilst also courting her. That he was not prepared to wait for physical love until the two of them had been married. She could feel thar her own being was not enough for a man that was socially lower than herself, if only just. What did that say of herself? Of her worth as a woman? Of her worth as a potential bride? Of her worth as a Xanthos?
Then might come rage. Wrathful vengeance that Rafail would risk the negotiations and unspoken understandings between their families for the sake of a single woman that now scrambled to retain a dignity that had been lost the moment she permitted a man to see her bare skin before marital rites had been performed. Just what did that say of his respect - or lack thereof - of the House of Xanthos? A feud of wounded pride and family name was a natural conclusion to form from events such as these and Persephone could well understand why. Her own anger at the man before her, of the fool that he had made her, burned in her gut with a power she was surprised by.
Thirdly, the last emotion that she could perhaps hold onto would be that of pity. Not for herself, but for that of the man before her. Who saw fit to throw away chances of profitable union for an afternoon of salacious activity. But such a feeling was a slippery one to pin down. And no matter how much the logical part of Persephone's mind tried to summon the belief that Rafail would be the inferior party when the dust had settled in this, her heart was still more than a little clawed and her ego wilted.
When the Lord Rafail came to his feet, he seemed more than a little surprised to see them. Clearly the servant that had gone in search of his master had not yet found him, forewarning him of the arrival of the princess. He stammered over his words, tried to hide the girl as if she were some simple letter or token of meaning, easy enough to slip into his pocket. The female scurried and clawed at her gown to become decent once more, clearly wide eyed and shocked at the turn of events. Persephone didn't recognise the woman which meant she was either of the very lower noble families that rarely attended Court, or she was of no noble status at all. Either way, the woman had hardly expected to see the royal princess before her that day. Let alone be seen at the cuckold that had stolen her intended man.
As Rafail spoke of the woman as nothing, of a simple fling, Persephone spotted the flare of hurt that flickered over his lover's face. She wasn't entirely certain that the lady in question had believed their interlude to have mattered so little.
Curiously, it was this that cemented Persephone's thoughts. Less her own hurt and that of the stranger that stood behind Rafail. She witnessed the way in which the man flung the lady aside, without second thought. He disgraced her as nothing with a single speech and a wave of his hand, as if she were not human with thoughts, feelings and a ruined reputation of her own to consider. Whilst it would have been difficult to process and harmful to her feelings to have discovered that the Lord Rafail was in love with two women, torn between them, she would have at least seen the good in a man able to love. Here, Rafail stood as a discarder of women. One who had barely looked over his shoulder at his lover since Persephone had come upon them.
He reached out to her, with the hand that had been wrapped around the woman's waist just a moment before. he begged her for forgiveness, insisting that she 'must' give it. Persephone felt her spine straighten. As princess of Athenia she didn't have to do anything.
Keeping her mask of calm in place, Persephone looked between Rafail and the woman shielded behind him. She wondered if he did that for her benefit or for his own.
"Lord Rafail..." Two simple words, spoken with chilly sort of calm. "What is this lady's name?"
Ariadne kept a tight hold on her mistress, watching the scene unfold. Although it wasn’t her romance, she felt very much a part of it as lady to the princess and a friend of Persephone’s. They had both thought quite nice things about Rafail of Marikas, but a nice person would not have done such a terrible thing. Persephone should marry a man that loved only her and had eyes for no one else. And Ari didn’t have much of an opinion of the young woman that the lord was with, but she could at least feel the embarrassment radiating off the girl. Perhaps that feeling was a bit of anger too as Lord Rafail described her as meaningless to him. Her expression clearly said otherwise, but Ari was no longer watching her. Her eyes flickered between the young lord and princess, trying to determine what exactly might happen here.
Although Persephone had an impassive face, Ari knew her well enough at this point to know that she was masking her true feelings. They hadn’t discussed this matter in great detail only to now find the princess in a different state of mind. She had to be hurt by this betrayal, though Ari was proud that her mistress was not letting an ounce of that show. Lord Rafail did not deserve to see just how much he hurt her.
This was a new situation for Ariadne—big sweeping gestures of romance had been very much on her mind lately. Although she understood that Persephone’s place in this world was very different from her own, she had thought that not everything had to be political. Even though Persephone was a princess, the gestures of romance that had been shown to her gave Ari the most wonderful sense of hope. She was far too young to be in love herself, but that didn’t mean that she couldn’t love the feeling of a friend in love. Well, perhaps Perse wasn’t in love, but she had enjoyed Lord Rafail’s romantic gestures. And Ari had enjoyed being by her side for them.
Now, however, she felt as though she was feeling a similar shock of disgust and disappointment that surely her mistress must be feeling. How could he do such a thing to her? And what of this other girl? Did she really know not know about Persephone or was she really in love with Lord Rafail? Oh, there were just so many things to consider. Ari had not grown up at court or even with any nobility. All that she knew came from what she learned in the past two years of living at the palati. While she grasped some things remarkably well, she was still very much learning the intricate ways of the relationships between nobility. All was never what it seemed when it came to relationships, especially with the royal family.
However, she had hoped that love might have made an exception. Love could do amazing things. It could bring two people together—likely or unlikely. It could make beautiful things. Love was incredible. It was also sad. Ariadne could feel some sadness in Persephone, although she didn’t show it, and she could see sadness on the face of the girl behind Lord Rafail. Heartbreak was not wonderful. But of course Persephone, her sweet lady, was not thinking of herself in this moment, but of the girl in the corner. Ari felt a burst of pride, as she often did around her mistress, watching her handle the situation, putting this poor girl above herself.
She stepped back slightly, releasing her grip on Persephone’s arm so that the princess could move as she wished, though Ari stayed close, offering quiet comfort. She could do nothing else for now, but watch and wait.
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Ariadne kept a tight hold on her mistress, watching the scene unfold. Although it wasn’t her romance, she felt very much a part of it as lady to the princess and a friend of Persephone’s. They had both thought quite nice things about Rafail of Marikas, but a nice person would not have done such a terrible thing. Persephone should marry a man that loved only her and had eyes for no one else. And Ari didn’t have much of an opinion of the young woman that the lord was with, but she could at least feel the embarrassment radiating off the girl. Perhaps that feeling was a bit of anger too as Lord Rafail described her as meaningless to him. Her expression clearly said otherwise, but Ari was no longer watching her. Her eyes flickered between the young lord and princess, trying to determine what exactly might happen here.
Although Persephone had an impassive face, Ari knew her well enough at this point to know that she was masking her true feelings. They hadn’t discussed this matter in great detail only to now find the princess in a different state of mind. She had to be hurt by this betrayal, though Ari was proud that her mistress was not letting an ounce of that show. Lord Rafail did not deserve to see just how much he hurt her.
This was a new situation for Ariadne—big sweeping gestures of romance had been very much on her mind lately. Although she understood that Persephone’s place in this world was very different from her own, she had thought that not everything had to be political. Even though Persephone was a princess, the gestures of romance that had been shown to her gave Ari the most wonderful sense of hope. She was far too young to be in love herself, but that didn’t mean that she couldn’t love the feeling of a friend in love. Well, perhaps Perse wasn’t in love, but she had enjoyed Lord Rafail’s romantic gestures. And Ari had enjoyed being by her side for them.
Now, however, she felt as though she was feeling a similar shock of disgust and disappointment that surely her mistress must be feeling. How could he do such a thing to her? And what of this other girl? Did she really know not know about Persephone or was she really in love with Lord Rafail? Oh, there were just so many things to consider. Ari had not grown up at court or even with any nobility. All that she knew came from what she learned in the past two years of living at the palati. While she grasped some things remarkably well, she was still very much learning the intricate ways of the relationships between nobility. All was never what it seemed when it came to relationships, especially with the royal family.
However, she had hoped that love might have made an exception. Love could do amazing things. It could bring two people together—likely or unlikely. It could make beautiful things. Love was incredible. It was also sad. Ariadne could feel some sadness in Persephone, although she didn’t show it, and she could see sadness on the face of the girl behind Lord Rafail. Heartbreak was not wonderful. But of course Persephone, her sweet lady, was not thinking of herself in this moment, but of the girl in the corner. Ari felt a burst of pride, as she often did around her mistress, watching her handle the situation, putting this poor girl above herself.
She stepped back slightly, releasing her grip on Persephone’s arm so that the princess could move as she wished, though Ari stayed close, offering quiet comfort. She could do nothing else for now, but watch and wait.
Ariadne kept a tight hold on her mistress, watching the scene unfold. Although it wasn’t her romance, she felt very much a part of it as lady to the princess and a friend of Persephone’s. They had both thought quite nice things about Rafail of Marikas, but a nice person would not have done such a terrible thing. Persephone should marry a man that loved only her and had eyes for no one else. And Ari didn’t have much of an opinion of the young woman that the lord was with, but she could at least feel the embarrassment radiating off the girl. Perhaps that feeling was a bit of anger too as Lord Rafail described her as meaningless to him. Her expression clearly said otherwise, but Ari was no longer watching her. Her eyes flickered between the young lord and princess, trying to determine what exactly might happen here.
Although Persephone had an impassive face, Ari knew her well enough at this point to know that she was masking her true feelings. They hadn’t discussed this matter in great detail only to now find the princess in a different state of mind. She had to be hurt by this betrayal, though Ari was proud that her mistress was not letting an ounce of that show. Lord Rafail did not deserve to see just how much he hurt her.
This was a new situation for Ariadne—big sweeping gestures of romance had been very much on her mind lately. Although she understood that Persephone’s place in this world was very different from her own, she had thought that not everything had to be political. Even though Persephone was a princess, the gestures of romance that had been shown to her gave Ari the most wonderful sense of hope. She was far too young to be in love herself, but that didn’t mean that she couldn’t love the feeling of a friend in love. Well, perhaps Perse wasn’t in love, but she had enjoyed Lord Rafail’s romantic gestures. And Ari had enjoyed being by her side for them.
Now, however, she felt as though she was feeling a similar shock of disgust and disappointment that surely her mistress must be feeling. How could he do such a thing to her? And what of this other girl? Did she really know not know about Persephone or was she really in love with Lord Rafail? Oh, there were just so many things to consider. Ari had not grown up at court or even with any nobility. All that she knew came from what she learned in the past two years of living at the palati. While she grasped some things remarkably well, she was still very much learning the intricate ways of the relationships between nobility. All was never what it seemed when it came to relationships, especially with the royal family.
However, she had hoped that love might have made an exception. Love could do amazing things. It could bring two people together—likely or unlikely. It could make beautiful things. Love was incredible. It was also sad. Ariadne could feel some sadness in Persephone, although she didn’t show it, and she could see sadness on the face of the girl behind Lord Rafail. Heartbreak was not wonderful. But of course Persephone, her sweet lady, was not thinking of herself in this moment, but of the girl in the corner. Ari felt a burst of pride, as she often did around her mistress, watching her handle the situation, putting this poor girl above herself.
She stepped back slightly, releasing her grip on Persephone’s arm so that the princess could move as she wished, though Ari stayed close, offering quiet comfort. She could do nothing else for now, but watch and wait.
Was this a success on Rafail's behalf? The princess's face did not seem to betray any emotion other than calmness, and whether it was due to some training which forbade her from expressing her genuine sentiments, or because she had believed his words and was not as offended as he suspected, he could not quite tell. Either way, there was something about her stoic nature which reassured Rafail into believing that he had succeeded in his reassurance that not much was occurring, and that he had eyes only for her. In a sense, it was true, for she was the only prospect he was considering for marriage, and all other sorts of carnal pleasure did not necessarily fall under that title.
Her lips would curve upwards into a smile, and she would nod in apology, and then everything would be all well and good.
But then she did not take his hand, and his own expression faltered once more, eyebrows coming together in a frown which was more confused than irritated. He had handled his fair share of disgruntled women in the past, and despite Persephone's appearance, the ways she had stoically straightened her spine and was now speaking in such a calm manner implied that, perhaps, she did find him at fault. Maybe this would not be so easy a situation out of which to find his way as he had previously assumed, but Mama had always assured him that there was no harm in trying his best, and he could not be faulted if he spoke with good intentions. Something like that, anyhow.
His eyes flickered towards the girl clinging to the princess's side, as if she might be of some help and would tell Persephone that this entire drama was nothing, and she was overreacting. It was a ridiculous assumption for, although Rafail liked to assume that all women were likely to fall under his charm with an easy glance in his direction, it was not quite the case, and here that truth was noticeably presented as the child said nothing. There was no way out of this situation outside of his own words and, mayhaps, well-placed apologies and smiles.
The lady's name felt an unfair query. What man had ever known the name of the random women he picked up off the streets? Rafail had already made clear that she was nothing more than a brief fling, and he had only encountered her a short while earlier: their interactions thus far had hardly given the opportunity to discuss names and titles (though she had likely known his without much questioning). Besides, he was not usually in the habit of memorising the names of the women with which he surrounded itself, finding it a complete waste of time unless he intended to see her again, something he had yet to decide. The lord let his gaze shift to the corner of his eye, getting a better look at the girl that still clung awkwardly to his arm behind him, running over her features as if attempting to decide what name suited her best based entirely on them. It was a ludicrous concept, but better than nothing.
"Ah…" he attempted, trying to gauge some reaction from the girl, though there was nothing to indicate that he was correct. Perhaps not an 'A'. Of course, it was unlikely that he would be able to go through every letter of the alphabet without Princess Persephone noticing, so he went with the information that he had, and reached for any name that came to mind which did not start as such, covering the original attempt with the guise that it had only been a sound to clear his throat before speaking. "Euterpe."
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Was this a success on Rafail's behalf? The princess's face did not seem to betray any emotion other than calmness, and whether it was due to some training which forbade her from expressing her genuine sentiments, or because she had believed his words and was not as offended as he suspected, he could not quite tell. Either way, there was something about her stoic nature which reassured Rafail into believing that he had succeeded in his reassurance that not much was occurring, and that he had eyes only for her. In a sense, it was true, for she was the only prospect he was considering for marriage, and all other sorts of carnal pleasure did not necessarily fall under that title.
Her lips would curve upwards into a smile, and she would nod in apology, and then everything would be all well and good.
But then she did not take his hand, and his own expression faltered once more, eyebrows coming together in a frown which was more confused than irritated. He had handled his fair share of disgruntled women in the past, and despite Persephone's appearance, the ways she had stoically straightened her spine and was now speaking in such a calm manner implied that, perhaps, she did find him at fault. Maybe this would not be so easy a situation out of which to find his way as he had previously assumed, but Mama had always assured him that there was no harm in trying his best, and he could not be faulted if he spoke with good intentions. Something like that, anyhow.
His eyes flickered towards the girl clinging to the princess's side, as if she might be of some help and would tell Persephone that this entire drama was nothing, and she was overreacting. It was a ridiculous assumption for, although Rafail liked to assume that all women were likely to fall under his charm with an easy glance in his direction, it was not quite the case, and here that truth was noticeably presented as the child said nothing. There was no way out of this situation outside of his own words and, mayhaps, well-placed apologies and smiles.
The lady's name felt an unfair query. What man had ever known the name of the random women he picked up off the streets? Rafail had already made clear that she was nothing more than a brief fling, and he had only encountered her a short while earlier: their interactions thus far had hardly given the opportunity to discuss names and titles (though she had likely known his without much questioning). Besides, he was not usually in the habit of memorising the names of the women with which he surrounded itself, finding it a complete waste of time unless he intended to see her again, something he had yet to decide. The lord let his gaze shift to the corner of his eye, getting a better look at the girl that still clung awkwardly to his arm behind him, running over her features as if attempting to decide what name suited her best based entirely on them. It was a ludicrous concept, but better than nothing.
"Ah…" he attempted, trying to gauge some reaction from the girl, though there was nothing to indicate that he was correct. Perhaps not an 'A'. Of course, it was unlikely that he would be able to go through every letter of the alphabet without Princess Persephone noticing, so he went with the information that he had, and reached for any name that came to mind which did not start as such, covering the original attempt with the guise that it had only been a sound to clear his throat before speaking. "Euterpe."
Was this a success on Rafail's behalf? The princess's face did not seem to betray any emotion other than calmness, and whether it was due to some training which forbade her from expressing her genuine sentiments, or because she had believed his words and was not as offended as he suspected, he could not quite tell. Either way, there was something about her stoic nature which reassured Rafail into believing that he had succeeded in his reassurance that not much was occurring, and that he had eyes only for her. In a sense, it was true, for she was the only prospect he was considering for marriage, and all other sorts of carnal pleasure did not necessarily fall under that title.
Her lips would curve upwards into a smile, and she would nod in apology, and then everything would be all well and good.
But then she did not take his hand, and his own expression faltered once more, eyebrows coming together in a frown which was more confused than irritated. He had handled his fair share of disgruntled women in the past, and despite Persephone's appearance, the ways she had stoically straightened her spine and was now speaking in such a calm manner implied that, perhaps, she did find him at fault. Maybe this would not be so easy a situation out of which to find his way as he had previously assumed, but Mama had always assured him that there was no harm in trying his best, and he could not be faulted if he spoke with good intentions. Something like that, anyhow.
His eyes flickered towards the girl clinging to the princess's side, as if she might be of some help and would tell Persephone that this entire drama was nothing, and she was overreacting. It was a ridiculous assumption for, although Rafail liked to assume that all women were likely to fall under his charm with an easy glance in his direction, it was not quite the case, and here that truth was noticeably presented as the child said nothing. There was no way out of this situation outside of his own words and, mayhaps, well-placed apologies and smiles.
The lady's name felt an unfair query. What man had ever known the name of the random women he picked up off the streets? Rafail had already made clear that she was nothing more than a brief fling, and he had only encountered her a short while earlier: their interactions thus far had hardly given the opportunity to discuss names and titles (though she had likely known his without much questioning). Besides, he was not usually in the habit of memorising the names of the women with which he surrounded itself, finding it a complete waste of time unless he intended to see her again, something he had yet to decide. The lord let his gaze shift to the corner of his eye, getting a better look at the girl that still clung awkwardly to his arm behind him, running over her features as if attempting to decide what name suited her best based entirely on them. It was a ludicrous concept, but better than nothing.
"Ah…" he attempted, trying to gauge some reaction from the girl, though there was nothing to indicate that he was correct. Perhaps not an 'A'. Of course, it was unlikely that he would be able to go through every letter of the alphabet without Princess Persephone noticing, so he went with the information that he had, and reached for any name that came to mind which did not start as such, covering the original attempt with the guise that it had only been a sound to clear his throat before speaking. "Euterpe."