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The Court is open to the nobility every fourth day afternoon but today is something special. It is the day before the Feast of Sinners. Whispers of all sorts flood the Great Hall of the Royal Palace of Athenia. From the purpose of the celebrations and whether it means wedding bells for the eldest Xanthos daughter (especially given that the news that Lord Iason of Dimitrou has been staying in the palace is now common knowledge), to curiosities of the event itself! Some are eager to see what the giant tent in the central plateia holds; others scoff at the low class freak shows that have been cluttering up the streets of the city. Some honour the House of Xanthos for offering the people something to be excited about again after the tail end of the mighty storm damaged the harbour so badly, while others consider the celebrations a mere publicity stunt. Not that anyone ever says what they really mean when dealing with the noble masses at Court that is...
JD
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JD
Staff Team
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The Court is open to the nobility every fourth day afternoon but today is something special. It is the day before the Feast of Sinners. Whispers of all sorts flood the Great Hall of the Royal Palace of Athenia. From the purpose of the celebrations and whether it means wedding bells for the eldest Xanthos daughter (especially given that the news that Lord Iason of Dimitrou has been staying in the palace is now common knowledge), to curiosities of the event itself! Some are eager to see what the giant tent in the central plateia holds; others scoff at the low class freak shows that have been cluttering up the streets of the city. Some honour the House of Xanthos for offering the people something to be excited about again after the tail end of the mighty storm damaged the harbour so badly, while others consider the celebrations a mere publicity stunt. Not that anyone ever says what they really mean when dealing with the noble masses at Court that is...
All the King's Ladies Event - Athenia
The Court is open to the nobility every fourth day afternoon but today is something special. It is the day before the Feast of Sinners. Whispers of all sorts flood the Great Hall of the Royal Palace of Athenia. From the purpose of the celebrations and whether it means wedding bells for the eldest Xanthos daughter (especially given that the news that Lord Iason of Dimitrou has been staying in the palace is now common knowledge), to curiosities of the event itself! Some are eager to see what the giant tent in the central plateia holds; others scoff at the low class freak shows that have been cluttering up the streets of the city. Some honour the House of Xanthos for offering the people something to be excited about again after the tail end of the mighty storm damaged the harbour so badly, while others consider the celebrations a mere publicity stunt. Not that anyone ever says what they really mean when dealing with the noble masses at Court that is...
Dressed in all her finery, by now her lady's maids were used to preparing the Princess Emilia for the Court every fourth day afternoon. Emilia would take her morning meal in her room delivered by Helen on the day, a quick repast of bread and cheese with warm honeyed mead, before she was quickly whisked away by her slaves to dress in whatever chiton she had picked for the day for herself, her sister, and the new one she had custom made for her friend from Taengea, Lady Selene. Today, Emilia had settled upon a beautiful set of emerald green and peach with gold threads that lined the edges of her silken chiton. The waist was cinched with a wide golden belt, and the sigil of the House was a brooch on her shoulders, pinned on once Helen had finished arranging the pleats.
Allowing her slaves to guide her to the seat in front of the mirror, the girl sat down and went through yet another hour of painful hair arrangements - a rare occasion. She usually preferred to allow her locks to be loose around her, the brunette curls of luxurious quality a crowning glory if not for the fact that she actually has a crown to wear. But today, and due to the official Feast of Sinners due to take place tomorrow, her father had instructed a proper dressage etiquette for the younger.
So she sat through it, allowing her hair to be braided and weaved into a waterfall braid, before half of it was piled into a chignon, the other half left to fall like a waterfall on her back. Topping it off with her stone embedded ivy leaf circlet on her head, Emilia had picked out the teardrop-diamond embedded one that had a dip right in the middle of her forehead, a diamond bigger then the ones embedded resting right where the crown ended.
The final touch were her sandals. Emilia had picked extravagant ones today, the ones that had straps tied all the way up her calf, the leather of the finest quality. With one last check in the mirror, the light powder and kohl used to accentuate her eyes, ruby red lips and naturally tanned skin, the princess allowed her handmaidens to escort her out, and soon made her way to the Great Hall of her childhood home, where people of all noble families were beginning to mingle.
There, Emilia instinctively looked for her sister, eager to greet Persephone for the day, before she started with her usual duties of mingling and catching up with the nobility, perhaps meet a few friends and hopefully avoid the ones she would rather not interact with. Her eyes also roamed for the blonde head of her friend, eager to see if Selene was mixing well with the nobility, and hopeful that she will find someone to her fancy.
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Dressed in all her finery, by now her lady's maids were used to preparing the Princess Emilia for the Court every fourth day afternoon. Emilia would take her morning meal in her room delivered by Helen on the day, a quick repast of bread and cheese with warm honeyed mead, before she was quickly whisked away by her slaves to dress in whatever chiton she had picked for the day for herself, her sister, and the new one she had custom made for her friend from Taengea, Lady Selene. Today, Emilia had settled upon a beautiful set of emerald green and peach with gold threads that lined the edges of her silken chiton. The waist was cinched with a wide golden belt, and the sigil of the House was a brooch on her shoulders, pinned on once Helen had finished arranging the pleats.
Allowing her slaves to guide her to the seat in front of the mirror, the girl sat down and went through yet another hour of painful hair arrangements - a rare occasion. She usually preferred to allow her locks to be loose around her, the brunette curls of luxurious quality a crowning glory if not for the fact that she actually has a crown to wear. But today, and due to the official Feast of Sinners due to take place tomorrow, her father had instructed a proper dressage etiquette for the younger.
So she sat through it, allowing her hair to be braided and weaved into a waterfall braid, before half of it was piled into a chignon, the other half left to fall like a waterfall on her back. Topping it off with her stone embedded ivy leaf circlet on her head, Emilia had picked out the teardrop-diamond embedded one that had a dip right in the middle of her forehead, a diamond bigger then the ones embedded resting right where the crown ended.
The final touch were her sandals. Emilia had picked extravagant ones today, the ones that had straps tied all the way up her calf, the leather of the finest quality. With one last check in the mirror, the light powder and kohl used to accentuate her eyes, ruby red lips and naturally tanned skin, the princess allowed her handmaidens to escort her out, and soon made her way to the Great Hall of her childhood home, where people of all noble families were beginning to mingle.
There, Emilia instinctively looked for her sister, eager to greet Persephone for the day, before she started with her usual duties of mingling and catching up with the nobility, perhaps meet a few friends and hopefully avoid the ones she would rather not interact with. Her eyes also roamed for the blonde head of her friend, eager to see if Selene was mixing well with the nobility, and hopeful that she will find someone to her fancy.
Dressed in all her finery, by now her lady's maids were used to preparing the Princess Emilia for the Court every fourth day afternoon. Emilia would take her morning meal in her room delivered by Helen on the day, a quick repast of bread and cheese with warm honeyed mead, before she was quickly whisked away by her slaves to dress in whatever chiton she had picked for the day for herself, her sister, and the new one she had custom made for her friend from Taengea, Lady Selene. Today, Emilia had settled upon a beautiful set of emerald green and peach with gold threads that lined the edges of her silken chiton. The waist was cinched with a wide golden belt, and the sigil of the House was a brooch on her shoulders, pinned on once Helen had finished arranging the pleats.
Allowing her slaves to guide her to the seat in front of the mirror, the girl sat down and went through yet another hour of painful hair arrangements - a rare occasion. She usually preferred to allow her locks to be loose around her, the brunette curls of luxurious quality a crowning glory if not for the fact that she actually has a crown to wear. But today, and due to the official Feast of Sinners due to take place tomorrow, her father had instructed a proper dressage etiquette for the younger.
So she sat through it, allowing her hair to be braided and weaved into a waterfall braid, before half of it was piled into a chignon, the other half left to fall like a waterfall on her back. Topping it off with her stone embedded ivy leaf circlet on her head, Emilia had picked out the teardrop-diamond embedded one that had a dip right in the middle of her forehead, a diamond bigger then the ones embedded resting right where the crown ended.
The final touch were her sandals. Emilia had picked extravagant ones today, the ones that had straps tied all the way up her calf, the leather of the finest quality. With one last check in the mirror, the light powder and kohl used to accentuate her eyes, ruby red lips and naturally tanned skin, the princess allowed her handmaidens to escort her out, and soon made her way to the Great Hall of her childhood home, where people of all noble families were beginning to mingle.
There, Emilia instinctively looked for her sister, eager to greet Persephone for the day, before she started with her usual duties of mingling and catching up with the nobility, perhaps meet a few friends and hopefully avoid the ones she would rather not interact with. Her eyes also roamed for the blonde head of her friend, eager to see if Selene was mixing well with the nobility, and hopeful that she will find someone to her fancy.
Persephone was already in the Great Hall - the receiving room of the Royal Palace. It was here that Court had been held; once a week, every week. Without fail. No matter the current state of her health in years past, or the current state of her father's health in months recent, Persephone had opened Court every fourth day, like clockwork. It was something she was quite proud of and would continue to hold to as long as the Gods allowed. Routine and reliability of, after all, one of the greatest forms of strength.
An individual could be strong in body, in mind or in purpose. But it required someone to be within that body, mind or purpose to be able to share in it and notice it. With routine and responsibility - others could notice your strength. Maybe not consciously - maybe not at all in their forward mind. But subconsciously, in their instincts and in their soul... Persephone was confident that not a single courtier ever doubted whether or not the Court session would be open that day and for her... that was what mattered. That was the trust and strength she wanted from the people - noble or otherwise.
The Great Hall of the Athenian palace was another show of strength. Strength and wealth. And the least of which the skills of the crafters, architects and sculptures of the Athenian kingdom.
The entire room was white marble - from floor, to walls, to ceiling. The architects decades ago had worked hard to ensure that the room was stable and supported without the need for central pillars - a rarity in Greece - so that the courtiers of the room could mingle without their parties being hidden. A useful trick for any monarch to keep an eye on their noble men and women.
The walls were carved in designs of stories - pictures and engravings that told tales of great battles and victories of Athenia. It had been part of her early education to be able to name every man, woman and child in each section of artwork, and know the stories they depicted. Walls of sharp white and grey from the shadows the carvings created, seeped up into a ceiling of bright colour, high, high above the heads of any mortal. The ceiling tiles were of similar stories, these ones of the Gods rather than of the mortals below them and were bright in colour; painted with the intention to impress and given any visitor a serious crick in their neck should they try and look up long enough to see all the details hidden there by a skilled hand.
At the far end - the head end - of the room, sat the royal family's thrones. These were sometimes occupied by Persephone, the King and her sister, but were generally left empty most of the time by the females of the family, as it was more important to socialise and mingle with the nobles than it was to glory in their seat above them.
Behind the thrones hung a tapestry as large as the wall with the laws and creeds of the kingdom emblazoned upon it, the stitching so small it looked like a beautiful pattern rather than text. Another of the same tapestries hung in the Senate.
Hung in front of the laws tapestry (which was used more or less as decoration and wallpaper - the real laws were written and recorded in the University) was a large banner the width of two men and the height of the room that was simply the Xanthos family banner and crest. The same crest was stitched into the back of the cushioned seats on the thrones.
Apart from these two elements, however, the Xanthos family influence on the room was limited. The Great Hall was not designed to be a place for the ruling House to lord it over others. It was a room for nobles to come together and talk on equal terms. In the same way the Senate was for the barons and politicians of the kingdom. It was unavoidable that some of the nobles in question - like Persephone and Emilia - were part of the Xanthos House and would therefore be shown more respect on an individual basis, but in general, the Court was closed to no noblemen and equal to all.
Arriving before anyone else - as was her custom, Persephone had spent a few moments looking over the walls and artwork that she knew as well as she knew the tone and colour of her own skin. She took a few minutes to absorb the grandiose of the heroes involved in such tales and made a silent prayer to the Gods. Tomorrow was to be a big day... - as only her and her sister knew. And today was going to be just as important. They would need to assess the feel of the ruling classes and prepare themselves for how they might react to her engagement - without revealing that the rumours of it were in fact true.
She took a deep breath, as the first of the nobles arrived in the room, her back straight and her gown - a haltered chiton of pitch black silks and gold threading - hanging just right, as she smiled and greeted the first arrivals, offering wine and refreshment from the servants that appeared as if by magic to wander amongst the guests with trays of wine-filled cups and slices of exotic and decadent fruits.
Few tried to engage Persephone in personal conversation - aware that propriety and experience meant that she would be greeting the arrives for the first half an hour of the session. The interrogations and stares for when she was available to be spoken to would come later. For now, the courtiers were happy to mingle amongst themselves and get caught up with friends and relatives they hadn't seen since the week before. Or greet those who had not attended for a while. After all, the Court was open to all noble families - including the baronies - so not everyone made the trip every week.
Pretty soon, the room was full of the muted murmurings of the ladies (the few men who attended Court tended to watch and listen rather than strike up conversation) with the occasional laugh of exclamation breaching the normal volume level.
Persephone surveyed the room and took in a steadying breath that training had allowed her to make unobvious...
Here we go, then...
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Check out their information page here.
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Persephone was already in the Great Hall - the receiving room of the Royal Palace. It was here that Court had been held; once a week, every week. Without fail. No matter the current state of her health in years past, or the current state of her father's health in months recent, Persephone had opened Court every fourth day, like clockwork. It was something she was quite proud of and would continue to hold to as long as the Gods allowed. Routine and reliability of, after all, one of the greatest forms of strength.
An individual could be strong in body, in mind or in purpose. But it required someone to be within that body, mind or purpose to be able to share in it and notice it. With routine and responsibility - others could notice your strength. Maybe not consciously - maybe not at all in their forward mind. But subconsciously, in their instincts and in their soul... Persephone was confident that not a single courtier ever doubted whether or not the Court session would be open that day and for her... that was what mattered. That was the trust and strength she wanted from the people - noble or otherwise.
The Great Hall of the Athenian palace was another show of strength. Strength and wealth. And the least of which the skills of the crafters, architects and sculptures of the Athenian kingdom.
The entire room was white marble - from floor, to walls, to ceiling. The architects decades ago had worked hard to ensure that the room was stable and supported without the need for central pillars - a rarity in Greece - so that the courtiers of the room could mingle without their parties being hidden. A useful trick for any monarch to keep an eye on their noble men and women.
The walls were carved in designs of stories - pictures and engravings that told tales of great battles and victories of Athenia. It had been part of her early education to be able to name every man, woman and child in each section of artwork, and know the stories they depicted. Walls of sharp white and grey from the shadows the carvings created, seeped up into a ceiling of bright colour, high, high above the heads of any mortal. The ceiling tiles were of similar stories, these ones of the Gods rather than of the mortals below them and were bright in colour; painted with the intention to impress and given any visitor a serious crick in their neck should they try and look up long enough to see all the details hidden there by a skilled hand.
At the far end - the head end - of the room, sat the royal family's thrones. These were sometimes occupied by Persephone, the King and her sister, but were generally left empty most of the time by the females of the family, as it was more important to socialise and mingle with the nobles than it was to glory in their seat above them.
Behind the thrones hung a tapestry as large as the wall with the laws and creeds of the kingdom emblazoned upon it, the stitching so small it looked like a beautiful pattern rather than text. Another of the same tapestries hung in the Senate.
Hung in front of the laws tapestry (which was used more or less as decoration and wallpaper - the real laws were written and recorded in the University) was a large banner the width of two men and the height of the room that was simply the Xanthos family banner and crest. The same crest was stitched into the back of the cushioned seats on the thrones.
Apart from these two elements, however, the Xanthos family influence on the room was limited. The Great Hall was not designed to be a place for the ruling House to lord it over others. It was a room for nobles to come together and talk on equal terms. In the same way the Senate was for the barons and politicians of the kingdom. It was unavoidable that some of the nobles in question - like Persephone and Emilia - were part of the Xanthos House and would therefore be shown more respect on an individual basis, but in general, the Court was closed to no noblemen and equal to all.
Arriving before anyone else - as was her custom, Persephone had spent a few moments looking over the walls and artwork that she knew as well as she knew the tone and colour of her own skin. She took a few minutes to absorb the grandiose of the heroes involved in such tales and made a silent prayer to the Gods. Tomorrow was to be a big day... - as only her and her sister knew. And today was going to be just as important. They would need to assess the feel of the ruling classes and prepare themselves for how they might react to her engagement - without revealing that the rumours of it were in fact true.
She took a deep breath, as the first of the nobles arrived in the room, her back straight and her gown - a haltered chiton of pitch black silks and gold threading - hanging just right, as she smiled and greeted the first arrivals, offering wine and refreshment from the servants that appeared as if by magic to wander amongst the guests with trays of wine-filled cups and slices of exotic and decadent fruits.
Few tried to engage Persephone in personal conversation - aware that propriety and experience meant that she would be greeting the arrives for the first half an hour of the session. The interrogations and stares for when she was available to be spoken to would come later. For now, the courtiers were happy to mingle amongst themselves and get caught up with friends and relatives they hadn't seen since the week before. Or greet those who had not attended for a while. After all, the Court was open to all noble families - including the baronies - so not everyone made the trip every week.
Pretty soon, the room was full of the muted murmurings of the ladies (the few men who attended Court tended to watch and listen rather than strike up conversation) with the occasional laugh of exclamation breaching the normal volume level.
Persephone surveyed the room and took in a steadying breath that training had allowed her to make unobvious...
Here we go, then...
Persephone was already in the Great Hall - the receiving room of the Royal Palace. It was here that Court had been held; once a week, every week. Without fail. No matter the current state of her health in years past, or the current state of her father's health in months recent, Persephone had opened Court every fourth day, like clockwork. It was something she was quite proud of and would continue to hold to as long as the Gods allowed. Routine and reliability of, after all, one of the greatest forms of strength.
An individual could be strong in body, in mind or in purpose. But it required someone to be within that body, mind or purpose to be able to share in it and notice it. With routine and responsibility - others could notice your strength. Maybe not consciously - maybe not at all in their forward mind. But subconsciously, in their instincts and in their soul... Persephone was confident that not a single courtier ever doubted whether or not the Court session would be open that day and for her... that was what mattered. That was the trust and strength she wanted from the people - noble or otherwise.
The Great Hall of the Athenian palace was another show of strength. Strength and wealth. And the least of which the skills of the crafters, architects and sculptures of the Athenian kingdom.
The entire room was white marble - from floor, to walls, to ceiling. The architects decades ago had worked hard to ensure that the room was stable and supported without the need for central pillars - a rarity in Greece - so that the courtiers of the room could mingle without their parties being hidden. A useful trick for any monarch to keep an eye on their noble men and women.
The walls were carved in designs of stories - pictures and engravings that told tales of great battles and victories of Athenia. It had been part of her early education to be able to name every man, woman and child in each section of artwork, and know the stories they depicted. Walls of sharp white and grey from the shadows the carvings created, seeped up into a ceiling of bright colour, high, high above the heads of any mortal. The ceiling tiles were of similar stories, these ones of the Gods rather than of the mortals below them and were bright in colour; painted with the intention to impress and given any visitor a serious crick in their neck should they try and look up long enough to see all the details hidden there by a skilled hand.
At the far end - the head end - of the room, sat the royal family's thrones. These were sometimes occupied by Persephone, the King and her sister, but were generally left empty most of the time by the females of the family, as it was more important to socialise and mingle with the nobles than it was to glory in their seat above them.
Behind the thrones hung a tapestry as large as the wall with the laws and creeds of the kingdom emblazoned upon it, the stitching so small it looked like a beautiful pattern rather than text. Another of the same tapestries hung in the Senate.
Hung in front of the laws tapestry (which was used more or less as decoration and wallpaper - the real laws were written and recorded in the University) was a large banner the width of two men and the height of the room that was simply the Xanthos family banner and crest. The same crest was stitched into the back of the cushioned seats on the thrones.
Apart from these two elements, however, the Xanthos family influence on the room was limited. The Great Hall was not designed to be a place for the ruling House to lord it over others. It was a room for nobles to come together and talk on equal terms. In the same way the Senate was for the barons and politicians of the kingdom. It was unavoidable that some of the nobles in question - like Persephone and Emilia - were part of the Xanthos House and would therefore be shown more respect on an individual basis, but in general, the Court was closed to no noblemen and equal to all.
Arriving before anyone else - as was her custom, Persephone had spent a few moments looking over the walls and artwork that she knew as well as she knew the tone and colour of her own skin. She took a few minutes to absorb the grandiose of the heroes involved in such tales and made a silent prayer to the Gods. Tomorrow was to be a big day... - as only her and her sister knew. And today was going to be just as important. They would need to assess the feel of the ruling classes and prepare themselves for how they might react to her engagement - without revealing that the rumours of it were in fact true.
She took a deep breath, as the first of the nobles arrived in the room, her back straight and her gown - a haltered chiton of pitch black silks and gold threading - hanging just right, as she smiled and greeted the first arrivals, offering wine and refreshment from the servants that appeared as if by magic to wander amongst the guests with trays of wine-filled cups and slices of exotic and decadent fruits.
Few tried to engage Persephone in personal conversation - aware that propriety and experience meant that she would be greeting the arrives for the first half an hour of the session. The interrogations and stares for when she was available to be spoken to would come later. For now, the courtiers were happy to mingle amongst themselves and get caught up with friends and relatives they hadn't seen since the week before. Or greet those who had not attended for a while. After all, the Court was open to all noble families - including the baronies - so not everyone made the trip every week.
Pretty soon, the room was full of the muted murmurings of the ladies (the few men who attended Court tended to watch and listen rather than strike up conversation) with the occasional laugh of exclamation breaching the normal volume level.
Persephone surveyed the room and took in a steadying breath that training had allowed her to make unobvious...
Here we go, then...
Originally, Selene was to be sailing home. But the offer was too hard to pass up. Selene was far too interested in what court life was like here to refuse to stay. And the weather seemed to make it pointless because she had to stay anyway. So the girl wasn’t about to let a chance to learn more about Athenia go to waste.
She missed home. She missed Pia and Theo. She missed Nana and Imma. Having been gone 2 weeks, it was the longest she had ever been on her own. And she wanted nothing more than to return to them, so know that they were safe and sound. But the party gathering would be a welcome distraction. And while she hated the gossip that seemed to go hand in hand with court, Selene did love a chance to meet new people. Being a good guest meant that you appeared when invited. And she would be there with a bright smile on her face.
Her support, she knew, would be important overall. Having a Leventi woman, eligible and beautiful, in with the rest was a sign she would have the powerful’s family support, whatever the reason. Every action, even one so small as to have her visit, was seen as a political move. And it wasn’t like Selene wasn’t aware of that. She knew her place, knew what was expected of her. And she knew that she was supposed to prove the gossip surrounding the Leventi’s to be true. They were wealthy, they were powerful, and they weren’t to be underestimated
Being in the palace meant that she was being treated like royalty. Jo had learned more than she had expected, and the two other slaves assigned to her from Emilia had done well to help show her what was expected. She took her time in the bath, allowing the oils and petals added to the water to soak into her skin, watching as the slaves fixed her chiton on the bed. She had a large stack of new chitons to choose from, thanks to the princess’s generosity and the kingdom’s vast amount of beautiful material. But the one she had chosen for the day, the lavender chiton with white and gold sewn flowers had been her favorite. And she was excited to wear it with the new gold chain belt and matching cuffs.
She rose from the bath, allowing a sheet to be draped around her as she was brought some light snacks to eat. Taking a seat, they worked on setting her hair while she ate and drank. Selene was content to watch it happen, to watch her blonde hair be curled and pinned to her head. They weaved gold material into the braids, the gentle contrast between her own light looks and the color quite fetching.
There was not much time to waste now, so she quickly slipped on her shoes and was escorted to the room. Already, there was quite a crowd. But the black chiton of the Princess stood out. Selene would wait her turn to be greeted by her, instead moving about the room to perhaps make a few new friends.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Originally, Selene was to be sailing home. But the offer was too hard to pass up. Selene was far too interested in what court life was like here to refuse to stay. And the weather seemed to make it pointless because she had to stay anyway. So the girl wasn’t about to let a chance to learn more about Athenia go to waste.
She missed home. She missed Pia and Theo. She missed Nana and Imma. Having been gone 2 weeks, it was the longest she had ever been on her own. And she wanted nothing more than to return to them, so know that they were safe and sound. But the party gathering would be a welcome distraction. And while she hated the gossip that seemed to go hand in hand with court, Selene did love a chance to meet new people. Being a good guest meant that you appeared when invited. And she would be there with a bright smile on her face.
Her support, she knew, would be important overall. Having a Leventi woman, eligible and beautiful, in with the rest was a sign she would have the powerful’s family support, whatever the reason. Every action, even one so small as to have her visit, was seen as a political move. And it wasn’t like Selene wasn’t aware of that. She knew her place, knew what was expected of her. And she knew that she was supposed to prove the gossip surrounding the Leventi’s to be true. They were wealthy, they were powerful, and they weren’t to be underestimated
Being in the palace meant that she was being treated like royalty. Jo had learned more than she had expected, and the two other slaves assigned to her from Emilia had done well to help show her what was expected. She took her time in the bath, allowing the oils and petals added to the water to soak into her skin, watching as the slaves fixed her chiton on the bed. She had a large stack of new chitons to choose from, thanks to the princess’s generosity and the kingdom’s vast amount of beautiful material. But the one she had chosen for the day, the lavender chiton with white and gold sewn flowers had been her favorite. And she was excited to wear it with the new gold chain belt and matching cuffs.
She rose from the bath, allowing a sheet to be draped around her as she was brought some light snacks to eat. Taking a seat, they worked on setting her hair while she ate and drank. Selene was content to watch it happen, to watch her blonde hair be curled and pinned to her head. They weaved gold material into the braids, the gentle contrast between her own light looks and the color quite fetching.
There was not much time to waste now, so she quickly slipped on her shoes and was escorted to the room. Already, there was quite a crowd. But the black chiton of the Princess stood out. Selene would wait her turn to be greeted by her, instead moving about the room to perhaps make a few new friends.
Originally, Selene was to be sailing home. But the offer was too hard to pass up. Selene was far too interested in what court life was like here to refuse to stay. And the weather seemed to make it pointless because she had to stay anyway. So the girl wasn’t about to let a chance to learn more about Athenia go to waste.
She missed home. She missed Pia and Theo. She missed Nana and Imma. Having been gone 2 weeks, it was the longest she had ever been on her own. And she wanted nothing more than to return to them, so know that they were safe and sound. But the party gathering would be a welcome distraction. And while she hated the gossip that seemed to go hand in hand with court, Selene did love a chance to meet new people. Being a good guest meant that you appeared when invited. And she would be there with a bright smile on her face.
Her support, she knew, would be important overall. Having a Leventi woman, eligible and beautiful, in with the rest was a sign she would have the powerful’s family support, whatever the reason. Every action, even one so small as to have her visit, was seen as a political move. And it wasn’t like Selene wasn’t aware of that. She knew her place, knew what was expected of her. And she knew that she was supposed to prove the gossip surrounding the Leventi’s to be true. They were wealthy, they were powerful, and they weren’t to be underestimated
Being in the palace meant that she was being treated like royalty. Jo had learned more than she had expected, and the two other slaves assigned to her from Emilia had done well to help show her what was expected. She took her time in the bath, allowing the oils and petals added to the water to soak into her skin, watching as the slaves fixed her chiton on the bed. She had a large stack of new chitons to choose from, thanks to the princess’s generosity and the kingdom’s vast amount of beautiful material. But the one she had chosen for the day, the lavender chiton with white and gold sewn flowers had been her favorite. And she was excited to wear it with the new gold chain belt and matching cuffs.
She rose from the bath, allowing a sheet to be draped around her as she was brought some light snacks to eat. Taking a seat, they worked on setting her hair while she ate and drank. Selene was content to watch it happen, to watch her blonde hair be curled and pinned to her head. They weaved gold material into the braids, the gentle contrast between her own light looks and the color quite fetching.
There was not much time to waste now, so she quickly slipped on her shoes and was escorted to the room. Already, there was quite a crowd. But the black chiton of the Princess stood out. Selene would wait her turn to be greeted by her, instead moving about the room to perhaps make a few new friends.
To say Rafail was bitter would have been an understatement. How long he had spent attempting to woo either princess only to find some idiot from Taengea now sharing a room in the palace. No man was as eligible as he, as far as he was concerned, and to think another might have succeeded where he had failed in such a matter as seduction, it was nothing less than humiliating. But bitterness was no cause for humility and he was still just as proud and as confident in himself, which was why he was still attending the court this afternoon, and with a guest, no less. That and, if he wasn't destined to have a princess for himself, then he supposed he could still take advantage of the occasion and see which other ladies were currently available. It was almost as though they were providing him with a selection for him to pick and choose from.
Dressed in Marikas house colours - or rather, a close approximation where black was the more prominent of the two shades, a yellow-gold trim completing the outfit and matching his hair perfectly - and looking perfectly expensive, as ever, he arrived at the Paláti later than one might have expected for someone who lived so incredibly near. It was a signature move of his, the later he arrived, the more attention would be on him. That and because he had brought with him a gorgeous specimen, his most favourite lady (at the moment), the stunning seventeen-year-old blonde that was Althaia of Corinth. And, dressed in the dark red that she was, with her lips painted to match, her beauty was doubtless. Rafail had only been courting this one for a short while - her equally attractive sister wasn't exactly immune to his advances either - and she hadn't been proving particularly easy but a visit to the court was sure to win her over. Not everyone was so privileged.
Upon arrival, his attention was immediately directed towards the eldest of the two princesses, who appeared to have chosen to dress in a manner far too indistinguishable to his own. That hardly seemed as though it would benefit him: when others had a choice between staring at the handsome yet infamous bachelor or the heiress to the throne who could do no wrong, it was not so often to him that their gazes turned. This felt nothing short of an outrage, and yet there was nothing Rafail could do about the situation but hold his head as high as he always did and approach Persephone in almost polite greeting, one arm wrapped gently around Althaia's waist as he led her over as well.
"Good afternoon, your Majesty," he smiled at her, lightly tilting his head in reverence. "Such a shame you chose to dress so similar to myself. I wouldn't want you outshone." He winked at the young woman, neglecting to introduce Althaia to the princess because she was hardly important in comparison and pulling her away again, opting to find someone else to show her off to and distract himself with. Hopefully, there would be some gullible newcomers at the court that day who would be easy enough to win over.
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To say Rafail was bitter would have been an understatement. How long he had spent attempting to woo either princess only to find some idiot from Taengea now sharing a room in the palace. No man was as eligible as he, as far as he was concerned, and to think another might have succeeded where he had failed in such a matter as seduction, it was nothing less than humiliating. But bitterness was no cause for humility and he was still just as proud and as confident in himself, which was why he was still attending the court this afternoon, and with a guest, no less. That and, if he wasn't destined to have a princess for himself, then he supposed he could still take advantage of the occasion and see which other ladies were currently available. It was almost as though they were providing him with a selection for him to pick and choose from.
Dressed in Marikas house colours - or rather, a close approximation where black was the more prominent of the two shades, a yellow-gold trim completing the outfit and matching his hair perfectly - and looking perfectly expensive, as ever, he arrived at the Paláti later than one might have expected for someone who lived so incredibly near. It was a signature move of his, the later he arrived, the more attention would be on him. That and because he had brought with him a gorgeous specimen, his most favourite lady (at the moment), the stunning seventeen-year-old blonde that was Althaia of Corinth. And, dressed in the dark red that she was, with her lips painted to match, her beauty was doubtless. Rafail had only been courting this one for a short while - her equally attractive sister wasn't exactly immune to his advances either - and she hadn't been proving particularly easy but a visit to the court was sure to win her over. Not everyone was so privileged.
Upon arrival, his attention was immediately directed towards the eldest of the two princesses, who appeared to have chosen to dress in a manner far too indistinguishable to his own. That hardly seemed as though it would benefit him: when others had a choice between staring at the handsome yet infamous bachelor or the heiress to the throne who could do no wrong, it was not so often to him that their gazes turned. This felt nothing short of an outrage, and yet there was nothing Rafail could do about the situation but hold his head as high as he always did and approach Persephone in almost polite greeting, one arm wrapped gently around Althaia's waist as he led her over as well.
"Good afternoon, your Majesty," he smiled at her, lightly tilting his head in reverence. "Such a shame you chose to dress so similar to myself. I wouldn't want you outshone." He winked at the young woman, neglecting to introduce Althaia to the princess because she was hardly important in comparison and pulling her away again, opting to find someone else to show her off to and distract himself with. Hopefully, there would be some gullible newcomers at the court that day who would be easy enough to win over.
To say Rafail was bitter would have been an understatement. How long he had spent attempting to woo either princess only to find some idiot from Taengea now sharing a room in the palace. No man was as eligible as he, as far as he was concerned, and to think another might have succeeded where he had failed in such a matter as seduction, it was nothing less than humiliating. But bitterness was no cause for humility and he was still just as proud and as confident in himself, which was why he was still attending the court this afternoon, and with a guest, no less. That and, if he wasn't destined to have a princess for himself, then he supposed he could still take advantage of the occasion and see which other ladies were currently available. It was almost as though they were providing him with a selection for him to pick and choose from.
Dressed in Marikas house colours - or rather, a close approximation where black was the more prominent of the two shades, a yellow-gold trim completing the outfit and matching his hair perfectly - and looking perfectly expensive, as ever, he arrived at the Paláti later than one might have expected for someone who lived so incredibly near. It was a signature move of his, the later he arrived, the more attention would be on him. That and because he had brought with him a gorgeous specimen, his most favourite lady (at the moment), the stunning seventeen-year-old blonde that was Althaia of Corinth. And, dressed in the dark red that she was, with her lips painted to match, her beauty was doubtless. Rafail had only been courting this one for a short while - her equally attractive sister wasn't exactly immune to his advances either - and she hadn't been proving particularly easy but a visit to the court was sure to win her over. Not everyone was so privileged.
Upon arrival, his attention was immediately directed towards the eldest of the two princesses, who appeared to have chosen to dress in a manner far too indistinguishable to his own. That hardly seemed as though it would benefit him: when others had a choice between staring at the handsome yet infamous bachelor or the heiress to the throne who could do no wrong, it was not so often to him that their gazes turned. This felt nothing short of an outrage, and yet there was nothing Rafail could do about the situation but hold his head as high as he always did and approach Persephone in almost polite greeting, one arm wrapped gently around Althaia's waist as he led her over as well.
"Good afternoon, your Majesty," he smiled at her, lightly tilting his head in reverence. "Such a shame you chose to dress so similar to myself. I wouldn't want you outshone." He winked at the young woman, neglecting to introduce Althaia to the princess because she was hardly important in comparison and pulling her away again, opting to find someone else to show her off to and distract himself with. Hopefully, there would be some gullible newcomers at the court that day who would be easy enough to win over.
The morning had started late for Dawn, as Nic's body had provided an overwhelming sense of peace that lulled her beyond her natural alarm clock. Still movements beyond the realm of sleep made her stir, and as her groggy mind took hold of the hour her eyes widened as reality hit. She had thirty minutes to get herself up, ready, and at Princess Emilia's beck and call. Today of all days was not a day to be late. She ran out of the room and down to her own quarters which she shared with the other slaves of her station. The room was empty as everyone else was already tending to their duties.
Where was her chiton? Not the white one the light green one that allowed her to match without overpowering her highness's presence. She finally managed to obtain it and then threw it on, but her reflection gave rise to further panic. Wrinkles! "Zeus's Balls!" She cussed stamping her foot. She snatched up her sandals and ran down to the laundry where she knew steam would be readily available, nearly stumbling over her two left feet in the process.
Attia, ruined what would have been a record, and was not so fortunate as she stepped out in front of Dawn. Her own arms full of linens that went flying every which way as she was practically ran over. Dawn whirled around, "Oh no! Attie so sorry!" She went to help her up only to have the old woman give her a look of annoyance, "I hope your not accompanying her ladyship looking like that. Come, help me get the linens back in order and I'll help you look like something other than Poseidon's dredged up seaweed. Your lucky I wasn't Helen."
"Gods bless you Attia! Gods bless you a hundred times over!" She went about helping Attia as quick as she could, and in turn Attia repayed the favor. Fifteen minutes later a miracle had taken place. Dawn emerged from the slave quarters looking fresh as a peach, minus the slight red knot on her forehead. More so she actually managed to be at the Princess's side just in time to steal her away to her vanity.
Being the personal slave of Princess Emilia, was a daunting task within itself that left little room for mistakes, particularly when it involved making an appearance in court. As for today, it was her job to make sure perfection was achieved and maintained.
Nimble fingers worked with care to make sure every strand was neatly put in place while simultaneously providing a natural look. The dress she adorned her lady in was of the finest silk, and was given a steam bath before it was placed on Emilia's lithe form. Not a single wrinkle ruined her grace. The makeup was then applied, painting the young princess as the picture of perfection, and finally she was adorned in the glittering riches and given sandals which appeared fashioned by Hermes very own cobbler.
All of this work along with the attending to her normal duties: correspondence letters, gifts, answering to the inquiries of lesser slaves on behalf of Emilia; left her rather tired by the time they made it to court. Still it mustn't show, and she did her very best to remain in the shadow of the Emilia. Overall she was pretty good at not drawing attention to herself provided she wasn't in a rush.
JD
Staff Team
JD
Staff Team
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The morning had started late for Dawn, as Nic's body had provided an overwhelming sense of peace that lulled her beyond her natural alarm clock. Still movements beyond the realm of sleep made her stir, and as her groggy mind took hold of the hour her eyes widened as reality hit. She had thirty minutes to get herself up, ready, and at Princess Emilia's beck and call. Today of all days was not a day to be late. She ran out of the room and down to her own quarters which she shared with the other slaves of her station. The room was empty as everyone else was already tending to their duties.
Where was her chiton? Not the white one the light green one that allowed her to match without overpowering her highness's presence. She finally managed to obtain it and then threw it on, but her reflection gave rise to further panic. Wrinkles! "Zeus's Balls!" She cussed stamping her foot. She snatched up her sandals and ran down to the laundry where she knew steam would be readily available, nearly stumbling over her two left feet in the process.
Attia, ruined what would have been a record, and was not so fortunate as she stepped out in front of Dawn. Her own arms full of linens that went flying every which way as she was practically ran over. Dawn whirled around, "Oh no! Attie so sorry!" She went to help her up only to have the old woman give her a look of annoyance, "I hope your not accompanying her ladyship looking like that. Come, help me get the linens back in order and I'll help you look like something other than Poseidon's dredged up seaweed. Your lucky I wasn't Helen."
"Gods bless you Attia! Gods bless you a hundred times over!" She went about helping Attia as quick as she could, and in turn Attia repayed the favor. Fifteen minutes later a miracle had taken place. Dawn emerged from the slave quarters looking fresh as a peach, minus the slight red knot on her forehead. More so she actually managed to be at the Princess's side just in time to steal her away to her vanity.
Being the personal slave of Princess Emilia, was a daunting task within itself that left little room for mistakes, particularly when it involved making an appearance in court. As for today, it was her job to make sure perfection was achieved and maintained.
Nimble fingers worked with care to make sure every strand was neatly put in place while simultaneously providing a natural look. The dress she adorned her lady in was of the finest silk, and was given a steam bath before it was placed on Emilia's lithe form. Not a single wrinkle ruined her grace. The makeup was then applied, painting the young princess as the picture of perfection, and finally she was adorned in the glittering riches and given sandals which appeared fashioned by Hermes very own cobbler.
All of this work along with the attending to her normal duties: correspondence letters, gifts, answering to the inquiries of lesser slaves on behalf of Emilia; left her rather tired by the time they made it to court. Still it mustn't show, and she did her very best to remain in the shadow of the Emilia. Overall she was pretty good at not drawing attention to herself provided she wasn't in a rush.
The morning had started late for Dawn, as Nic's body had provided an overwhelming sense of peace that lulled her beyond her natural alarm clock. Still movements beyond the realm of sleep made her stir, and as her groggy mind took hold of the hour her eyes widened as reality hit. She had thirty minutes to get herself up, ready, and at Princess Emilia's beck and call. Today of all days was not a day to be late. She ran out of the room and down to her own quarters which she shared with the other slaves of her station. The room was empty as everyone else was already tending to their duties.
Where was her chiton? Not the white one the light green one that allowed her to match without overpowering her highness's presence. She finally managed to obtain it and then threw it on, but her reflection gave rise to further panic. Wrinkles! "Zeus's Balls!" She cussed stamping her foot. She snatched up her sandals and ran down to the laundry where she knew steam would be readily available, nearly stumbling over her two left feet in the process.
Attia, ruined what would have been a record, and was not so fortunate as she stepped out in front of Dawn. Her own arms full of linens that went flying every which way as she was practically ran over. Dawn whirled around, "Oh no! Attie so sorry!" She went to help her up only to have the old woman give her a look of annoyance, "I hope your not accompanying her ladyship looking like that. Come, help me get the linens back in order and I'll help you look like something other than Poseidon's dredged up seaweed. Your lucky I wasn't Helen."
"Gods bless you Attia! Gods bless you a hundred times over!" She went about helping Attia as quick as she could, and in turn Attia repayed the favor. Fifteen minutes later a miracle had taken place. Dawn emerged from the slave quarters looking fresh as a peach, minus the slight red knot on her forehead. More so she actually managed to be at the Princess's side just in time to steal her away to her vanity.
Being the personal slave of Princess Emilia, was a daunting task within itself that left little room for mistakes, particularly when it involved making an appearance in court. As for today, it was her job to make sure perfection was achieved and maintained.
Nimble fingers worked with care to make sure every strand was neatly put in place while simultaneously providing a natural look. The dress she adorned her lady in was of the finest silk, and was given a steam bath before it was placed on Emilia's lithe form. Not a single wrinkle ruined her grace. The makeup was then applied, painting the young princess as the picture of perfection, and finally she was adorned in the glittering riches and given sandals which appeared fashioned by Hermes very own cobbler.
All of this work along with the attending to her normal duties: correspondence letters, gifts, answering to the inquiries of lesser slaves on behalf of Emilia; left her rather tired by the time they made it to court. Still it mustn't show, and she did her very best to remain in the shadow of the Emilia. Overall she was pretty good at not drawing attention to herself provided she wasn't in a rush.
The night prior, Iris' father had slipped into her room, tired from their trip back from Aetaea. The lady had been settled at the small desk in the corner, working on the baron's schedule, talking points, and analyzing Aetaea's trade routes. The loggers had recently started exhausting a section of the forest, being over-zealous in how much lumber they cut. Worried that the logging might damage the surrounding areas, Takis had suggested that they shifted the production route to the east to preserve what was left. Iris had only nodded and slipped away the moment they had settled back in the capitol city.
She had been settled with her work for a number of hours before Takis' hands on her shoulder's brought her out of her thoughts. A single hand had lifted to rest on his, a tired sigh escaping her when his lips touched to top of her head in an affectionate gesture. Her father had then instructed her that she was required to make an appearance at court the next morning. No amount of protesting would have benefited her so she remained quiet, giving her affirmation that she would follow his wish without question.
Iris very rarely attended court. When she was younger and had fewer responsibilities, when she had been actively seeking a husband, things had been different. Iris had been a stable feature of the court. Yet, one too many suitors running for the hills when they came face to face with her temperament, her true personality, had left her feeling burned. When her father had started to fall sickly, it had simply been easier to busy herself with keeping the barony running than trying to attend court.
So a court visit was wildly unheard of when it came to the Argyris lady.
Shortly after her father had left her chambers to lay down, long before the sun had set, Iris had sent Sophia out to locate her formal chiton. It was something far more extravagant for court than the simple garb she wore on a daily basis. She had set about her room, then, gathering up the finery she would be required to wear the next day. It was customary for Takis to observe her long before she left to ensure that she had dressed to his standards. She had never once disappointed her father. If anything, seeing her dressed for court likely gave him a sense of pride and hope.
A sense of hope because there was a chance, however slight, that Iris would catch the eye of a viable suitor.
Come morning, Sophia had set Iris' bath and the lady had sunk into the water as she blinked away the sleep from green eyes. Iris took ample time in enjoying the bath, watching Sophia prepare the chiton. A silken garment of sky blue edged with silver embroidery. A single brown arrow had been stitched into the bottom right edge of the fabric in stark contrast to the light material. Slowly pulling herself from the bath, Iris took her time in drying off, enjoying the lingering scents of the bath oils.
Sophia dressed her carefully, clasping the shoulders of the chiton with one silver bow broach on one shoulder and a silver arrow on the other. Iris slipped on her father's signet ring, only sparing herself a passing glance in the mirror as she reached for her mother's pendant. A simple necklace of silver and pearl. Unfailingly, she wore it each time she attended court. Requiring no more finery and doning a pair of simpler sandals, Iris finally settled in front of the mirror to let Sophia work on her dark hair.
The slave had quick, nimble fingers and an eye for preparing hair. Before long her hair had been braided and styled. Small wildflowers from Aetaea had been woven into a few of her locks of hair, and the ends of the braids remained loose, allowing them to drape easily over her shoulder. Rouging her lips and applying her khol, Iris stood before the mirror for a brief moment before moving on to present herself to her father.
Takis was happy with her state of dress, allowing her to leave their mansion with Sophia and a second slave as escorts.
Slipping into the Great Hall, Iris noted that she, thankfully, wasn't one of the first courtiers there. In fact, she almost seemed... late. A feeling that didn't sit well with her. Hands twisting slightly together before her, Iris found herself moving deeper into the room. Her gaze landed on the princesses and she gave a very soft smile and slight bow in distant greeting. Whether they saw or not, she didn't wait to see, only pausing when she noted Lord Rafail with whatever pretty thing he had bribed into attending with him.
She would not show her outrage here, despite the fact that man had all but defiled her home in Aetaea during his visit. To say that her father had been displeased had been an understatement. Takis had promptly written the king as soon as Rafail and his rabble had left their lands. He had said nothing more on the subject since then, but Iris refused to find herself in yet another battle of wills between her and the disrespectful noble. If only to keep herself and her father out of trouble should she lose her temper with the man.
Instead of approaching any closer, Iris promptly found the nearest noble to interact with, giving a warm greeting and attempting to keep herself wholly distracted. "I love your chiton," Iris said, keeping her voice low and friendly. A small smile twisted up the corners of her mouth. She hadn't been to court in so long that she'd almost forgotten how to actually interact with her fellow nobles. Keeping her gaze on the young woman, she reached her hand out in silent greeting.
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Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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The night prior, Iris' father had slipped into her room, tired from their trip back from Aetaea. The lady had been settled at the small desk in the corner, working on the baron's schedule, talking points, and analyzing Aetaea's trade routes. The loggers had recently started exhausting a section of the forest, being over-zealous in how much lumber they cut. Worried that the logging might damage the surrounding areas, Takis had suggested that they shifted the production route to the east to preserve what was left. Iris had only nodded and slipped away the moment they had settled back in the capitol city.
She had been settled with her work for a number of hours before Takis' hands on her shoulder's brought her out of her thoughts. A single hand had lifted to rest on his, a tired sigh escaping her when his lips touched to top of her head in an affectionate gesture. Her father had then instructed her that she was required to make an appearance at court the next morning. No amount of protesting would have benefited her so she remained quiet, giving her affirmation that she would follow his wish without question.
Iris very rarely attended court. When she was younger and had fewer responsibilities, when she had been actively seeking a husband, things had been different. Iris had been a stable feature of the court. Yet, one too many suitors running for the hills when they came face to face with her temperament, her true personality, had left her feeling burned. When her father had started to fall sickly, it had simply been easier to busy herself with keeping the barony running than trying to attend court.
So a court visit was wildly unheard of when it came to the Argyris lady.
Shortly after her father had left her chambers to lay down, long before the sun had set, Iris had sent Sophia out to locate her formal chiton. It was something far more extravagant for court than the simple garb she wore on a daily basis. She had set about her room, then, gathering up the finery she would be required to wear the next day. It was customary for Takis to observe her long before she left to ensure that she had dressed to his standards. She had never once disappointed her father. If anything, seeing her dressed for court likely gave him a sense of pride and hope.
A sense of hope because there was a chance, however slight, that Iris would catch the eye of a viable suitor.
Come morning, Sophia had set Iris' bath and the lady had sunk into the water as she blinked away the sleep from green eyes. Iris took ample time in enjoying the bath, watching Sophia prepare the chiton. A silken garment of sky blue edged with silver embroidery. A single brown arrow had been stitched into the bottom right edge of the fabric in stark contrast to the light material. Slowly pulling herself from the bath, Iris took her time in drying off, enjoying the lingering scents of the bath oils.
Sophia dressed her carefully, clasping the shoulders of the chiton with one silver bow broach on one shoulder and a silver arrow on the other. Iris slipped on her father's signet ring, only sparing herself a passing glance in the mirror as she reached for her mother's pendant. A simple necklace of silver and pearl. Unfailingly, she wore it each time she attended court. Requiring no more finery and doning a pair of simpler sandals, Iris finally settled in front of the mirror to let Sophia work on her dark hair.
The slave had quick, nimble fingers and an eye for preparing hair. Before long her hair had been braided and styled. Small wildflowers from Aetaea had been woven into a few of her locks of hair, and the ends of the braids remained loose, allowing them to drape easily over her shoulder. Rouging her lips and applying her khol, Iris stood before the mirror for a brief moment before moving on to present herself to her father.
Takis was happy with her state of dress, allowing her to leave their mansion with Sophia and a second slave as escorts.
Slipping into the Great Hall, Iris noted that she, thankfully, wasn't one of the first courtiers there. In fact, she almost seemed... late. A feeling that didn't sit well with her. Hands twisting slightly together before her, Iris found herself moving deeper into the room. Her gaze landed on the princesses and she gave a very soft smile and slight bow in distant greeting. Whether they saw or not, she didn't wait to see, only pausing when she noted Lord Rafail with whatever pretty thing he had bribed into attending with him.
She would not show her outrage here, despite the fact that man had all but defiled her home in Aetaea during his visit. To say that her father had been displeased had been an understatement. Takis had promptly written the king as soon as Rafail and his rabble had left their lands. He had said nothing more on the subject since then, but Iris refused to find herself in yet another battle of wills between her and the disrespectful noble. If only to keep herself and her father out of trouble should she lose her temper with the man.
Instead of approaching any closer, Iris promptly found the nearest noble to interact with, giving a warm greeting and attempting to keep herself wholly distracted. "I love your chiton," Iris said, keeping her voice low and friendly. A small smile twisted up the corners of her mouth. She hadn't been to court in so long that she'd almost forgotten how to actually interact with her fellow nobles. Keeping her gaze on the young woman, she reached her hand out in silent greeting.
The night prior, Iris' father had slipped into her room, tired from their trip back from Aetaea. The lady had been settled at the small desk in the corner, working on the baron's schedule, talking points, and analyzing Aetaea's trade routes. The loggers had recently started exhausting a section of the forest, being over-zealous in how much lumber they cut. Worried that the logging might damage the surrounding areas, Takis had suggested that they shifted the production route to the east to preserve what was left. Iris had only nodded and slipped away the moment they had settled back in the capitol city.
She had been settled with her work for a number of hours before Takis' hands on her shoulder's brought her out of her thoughts. A single hand had lifted to rest on his, a tired sigh escaping her when his lips touched to top of her head in an affectionate gesture. Her father had then instructed her that she was required to make an appearance at court the next morning. No amount of protesting would have benefited her so she remained quiet, giving her affirmation that she would follow his wish without question.
Iris very rarely attended court. When she was younger and had fewer responsibilities, when she had been actively seeking a husband, things had been different. Iris had been a stable feature of the court. Yet, one too many suitors running for the hills when they came face to face with her temperament, her true personality, had left her feeling burned. When her father had started to fall sickly, it had simply been easier to busy herself with keeping the barony running than trying to attend court.
So a court visit was wildly unheard of when it came to the Argyris lady.
Shortly after her father had left her chambers to lay down, long before the sun had set, Iris had sent Sophia out to locate her formal chiton. It was something far more extravagant for court than the simple garb she wore on a daily basis. She had set about her room, then, gathering up the finery she would be required to wear the next day. It was customary for Takis to observe her long before she left to ensure that she had dressed to his standards. She had never once disappointed her father. If anything, seeing her dressed for court likely gave him a sense of pride and hope.
A sense of hope because there was a chance, however slight, that Iris would catch the eye of a viable suitor.
Come morning, Sophia had set Iris' bath and the lady had sunk into the water as she blinked away the sleep from green eyes. Iris took ample time in enjoying the bath, watching Sophia prepare the chiton. A silken garment of sky blue edged with silver embroidery. A single brown arrow had been stitched into the bottom right edge of the fabric in stark contrast to the light material. Slowly pulling herself from the bath, Iris took her time in drying off, enjoying the lingering scents of the bath oils.
Sophia dressed her carefully, clasping the shoulders of the chiton with one silver bow broach on one shoulder and a silver arrow on the other. Iris slipped on her father's signet ring, only sparing herself a passing glance in the mirror as she reached for her mother's pendant. A simple necklace of silver and pearl. Unfailingly, she wore it each time she attended court. Requiring no more finery and doning a pair of simpler sandals, Iris finally settled in front of the mirror to let Sophia work on her dark hair.
The slave had quick, nimble fingers and an eye for preparing hair. Before long her hair had been braided and styled. Small wildflowers from Aetaea had been woven into a few of her locks of hair, and the ends of the braids remained loose, allowing them to drape easily over her shoulder. Rouging her lips and applying her khol, Iris stood before the mirror for a brief moment before moving on to present herself to her father.
Takis was happy with her state of dress, allowing her to leave their mansion with Sophia and a second slave as escorts.
Slipping into the Great Hall, Iris noted that she, thankfully, wasn't one of the first courtiers there. In fact, she almost seemed... late. A feeling that didn't sit well with her. Hands twisting slightly together before her, Iris found herself moving deeper into the room. Her gaze landed on the princesses and she gave a very soft smile and slight bow in distant greeting. Whether they saw or not, she didn't wait to see, only pausing when she noted Lord Rafail with whatever pretty thing he had bribed into attending with him.
She would not show her outrage here, despite the fact that man had all but defiled her home in Aetaea during his visit. To say that her father had been displeased had been an understatement. Takis had promptly written the king as soon as Rafail and his rabble had left their lands. He had said nothing more on the subject since then, but Iris refused to find herself in yet another battle of wills between her and the disrespectful noble. If only to keep herself and her father out of trouble should she lose her temper with the man.
Instead of approaching any closer, Iris promptly found the nearest noble to interact with, giving a warm greeting and attempting to keep herself wholly distracted. "I love your chiton," Iris said, keeping her voice low and friendly. A small smile twisted up the corners of her mouth. She hadn't been to court in so long that she'd almost forgotten how to actually interact with her fellow nobles. Keeping her gaze on the young woman, she reached her hand out in silent greeting.
Persephone was in the middle of greeting an older couple from the Antonis lands when the Lord Rafail of Marikas decided it was his turn to be welcomed. This was neither a surprised to Persephone, given that she had become well aware that the Marikas heir was always expectant of events falling to his own schedule above others and neither was it a shock for him to disrespect the other baron and baroness whom he had interrupted. For Lord Rafail the titles and ranks of the nobles were a significant indicator who was allowed what they wanted and who was not. And horse dung rolled downhill.
Noting the similarity in their dress - which was highly disconcerting - and bidding a speedy by pleasant welcome to the Antonis baron and his wife, Persephone turned her full attention to the Marikas lord as he discussed the possibility of being outshone.
She smiled coolly.
"It has never been my intention to outshine you, Lord Rafail." Her features remained cold, but her smile in place as she raised a hand to be kissed for his arrival, as was tradition. "You make such a wondrous spectacle of yourself, such efforts would be utterly futile, do you not think?" The words were kind but the tone and gaze that went with them utterly shrewd.
Instead, she simply kept her hand positioned between them. If he refused to kiss it, the whole Court would see that the Marikas line had publicly shunned the Xanthos House - and suddenly trade agreements might dry up, or Senate discussions become that much harder for Rafail's elder brother... all for the sake of one capitulation. Persephone's smile grew...
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Persephone was in the middle of greeting an older couple from the Antonis lands when the Lord Rafail of Marikas decided it was his turn to be welcomed. This was neither a surprised to Persephone, given that she had become well aware that the Marikas heir was always expectant of events falling to his own schedule above others and neither was it a shock for him to disrespect the other baron and baroness whom he had interrupted. For Lord Rafail the titles and ranks of the nobles were a significant indicator who was allowed what they wanted and who was not. And horse dung rolled downhill.
Noting the similarity in their dress - which was highly disconcerting - and bidding a speedy by pleasant welcome to the Antonis baron and his wife, Persephone turned her full attention to the Marikas lord as he discussed the possibility of being outshone.
She smiled coolly.
"It has never been my intention to outshine you, Lord Rafail." Her features remained cold, but her smile in place as she raised a hand to be kissed for his arrival, as was tradition. "You make such a wondrous spectacle of yourself, such efforts would be utterly futile, do you not think?" The words were kind but the tone and gaze that went with them utterly shrewd.
Instead, she simply kept her hand positioned between them. If he refused to kiss it, the whole Court would see that the Marikas line had publicly shunned the Xanthos House - and suddenly trade agreements might dry up, or Senate discussions become that much harder for Rafail's elder brother... all for the sake of one capitulation. Persephone's smile grew...
Persephone was in the middle of greeting an older couple from the Antonis lands when the Lord Rafail of Marikas decided it was his turn to be welcomed. This was neither a surprised to Persephone, given that she had become well aware that the Marikas heir was always expectant of events falling to his own schedule above others and neither was it a shock for him to disrespect the other baron and baroness whom he had interrupted. For Lord Rafail the titles and ranks of the nobles were a significant indicator who was allowed what they wanted and who was not. And horse dung rolled downhill.
Noting the similarity in their dress - which was highly disconcerting - and bidding a speedy by pleasant welcome to the Antonis baron and his wife, Persephone turned her full attention to the Marikas lord as he discussed the possibility of being outshone.
She smiled coolly.
"It has never been my intention to outshine you, Lord Rafail." Her features remained cold, but her smile in place as she raised a hand to be kissed for his arrival, as was tradition. "You make such a wondrous spectacle of yourself, such efforts would be utterly futile, do you not think?" The words were kind but the tone and gaze that went with them utterly shrewd.
Instead, she simply kept her hand positioned between them. If he refused to kiss it, the whole Court would see that the Marikas line had publicly shunned the Xanthos House - and suddenly trade agreements might dry up, or Senate discussions become that much harder for Rafail's elder brother... all for the sake of one capitulation. Persephone's smile grew...
Most men shied away from attending the celebrations in the Great Hall on the day before the Feast of Sinners. It was a place and time filled with the boring chatter of women filtered by their noble and political standings. They spoke of fashion, of their husbands, of the food, of the drink, of anything that did not matter in the slightest. No one truly enjoyed themselves at such an occasion, for who loved to speak in tongues and to mince their words? They all tolerated it, though, for the chance that they bumped elbows with one of the true elites.
It was for that very reason why Cyrus was there. His left arm was locked with his wife’s, for he was her escort, but they would not remain as one for the whole evening. They had different agendas, and by all means, it was sometimes a good thing to detach oneself from a person that was seen regularly. But that would not happen for a short while. His dark blue eyes had already spotted Rafail of Marikas. It had been a few months since he had seen the man, and he planned to approach him, but he would not do so without his spouse at his side.
A valet carrying a tray of wine-filled chalices passed them by, and with a subtle inquiry to Vasia, he garnered her approval and removed himself from her touch. Both hands gripped the necks of two separate goblets. Quickly, he brought them closer to himself and then transferred one to Vasia’s awaiting hand.
Cyrus stained his lips slightly with the wine before bringing his attention back to Rafail, who had approached none other than Her Royal Majesty, Persephone of Xanthos. He nodded his head in their direction, his eyes catching Vasia’s gaze. When she confirmed that she followed his train of thought, he began moving through the throng of courtiers and nobles. He came within the vicinity of Rafail and Persephone just in time to catch their dialogue.
“They undoubtedly would be,” the lord of Arcasis replied in Rafail’s stead, a smile growing upon his countenance. Altering his grip of the wine goblet in his right hand to have only his fingertips hang onto the rounded top, Cyrus’ left hand reached across his own chest as he performed a humble bow befitting of a royal lord and a daughter of the King of Athenia. “It is good to see you again, Lord Rafail,” Cyrus greeted, intentionally leaving the princess’ focus for last. “And it is a pleasure to meet you face-to-face, Your Majesty.”
Turning his head slightly, Cyrus’ eyes lit with excitement at the visage of his beloved beside him. “Lord Rafail, you have met my wife in the past. Your Majesty, if you have not made acquaintances, this is Lady Vasia of Karsalis, previously of Antonis.”
He analyzed the princess hastily, but as thoroughly as he could. She was beautiful, of course, but he was interested in her eyes, and whether or not a certain element of intelligence dwelt behind them. “Do not fret; I do not plan to intrude upon the conversation you two were having. I only wished to say hello to Rafail, and…” His eyes flicked back to the princess. “I would be honored to speak with you privately when you have the time, Your Majesty. I promise it will not be a waste.”
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Most men shied away from attending the celebrations in the Great Hall on the day before the Feast of Sinners. It was a place and time filled with the boring chatter of women filtered by their noble and political standings. They spoke of fashion, of their husbands, of the food, of the drink, of anything that did not matter in the slightest. No one truly enjoyed themselves at such an occasion, for who loved to speak in tongues and to mince their words? They all tolerated it, though, for the chance that they bumped elbows with one of the true elites.
It was for that very reason why Cyrus was there. His left arm was locked with his wife’s, for he was her escort, but they would not remain as one for the whole evening. They had different agendas, and by all means, it was sometimes a good thing to detach oneself from a person that was seen regularly. But that would not happen for a short while. His dark blue eyes had already spotted Rafail of Marikas. It had been a few months since he had seen the man, and he planned to approach him, but he would not do so without his spouse at his side.
A valet carrying a tray of wine-filled chalices passed them by, and with a subtle inquiry to Vasia, he garnered her approval and removed himself from her touch. Both hands gripped the necks of two separate goblets. Quickly, he brought them closer to himself and then transferred one to Vasia’s awaiting hand.
Cyrus stained his lips slightly with the wine before bringing his attention back to Rafail, who had approached none other than Her Royal Majesty, Persephone of Xanthos. He nodded his head in their direction, his eyes catching Vasia’s gaze. When she confirmed that she followed his train of thought, he began moving through the throng of courtiers and nobles. He came within the vicinity of Rafail and Persephone just in time to catch their dialogue.
“They undoubtedly would be,” the lord of Arcasis replied in Rafail’s stead, a smile growing upon his countenance. Altering his grip of the wine goblet in his right hand to have only his fingertips hang onto the rounded top, Cyrus’ left hand reached across his own chest as he performed a humble bow befitting of a royal lord and a daughter of the King of Athenia. “It is good to see you again, Lord Rafail,” Cyrus greeted, intentionally leaving the princess’ focus for last. “And it is a pleasure to meet you face-to-face, Your Majesty.”
Turning his head slightly, Cyrus’ eyes lit with excitement at the visage of his beloved beside him. “Lord Rafail, you have met my wife in the past. Your Majesty, if you have not made acquaintances, this is Lady Vasia of Karsalis, previously of Antonis.”
He analyzed the princess hastily, but as thoroughly as he could. She was beautiful, of course, but he was interested in her eyes, and whether or not a certain element of intelligence dwelt behind them. “Do not fret; I do not plan to intrude upon the conversation you two were having. I only wished to say hello to Rafail, and…” His eyes flicked back to the princess. “I would be honored to speak with you privately when you have the time, Your Majesty. I promise it will not be a waste.”
Most men shied away from attending the celebrations in the Great Hall on the day before the Feast of Sinners. It was a place and time filled with the boring chatter of women filtered by their noble and political standings. They spoke of fashion, of their husbands, of the food, of the drink, of anything that did not matter in the slightest. No one truly enjoyed themselves at such an occasion, for who loved to speak in tongues and to mince their words? They all tolerated it, though, for the chance that they bumped elbows with one of the true elites.
It was for that very reason why Cyrus was there. His left arm was locked with his wife’s, for he was her escort, but they would not remain as one for the whole evening. They had different agendas, and by all means, it was sometimes a good thing to detach oneself from a person that was seen regularly. But that would not happen for a short while. His dark blue eyes had already spotted Rafail of Marikas. It had been a few months since he had seen the man, and he planned to approach him, but he would not do so without his spouse at his side.
A valet carrying a tray of wine-filled chalices passed them by, and with a subtle inquiry to Vasia, he garnered her approval and removed himself from her touch. Both hands gripped the necks of two separate goblets. Quickly, he brought them closer to himself and then transferred one to Vasia’s awaiting hand.
Cyrus stained his lips slightly with the wine before bringing his attention back to Rafail, who had approached none other than Her Royal Majesty, Persephone of Xanthos. He nodded his head in their direction, his eyes catching Vasia’s gaze. When she confirmed that she followed his train of thought, he began moving through the throng of courtiers and nobles. He came within the vicinity of Rafail and Persephone just in time to catch their dialogue.
“They undoubtedly would be,” the lord of Arcasis replied in Rafail’s stead, a smile growing upon his countenance. Altering his grip of the wine goblet in his right hand to have only his fingertips hang onto the rounded top, Cyrus’ left hand reached across his own chest as he performed a humble bow befitting of a royal lord and a daughter of the King of Athenia. “It is good to see you again, Lord Rafail,” Cyrus greeted, intentionally leaving the princess’ focus for last. “And it is a pleasure to meet you face-to-face, Your Majesty.”
Turning his head slightly, Cyrus’ eyes lit with excitement at the visage of his beloved beside him. “Lord Rafail, you have met my wife in the past. Your Majesty, if you have not made acquaintances, this is Lady Vasia of Karsalis, previously of Antonis.”
He analyzed the princess hastily, but as thoroughly as he could. She was beautiful, of course, but he was interested in her eyes, and whether or not a certain element of intelligence dwelt behind them. “Do not fret; I do not plan to intrude upon the conversation you two were having. I only wished to say hello to Rafail, and…” His eyes flicked back to the princess. “I would be honored to speak with you privately when you have the time, Your Majesty. I promise it will not be a waste.”
She was in her element. Vasia shone as she walked arm in arm with her husband. The pair of golden Karsalis heads looked like twin suns bobbing through the crowd. Vasia herself was dressed head to toe in golden silks. Her chiton rippled like sand dunes, each fold shimmering in the light. Her golden hair was brushed until it shone; each ringlet fell serpentine down her back. Atop her head she wore a circlet of olive leaves, hewn from bronze. There was no better place to be seen but court; and no better place to see things either.
From the corner of her eye she watched the young lord Rafail approach the crown Princess. He was lithe and handsome, so she did not care to look away. Instead she trained her eyes on him, and suppressed a look of bemusement when the haughty Princess held a hand to him. Cyrus may not have marked it - but this was women’s work. Persephone of Xanthos was no fool. The way she looked down upon the young lord was measured enough...but there was pride in it. She was testing her strength against him, but it was child’s play. Vasia herself would rather see how Persephone stood against a match of true mettle, not some silly young boy. It was easy enough for a beautiful young Princess to get the better of a foolhardy young nobleman when nothing was at stake. Too easy.
When the pair finally caught her husband’s eye she followed, and did her best to look deferential. She curtseyed to the queen slowly and deliberately. Though she boasted royal blood herself, Vasia knew her place. She would not overstep. Instead she stood, tall and commanding, in a dress fit for a queen.
“I think you look stunning,” she said to the Marikas, her voice emphatic. “We Karsalis do love black and gold. You honor us.” At that she cast a look to the Princess, dressed to match in gold and deepest black. Vasia’s smile was genuine. “I hope my uncle didn’t bore you, your highness. Those hailing from Illoclis can boast honor as their virtue, but not humor, unfortunately.”
That she herself was an Antonis with humor went rather without saying. Whether or not she possessed Antonis honor was another matter entirely - and not something she made a habit of betraying to others. With that it was Cyrus’s turn to ply his trade. He could be as charming as anything - as her hand in marriage proved. If he managed to get the princess alone there was no telling what plan he might devise. With a knowing look, she held her goblet to her mouth and took a swallow of watered wine. Her eyes did not leave the other nobles in the group. She and her husband were young, but hardly youths as this pair was. They were seasoned courtiers, and ready for what the night might have in store.
JD
Staff Team
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This post was created by our staff team.
Please contact us with your queries and questions.
She was in her element. Vasia shone as she walked arm in arm with her husband. The pair of golden Karsalis heads looked like twin suns bobbing through the crowd. Vasia herself was dressed head to toe in golden silks. Her chiton rippled like sand dunes, each fold shimmering in the light. Her golden hair was brushed until it shone; each ringlet fell serpentine down her back. Atop her head she wore a circlet of olive leaves, hewn from bronze. There was no better place to be seen but court; and no better place to see things either.
From the corner of her eye she watched the young lord Rafail approach the crown Princess. He was lithe and handsome, so she did not care to look away. Instead she trained her eyes on him, and suppressed a look of bemusement when the haughty Princess held a hand to him. Cyrus may not have marked it - but this was women’s work. Persephone of Xanthos was no fool. The way she looked down upon the young lord was measured enough...but there was pride in it. She was testing her strength against him, but it was child’s play. Vasia herself would rather see how Persephone stood against a match of true mettle, not some silly young boy. It was easy enough for a beautiful young Princess to get the better of a foolhardy young nobleman when nothing was at stake. Too easy.
When the pair finally caught her husband’s eye she followed, and did her best to look deferential. She curtseyed to the queen slowly and deliberately. Though she boasted royal blood herself, Vasia knew her place. She would not overstep. Instead she stood, tall and commanding, in a dress fit for a queen.
“I think you look stunning,” she said to the Marikas, her voice emphatic. “We Karsalis do love black and gold. You honor us.” At that she cast a look to the Princess, dressed to match in gold and deepest black. Vasia’s smile was genuine. “I hope my uncle didn’t bore you, your highness. Those hailing from Illoclis can boast honor as their virtue, but not humor, unfortunately.”
That she herself was an Antonis with humor went rather without saying. Whether or not she possessed Antonis honor was another matter entirely - and not something she made a habit of betraying to others. With that it was Cyrus’s turn to ply his trade. He could be as charming as anything - as her hand in marriage proved. If he managed to get the princess alone there was no telling what plan he might devise. With a knowing look, she held her goblet to her mouth and took a swallow of watered wine. Her eyes did not leave the other nobles in the group. She and her husband were young, but hardly youths as this pair was. They were seasoned courtiers, and ready for what the night might have in store.
She was in her element. Vasia shone as she walked arm in arm with her husband. The pair of golden Karsalis heads looked like twin suns bobbing through the crowd. Vasia herself was dressed head to toe in golden silks. Her chiton rippled like sand dunes, each fold shimmering in the light. Her golden hair was brushed until it shone; each ringlet fell serpentine down her back. Atop her head she wore a circlet of olive leaves, hewn from bronze. There was no better place to be seen but court; and no better place to see things either.
From the corner of her eye she watched the young lord Rafail approach the crown Princess. He was lithe and handsome, so she did not care to look away. Instead she trained her eyes on him, and suppressed a look of bemusement when the haughty Princess held a hand to him. Cyrus may not have marked it - but this was women’s work. Persephone of Xanthos was no fool. The way she looked down upon the young lord was measured enough...but there was pride in it. She was testing her strength against him, but it was child’s play. Vasia herself would rather see how Persephone stood against a match of true mettle, not some silly young boy. It was easy enough for a beautiful young Princess to get the better of a foolhardy young nobleman when nothing was at stake. Too easy.
When the pair finally caught her husband’s eye she followed, and did her best to look deferential. She curtseyed to the queen slowly and deliberately. Though she boasted royal blood herself, Vasia knew her place. She would not overstep. Instead she stood, tall and commanding, in a dress fit for a queen.
“I think you look stunning,” she said to the Marikas, her voice emphatic. “We Karsalis do love black and gold. You honor us.” At that she cast a look to the Princess, dressed to match in gold and deepest black. Vasia’s smile was genuine. “I hope my uncle didn’t bore you, your highness. Those hailing from Illoclis can boast honor as their virtue, but not humor, unfortunately.”
That she herself was an Antonis with humor went rather without saying. Whether or not she possessed Antonis honor was another matter entirely - and not something she made a habit of betraying to others. With that it was Cyrus’s turn to ply his trade. He could be as charming as anything - as her hand in marriage proved. If he managed to get the princess alone there was no telling what plan he might devise. With a knowing look, she held her goblet to her mouth and took a swallow of watered wine. Her eyes did not leave the other nobles in the group. She and her husband were young, but hardly youths as this pair was. They were seasoned courtiers, and ready for what the night might have in store.
Emilia easily made her rounds - many of these ladies she saw week after week, and were familiar with the young princess of Xanthos.Conversation flowed easily, but as was her habit, the young sixteen year old kept her eyes watchful on her surroundings, something Persephone had long taught her ever since their mother had left and Emilia began attending court together with her sister. With no lady of the house, it was up to the sisters to hold up court together, and she did not want to put shame to her sister today of all days, when the Feast was slated to happen the next day.
Eyes lit up as she saw the entrance of the Lady Selene, her friend who she had managed - much to her joy - to prolong her stay just a few days more to make her visit at the Feast of Sinners. It seemed apt, that Emilia got to attend to the festival of Dionysus at her home kingdom (however disastrous it had turned out), and now Emilia in turn, got a chance to host the Taengean beauty in her own home.
At the same time as Emilia began to want to make her approach to Selene however, a form of a male caught her attention - one Lord Rafail of Marikas, a man who had oft times came to the palace in search of one princess or the other. Someone who Persephone had warned Emilia of. Attention mildly diverted, she waved at Dawn to come closer so she may whisper to her slave. "Please attend to Lady Selene and, if she happens to be alone, guide her to my side, if you may." Emilia murmured her instructions concisely, shuffling to a side to allow others to pass, as she watched the exchange between her sister. If only she could be closer to hear, but watching, her brows furrowed as she watched the lord's arm draped across another female's lithe body.
Persephone was right, of course. He was no male to give the time of the day at all.
Smiling proudly when her sister offered the hand to him, obvious in what she was doing, the smile turned into a satisfied one as Emilia turned now, just in time to see a familiar figure, a lady she rarely saw in court. With a quick glance around to see where had Dawn led the Lady Selene, Emilia hoped they would see as she motioned at the direction she would be headed, before expertly weaving herself and bidding acknowledgements to anyone she came across, before finally approaching the two figures she had saw. The first smile was directed at the Lady Iris, of Argyris, someone whom she was acquainted with but would not call close friends. With a respectful bow, the princess spoke in her usual friendly tone. "Lady Iris, tis a pleasure to see you here. Would you be attending the Feast of Sinners on the morrow? I do hope all is well with your barony."
And then, Emilia turned to her cousin, and the smile turned into a sly one, as she recalled their encounter in the library just a week or so earlier. "And cousin Danae, tis a wonder to see you here. Ah... are you here alone? I would've thought your family, being oh so concerned for me, would...be here?"
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Emilia easily made her rounds - many of these ladies she saw week after week, and were familiar with the young princess of Xanthos.Conversation flowed easily, but as was her habit, the young sixteen year old kept her eyes watchful on her surroundings, something Persephone had long taught her ever since their mother had left and Emilia began attending court together with her sister. With no lady of the house, it was up to the sisters to hold up court together, and she did not want to put shame to her sister today of all days, when the Feast was slated to happen the next day.
Eyes lit up as she saw the entrance of the Lady Selene, her friend who she had managed - much to her joy - to prolong her stay just a few days more to make her visit at the Feast of Sinners. It seemed apt, that Emilia got to attend to the festival of Dionysus at her home kingdom (however disastrous it had turned out), and now Emilia in turn, got a chance to host the Taengean beauty in her own home.
At the same time as Emilia began to want to make her approach to Selene however, a form of a male caught her attention - one Lord Rafail of Marikas, a man who had oft times came to the palace in search of one princess or the other. Someone who Persephone had warned Emilia of. Attention mildly diverted, she waved at Dawn to come closer so she may whisper to her slave. "Please attend to Lady Selene and, if she happens to be alone, guide her to my side, if you may." Emilia murmured her instructions concisely, shuffling to a side to allow others to pass, as she watched the exchange between her sister. If only she could be closer to hear, but watching, her brows furrowed as she watched the lord's arm draped across another female's lithe body.
Persephone was right, of course. He was no male to give the time of the day at all.
Smiling proudly when her sister offered the hand to him, obvious in what she was doing, the smile turned into a satisfied one as Emilia turned now, just in time to see a familiar figure, a lady she rarely saw in court. With a quick glance around to see where had Dawn led the Lady Selene, Emilia hoped they would see as she motioned at the direction she would be headed, before expertly weaving herself and bidding acknowledgements to anyone she came across, before finally approaching the two figures she had saw. The first smile was directed at the Lady Iris, of Argyris, someone whom she was acquainted with but would not call close friends. With a respectful bow, the princess spoke in her usual friendly tone. "Lady Iris, tis a pleasure to see you here. Would you be attending the Feast of Sinners on the morrow? I do hope all is well with your barony."
And then, Emilia turned to her cousin, and the smile turned into a sly one, as she recalled their encounter in the library just a week or so earlier. "And cousin Danae, tis a wonder to see you here. Ah... are you here alone? I would've thought your family, being oh so concerned for me, would...be here?"
Emilia easily made her rounds - many of these ladies she saw week after week, and were familiar with the young princess of Xanthos.Conversation flowed easily, but as was her habit, the young sixteen year old kept her eyes watchful on her surroundings, something Persephone had long taught her ever since their mother had left and Emilia began attending court together with her sister. With no lady of the house, it was up to the sisters to hold up court together, and she did not want to put shame to her sister today of all days, when the Feast was slated to happen the next day.
Eyes lit up as she saw the entrance of the Lady Selene, her friend who she had managed - much to her joy - to prolong her stay just a few days more to make her visit at the Feast of Sinners. It seemed apt, that Emilia got to attend to the festival of Dionysus at her home kingdom (however disastrous it had turned out), and now Emilia in turn, got a chance to host the Taengean beauty in her own home.
At the same time as Emilia began to want to make her approach to Selene however, a form of a male caught her attention - one Lord Rafail of Marikas, a man who had oft times came to the palace in search of one princess or the other. Someone who Persephone had warned Emilia of. Attention mildly diverted, she waved at Dawn to come closer so she may whisper to her slave. "Please attend to Lady Selene and, if she happens to be alone, guide her to my side, if you may." Emilia murmured her instructions concisely, shuffling to a side to allow others to pass, as she watched the exchange between her sister. If only she could be closer to hear, but watching, her brows furrowed as she watched the lord's arm draped across another female's lithe body.
Persephone was right, of course. He was no male to give the time of the day at all.
Smiling proudly when her sister offered the hand to him, obvious in what she was doing, the smile turned into a satisfied one as Emilia turned now, just in time to see a familiar figure, a lady she rarely saw in court. With a quick glance around to see where had Dawn led the Lady Selene, Emilia hoped they would see as she motioned at the direction she would be headed, before expertly weaving herself and bidding acknowledgements to anyone she came across, before finally approaching the two figures she had saw. The first smile was directed at the Lady Iris, of Argyris, someone whom she was acquainted with but would not call close friends. With a respectful bow, the princess spoke in her usual friendly tone. "Lady Iris, tis a pleasure to see you here. Would you be attending the Feast of Sinners on the morrow? I do hope all is well with your barony."
And then, Emilia turned to her cousin, and the smile turned into a sly one, as she recalled their encounter in the library just a week or so earlier. "And cousin Danae, tis a wonder to see you here. Ah... are you here alone? I would've thought your family, being oh so concerned for me, would...be here?"
Gosssip All the King's Ladies
"Did you hear? Lord Rafail spent the night in the Argyris manor... My cousin who works there said the baron was furious... Perhaps the man took one too many liberties with the daughter... I always thought she was chaste, but you never know with ladies like that... perhaps she was trying to seduce her way to the top..."
JD
Staff Team
JD
Staff Team
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"Did you hear? Lord Rafail spent the night in the Argyris manor... My cousin who works there said the baron was furious... Perhaps the man took one too many liberties with the daughter... I always thought she was chaste, but you never know with ladies like that... perhaps she was trying to seduce her way to the top..."
Gosssip All the King's Ladies
"Did you hear? Lord Rafail spent the night in the Argyris manor... My cousin who works there said the baron was furious... Perhaps the man took one too many liberties with the daughter... I always thought she was chaste, but you never know with ladies like that... perhaps she was trying to seduce her way to the top..."
Dawn ever present in the shadow of Princess Emilia took a step or two to listen to the soft words of her Lady. Her eyes lifted from the earth to take in the noble faces before she spotted Lady Selene. She gave a soft nod. "Of course my Lady." She slipped through the room with a gentle step and a calm head. After all she was where she needed to be, no need to be in a rush.
She slipped beside the golden haired beauty and gave a gentle bow of her head, "Good day, Lady-Lady Selene, the Princess Emilia has asked me to accompany you," She swallowed hard always being rather shy around people at first, "you during court. Should you have any, I- I will be at your beck and call, my name- my name is Dawn."
Her gaze moved about the room as rumors began to circulate. When she found Raf her gaze moved back to Selene. "The man speaking to..." But she drew silent, her voice trailing off. Perhaps her advice was not wanted. It had yet to be asked for, "Apologies Lady Selene." She said breaking off her sentence. She silently prayed to Hera that Raf would be preoccupied with other women this day in court so she would not have to interfere. Then again the Goddess seemed to have many ways of teaching.
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JD
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This post was created by our staff team.
Please contact us with your queries and questions.
Dawn ever present in the shadow of Princess Emilia took a step or two to listen to the soft words of her Lady. Her eyes lifted from the earth to take in the noble faces before she spotted Lady Selene. She gave a soft nod. "Of course my Lady." She slipped through the room with a gentle step and a calm head. After all she was where she needed to be, no need to be in a rush.
She slipped beside the golden haired beauty and gave a gentle bow of her head, "Good day, Lady-Lady Selene, the Princess Emilia has asked me to accompany you," She swallowed hard always being rather shy around people at first, "you during court. Should you have any, I- I will be at your beck and call, my name- my name is Dawn."
Her gaze moved about the room as rumors began to circulate. When she found Raf her gaze moved back to Selene. "The man speaking to..." But she drew silent, her voice trailing off. Perhaps her advice was not wanted. It had yet to be asked for, "Apologies Lady Selene." She said breaking off her sentence. She silently prayed to Hera that Raf would be preoccupied with other women this day in court so she would not have to interfere. Then again the Goddess seemed to have many ways of teaching.
Dawn ever present in the shadow of Princess Emilia took a step or two to listen to the soft words of her Lady. Her eyes lifted from the earth to take in the noble faces before she spotted Lady Selene. She gave a soft nod. "Of course my Lady." She slipped through the room with a gentle step and a calm head. After all she was where she needed to be, no need to be in a rush.
She slipped beside the golden haired beauty and gave a gentle bow of her head, "Good day, Lady-Lady Selene, the Princess Emilia has asked me to accompany you," She swallowed hard always being rather shy around people at first, "you during court. Should you have any, I- I will be at your beck and call, my name- my name is Dawn."
Her gaze moved about the room as rumors began to circulate. When she found Raf her gaze moved back to Selene. "The man speaking to..." But she drew silent, her voice trailing off. Perhaps her advice was not wanted. It had yet to be asked for, "Apologies Lady Selene." She said breaking off her sentence. She silently prayed to Hera that Raf would be preoccupied with other women this day in court so she would not have to interfere. Then again the Goddess seemed to have many ways of teaching.
Of course, Rafail had noticed Iris's entrance. There was still a tension between them, as there naturally would be after what had transpired, and he had tightened the hold of his arm around Althaia, just in case she were to glance over. He wanted the girl to see that he had other options and they were just as - if not more - fine than she.
His attentions were not currently on Iris, however, but on Princess Persephone, who appeared not to have been put out by his words, despite how incredibly witty they had been. He took the hand she had offered, planting a gentle kiss upon it - he wasn't stupid enough to refuse her that respect - although his brows were knitted together in irritation as he did so, trying to decide how her words had been intended. He was the sort to take most anything as an insult, however it might have sounded. Still, before he had an opportunity to respond, he found their conversation abruptly interrupted by another arrival. Rafail recognised the man, baron of one of his own family's lands, and his wife alongside him, unsure whether or not he too was insulting the lord. At least the woman knew how to compliment him.
"I hardly make a spectacle of myself, it is simply the case that most find me to be quite the vision. I cannot help my looks." All Rafail did himself was ensure that he remained as stunning at all times, and it took extensive work. It seemed an appropriate refute, and he was pleased with himself for it, turning to the newcomers and nodding in response to their greeting, reaching forwards to take her hand in his own and gently kiss it as well. "Yes, 'tis a delight to see the both of you once again, especially your lovely wife. She looks just as beautiful as the last time we met. And, my Lady, I am glad you approve of my outfit. I chose the colours to honour my own house but I could never ignore one of our most favourite vassals." It was not a lie, the woman was beautiful, and Rafail was not afraid to admit it in front of her husband. Still, Rafail wasn't about to allow someone to outdo him when it came to dates, and he eased Althaia in front of him ever so slightly, resting a hand gently on her lower back as the proud smirk returned to his face.
"Might I introduce my dear lady?" he asked as the girl greeted each member of the group individually, trying to gauge whether or not there was any air of jealousy surrounding her. The man needed to have the best out of all, it was an impulsive need, and he loathed not feeling the envy emanating from those around him. "Althaia of Corinth. I am afraid her sister could not make it this afternoon -"- rather, Rafail had not thought the younger of the twins had really earned such a treat -"- I would have adored the opportunity to introduce the both of them to your Majesty and, of course, to yourself and your wife, Cyrus. Perhaps another time."
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Of course, Rafail had noticed Iris's entrance. There was still a tension between them, as there naturally would be after what had transpired, and he had tightened the hold of his arm around Althaia, just in case she were to glance over. He wanted the girl to see that he had other options and they were just as - if not more - fine than she.
His attentions were not currently on Iris, however, but on Princess Persephone, who appeared not to have been put out by his words, despite how incredibly witty they had been. He took the hand she had offered, planting a gentle kiss upon it - he wasn't stupid enough to refuse her that respect - although his brows were knitted together in irritation as he did so, trying to decide how her words had been intended. He was the sort to take most anything as an insult, however it might have sounded. Still, before he had an opportunity to respond, he found their conversation abruptly interrupted by another arrival. Rafail recognised the man, baron of one of his own family's lands, and his wife alongside him, unsure whether or not he too was insulting the lord. At least the woman knew how to compliment him.
"I hardly make a spectacle of myself, it is simply the case that most find me to be quite the vision. I cannot help my looks." All Rafail did himself was ensure that he remained as stunning at all times, and it took extensive work. It seemed an appropriate refute, and he was pleased with himself for it, turning to the newcomers and nodding in response to their greeting, reaching forwards to take her hand in his own and gently kiss it as well. "Yes, 'tis a delight to see the both of you once again, especially your lovely wife. She looks just as beautiful as the last time we met. And, my Lady, I am glad you approve of my outfit. I chose the colours to honour my own house but I could never ignore one of our most favourite vassals." It was not a lie, the woman was beautiful, and Rafail was not afraid to admit it in front of her husband. Still, Rafail wasn't about to allow someone to outdo him when it came to dates, and he eased Althaia in front of him ever so slightly, resting a hand gently on her lower back as the proud smirk returned to his face.
"Might I introduce my dear lady?" he asked as the girl greeted each member of the group individually, trying to gauge whether or not there was any air of jealousy surrounding her. The man needed to have the best out of all, it was an impulsive need, and he loathed not feeling the envy emanating from those around him. "Althaia of Corinth. I am afraid her sister could not make it this afternoon -"- rather, Rafail had not thought the younger of the twins had really earned such a treat -"- I would have adored the opportunity to introduce the both of them to your Majesty and, of course, to yourself and your wife, Cyrus. Perhaps another time."
Of course, Rafail had noticed Iris's entrance. There was still a tension between them, as there naturally would be after what had transpired, and he had tightened the hold of his arm around Althaia, just in case she were to glance over. He wanted the girl to see that he had other options and they were just as - if not more - fine than she.
His attentions were not currently on Iris, however, but on Princess Persephone, who appeared not to have been put out by his words, despite how incredibly witty they had been. He took the hand she had offered, planting a gentle kiss upon it - he wasn't stupid enough to refuse her that respect - although his brows were knitted together in irritation as he did so, trying to decide how her words had been intended. He was the sort to take most anything as an insult, however it might have sounded. Still, before he had an opportunity to respond, he found their conversation abruptly interrupted by another arrival. Rafail recognised the man, baron of one of his own family's lands, and his wife alongside him, unsure whether or not he too was insulting the lord. At least the woman knew how to compliment him.
"I hardly make a spectacle of myself, it is simply the case that most find me to be quite the vision. I cannot help my looks." All Rafail did himself was ensure that he remained as stunning at all times, and it took extensive work. It seemed an appropriate refute, and he was pleased with himself for it, turning to the newcomers and nodding in response to their greeting, reaching forwards to take her hand in his own and gently kiss it as well. "Yes, 'tis a delight to see the both of you once again, especially your lovely wife. She looks just as beautiful as the last time we met. And, my Lady, I am glad you approve of my outfit. I chose the colours to honour my own house but I could never ignore one of our most favourite vassals." It was not a lie, the woman was beautiful, and Rafail was not afraid to admit it in front of her husband. Still, Rafail wasn't about to allow someone to outdo him when it came to dates, and he eased Althaia in front of him ever so slightly, resting a hand gently on her lower back as the proud smirk returned to his face.
"Might I introduce my dear lady?" he asked as the girl greeted each member of the group individually, trying to gauge whether or not there was any air of jealousy surrounding her. The man needed to have the best out of all, it was an impulsive need, and he loathed not feeling the envy emanating from those around him. "Althaia of Corinth. I am afraid her sister could not make it this afternoon -"- rather, Rafail had not thought the younger of the twins had really earned such a treat -"- I would have adored the opportunity to introduce the both of them to your Majesty and, of course, to yourself and your wife, Cyrus. Perhaps another time."
Persephone's eyes flashed as Rafail capitulated to bending to her hand. She was intent on making sure that the egotistical idiot knew who was in charge of this event and refused to allow him to out do her in witty word play.
"So true, my Lord Rafail..." She told the man at his insistence that he was blameless in the attention he acquired. "I understand the burden of having a presence and visage that you cannot help... I would go so far as to state that, for yourself, it is one that we cannot help most of the time."
Her smile was sweet and her words on the line of compliment and insult so that she could never be trapped in her own words further down the line.
As a final indication of whether her words were flattery or negative, Persephone turned with the clear intention of greeting the Lord of Karsalis and his wife, which turned her shoulder to the Lord of Marikas. Nodding gracefully at their presence, Persephone held out a hand again for the Lord Cyrus to grace and smiled kindly at the wife Lady Vasia.
"Indeed." She commented on the Lord's words. "Lady Vasia, you are welcome in my Court as you always have been." She smiled we genuine admiration for the lady - who was a strong and confident minded woman in a world of male-dominated politics. She had always been on respectful terms with the woman.
When the Lord Cyrus mentioned a private audience, Persephone's polite mask fell away and she allowed her features to become serious and calm; indicating that she was listening and taking in his words with an air of interest and analysis.
"I'm sure such a meeting can be arranged, Lord Cyrus." She told the man. "I shall have my stewards find some time and send you the details of a possible meeting time, should you wish?"
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Check out their information page here.
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Persephone's eyes flashed as Rafail capitulated to bending to her hand. She was intent on making sure that the egotistical idiot knew who was in charge of this event and refused to allow him to out do her in witty word play.
"So true, my Lord Rafail..." She told the man at his insistence that he was blameless in the attention he acquired. "I understand the burden of having a presence and visage that you cannot help... I would go so far as to state that, for yourself, it is one that we cannot help most of the time."
Her smile was sweet and her words on the line of compliment and insult so that she could never be trapped in her own words further down the line.
As a final indication of whether her words were flattery or negative, Persephone turned with the clear intention of greeting the Lord of Karsalis and his wife, which turned her shoulder to the Lord of Marikas. Nodding gracefully at their presence, Persephone held out a hand again for the Lord Cyrus to grace and smiled kindly at the wife Lady Vasia.
"Indeed." She commented on the Lord's words. "Lady Vasia, you are welcome in my Court as you always have been." She smiled we genuine admiration for the lady - who was a strong and confident minded woman in a world of male-dominated politics. She had always been on respectful terms with the woman.
When the Lord Cyrus mentioned a private audience, Persephone's polite mask fell away and she allowed her features to become serious and calm; indicating that she was listening and taking in his words with an air of interest and analysis.
"I'm sure such a meeting can be arranged, Lord Cyrus." She told the man. "I shall have my stewards find some time and send you the details of a possible meeting time, should you wish?"
Persephone's eyes flashed as Rafail capitulated to bending to her hand. She was intent on making sure that the egotistical idiot knew who was in charge of this event and refused to allow him to out do her in witty word play.
"So true, my Lord Rafail..." She told the man at his insistence that he was blameless in the attention he acquired. "I understand the burden of having a presence and visage that you cannot help... I would go so far as to state that, for yourself, it is one that we cannot help most of the time."
Her smile was sweet and her words on the line of compliment and insult so that she could never be trapped in her own words further down the line.
As a final indication of whether her words were flattery or negative, Persephone turned with the clear intention of greeting the Lord of Karsalis and his wife, which turned her shoulder to the Lord of Marikas. Nodding gracefully at their presence, Persephone held out a hand again for the Lord Cyrus to grace and smiled kindly at the wife Lady Vasia.
"Indeed." She commented on the Lord's words. "Lady Vasia, you are welcome in my Court as you always have been." She smiled we genuine admiration for the lady - who was a strong and confident minded woman in a world of male-dominated politics. She had always been on respectful terms with the woman.
When the Lord Cyrus mentioned a private audience, Persephone's polite mask fell away and she allowed her features to become serious and calm; indicating that she was listening and taking in his words with an air of interest and analysis.
"I'm sure such a meeting can be arranged, Lord Cyrus." She told the man. "I shall have my stewards find some time and send you the details of a possible meeting time, should you wish?"
