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In an effort to draw the people's attentions away from the havoc at the palace three days ago, the noble ladies of the city are carrying out the tradition of theïkós éndysis, the clothing of the statue of Athena in the great temple. In honour of the Goddess, and to show the thanks for escorting the soul of the late king to the Underworld, the noble women of the capitol congregate in the courtyard of the Temple of Athena to weave and sew together a himation of bright colours and designs. The common folk are encouraged to help by providing the materials, offering fruit and refreshment and handling the raw fabric as the noble ladies and their retainers knit, weave and sew in honour of the Goddess. If the Senate had hoped to keep tongues from wagging of the recent palace attack, however, culminating the women of the city into one place probably wasn't the best idea....
JD
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JD
Staff Team
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In an effort to draw the people's attentions away from the havoc at the palace three days ago, the noble ladies of the city are carrying out the tradition of theïkós éndysis, the clothing of the statue of Athena in the great temple. In honour of the Goddess, and to show the thanks for escorting the soul of the late king to the Underworld, the noble women of the capitol congregate in the courtyard of the Temple of Athena to weave and sew together a himation of bright colours and designs. The common folk are encouraged to help by providing the materials, offering fruit and refreshment and handling the raw fabric as the noble ladies and their retainers knit, weave and sew in honour of the Goddess. If the Senate had hoped to keep tongues from wagging of the recent palace attack, however, culminating the women of the city into one place probably wasn't the best idea....
Sew Your Respect Event - Athenia
In an effort to draw the people's attentions away from the havoc at the palace three days ago, the noble ladies of the city are carrying out the tradition of theïkós éndysis, the clothing of the statue of Athena in the great temple. In honour of the Goddess, and to show the thanks for escorting the soul of the late king to the Underworld, the noble women of the capitol congregate in the courtyard of the Temple of Athena to weave and sew together a himation of bright colours and designs. The common folk are encouraged to help by providing the materials, offering fruit and refreshment and handling the raw fabric as the noble ladies and their retainers knit, weave and sew in honour of the Goddess. If the Senate had hoped to keep tongues from wagging of the recent palace attack, however, culminating the women of the city into one place probably wasn't the best idea....
Following her mother and sister out of the ornate carriage that had brought them to the Naos of Athena, Danae could hardly believe that it had been only a mere twenty days since the Stravos family had fallen into disgrace. Time had seemed to have stopped on that day and yet somehow here they were just the same. What surprised her even more though was how quickly they were all resuming their average life as if nothing terrible had happened.
Trailing after the elder women up the temple steps, Danae assumed that this was in part due to the king’s death and the subsequent raid upon the palace. These events had thrown the whole city into chaos just like her family, so perhaps it was easy for them to take advantage of how the whole kingdom was recovering together. The young girl didn’t know for sure. It was hard to know what was happening in the city beyond the room she had hardly left in that timeframe due to the endless shame that the Senate meeting and her personal run-in with Lukos had brought her. Truthfully, if it was up to her, Danae would have preferred to not leave her room at all until the world was right again. However, even she knew that the theïkós éndysis was not an event to be lightly missed.
After all, it was one thing to defy the royal family by trying to avoid the funeral; it was another thing entirely to avoid an event meant to bring honor to a goddess.
So, her family must have been pleasantly surprised to see Danae ready herself for the event without protest that morning. She had even forgone her usual palette of muted, lighter tones when it came to the fabric of her peplos and simple headdress, ordered in the aftermath in the funeral to prevent more protests from forming in the time it would take for her hair to grow back to its full length. Instead of grays and blues like she preferred, she selected a ruby red adorned with gold details. Her house colors.
Despite everything that happened, Danae was still a Stravos and she needed to look the part.
She still stayed behind her family as they entered the workspace, already teeming with noblewomen of all ranks and classes along with their ladies-in-waiting. Scattered throughout the room were bundles of bunched up fabric waiting to be embroidered by the scores of women and girls milling about the temple space. There was a slight buzz to space as the countless voices mixed together and made their words indiscernible. Only a few words were able to break above the noise along with peals of laughter from some of the younger girls huddled together or the occasional cry of a babe who was still too young to be parted from their mother for more than a few hours. Letting her eyelids close for a moment, the noise became comforting almost, reminding her of all the previous years her family had participated in the festivities and the generally happy memories that she associated with the event.
However, as she opened her eyes again and saw how some of the younger girls kept glancing over at the three Stravos women with narrowed eyes and pointed whispers to each other, Danae could sense that any happy memories from this year’s event would not be easily found.
Her face burned underneath their glare, forcing her to turn away from them so they wouldn’t be able to see her natural insecurities take hold of her once more. Danae didn’t need to look at the other women in the room to know that those girls weren’t the only ones looking at her family like that, given everything that had happened in the last twenty days. Of course, not everyone would look at the women like they were to avoid at any cost. Some of the glances would be sympathetic while even more would just simply ignore the newly non-noble family. Though, that didn’t stop her mind from racing and that familiar bubble of panic from surfacing within the young girl.
Knowing how she normally lashed out whenever her insecurities came roaring to the surface, Danae quickly made the decision to move away from her mother and sister while they were not paying attention to the sixteen-year-old. (It wasn’t that hard to do, truthfully, as her self-imposed silence aided in them not noticing her absence.) She made sure to hold her head though as she darted towards the far side of the room where only a few of those present had gathered. After all, she refused to admit defeat in the eyes of others despite the overwhelming shame she felt from the actions of her brother and her failed attempts to fix his disaster had brought upon her and her family.
You did nothing wrong, she quietly reminded herself as she spied an empty spot that she could claim and might offer her the solitude that she had grown used too, This is their fault. Not yours.
Silently repeating these affirmations in her head, Danae refused to look at anyone as she settled down in front of the large himation. Instead, she poured all of her focus into the fabric in front her, noting the embroidery that had already been done as she quickly waved over one of the nearby commonfolk who was handing out supplies. Without saying a word to the young girl, she took the necessary thread colors needed to continue the work that others had started in addition to those that were a brilliant ruby red and dazzling gold, her house colors. The fabric in front of her did not designate the need for such colors, but Danae hardly cared for that. She would make a place for them if need be and there was no one close enough to her to tell her otherwise. Plus, it was hardly like anyone would notice one or two anchors hidden among the yards upon yards of fabric...
A sly smirk appeared on her face as she bent over the work before her, taking pride in the symbolism of her rebellious act as she let her mind wander. Thoughts of burning swans and crowns fitted for her own head pulled her so thoroughly from the numbing task of sewing before her that Danae didn’t even notice when a few strands of her shortened hair slipped out from the decorated headdress she wore to hide the extra shame that came with that event.
Someone else though didn’t fail to notice though… someone who up until this point had only heard second-hand about the chaos her family had been through and believed that shaming them was not an action to be admired…
Not in the slightest.
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Following her mother and sister out of the ornate carriage that had brought them to the Naos of Athena, Danae could hardly believe that it had been only a mere twenty days since the Stravos family had fallen into disgrace. Time had seemed to have stopped on that day and yet somehow here they were just the same. What surprised her even more though was how quickly they were all resuming their average life as if nothing terrible had happened.
Trailing after the elder women up the temple steps, Danae assumed that this was in part due to the king’s death and the subsequent raid upon the palace. These events had thrown the whole city into chaos just like her family, so perhaps it was easy for them to take advantage of how the whole kingdom was recovering together. The young girl didn’t know for sure. It was hard to know what was happening in the city beyond the room she had hardly left in that timeframe due to the endless shame that the Senate meeting and her personal run-in with Lukos had brought her. Truthfully, if it was up to her, Danae would have preferred to not leave her room at all until the world was right again. However, even she knew that the theïkós éndysis was not an event to be lightly missed.
After all, it was one thing to defy the royal family by trying to avoid the funeral; it was another thing entirely to avoid an event meant to bring honor to a goddess.
So, her family must have been pleasantly surprised to see Danae ready herself for the event without protest that morning. She had even forgone her usual palette of muted, lighter tones when it came to the fabric of her peplos and simple headdress, ordered in the aftermath in the funeral to prevent more protests from forming in the time it would take for her hair to grow back to its full length. Instead of grays and blues like she preferred, she selected a ruby red adorned with gold details. Her house colors.
Despite everything that happened, Danae was still a Stravos and she needed to look the part.
She still stayed behind her family as they entered the workspace, already teeming with noblewomen of all ranks and classes along with their ladies-in-waiting. Scattered throughout the room were bundles of bunched up fabric waiting to be embroidered by the scores of women and girls milling about the temple space. There was a slight buzz to space as the countless voices mixed together and made their words indiscernible. Only a few words were able to break above the noise along with peals of laughter from some of the younger girls huddled together or the occasional cry of a babe who was still too young to be parted from their mother for more than a few hours. Letting her eyelids close for a moment, the noise became comforting almost, reminding her of all the previous years her family had participated in the festivities and the generally happy memories that she associated with the event.
However, as she opened her eyes again and saw how some of the younger girls kept glancing over at the three Stravos women with narrowed eyes and pointed whispers to each other, Danae could sense that any happy memories from this year’s event would not be easily found.
Her face burned underneath their glare, forcing her to turn away from them so they wouldn’t be able to see her natural insecurities take hold of her once more. Danae didn’t need to look at the other women in the room to know that those girls weren’t the only ones looking at her family like that, given everything that had happened in the last twenty days. Of course, not everyone would look at the women like they were to avoid at any cost. Some of the glances would be sympathetic while even more would just simply ignore the newly non-noble family. Though, that didn’t stop her mind from racing and that familiar bubble of panic from surfacing within the young girl.
Knowing how she normally lashed out whenever her insecurities came roaring to the surface, Danae quickly made the decision to move away from her mother and sister while they were not paying attention to the sixteen-year-old. (It wasn’t that hard to do, truthfully, as her self-imposed silence aided in them not noticing her absence.) She made sure to hold her head though as she darted towards the far side of the room where only a few of those present had gathered. After all, she refused to admit defeat in the eyes of others despite the overwhelming shame she felt from the actions of her brother and her failed attempts to fix his disaster had brought upon her and her family.
You did nothing wrong, she quietly reminded herself as she spied an empty spot that she could claim and might offer her the solitude that she had grown used too, This is their fault. Not yours.
Silently repeating these affirmations in her head, Danae refused to look at anyone as she settled down in front of the large himation. Instead, she poured all of her focus into the fabric in front her, noting the embroidery that had already been done as she quickly waved over one of the nearby commonfolk who was handing out supplies. Without saying a word to the young girl, she took the necessary thread colors needed to continue the work that others had started in addition to those that were a brilliant ruby red and dazzling gold, her house colors. The fabric in front of her did not designate the need for such colors, but Danae hardly cared for that. She would make a place for them if need be and there was no one close enough to her to tell her otherwise. Plus, it was hardly like anyone would notice one or two anchors hidden among the yards upon yards of fabric...
A sly smirk appeared on her face as she bent over the work before her, taking pride in the symbolism of her rebellious act as she let her mind wander. Thoughts of burning swans and crowns fitted for her own head pulled her so thoroughly from the numbing task of sewing before her that Danae didn’t even notice when a few strands of her shortened hair slipped out from the decorated headdress she wore to hide the extra shame that came with that event.
Someone else though didn’t fail to notice though… someone who up until this point had only heard second-hand about the chaos her family had been through and believed that shaming them was not an action to be admired…
Not in the slightest.
Following her mother and sister out of the ornate carriage that had brought them to the Naos of Athena, Danae could hardly believe that it had been only a mere twenty days since the Stravos family had fallen into disgrace. Time had seemed to have stopped on that day and yet somehow here they were just the same. What surprised her even more though was how quickly they were all resuming their average life as if nothing terrible had happened.
Trailing after the elder women up the temple steps, Danae assumed that this was in part due to the king’s death and the subsequent raid upon the palace. These events had thrown the whole city into chaos just like her family, so perhaps it was easy for them to take advantage of how the whole kingdom was recovering together. The young girl didn’t know for sure. It was hard to know what was happening in the city beyond the room she had hardly left in that timeframe due to the endless shame that the Senate meeting and her personal run-in with Lukos had brought her. Truthfully, if it was up to her, Danae would have preferred to not leave her room at all until the world was right again. However, even she knew that the theïkós éndysis was not an event to be lightly missed.
After all, it was one thing to defy the royal family by trying to avoid the funeral; it was another thing entirely to avoid an event meant to bring honor to a goddess.
So, her family must have been pleasantly surprised to see Danae ready herself for the event without protest that morning. She had even forgone her usual palette of muted, lighter tones when it came to the fabric of her peplos and simple headdress, ordered in the aftermath in the funeral to prevent more protests from forming in the time it would take for her hair to grow back to its full length. Instead of grays and blues like she preferred, she selected a ruby red adorned with gold details. Her house colors.
Despite everything that happened, Danae was still a Stravos and she needed to look the part.
She still stayed behind her family as they entered the workspace, already teeming with noblewomen of all ranks and classes along with their ladies-in-waiting. Scattered throughout the room were bundles of bunched up fabric waiting to be embroidered by the scores of women and girls milling about the temple space. There was a slight buzz to space as the countless voices mixed together and made their words indiscernible. Only a few words were able to break above the noise along with peals of laughter from some of the younger girls huddled together or the occasional cry of a babe who was still too young to be parted from their mother for more than a few hours. Letting her eyelids close for a moment, the noise became comforting almost, reminding her of all the previous years her family had participated in the festivities and the generally happy memories that she associated with the event.
However, as she opened her eyes again and saw how some of the younger girls kept glancing over at the three Stravos women with narrowed eyes and pointed whispers to each other, Danae could sense that any happy memories from this year’s event would not be easily found.
Her face burned underneath their glare, forcing her to turn away from them so they wouldn’t be able to see her natural insecurities take hold of her once more. Danae didn’t need to look at the other women in the room to know that those girls weren’t the only ones looking at her family like that, given everything that had happened in the last twenty days. Of course, not everyone would look at the women like they were to avoid at any cost. Some of the glances would be sympathetic while even more would just simply ignore the newly non-noble family. Though, that didn’t stop her mind from racing and that familiar bubble of panic from surfacing within the young girl.
Knowing how she normally lashed out whenever her insecurities came roaring to the surface, Danae quickly made the decision to move away from her mother and sister while they were not paying attention to the sixteen-year-old. (It wasn’t that hard to do, truthfully, as her self-imposed silence aided in them not noticing her absence.) She made sure to hold her head though as she darted towards the far side of the room where only a few of those present had gathered. After all, she refused to admit defeat in the eyes of others despite the overwhelming shame she felt from the actions of her brother and her failed attempts to fix his disaster had brought upon her and her family.
You did nothing wrong, she quietly reminded herself as she spied an empty spot that she could claim and might offer her the solitude that she had grown used too, This is their fault. Not yours.
Silently repeating these affirmations in her head, Danae refused to look at anyone as she settled down in front of the large himation. Instead, she poured all of her focus into the fabric in front her, noting the embroidery that had already been done as she quickly waved over one of the nearby commonfolk who was handing out supplies. Without saying a word to the young girl, she took the necessary thread colors needed to continue the work that others had started in addition to those that were a brilliant ruby red and dazzling gold, her house colors. The fabric in front of her did not designate the need for such colors, but Danae hardly cared for that. She would make a place for them if need be and there was no one close enough to her to tell her otherwise. Plus, it was hardly like anyone would notice one or two anchors hidden among the yards upon yards of fabric...
A sly smirk appeared on her face as she bent over the work before her, taking pride in the symbolism of her rebellious act as she let her mind wander. Thoughts of burning swans and crowns fitted for her own head pulled her so thoroughly from the numbing task of sewing before her that Danae didn’t even notice when a few strands of her shortened hair slipped out from the decorated headdress she wore to hide the extra shame that came with that event.
Someone else though didn’t fail to notice though… someone who up until this point had only heard second-hand about the chaos her family had been through and believed that shaming them was not an action to be admired…
Not in the slightest.
Daniil let out a long sigh. Considering recent events she really did not want to go join in on a sewing circle, but her mother insisted that all of her daughters attend. It was not going to be said that House Marikas shirked its part in an event like this. Daniil did not want to spend time away from her visitor, her handsome Kotas Prince but as Pavlos pointed out, there were things that he should see before he made for home so that he could tell his family of the kingdom along with herself.
She bathed and dressed in a gown of deep green accented with a key pattern in black. She had attempted to dress in grey, which would have matched her mood, but Sera forbade it. Her mood turned more grey at the idea of not having her favorite horse to ride. Yes, she had the use of any of her father's stable, but like her Uncle Rafi, she had her own personal favorites. It was still a mystery as to who had taken her. Daniil's horse was very special to her as it had been a gift from Rafi in an attempt to bond with his niece, a bet that paid off. Like her, his temper was very short on the matter of his missing horse. What truly mystified the dark haired girl was why steal the trophies as well? We they attempting to shame them? Her mind was constantly working to figure that out.
She was careful to pack her short sword in the saddle bags. Ever since the raid on the palace, she had heeded the words that Yiannis told her and kept her sword close. She had also packed her flute. It was another one of her hidden talents. If she could not sew, she could at least provide entertainment for those that were sewing.
Once she reached the temple, Daniil dismounted the horse, made sure it was tied up, and then retrieved her flute and tucked it within her gown before she entered the building. Slowly she looked for a spot and took note of whom she saw there. Catching sight of her Stravos cousin, Daniil moved to join her and then paused as something caught her eye. She knew that they were untied in their shared displeasure at the antics that had happened to the house. Personally if Daniil could have given all the menfolk a sound beating, she would have. She remembered to this day, her rage at being told what had transpired within the Senate walls and she was furious. The menfolk of the house had been treated to Daniil going silent and acting like they were not there. That lasted all of about a week and then Pavlos called a halt to her antics and that led to her basically throwing up her hands in frustration and letting it go.
She shook her head, a small frown appearing on her face before she moved to find a spot to sit not far away and set to work, still frowning slightly.
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Daniil let out a long sigh. Considering recent events she really did not want to go join in on a sewing circle, but her mother insisted that all of her daughters attend. It was not going to be said that House Marikas shirked its part in an event like this. Daniil did not want to spend time away from her visitor, her handsome Kotas Prince but as Pavlos pointed out, there were things that he should see before he made for home so that he could tell his family of the kingdom along with herself.
She bathed and dressed in a gown of deep green accented with a key pattern in black. She had attempted to dress in grey, which would have matched her mood, but Sera forbade it. Her mood turned more grey at the idea of not having her favorite horse to ride. Yes, she had the use of any of her father's stable, but like her Uncle Rafi, she had her own personal favorites. It was still a mystery as to who had taken her. Daniil's horse was very special to her as it had been a gift from Rafi in an attempt to bond with his niece, a bet that paid off. Like her, his temper was very short on the matter of his missing horse. What truly mystified the dark haired girl was why steal the trophies as well? We they attempting to shame them? Her mind was constantly working to figure that out.
She was careful to pack her short sword in the saddle bags. Ever since the raid on the palace, she had heeded the words that Yiannis told her and kept her sword close. She had also packed her flute. It was another one of her hidden talents. If she could not sew, she could at least provide entertainment for those that were sewing.
Once she reached the temple, Daniil dismounted the horse, made sure it was tied up, and then retrieved her flute and tucked it within her gown before she entered the building. Slowly she looked for a spot and took note of whom she saw there. Catching sight of her Stravos cousin, Daniil moved to join her and then paused as something caught her eye. She knew that they were untied in their shared displeasure at the antics that had happened to the house. Personally if Daniil could have given all the menfolk a sound beating, she would have. She remembered to this day, her rage at being told what had transpired within the Senate walls and she was furious. The menfolk of the house had been treated to Daniil going silent and acting like they were not there. That lasted all of about a week and then Pavlos called a halt to her antics and that led to her basically throwing up her hands in frustration and letting it go.
She shook her head, a small frown appearing on her face before she moved to find a spot to sit not far away and set to work, still frowning slightly.
Daniil let out a long sigh. Considering recent events she really did not want to go join in on a sewing circle, but her mother insisted that all of her daughters attend. It was not going to be said that House Marikas shirked its part in an event like this. Daniil did not want to spend time away from her visitor, her handsome Kotas Prince but as Pavlos pointed out, there were things that he should see before he made for home so that he could tell his family of the kingdom along with herself.
She bathed and dressed in a gown of deep green accented with a key pattern in black. She had attempted to dress in grey, which would have matched her mood, but Sera forbade it. Her mood turned more grey at the idea of not having her favorite horse to ride. Yes, she had the use of any of her father's stable, but like her Uncle Rafi, she had her own personal favorites. It was still a mystery as to who had taken her. Daniil's horse was very special to her as it had been a gift from Rafi in an attempt to bond with his niece, a bet that paid off. Like her, his temper was very short on the matter of his missing horse. What truly mystified the dark haired girl was why steal the trophies as well? We they attempting to shame them? Her mind was constantly working to figure that out.
She was careful to pack her short sword in the saddle bags. Ever since the raid on the palace, she had heeded the words that Yiannis told her and kept her sword close. She had also packed her flute. It was another one of her hidden talents. If she could not sew, she could at least provide entertainment for those that were sewing.
Once she reached the temple, Daniil dismounted the horse, made sure it was tied up, and then retrieved her flute and tucked it within her gown before she entered the building. Slowly she looked for a spot and took note of whom she saw there. Catching sight of her Stravos cousin, Daniil moved to join her and then paused as something caught her eye. She knew that they were untied in their shared displeasure at the antics that had happened to the house. Personally if Daniil could have given all the menfolk a sound beating, she would have. She remembered to this day, her rage at being told what had transpired within the Senate walls and she was furious. The menfolk of the house had been treated to Daniil going silent and acting like they were not there. That lasted all of about a week and then Pavlos called a halt to her antics and that led to her basically throwing up her hands in frustration and letting it go.
She shook her head, a small frown appearing on her face before she moved to find a spot to sit not far away and set to work, still frowning slightly.
She couldn't believe that four days had passed already. Time had seemed to drag on since the funeral, yet now that Cyrene was back in the Naos of Athena, it seemed only a moment ago that she had watched as her fallen king was set ablaze, that she had felt the fear rise in her that Athenia would change. Perhaps that was the reason why, she thought to herself, that time had seemed so short. She had yet to calm the storm her mind had created, and since glimpsing Persephone's stony demeanour during her father's funeral, she couldn't help but feel that this had all been planned. Barely a fortnight after the line of succession had been changed, King Minas passed. It was much too much of a coincidence for Cyrene's liking. As she had stewed over the events of the past few weeks, she wondered how she'd been so blind to everything beforehand. Such a short time ago, she was sure that Athenia was a kingdom of morals. Now, she wasn't so sure.
Yet here she sat, by her lady Sera and her other retainers, her thoughts far away from the gossip that filled the temple as she absently gazed the mindless work in front of her. Even with the shocking news of the attack on the palace, Cyrene could not bring herself to care for the gossip and instead decided to refrain from it under the guise of working dutifully at the himation. How could these women sit and prattle on about rumours, she wondered, while there were bigger issues to worry about? And how did it take her so long to realize there were issues in the first place? She could only chalk it up to her upbringing: it only made sense that she didn't understand the inner workings of politics, it wasn't a woman's place. Yet, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was naïve for not knowing them. That she was an idiot.
Before she could really beat herself down, she was interrupted from her tempestuous thoughts by the entrance of the Stravos women. If not for the hush that fell over the noblewomen, she likely wouldn't have looked up from her work, but she did, to find herself almost surprised. Considering the rumours spread about their family, she wouldn't have blamed them for not attending. Yet, they came. Cyrene watched in silence as the three set to work, her eyes trailing the youngest, Danae. Though she'd never said more than a few words to the girl, she felt sadness for her situation. Stripped of her titles due to the actions of someone else. Yet, she managed to stand proud through it. For that, Cyrene commended her.
For a short while, she snuck quick glances at the Stravos from her seat next to Lady Sera, wondering what could be going on in the young girl's head. She couldn't begin to imagine what she'd gone through, and she didn't want to, really. Cyrene hoped she would never have to know the shame of being stripped of her title. And, strangely, she felt the urge to go over and speak to the girl.
But she stayed where she was. At least, until she finished stitching the flower she'd been working on, at which point she excused herself from her lady to go and find more colours of thread. After approaching Danae's spot and hunting down a woman holding a basket of supplies, she quickly sat down next to her and resumed her needlework as if she'd been there the whole time. She knew not what to expect from approaching the Stravos so boldly, yet she remained unwavering in her decision. It took her a few seconds to come up with the right words to say, but she managed to utter them without stumbling.
"Good morning, Lady Danae."
She could only hope she wouldn't reopen any fresh wounds with her intrepidity.
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She couldn't believe that four days had passed already. Time had seemed to drag on since the funeral, yet now that Cyrene was back in the Naos of Athena, it seemed only a moment ago that she had watched as her fallen king was set ablaze, that she had felt the fear rise in her that Athenia would change. Perhaps that was the reason why, she thought to herself, that time had seemed so short. She had yet to calm the storm her mind had created, and since glimpsing Persephone's stony demeanour during her father's funeral, she couldn't help but feel that this had all been planned. Barely a fortnight after the line of succession had been changed, King Minas passed. It was much too much of a coincidence for Cyrene's liking. As she had stewed over the events of the past few weeks, she wondered how she'd been so blind to everything beforehand. Such a short time ago, she was sure that Athenia was a kingdom of morals. Now, she wasn't so sure.
Yet here she sat, by her lady Sera and her other retainers, her thoughts far away from the gossip that filled the temple as she absently gazed the mindless work in front of her. Even with the shocking news of the attack on the palace, Cyrene could not bring herself to care for the gossip and instead decided to refrain from it under the guise of working dutifully at the himation. How could these women sit and prattle on about rumours, she wondered, while there were bigger issues to worry about? And how did it take her so long to realize there were issues in the first place? She could only chalk it up to her upbringing: it only made sense that she didn't understand the inner workings of politics, it wasn't a woman's place. Yet, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was naïve for not knowing them. That she was an idiot.
Before she could really beat herself down, she was interrupted from her tempestuous thoughts by the entrance of the Stravos women. If not for the hush that fell over the noblewomen, she likely wouldn't have looked up from her work, but she did, to find herself almost surprised. Considering the rumours spread about their family, she wouldn't have blamed them for not attending. Yet, they came. Cyrene watched in silence as the three set to work, her eyes trailing the youngest, Danae. Though she'd never said more than a few words to the girl, she felt sadness for her situation. Stripped of her titles due to the actions of someone else. Yet, she managed to stand proud through it. For that, Cyrene commended her.
For a short while, she snuck quick glances at the Stravos from her seat next to Lady Sera, wondering what could be going on in the young girl's head. She couldn't begin to imagine what she'd gone through, and she didn't want to, really. Cyrene hoped she would never have to know the shame of being stripped of her title. And, strangely, she felt the urge to go over and speak to the girl.
But she stayed where she was. At least, until she finished stitching the flower she'd been working on, at which point she excused herself from her lady to go and find more colours of thread. After approaching Danae's spot and hunting down a woman holding a basket of supplies, she quickly sat down next to her and resumed her needlework as if she'd been there the whole time. She knew not what to expect from approaching the Stravos so boldly, yet she remained unwavering in her decision. It took her a few seconds to come up with the right words to say, but she managed to utter them without stumbling.
"Good morning, Lady Danae."
She could only hope she wouldn't reopen any fresh wounds with her intrepidity.
She couldn't believe that four days had passed already. Time had seemed to drag on since the funeral, yet now that Cyrene was back in the Naos of Athena, it seemed only a moment ago that she had watched as her fallen king was set ablaze, that she had felt the fear rise in her that Athenia would change. Perhaps that was the reason why, she thought to herself, that time had seemed so short. She had yet to calm the storm her mind had created, and since glimpsing Persephone's stony demeanour during her father's funeral, she couldn't help but feel that this had all been planned. Barely a fortnight after the line of succession had been changed, King Minas passed. It was much too much of a coincidence for Cyrene's liking. As she had stewed over the events of the past few weeks, she wondered how she'd been so blind to everything beforehand. Such a short time ago, she was sure that Athenia was a kingdom of morals. Now, she wasn't so sure.
Yet here she sat, by her lady Sera and her other retainers, her thoughts far away from the gossip that filled the temple as she absently gazed the mindless work in front of her. Even with the shocking news of the attack on the palace, Cyrene could not bring herself to care for the gossip and instead decided to refrain from it under the guise of working dutifully at the himation. How could these women sit and prattle on about rumours, she wondered, while there were bigger issues to worry about? And how did it take her so long to realize there were issues in the first place? She could only chalk it up to her upbringing: it only made sense that she didn't understand the inner workings of politics, it wasn't a woman's place. Yet, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was naïve for not knowing them. That she was an idiot.
Before she could really beat herself down, she was interrupted from her tempestuous thoughts by the entrance of the Stravos women. If not for the hush that fell over the noblewomen, she likely wouldn't have looked up from her work, but she did, to find herself almost surprised. Considering the rumours spread about their family, she wouldn't have blamed them for not attending. Yet, they came. Cyrene watched in silence as the three set to work, her eyes trailing the youngest, Danae. Though she'd never said more than a few words to the girl, she felt sadness for her situation. Stripped of her titles due to the actions of someone else. Yet, she managed to stand proud through it. For that, Cyrene commended her.
For a short while, she snuck quick glances at the Stravos from her seat next to Lady Sera, wondering what could be going on in the young girl's head. She couldn't begin to imagine what she'd gone through, and she didn't want to, really. Cyrene hoped she would never have to know the shame of being stripped of her title. And, strangely, she felt the urge to go over and speak to the girl.
But she stayed where she was. At least, until she finished stitching the flower she'd been working on, at which point she excused herself from her lady to go and find more colours of thread. After approaching Danae's spot and hunting down a woman holding a basket of supplies, she quickly sat down next to her and resumed her needlework as if she'd been there the whole time. She knew not what to expect from approaching the Stravos so boldly, yet she remained unwavering in her decision. It took her a few seconds to come up with the right words to say, but she managed to utter them without stumbling.
"Good morning, Lady Danae."
She could only hope she wouldn't reopen any fresh wounds with her intrepidity.
Tuning out the world around her, Danae took up the red thread she had been offered and attempted to stitch a small flower into the fabric. It took her a few moments as her general ineptitude with embroidery and her shaking hands --brought on by the anxiety of being here-- worked against her. However, bit by bit a small flower began to emerge in the fabric beneath Danae. She smiled at her success as she regarded the small bright red bloom, taking a bit of pride in the mere fact that it was recognizable as a bit of flora. Normally, when she tried to do this sort of thing, the results were more akin to just a mess of thread within the fabric than anything that could be identified. So, this tiny flower was a bit of a victory for Danae.
Her heart swelled a bit more than it should have given the circumstances, a clear indicator of how desperately Danae needed something to be proud of like this in recent days. Eyeing the golden thread nearby, Danae decided at that moment that she wanted to mark this small success in her own subtle way. Confident that no one was looking, she tied off the red fabric and took the golden string instead and set about stitching in a small anchor in the center of the petals. Carefully, as she didn’t want to mar it at the last moment, she leaned over the fabric and added her house sigil to the dress that would put onto the patron goddess of the kingdom. She couldn’t help, but think of how fitting this was for the struggles her family had been through recently. Like this flower, they had been reduced to something almost unnoticeable within the grander scheme of things and yet they were still there, present in the fabric that was Athenia.
They could be reduced and outshone by others, but they were still there. They were leaving their mark on what was happening, regardless of what others would have wanted and now that the anchor was partially stitched into the fabric, ripping it out would destroy part of the dress. That wasn’t too unlike what Persephone had done at the Senate meeting, irreparably damaging the political scene of Athenia and her own reputation. It was all symbolic for the girl.
As Danae was working on navigating the small curve of the anchor, she felt a new presence approach her and settle next to her. Startled, as she had somehow convinced herself that she would be left alone throughout the course of the event, Danae accidentally poked the needle through the fabric too quickly. The sharp tool jabbed her thumb causing Danae to give a small yelp in surprise as she pulled her hands back so that no blood would drip onto the fabric. Quickly, she wrapped her thumb instead in the red of her dress as she glanced over at the intruder. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of the young Cyrene of Nikolaos seated next to her.
It was a rather surprising sight to say the least, given the other girl's connections to other houses. Danae knew that Cyrene served as a lady-in-waiting for Sera of Marikias, a family who had yet to comment either way on the new status of their blood relatives. However, the loss of their nobility undoubtedly helped the ancient house as their removal only strengthened their own claims for the throne of Athenia. She wouldn’t have been surprised if they had celebrated the news if this were the case. In addition to this, the blonde next to her was a member of Varonos Nikolaos, a barony of the Xanthos family. For her family’s sake, Cyrene’s loyalty to the actions of their leige house had to remain unquestioned.
So, then why was their middle daughter now seated next to Danae of all people.
The Stravos girl couldn’t comprehend it and just stared at her new companion, who to Cyrene’s credit, didn’t seem all that bothered by Danae’s startled expression. Instead, she focused on another part of the embroidery as if she wasn’t making a political statement at that moment. It didn’t make sense, but the now selective mute couldn’t question her on it… no matter how much she wanted to.
When Cyrene addressed Danae, she could feel her own eyes misting at her words. She called me Lady, the young girl silently thought to herself, both knowing full well that thanks to what happened at the Senate, she was no longer entitled to such formalities. Not when for all intents and purposes she was now legally seen as Danae of Athenia, not Danae of Stravos. If Cyrene’s intentions were questionable a moment ago, there was no mistaking them now and it filled the disgraced girl with hope. After all, here was the daughter of the Xanthos Baron disregarding the decision by the royal family, treating Danae as if nothing had changed.
Danae didn’t know how much she needed that. Not until she was now confronted with how for the first time in nearly three weeks someone wasn’t treating her as if she was some wounded animal from what happened. Through her small actions, Cyrene was acting as if everything was normal.
Danae didn’t know how badly she needed that until now.
A small part of her wanted to let her tears of gratitude fall from her eyes as she wrapped her arms around the girl. However, Danae’s pride kept her in place, not daring to move an inch in case this was all some sort of dream that would be ruined in an instant. This was real though. Against everything Danae had told herself in the past three weeks, this was happening.
Knowing that she needed to recognize this somehow in order to keep the facade of everything being normal, Danae somehow managed to push back against her own shame and fear to croak out, “And to you, Lady Cyrene.” Her voice was gravelly and far more quiet than it should be, clearly showing that this was the first time she had used it in such a long time. Hearing how awful her own voice sounded shattered the happiness that Cyrene had brought to her.
She had sounded broken. It sounded defeated. It was not a voice, it was the noise of failure.
And it hurt for Danae to hear it.
Suddenly ashamed everything, Danae could feel tears welling in her eyes, but this time she couldn’t hide them. Turning away, a single tear fell from her eye and a small sniffle could be heard. However, Danae quickly brushed her sleeve against her face in order to hide it. Wiping against it, Danae had a moment to herself, trying to push back against the horrible, self-deprecating thoughts that had plagued her mind. However, it was so hard to do, especially when they were the only things she had known for the time being.
It was going to take quite a bit of reassurance in order to get Danae out of this state if it was even possible at this point. It seemed utterly hopeless to the girl, but little did she know that Cyrene hadn’t approached her for the purpose of making a political statement. No, instead she was here to show Danae that was she wasn’t alone. That she wasn’t defined by the actions of other players in this big chess game she was only a part of. Instead, she was a person who didn’t deserve to be caught in this mess.
Luckily for her, it wasn’t likely that Cyrene was going to walk away until Danae understood it to be true, no matter how long it takes.
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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Tuning out the world around her, Danae took up the red thread she had been offered and attempted to stitch a small flower into the fabric. It took her a few moments as her general ineptitude with embroidery and her shaking hands --brought on by the anxiety of being here-- worked against her. However, bit by bit a small flower began to emerge in the fabric beneath Danae. She smiled at her success as she regarded the small bright red bloom, taking a bit of pride in the mere fact that it was recognizable as a bit of flora. Normally, when she tried to do this sort of thing, the results were more akin to just a mess of thread within the fabric than anything that could be identified. So, this tiny flower was a bit of a victory for Danae.
Her heart swelled a bit more than it should have given the circumstances, a clear indicator of how desperately Danae needed something to be proud of like this in recent days. Eyeing the golden thread nearby, Danae decided at that moment that she wanted to mark this small success in her own subtle way. Confident that no one was looking, she tied off the red fabric and took the golden string instead and set about stitching in a small anchor in the center of the petals. Carefully, as she didn’t want to mar it at the last moment, she leaned over the fabric and added her house sigil to the dress that would put onto the patron goddess of the kingdom. She couldn’t help, but think of how fitting this was for the struggles her family had been through recently. Like this flower, they had been reduced to something almost unnoticeable within the grander scheme of things and yet they were still there, present in the fabric that was Athenia.
They could be reduced and outshone by others, but they were still there. They were leaving their mark on what was happening, regardless of what others would have wanted and now that the anchor was partially stitched into the fabric, ripping it out would destroy part of the dress. That wasn’t too unlike what Persephone had done at the Senate meeting, irreparably damaging the political scene of Athenia and her own reputation. It was all symbolic for the girl.
As Danae was working on navigating the small curve of the anchor, she felt a new presence approach her and settle next to her. Startled, as she had somehow convinced herself that she would be left alone throughout the course of the event, Danae accidentally poked the needle through the fabric too quickly. The sharp tool jabbed her thumb causing Danae to give a small yelp in surprise as she pulled her hands back so that no blood would drip onto the fabric. Quickly, she wrapped her thumb instead in the red of her dress as she glanced over at the intruder. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of the young Cyrene of Nikolaos seated next to her.
It was a rather surprising sight to say the least, given the other girl's connections to other houses. Danae knew that Cyrene served as a lady-in-waiting for Sera of Marikias, a family who had yet to comment either way on the new status of their blood relatives. However, the loss of their nobility undoubtedly helped the ancient house as their removal only strengthened their own claims for the throne of Athenia. She wouldn’t have been surprised if they had celebrated the news if this were the case. In addition to this, the blonde next to her was a member of Varonos Nikolaos, a barony of the Xanthos family. For her family’s sake, Cyrene’s loyalty to the actions of their leige house had to remain unquestioned.
So, then why was their middle daughter now seated next to Danae of all people.
The Stravos girl couldn’t comprehend it and just stared at her new companion, who to Cyrene’s credit, didn’t seem all that bothered by Danae’s startled expression. Instead, she focused on another part of the embroidery as if she wasn’t making a political statement at that moment. It didn’t make sense, but the now selective mute couldn’t question her on it… no matter how much she wanted to.
When Cyrene addressed Danae, she could feel her own eyes misting at her words. She called me Lady, the young girl silently thought to herself, both knowing full well that thanks to what happened at the Senate, she was no longer entitled to such formalities. Not when for all intents and purposes she was now legally seen as Danae of Athenia, not Danae of Stravos. If Cyrene’s intentions were questionable a moment ago, there was no mistaking them now and it filled the disgraced girl with hope. After all, here was the daughter of the Xanthos Baron disregarding the decision by the royal family, treating Danae as if nothing had changed.
Danae didn’t know how much she needed that. Not until she was now confronted with how for the first time in nearly three weeks someone wasn’t treating her as if she was some wounded animal from what happened. Through her small actions, Cyrene was acting as if everything was normal.
Danae didn’t know how badly she needed that until now.
A small part of her wanted to let her tears of gratitude fall from her eyes as she wrapped her arms around the girl. However, Danae’s pride kept her in place, not daring to move an inch in case this was all some sort of dream that would be ruined in an instant. This was real though. Against everything Danae had told herself in the past three weeks, this was happening.
Knowing that she needed to recognize this somehow in order to keep the facade of everything being normal, Danae somehow managed to push back against her own shame and fear to croak out, “And to you, Lady Cyrene.” Her voice was gravelly and far more quiet than it should be, clearly showing that this was the first time she had used it in such a long time. Hearing how awful her own voice sounded shattered the happiness that Cyrene had brought to her.
She had sounded broken. It sounded defeated. It was not a voice, it was the noise of failure.
And it hurt for Danae to hear it.
Suddenly ashamed everything, Danae could feel tears welling in her eyes, but this time she couldn’t hide them. Turning away, a single tear fell from her eye and a small sniffle could be heard. However, Danae quickly brushed her sleeve against her face in order to hide it. Wiping against it, Danae had a moment to herself, trying to push back against the horrible, self-deprecating thoughts that had plagued her mind. However, it was so hard to do, especially when they were the only things she had known for the time being.
It was going to take quite a bit of reassurance in order to get Danae out of this state if it was even possible at this point. It seemed utterly hopeless to the girl, but little did she know that Cyrene hadn’t approached her for the purpose of making a political statement. No, instead she was here to show Danae that was she wasn’t alone. That she wasn’t defined by the actions of other players in this big chess game she was only a part of. Instead, she was a person who didn’t deserve to be caught in this mess.
Luckily for her, it wasn’t likely that Cyrene was going to walk away until Danae understood it to be true, no matter how long it takes.
Tuning out the world around her, Danae took up the red thread she had been offered and attempted to stitch a small flower into the fabric. It took her a few moments as her general ineptitude with embroidery and her shaking hands --brought on by the anxiety of being here-- worked against her. However, bit by bit a small flower began to emerge in the fabric beneath Danae. She smiled at her success as she regarded the small bright red bloom, taking a bit of pride in the mere fact that it was recognizable as a bit of flora. Normally, when she tried to do this sort of thing, the results were more akin to just a mess of thread within the fabric than anything that could be identified. So, this tiny flower was a bit of a victory for Danae.
Her heart swelled a bit more than it should have given the circumstances, a clear indicator of how desperately Danae needed something to be proud of like this in recent days. Eyeing the golden thread nearby, Danae decided at that moment that she wanted to mark this small success in her own subtle way. Confident that no one was looking, she tied off the red fabric and took the golden string instead and set about stitching in a small anchor in the center of the petals. Carefully, as she didn’t want to mar it at the last moment, she leaned over the fabric and added her house sigil to the dress that would put onto the patron goddess of the kingdom. She couldn’t help, but think of how fitting this was for the struggles her family had been through recently. Like this flower, they had been reduced to something almost unnoticeable within the grander scheme of things and yet they were still there, present in the fabric that was Athenia.
They could be reduced and outshone by others, but they were still there. They were leaving their mark on what was happening, regardless of what others would have wanted and now that the anchor was partially stitched into the fabric, ripping it out would destroy part of the dress. That wasn’t too unlike what Persephone had done at the Senate meeting, irreparably damaging the political scene of Athenia and her own reputation. It was all symbolic for the girl.
As Danae was working on navigating the small curve of the anchor, she felt a new presence approach her and settle next to her. Startled, as she had somehow convinced herself that she would be left alone throughout the course of the event, Danae accidentally poked the needle through the fabric too quickly. The sharp tool jabbed her thumb causing Danae to give a small yelp in surprise as she pulled her hands back so that no blood would drip onto the fabric. Quickly, she wrapped her thumb instead in the red of her dress as she glanced over at the intruder. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of the young Cyrene of Nikolaos seated next to her.
It was a rather surprising sight to say the least, given the other girl's connections to other houses. Danae knew that Cyrene served as a lady-in-waiting for Sera of Marikias, a family who had yet to comment either way on the new status of their blood relatives. However, the loss of their nobility undoubtedly helped the ancient house as their removal only strengthened their own claims for the throne of Athenia. She wouldn’t have been surprised if they had celebrated the news if this were the case. In addition to this, the blonde next to her was a member of Varonos Nikolaos, a barony of the Xanthos family. For her family’s sake, Cyrene’s loyalty to the actions of their leige house had to remain unquestioned.
So, then why was their middle daughter now seated next to Danae of all people.
The Stravos girl couldn’t comprehend it and just stared at her new companion, who to Cyrene’s credit, didn’t seem all that bothered by Danae’s startled expression. Instead, she focused on another part of the embroidery as if she wasn’t making a political statement at that moment. It didn’t make sense, but the now selective mute couldn’t question her on it… no matter how much she wanted to.
When Cyrene addressed Danae, she could feel her own eyes misting at her words. She called me Lady, the young girl silently thought to herself, both knowing full well that thanks to what happened at the Senate, she was no longer entitled to such formalities. Not when for all intents and purposes she was now legally seen as Danae of Athenia, not Danae of Stravos. If Cyrene’s intentions were questionable a moment ago, there was no mistaking them now and it filled the disgraced girl with hope. After all, here was the daughter of the Xanthos Baron disregarding the decision by the royal family, treating Danae as if nothing had changed.
Danae didn’t know how much she needed that. Not until she was now confronted with how for the first time in nearly three weeks someone wasn’t treating her as if she was some wounded animal from what happened. Through her small actions, Cyrene was acting as if everything was normal.
Danae didn’t know how badly she needed that until now.
A small part of her wanted to let her tears of gratitude fall from her eyes as she wrapped her arms around the girl. However, Danae’s pride kept her in place, not daring to move an inch in case this was all some sort of dream that would be ruined in an instant. This was real though. Against everything Danae had told herself in the past three weeks, this was happening.
Knowing that she needed to recognize this somehow in order to keep the facade of everything being normal, Danae somehow managed to push back against her own shame and fear to croak out, “And to you, Lady Cyrene.” Her voice was gravelly and far more quiet than it should be, clearly showing that this was the first time she had used it in such a long time. Hearing how awful her own voice sounded shattered the happiness that Cyrene had brought to her.
She had sounded broken. It sounded defeated. It was not a voice, it was the noise of failure.
And it hurt for Danae to hear it.
Suddenly ashamed everything, Danae could feel tears welling in her eyes, but this time she couldn’t hide them. Turning away, a single tear fell from her eye and a small sniffle could be heard. However, Danae quickly brushed her sleeve against her face in order to hide it. Wiping against it, Danae had a moment to herself, trying to push back against the horrible, self-deprecating thoughts that had plagued her mind. However, it was so hard to do, especially when they were the only things she had known for the time being.
It was going to take quite a bit of reassurance in order to get Danae out of this state if it was even possible at this point. It seemed utterly hopeless to the girl, but little did she know that Cyrene hadn’t approached her for the purpose of making a political statement. No, instead she was here to show Danae that was she wasn’t alone. That she wasn’t defined by the actions of other players in this big chess game she was only a part of. Instead, she was a person who didn’t deserve to be caught in this mess.
Luckily for her, it wasn’t likely that Cyrene was going to walk away until Danae understood it to be true, no matter how long it takes.
It was difficult for Cyrene to brush off the shock that painted Danae of Stravos's face when she approached, flinching when she saw the girl accidentally prick herself with her needle. But, she was quite sure that the brunette would rather not be coddled. Cyrene knew well enough what it meant to be patronized, but she was quite sure she would never be bold enough to speak up for herself. But, she wouldn't subject anyone else to that specific brand of irritation. So, she pretended as if she didn't see the girl's slip-up. This would be a difficult conversation to navigate, but Cyrene had placed exactly why she felt such a strong urge to talk to Danae: she couldn't bear to see a girl destined for success shamed into submission. Perhaps this was Cyrene's way of fighting back against the childhood that molded her into passivity.
Cyrene's eyes widened when the girl croaked out a response. She wasn't sure what she was expecting to come from the Stravos's mouth, but her voice was so hoarse, as if she'd spent too much time screaming or crying. Or, perhaps the rumors were true: maybe she hadn't spoken for the past three weeks. It would explain why her throat sounded so sore. It was out of use. She couldn't be sure, but what was certain was that Danae was in pain. Cyrene wouldn't question her on it.
And it didn't seem she needed to, either, as tears quickly formed in the younger girl's eyes and Cyrene found herself in an even more precarious position. It seemed that Danae of Stravos was dealing with She had never found herself in such a situation, and of course there was no clear cut way for her to navigate it. Could she navigate it? It seemed that there was no other choice than to try. Cyrene stopped her stitching and turned a bit to face Danae.
In a quiet voice, she answered the girl by saying,"It's...alright." Cyrene carefully placed her hand on the girl's arm, trying to offer some sort of reassurance, though she wasn't sure what she could really do to help the girl. The Nikolaos moved closer, doing her best to avoid making a scene, speaking in hushed tones as to keep their conversation quiet. "Or, at least...it will be alright, with time. Forgive my impudence, as I can't know what you're going through, but...you've made it this far. You are still Lady Danae of Stravos. Please believe me, nobody-and I mean nobody-can take that away from you, unless you let them." Cyrene knew not where her words came from, only that she hated to see such a young girl caught in the crossfire of a power-grab. "Don't let them. You have nothing to be ashamed of."
With that, she let go of the girl and put space back in between them, picking up her needle and resuming her stitching. Did I really just say that?, Cyrene thought. What was I thinking? What if my words only anger her? There could be no telling: All Cyrene could do was carry on and pretend as if nothing out of the ordinary happened. She could only hope that Lady Danae would do the same.
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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It was difficult for Cyrene to brush off the shock that painted Danae of Stravos's face when she approached, flinching when she saw the girl accidentally prick herself with her needle. But, she was quite sure that the brunette would rather not be coddled. Cyrene knew well enough what it meant to be patronized, but she was quite sure she would never be bold enough to speak up for herself. But, she wouldn't subject anyone else to that specific brand of irritation. So, she pretended as if she didn't see the girl's slip-up. This would be a difficult conversation to navigate, but Cyrene had placed exactly why she felt such a strong urge to talk to Danae: she couldn't bear to see a girl destined for success shamed into submission. Perhaps this was Cyrene's way of fighting back against the childhood that molded her into passivity.
Cyrene's eyes widened when the girl croaked out a response. She wasn't sure what she was expecting to come from the Stravos's mouth, but her voice was so hoarse, as if she'd spent too much time screaming or crying. Or, perhaps the rumors were true: maybe she hadn't spoken for the past three weeks. It would explain why her throat sounded so sore. It was out of use. She couldn't be sure, but what was certain was that Danae was in pain. Cyrene wouldn't question her on it.
And it didn't seem she needed to, either, as tears quickly formed in the younger girl's eyes and Cyrene found herself in an even more precarious position. It seemed that Danae of Stravos was dealing with She had never found herself in such a situation, and of course there was no clear cut way for her to navigate it. Could she navigate it? It seemed that there was no other choice than to try. Cyrene stopped her stitching and turned a bit to face Danae.
In a quiet voice, she answered the girl by saying,"It's...alright." Cyrene carefully placed her hand on the girl's arm, trying to offer some sort of reassurance, though she wasn't sure what she could really do to help the girl. The Nikolaos moved closer, doing her best to avoid making a scene, speaking in hushed tones as to keep their conversation quiet. "Or, at least...it will be alright, with time. Forgive my impudence, as I can't know what you're going through, but...you've made it this far. You are still Lady Danae of Stravos. Please believe me, nobody-and I mean nobody-can take that away from you, unless you let them." Cyrene knew not where her words came from, only that she hated to see such a young girl caught in the crossfire of a power-grab. "Don't let them. You have nothing to be ashamed of."
With that, she let go of the girl and put space back in between them, picking up her needle and resuming her stitching. Did I really just say that?, Cyrene thought. What was I thinking? What if my words only anger her? There could be no telling: All Cyrene could do was carry on and pretend as if nothing out of the ordinary happened. She could only hope that Lady Danae would do the same.
It was difficult for Cyrene to brush off the shock that painted Danae of Stravos's face when she approached, flinching when she saw the girl accidentally prick herself with her needle. But, she was quite sure that the brunette would rather not be coddled. Cyrene knew well enough what it meant to be patronized, but she was quite sure she would never be bold enough to speak up for herself. But, she wouldn't subject anyone else to that specific brand of irritation. So, she pretended as if she didn't see the girl's slip-up. This would be a difficult conversation to navigate, but Cyrene had placed exactly why she felt such a strong urge to talk to Danae: she couldn't bear to see a girl destined for success shamed into submission. Perhaps this was Cyrene's way of fighting back against the childhood that molded her into passivity.
Cyrene's eyes widened when the girl croaked out a response. She wasn't sure what she was expecting to come from the Stravos's mouth, but her voice was so hoarse, as if she'd spent too much time screaming or crying. Or, perhaps the rumors were true: maybe she hadn't spoken for the past three weeks. It would explain why her throat sounded so sore. It was out of use. She couldn't be sure, but what was certain was that Danae was in pain. Cyrene wouldn't question her on it.
And it didn't seem she needed to, either, as tears quickly formed in the younger girl's eyes and Cyrene found herself in an even more precarious position. It seemed that Danae of Stravos was dealing with She had never found herself in such a situation, and of course there was no clear cut way for her to navigate it. Could she navigate it? It seemed that there was no other choice than to try. Cyrene stopped her stitching and turned a bit to face Danae.
In a quiet voice, she answered the girl by saying,"It's...alright." Cyrene carefully placed her hand on the girl's arm, trying to offer some sort of reassurance, though she wasn't sure what she could really do to help the girl. The Nikolaos moved closer, doing her best to avoid making a scene, speaking in hushed tones as to keep their conversation quiet. "Or, at least...it will be alright, with time. Forgive my impudence, as I can't know what you're going through, but...you've made it this far. You are still Lady Danae of Stravos. Please believe me, nobody-and I mean nobody-can take that away from you, unless you let them." Cyrene knew not where her words came from, only that she hated to see such a young girl caught in the crossfire of a power-grab. "Don't let them. You have nothing to be ashamed of."
With that, she let go of the girl and put space back in between them, picking up her needle and resuming her stitching. Did I really just say that?, Cyrene thought. What was I thinking? What if my words only anger her? There could be no telling: All Cyrene could do was carry on and pretend as if nothing out of the ordinary happened. She could only hope that Lady Danae would do the same.
If one gazed upon the eldest Stravos, one would never think any shame had been brought to their family. She held her head high, as she always did, as if the recent events had never taken place to begin with. That was exactly the front Chara wanted to put on, though, as she walked towards the temple.
Unlike her sister, who had barely been seen, Chara had tried her best not to hide away. Hiding only meant that one had something to hide, and nothing fruitful would ever come from Chara appearing to be anything less than what she had always been.
She was a courtier of the house of Stravos ― proud to bear the name of her parents. Still, her sister's hesitance hadn't been lost on her, and before they had exited the carriage, she had offered the younger girl's hand a light squeeze.
A sign of comfort, it nothing else. But as soon has the gesture had been offered, it was gone, and Chara had put on her mask of defiance and pride once more.
As the space before them was revealed, Chara's eyes studied everything. From who was there, to which place she could seat herself that would offer her a good viewing point. She wanted to see everything, hear everything. The glances their way weren't easily concealed, either, though Chara met them with a raised chin and a narrowed pair of eyes of her own.
If they had something to say, they could say it to their faces.
Once again, Chara's eyes swept over the crowd, finally landing upon a familiar face. Offering her mother a nod, Chara stepped forward and entered the crowd of women and ladies.
"Agathe." Chara greeted her cousin. She didn't wait for an invitation before she took a seat next to the younger woman. Straightening her back, she lifted her fingers to touch the fabric before her. Though Chara wouldn't admit to it, there was some comfort to be found in having her cousin around. Where her sister would easily shy away from conflict, she'd always seen Agathe as someone who faced things head on. Just as Chara often did.
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If one gazed upon the eldest Stravos, one would never think any shame had been brought to their family. She held her head high, as she always did, as if the recent events had never taken place to begin with. That was exactly the front Chara wanted to put on, though, as she walked towards the temple.
Unlike her sister, who had barely been seen, Chara had tried her best not to hide away. Hiding only meant that one had something to hide, and nothing fruitful would ever come from Chara appearing to be anything less than what she had always been.
She was a courtier of the house of Stravos ― proud to bear the name of her parents. Still, her sister's hesitance hadn't been lost on her, and before they had exited the carriage, she had offered the younger girl's hand a light squeeze.
A sign of comfort, it nothing else. But as soon has the gesture had been offered, it was gone, and Chara had put on her mask of defiance and pride once more.
As the space before them was revealed, Chara's eyes studied everything. From who was there, to which place she could seat herself that would offer her a good viewing point. She wanted to see everything, hear everything. The glances their way weren't easily concealed, either, though Chara met them with a raised chin and a narrowed pair of eyes of her own.
If they had something to say, they could say it to their faces.
Once again, Chara's eyes swept over the crowd, finally landing upon a familiar face. Offering her mother a nod, Chara stepped forward and entered the crowd of women and ladies.
"Agathe." Chara greeted her cousin. She didn't wait for an invitation before she took a seat next to the younger woman. Straightening her back, she lifted her fingers to touch the fabric before her. Though Chara wouldn't admit to it, there was some comfort to be found in having her cousin around. Where her sister would easily shy away from conflict, she'd always seen Agathe as someone who faced things head on. Just as Chara often did.
If one gazed upon the eldest Stravos, one would never think any shame had been brought to their family. She held her head high, as she always did, as if the recent events had never taken place to begin with. That was exactly the front Chara wanted to put on, though, as she walked towards the temple.
Unlike her sister, who had barely been seen, Chara had tried her best not to hide away. Hiding only meant that one had something to hide, and nothing fruitful would ever come from Chara appearing to be anything less than what she had always been.
She was a courtier of the house of Stravos ― proud to bear the name of her parents. Still, her sister's hesitance hadn't been lost on her, and before they had exited the carriage, she had offered the younger girl's hand a light squeeze.
A sign of comfort, it nothing else. But as soon has the gesture had been offered, it was gone, and Chara had put on her mask of defiance and pride once more.
As the space before them was revealed, Chara's eyes studied everything. From who was there, to which place she could seat herself that would offer her a good viewing point. She wanted to see everything, hear everything. The glances their way weren't easily concealed, either, though Chara met them with a raised chin and a narrowed pair of eyes of her own.
If they had something to say, they could say it to their faces.
Once again, Chara's eyes swept over the crowd, finally landing upon a familiar face. Offering her mother a nod, Chara stepped forward and entered the crowd of women and ladies.
"Agathe." Chara greeted her cousin. She didn't wait for an invitation before she took a seat next to the younger woman. Straightening her back, she lifted her fingers to touch the fabric before her. Though Chara wouldn't admit to it, there was some comfort to be found in having her cousin around. Where her sister would easily shy away from conflict, she'd always seen Agathe as someone who faced things head on. Just as Chara often did.
It was not the kind of event that Vasia would have relished attending. Though the act of sewing could be useful as mindless distraction, it was something she tended to do alone, when she wanted to just shut off the rest of her mind for a while. So, the concept of sitting around with half the noblewomen of Athenia and listening to them prattle about nonsense would not usually have featured high on her list of must dos.
But this was different. In the wake of the King’s death, the raid on the palace, Vasia had deemed it important that the women did what they could to establish some normality again. And in the limited options available to them, this gathering for theïkós éndysis was possibly the best possible solution.
Bring people together, turn their eyes away from the troubles that had beset the palati. Diversion.
Vasia had not been able to dissuade the retinue of guards that had accompanied her and her lady’s maid in making the journey to the temple, despite her best efforts and fiercest glares. The Lord Stelios had commanded it they said, and for some unfathomable, infuriating reason, the meat heads seemed to hold more fear of her dolt of a brother than they did of her. That was something she would have to change, she thought, as she rose to her feet and accepted the footman’s hand to assist her down from the carriage.
“Thank you” Vasia said sweetly, pausing to wait for her girl to step down after her. Sophia was laden with swathes of fabric, and the noblewoman did not hesitate in reaching over to take half of it from the servant, it was too hot and heavy to stand upon ceremony in such things.
She led the way through the people who had gathered outside of the temple, a serene smile upon her face as she paused to set down the fabric bundle before the commonfolk who were sorting it. “The Goddess will smile upon your diligence” The words were left with the women even as Vasia rose and glanced toward Sophia who set down a similar pile. And as the two women made their way inside, the golden-haired daughter of Lacides bent her head toward her servant. “ We will see now which ladies have been too eager for gossip and have gotten here already” she said with a roll of her eyes, and then straightened as they reached the area where the Ladies and courtiers of Athenia were sitting, weaving and threading wishes into a raiment for a goddess.
Vasia let her gaze sweep slowly over those gathered, marking who was present and who was not, and eyes as blue as nemesia flowers stilled upon the Stavros women. There was no great love between their houses, it was true, but the Lady Antonis found something to admire in their courage in presenting themselves here this day, and not hiding away despite the whispers that would be passed about them in every corner of the room. “Come, Sophia” she said, and picker her way carefully through to stand beside Chara who she greeted with a thoughtful smile.
“May I join you, Lady Chara?” Vasia did not wait for an answer before she gathered the length of her violet gown in her fingers, and settled herself upon the klismos. Without further ado, she reached for the fabric that had been laid out for their use, and accepting the fine needle and thread proffered by her girl, started to work a delicate floral motif into the heavy swathe that she laid across her knee.
Her voice was matter of fact as she spoke. “ I daresay Aphrodite will have enough gowns for a seasons wear by the time we are done”
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It was not the kind of event that Vasia would have relished attending. Though the act of sewing could be useful as mindless distraction, it was something she tended to do alone, when she wanted to just shut off the rest of her mind for a while. So, the concept of sitting around with half the noblewomen of Athenia and listening to them prattle about nonsense would not usually have featured high on her list of must dos.
But this was different. In the wake of the King’s death, the raid on the palace, Vasia had deemed it important that the women did what they could to establish some normality again. And in the limited options available to them, this gathering for theïkós éndysis was possibly the best possible solution.
Bring people together, turn their eyes away from the troubles that had beset the palati. Diversion.
Vasia had not been able to dissuade the retinue of guards that had accompanied her and her lady’s maid in making the journey to the temple, despite her best efforts and fiercest glares. The Lord Stelios had commanded it they said, and for some unfathomable, infuriating reason, the meat heads seemed to hold more fear of her dolt of a brother than they did of her. That was something she would have to change, she thought, as she rose to her feet and accepted the footman’s hand to assist her down from the carriage.
“Thank you” Vasia said sweetly, pausing to wait for her girl to step down after her. Sophia was laden with swathes of fabric, and the noblewoman did not hesitate in reaching over to take half of it from the servant, it was too hot and heavy to stand upon ceremony in such things.
She led the way through the people who had gathered outside of the temple, a serene smile upon her face as she paused to set down the fabric bundle before the commonfolk who were sorting it. “The Goddess will smile upon your diligence” The words were left with the women even as Vasia rose and glanced toward Sophia who set down a similar pile. And as the two women made their way inside, the golden-haired daughter of Lacides bent her head toward her servant. “ We will see now which ladies have been too eager for gossip and have gotten here already” she said with a roll of her eyes, and then straightened as they reached the area where the Ladies and courtiers of Athenia were sitting, weaving and threading wishes into a raiment for a goddess.
Vasia let her gaze sweep slowly over those gathered, marking who was present and who was not, and eyes as blue as nemesia flowers stilled upon the Stavros women. There was no great love between their houses, it was true, but the Lady Antonis found something to admire in their courage in presenting themselves here this day, and not hiding away despite the whispers that would be passed about them in every corner of the room. “Come, Sophia” she said, and picker her way carefully through to stand beside Chara who she greeted with a thoughtful smile.
“May I join you, Lady Chara?” Vasia did not wait for an answer before she gathered the length of her violet gown in her fingers, and settled herself upon the klismos. Without further ado, she reached for the fabric that had been laid out for their use, and accepting the fine needle and thread proffered by her girl, started to work a delicate floral motif into the heavy swathe that she laid across her knee.
Her voice was matter of fact as she spoke. “ I daresay Aphrodite will have enough gowns for a seasons wear by the time we are done”
It was not the kind of event that Vasia would have relished attending. Though the act of sewing could be useful as mindless distraction, it was something she tended to do alone, when she wanted to just shut off the rest of her mind for a while. So, the concept of sitting around with half the noblewomen of Athenia and listening to them prattle about nonsense would not usually have featured high on her list of must dos.
But this was different. In the wake of the King’s death, the raid on the palace, Vasia had deemed it important that the women did what they could to establish some normality again. And in the limited options available to them, this gathering for theïkós éndysis was possibly the best possible solution.
Bring people together, turn their eyes away from the troubles that had beset the palati. Diversion.
Vasia had not been able to dissuade the retinue of guards that had accompanied her and her lady’s maid in making the journey to the temple, despite her best efforts and fiercest glares. The Lord Stelios had commanded it they said, and for some unfathomable, infuriating reason, the meat heads seemed to hold more fear of her dolt of a brother than they did of her. That was something she would have to change, she thought, as she rose to her feet and accepted the footman’s hand to assist her down from the carriage.
“Thank you” Vasia said sweetly, pausing to wait for her girl to step down after her. Sophia was laden with swathes of fabric, and the noblewoman did not hesitate in reaching over to take half of it from the servant, it was too hot and heavy to stand upon ceremony in such things.
She led the way through the people who had gathered outside of the temple, a serene smile upon her face as she paused to set down the fabric bundle before the commonfolk who were sorting it. “The Goddess will smile upon your diligence” The words were left with the women even as Vasia rose and glanced toward Sophia who set down a similar pile. And as the two women made their way inside, the golden-haired daughter of Lacides bent her head toward her servant. “ We will see now which ladies have been too eager for gossip and have gotten here already” she said with a roll of her eyes, and then straightened as they reached the area where the Ladies and courtiers of Athenia were sitting, weaving and threading wishes into a raiment for a goddess.
Vasia let her gaze sweep slowly over those gathered, marking who was present and who was not, and eyes as blue as nemesia flowers stilled upon the Stavros women. There was no great love between their houses, it was true, but the Lady Antonis found something to admire in their courage in presenting themselves here this day, and not hiding away despite the whispers that would be passed about them in every corner of the room. “Come, Sophia” she said, and picker her way carefully through to stand beside Chara who she greeted with a thoughtful smile.
“May I join you, Lady Chara?” Vasia did not wait for an answer before she gathered the length of her violet gown in her fingers, and settled herself upon the klismos. Without further ado, she reached for the fabric that had been laid out for their use, and accepting the fine needle and thread proffered by her girl, started to work a delicate floral motif into the heavy swathe that she laid across her knee.
Her voice was matter of fact as she spoke. “ I daresay Aphrodite will have enough gowns for a seasons wear by the time we are done”
A sewing circle was the absolute last place Agathe of Marikas wanted to be. The entire kingdom appeared to be unraveling before her eyes since the death of her uncle, King Minas. The eldest Marikas was shrewd enough to see through this thinly-veiled attempt to cling to normalcy and she did not care for it in the least. But Sera had made her wishes known and all three of her daughters were to be present or risk the wrath of their father, spurred on by Sera of course.
And so Agathe had bathed and dressed in a cream chiton with the finest of golden accents embroidered along its edges—the young woman’s favorite way to don her family’s colors. She chose matching gold fibulae bearing the Marikas crest and a simple gold chain that sported a quartz pendant. With the help of Eudocia, her hair was curled and plaited until it could be piled onto her head and effectively kept out of her face. Agathe had just slipped her feet into a pair of soft leather sandals when a knock at her chamber doors signaled that it was time to depart.
As she climbed into the family’s carriage, she noted the absence of her youngest sister with surprise. A quick glance toward the stableyard revealed Daniil astride one of the family’s horses. Only slightly bemused, Agathe settled on the bench next to Elena. It made some sort of twisted sense, she supposed, for their mother to allow Daniil to ride to the temple rather than take the carriage. As Daniil and their uncle Rafail had both experienced the recent theft of their prized horses, perhaps Sera believed the youngest Marikas would take some comfort in the fresh air on the back of a beast.
The ride to the temple was short, though it felt twice as long as they rode in an uncharacteristic silence. As Agathe exited the carriage, she took a moment to quickly assess the other carriages already at the temple. The Stravos carriage stood out and Agathe could not help the tendrils of unease that tangled with her relief at knowing her beloved cousin Chara was already in attendance. After everything Elias had done in the Senate meeting, it took a great display of courage for the Stravos women to continue consorting within the noble ranks as they were.
Composing herself, Agathe made her entrance on Sera’s heels and a sharp look cast in Elena’s direction to remind her of her place in the family hierarchy. A scan of the women already working on the himation did not reveal her cousin and so, at Sera’s behest, Agathe begrudgingly took a seat on the nearest klinē and picked up a swath of fabric to begin working on a small owl—both for Athena and for the Marikas. As she worked, a familiar voice speaking her name caught her attention. She looked up as Chara settled next to her.
Agathe reached for her cousin’s hand to offer a comforting—and most importantly subtle—squeeze, retracting her own hand as Vasia of Antonis approached the pair. Weary interest flickered across her features as Vasia claimed the adjacent klismos without waiting for Chara to answer her query. Vasia’s observation regarding the sheer number of gowns Aphrodite would have to choose from by the end of theïkós éndysis earned a quiet laugh from the otherwise stoic woman.
“I believe the difficulty, Lady Vasia, lies in convincing the goddess to actually wear them,” Agathe quipped with a meaningful glance in her cousin’s direction.
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A sewing circle was the absolute last place Agathe of Marikas wanted to be. The entire kingdom appeared to be unraveling before her eyes since the death of her uncle, King Minas. The eldest Marikas was shrewd enough to see through this thinly-veiled attempt to cling to normalcy and she did not care for it in the least. But Sera had made her wishes known and all three of her daughters were to be present or risk the wrath of their father, spurred on by Sera of course.
And so Agathe had bathed and dressed in a cream chiton with the finest of golden accents embroidered along its edges—the young woman’s favorite way to don her family’s colors. She chose matching gold fibulae bearing the Marikas crest and a simple gold chain that sported a quartz pendant. With the help of Eudocia, her hair was curled and plaited until it could be piled onto her head and effectively kept out of her face. Agathe had just slipped her feet into a pair of soft leather sandals when a knock at her chamber doors signaled that it was time to depart.
As she climbed into the family’s carriage, she noted the absence of her youngest sister with surprise. A quick glance toward the stableyard revealed Daniil astride one of the family’s horses. Only slightly bemused, Agathe settled on the bench next to Elena. It made some sort of twisted sense, she supposed, for their mother to allow Daniil to ride to the temple rather than take the carriage. As Daniil and their uncle Rafail had both experienced the recent theft of their prized horses, perhaps Sera believed the youngest Marikas would take some comfort in the fresh air on the back of a beast.
The ride to the temple was short, though it felt twice as long as they rode in an uncharacteristic silence. As Agathe exited the carriage, she took a moment to quickly assess the other carriages already at the temple. The Stravos carriage stood out and Agathe could not help the tendrils of unease that tangled with her relief at knowing her beloved cousin Chara was already in attendance. After everything Elias had done in the Senate meeting, it took a great display of courage for the Stravos women to continue consorting within the noble ranks as they were.
Composing herself, Agathe made her entrance on Sera’s heels and a sharp look cast in Elena’s direction to remind her of her place in the family hierarchy. A scan of the women already working on the himation did not reveal her cousin and so, at Sera’s behest, Agathe begrudgingly took a seat on the nearest klinē and picked up a swath of fabric to begin working on a small owl—both for Athena and for the Marikas. As she worked, a familiar voice speaking her name caught her attention. She looked up as Chara settled next to her.
Agathe reached for her cousin’s hand to offer a comforting—and most importantly subtle—squeeze, retracting her own hand as Vasia of Antonis approached the pair. Weary interest flickered across her features as Vasia claimed the adjacent klismos without waiting for Chara to answer her query. Vasia’s observation regarding the sheer number of gowns Aphrodite would have to choose from by the end of theïkós éndysis earned a quiet laugh from the otherwise stoic woman.
“I believe the difficulty, Lady Vasia, lies in convincing the goddess to actually wear them,” Agathe quipped with a meaningful glance in her cousin’s direction.
A sewing circle was the absolute last place Agathe of Marikas wanted to be. The entire kingdom appeared to be unraveling before her eyes since the death of her uncle, King Minas. The eldest Marikas was shrewd enough to see through this thinly-veiled attempt to cling to normalcy and she did not care for it in the least. But Sera had made her wishes known and all three of her daughters were to be present or risk the wrath of their father, spurred on by Sera of course.
And so Agathe had bathed and dressed in a cream chiton with the finest of golden accents embroidered along its edges—the young woman’s favorite way to don her family’s colors. She chose matching gold fibulae bearing the Marikas crest and a simple gold chain that sported a quartz pendant. With the help of Eudocia, her hair was curled and plaited until it could be piled onto her head and effectively kept out of her face. Agathe had just slipped her feet into a pair of soft leather sandals when a knock at her chamber doors signaled that it was time to depart.
As she climbed into the family’s carriage, she noted the absence of her youngest sister with surprise. A quick glance toward the stableyard revealed Daniil astride one of the family’s horses. Only slightly bemused, Agathe settled on the bench next to Elena. It made some sort of twisted sense, she supposed, for their mother to allow Daniil to ride to the temple rather than take the carriage. As Daniil and their uncle Rafail had both experienced the recent theft of their prized horses, perhaps Sera believed the youngest Marikas would take some comfort in the fresh air on the back of a beast.
The ride to the temple was short, though it felt twice as long as they rode in an uncharacteristic silence. As Agathe exited the carriage, she took a moment to quickly assess the other carriages already at the temple. The Stravos carriage stood out and Agathe could not help the tendrils of unease that tangled with her relief at knowing her beloved cousin Chara was already in attendance. After everything Elias had done in the Senate meeting, it took a great display of courage for the Stravos women to continue consorting within the noble ranks as they were.
Composing herself, Agathe made her entrance on Sera’s heels and a sharp look cast in Elena’s direction to remind her of her place in the family hierarchy. A scan of the women already working on the himation did not reveal her cousin and so, at Sera’s behest, Agathe begrudgingly took a seat on the nearest klinē and picked up a swath of fabric to begin working on a small owl—both for Athena and for the Marikas. As she worked, a familiar voice speaking her name caught her attention. She looked up as Chara settled next to her.
Agathe reached for her cousin’s hand to offer a comforting—and most importantly subtle—squeeze, retracting her own hand as Vasia of Antonis approached the pair. Weary interest flickered across her features as Vasia claimed the adjacent klismos without waiting for Chara to answer her query. Vasia’s observation regarding the sheer number of gowns Aphrodite would have to choose from by the end of theïkós éndysis earned a quiet laugh from the otherwise stoic woman.
“I believe the difficulty, Lady Vasia, lies in convincing the goddess to actually wear them,” Agathe quipped with a meaningful glance in her cousin’s direction.
Circenia of Stravos would never let it be said that she was a coward.
So it was when the day of the theïkós éndysis arrived, the Stravos matriarch marched out of the house with Chara and Danae in tow, determined that the inevitable stares and gossip would not keep them at bay. Stripped of their nobility or no, she and her children were still of the royal line, and it was her brother that had just passed. They had every right to be at such an event. She was still a princess of Athenia, and she would not let the rest of the kingdom forget it.
Stepping from the carriage that had brought them to the Naos of Athena, Circenia turned to assist her daughters in disembarking before turning to face the temple with her head held high. Not a trace of anxiety could be found in the lines of her proud face, even if her heart beat a little faster than it usually did. Swathed in a rich crimson chiton with a golden gossamer epiblema wrapped around her waist and fastened artfully about her shoulders, the princess was resplendent in the colors of her house, carrying herself with all the confidence of a woman who’s never known disgrace a day in her life. A diamond tiara was nestled among her impeccably dressed ebony curls, glittering in the midday sun. They could point and stare and whisper all they liked, but the ladies of the Court would be reminded who she was.
When they entered the courtyard, a hush fell over the area, while dozens of prying eyes turned to look their way. Circenia was not immune to the weight of their collective gaze, but was careful to keep her face neutral and her posture straight. She worried more for her daughters than she did for herself, but to her great pride, Chara carried herself just as confidently as her mother had taught her. Danae, on the other hand… she could feel the girl’s anxiety at her back more keenly than she felt her own, her heart aching for her youngest. She longed to reach out and comfort her, to assure her that all would be well, but she knew her willful daughter well. She’d never allow it, not from her, and especially not in such a public forum. When Danae moved to walk by her, seeking her own little corner in which to hide, Circenia brushed her shoulder in reassurance, trying to convey what strength she could through that simple touch.
Scanning the crowd, she let her eyes linger on each of them in turn, defiantly meeting each of their gazes with a cool aloofness that dared them all to say a word. Circenia was not a woman to be trifled with, a fact she was sure most of them knew. No matter her son’s mistakes, she would expect nothing less than the deference she was due.
Her steps even and unhurried, she trailed somewhat behind Chara over to where her sister Sera sat with her nieces, Agathe and Elena. Her smile was bright and false when she leaned down to greet her sister, dropping a kiss on both cheeks before nodding to each of the girls in turn. She and Sera didn’t always get along even in the best of times, but Minas had been Sera’s brother, too. They were still family.
Ignoring the stares and whispers, she took a seat at her surprised sister’s side and picked up the length of fabric in front of her, accepting a needle and a few skeins of thread from one of the serving girls attending them.
“A pleasant afternoon for this, wouldn’t you say, dear sister?” she asked Sera, her voice amiable enough. Carefully, she set to work, the beginnings of a bright golden flower forming under skilled fingers. Her sister offered a murmur of agreement, though she made no further comment to continue the conversation. Circenia supposed it was the best she could hope for. At least she wasn’t casting her away.
Circenia kept a careful eye on Chara nearby, noting Agathe’s easy greeting of her eldest daughter. She started to relax just a bit more until she saw Vasia of Antonis approach. Suspiciously, she watched the girl settle near Chara, unsure of her motives. Did she mean to humiliate her? Was she there to gawk at the eldest child of the Stravos? She was behaving pleasantly enough, but Circenia trusted no one outside of her own House, especially not after everything that had happened. Should any of them make a move or say a word out of turn, she’d be on them faster than they could blink.
However, it seemed Chara was handling herself well enough, so instead, she sought the location of her youngest among the throng of women that crowded the temple grounds. Seeing her tucked in a corner away from the others and talking to one of Sera’s retainers, she searched Danae’s face for any signs of distress. Seeing nothing there that might cause her alarm, she felt some of the tension in her shoulders ease. Perhaps today might not turn out to be such a disaster, after all.
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Circenia of Stravos would never let it be said that she was a coward.
So it was when the day of the theïkós éndysis arrived, the Stravos matriarch marched out of the house with Chara and Danae in tow, determined that the inevitable stares and gossip would not keep them at bay. Stripped of their nobility or no, she and her children were still of the royal line, and it was her brother that had just passed. They had every right to be at such an event. She was still a princess of Athenia, and she would not let the rest of the kingdom forget it.
Stepping from the carriage that had brought them to the Naos of Athena, Circenia turned to assist her daughters in disembarking before turning to face the temple with her head held high. Not a trace of anxiety could be found in the lines of her proud face, even if her heart beat a little faster than it usually did. Swathed in a rich crimson chiton with a golden gossamer epiblema wrapped around her waist and fastened artfully about her shoulders, the princess was resplendent in the colors of her house, carrying herself with all the confidence of a woman who’s never known disgrace a day in her life. A diamond tiara was nestled among her impeccably dressed ebony curls, glittering in the midday sun. They could point and stare and whisper all they liked, but the ladies of the Court would be reminded who she was.
When they entered the courtyard, a hush fell over the area, while dozens of prying eyes turned to look their way. Circenia was not immune to the weight of their collective gaze, but was careful to keep her face neutral and her posture straight. She worried more for her daughters than she did for herself, but to her great pride, Chara carried herself just as confidently as her mother had taught her. Danae, on the other hand… she could feel the girl’s anxiety at her back more keenly than she felt her own, her heart aching for her youngest. She longed to reach out and comfort her, to assure her that all would be well, but she knew her willful daughter well. She’d never allow it, not from her, and especially not in such a public forum. When Danae moved to walk by her, seeking her own little corner in which to hide, Circenia brushed her shoulder in reassurance, trying to convey what strength she could through that simple touch.
Scanning the crowd, she let her eyes linger on each of them in turn, defiantly meeting each of their gazes with a cool aloofness that dared them all to say a word. Circenia was not a woman to be trifled with, a fact she was sure most of them knew. No matter her son’s mistakes, she would expect nothing less than the deference she was due.
Her steps even and unhurried, she trailed somewhat behind Chara over to where her sister Sera sat with her nieces, Agathe and Elena. Her smile was bright and false when she leaned down to greet her sister, dropping a kiss on both cheeks before nodding to each of the girls in turn. She and Sera didn’t always get along even in the best of times, but Minas had been Sera’s brother, too. They were still family.
Ignoring the stares and whispers, she took a seat at her surprised sister’s side and picked up the length of fabric in front of her, accepting a needle and a few skeins of thread from one of the serving girls attending them.
“A pleasant afternoon for this, wouldn’t you say, dear sister?” she asked Sera, her voice amiable enough. Carefully, she set to work, the beginnings of a bright golden flower forming under skilled fingers. Her sister offered a murmur of agreement, though she made no further comment to continue the conversation. Circenia supposed it was the best she could hope for. At least she wasn’t casting her away.
Circenia kept a careful eye on Chara nearby, noting Agathe’s easy greeting of her eldest daughter. She started to relax just a bit more until she saw Vasia of Antonis approach. Suspiciously, she watched the girl settle near Chara, unsure of her motives. Did she mean to humiliate her? Was she there to gawk at the eldest child of the Stravos? She was behaving pleasantly enough, but Circenia trusted no one outside of her own House, especially not after everything that had happened. Should any of them make a move or say a word out of turn, she’d be on them faster than they could blink.
However, it seemed Chara was handling herself well enough, so instead, she sought the location of her youngest among the throng of women that crowded the temple grounds. Seeing her tucked in a corner away from the others and talking to one of Sera’s retainers, she searched Danae’s face for any signs of distress. Seeing nothing there that might cause her alarm, she felt some of the tension in her shoulders ease. Perhaps today might not turn out to be such a disaster, after all.
Circenia of Stravos would never let it be said that she was a coward.
So it was when the day of the theïkós éndysis arrived, the Stravos matriarch marched out of the house with Chara and Danae in tow, determined that the inevitable stares and gossip would not keep them at bay. Stripped of their nobility or no, she and her children were still of the royal line, and it was her brother that had just passed. They had every right to be at such an event. She was still a princess of Athenia, and she would not let the rest of the kingdom forget it.
Stepping from the carriage that had brought them to the Naos of Athena, Circenia turned to assist her daughters in disembarking before turning to face the temple with her head held high. Not a trace of anxiety could be found in the lines of her proud face, even if her heart beat a little faster than it usually did. Swathed in a rich crimson chiton with a golden gossamer epiblema wrapped around her waist and fastened artfully about her shoulders, the princess was resplendent in the colors of her house, carrying herself with all the confidence of a woman who’s never known disgrace a day in her life. A diamond tiara was nestled among her impeccably dressed ebony curls, glittering in the midday sun. They could point and stare and whisper all they liked, but the ladies of the Court would be reminded who she was.
When they entered the courtyard, a hush fell over the area, while dozens of prying eyes turned to look their way. Circenia was not immune to the weight of their collective gaze, but was careful to keep her face neutral and her posture straight. She worried more for her daughters than she did for herself, but to her great pride, Chara carried herself just as confidently as her mother had taught her. Danae, on the other hand… she could feel the girl’s anxiety at her back more keenly than she felt her own, her heart aching for her youngest. She longed to reach out and comfort her, to assure her that all would be well, but she knew her willful daughter well. She’d never allow it, not from her, and especially not in such a public forum. When Danae moved to walk by her, seeking her own little corner in which to hide, Circenia brushed her shoulder in reassurance, trying to convey what strength she could through that simple touch.
Scanning the crowd, she let her eyes linger on each of them in turn, defiantly meeting each of their gazes with a cool aloofness that dared them all to say a word. Circenia was not a woman to be trifled with, a fact she was sure most of them knew. No matter her son’s mistakes, she would expect nothing less than the deference she was due.
Her steps even and unhurried, she trailed somewhat behind Chara over to where her sister Sera sat with her nieces, Agathe and Elena. Her smile was bright and false when she leaned down to greet her sister, dropping a kiss on both cheeks before nodding to each of the girls in turn. She and Sera didn’t always get along even in the best of times, but Minas had been Sera’s brother, too. They were still family.
Ignoring the stares and whispers, she took a seat at her surprised sister’s side and picked up the length of fabric in front of her, accepting a needle and a few skeins of thread from one of the serving girls attending them.
“A pleasant afternoon for this, wouldn’t you say, dear sister?” she asked Sera, her voice amiable enough. Carefully, she set to work, the beginnings of a bright golden flower forming under skilled fingers. Her sister offered a murmur of agreement, though she made no further comment to continue the conversation. Circenia supposed it was the best she could hope for. At least she wasn’t casting her away.
Circenia kept a careful eye on Chara nearby, noting Agathe’s easy greeting of her eldest daughter. She started to relax just a bit more until she saw Vasia of Antonis approach. Suspiciously, she watched the girl settle near Chara, unsure of her motives. Did she mean to humiliate her? Was she there to gawk at the eldest child of the Stravos? She was behaving pleasantly enough, but Circenia trusted no one outside of her own House, especially not after everything that had happened. Should any of them make a move or say a word out of turn, she’d be on them faster than they could blink.
However, it seemed Chara was handling herself well enough, so instead, she sought the location of her youngest among the throng of women that crowded the temple grounds. Seeing her tucked in a corner away from the others and talking to one of Sera’s retainers, she searched Danae’s face for any signs of distress. Seeing nothing there that might cause her alarm, she felt some of the tension in her shoulders ease. Perhaps today might not turn out to be such a disaster, after all.
Danii was still frowning deeply as she worked. She hated sewing and doing it gave her a headache because she moved much slower at the task. At this point she would rather play her flute and hear the sweet notes fill the cavernous space. Instead she found herself listening to the chit chat that went on around her.
Silently she applauded her Stravos friends for holding their heads high in public in the face of what happened. Danii was still withholding what she thought of the situation that led to their fall from grace. On one hand she personally liked the idea of a woman on the throne simply because she was doing something that most of the menfolk said that they were too weak to do. Like Hades we are too weak. Sometimes we women have more common sense then the whole lot of menfolk put together! She thought with a shake of her head.
Her dark head popped up upon hearing a familiar voice that she had not heard in a long while. She looked around and found her cousin Chara, who had taken a seat near Agathe. With a quick smile in their direction, Danii noticed that, like her, her eldest sister likely wished that she could be elsewhere. Pavlos insisted on the women of the house being there, backed up by their mother, so they went, willingly or no.
Danii’s mood these days was very much like a storm, calm one moment and then it was thunderous. A lot had happened to her to cause this, but the loss of her prized horse and her accolades, sent her over the edge. Even Rafi’s mood was unpredictable due to the event, but unlike her, he could aim that anger at any target he wished and get away with it. Danii had to find other ways to deal with it and most of the time it was internalized or taken out o the garden seeing she did not have horses to groom and her sparring partners all seemed to have vanished.
She glanced at her aunt Circenia as she entered and gave her a quick smile and nod in greeting before she chose to go back to her work. There would likely be questions as to why Danii was not with her family, but she’d deal with it if and when that time came.
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Danii was still frowning deeply as she worked. She hated sewing and doing it gave her a headache because she moved much slower at the task. At this point she would rather play her flute and hear the sweet notes fill the cavernous space. Instead she found herself listening to the chit chat that went on around her.
Silently she applauded her Stravos friends for holding their heads high in public in the face of what happened. Danii was still withholding what she thought of the situation that led to their fall from grace. On one hand she personally liked the idea of a woman on the throne simply because she was doing something that most of the menfolk said that they were too weak to do. Like Hades we are too weak. Sometimes we women have more common sense then the whole lot of menfolk put together! She thought with a shake of her head.
Her dark head popped up upon hearing a familiar voice that she had not heard in a long while. She looked around and found her cousin Chara, who had taken a seat near Agathe. With a quick smile in their direction, Danii noticed that, like her, her eldest sister likely wished that she could be elsewhere. Pavlos insisted on the women of the house being there, backed up by their mother, so they went, willingly or no.
Danii’s mood these days was very much like a storm, calm one moment and then it was thunderous. A lot had happened to her to cause this, but the loss of her prized horse and her accolades, sent her over the edge. Even Rafi’s mood was unpredictable due to the event, but unlike her, he could aim that anger at any target he wished and get away with it. Danii had to find other ways to deal with it and most of the time it was internalized or taken out o the garden seeing she did not have horses to groom and her sparring partners all seemed to have vanished.
She glanced at her aunt Circenia as she entered and gave her a quick smile and nod in greeting before she chose to go back to her work. There would likely be questions as to why Danii was not with her family, but she’d deal with it if and when that time came.
Danii was still frowning deeply as she worked. She hated sewing and doing it gave her a headache because she moved much slower at the task. At this point she would rather play her flute and hear the sweet notes fill the cavernous space. Instead she found herself listening to the chit chat that went on around her.
Silently she applauded her Stravos friends for holding their heads high in public in the face of what happened. Danii was still withholding what she thought of the situation that led to their fall from grace. On one hand she personally liked the idea of a woman on the throne simply because she was doing something that most of the menfolk said that they were too weak to do. Like Hades we are too weak. Sometimes we women have more common sense then the whole lot of menfolk put together! She thought with a shake of her head.
Her dark head popped up upon hearing a familiar voice that she had not heard in a long while. She looked around and found her cousin Chara, who had taken a seat near Agathe. With a quick smile in their direction, Danii noticed that, like her, her eldest sister likely wished that she could be elsewhere. Pavlos insisted on the women of the house being there, backed up by their mother, so they went, willingly or no.
Danii’s mood these days was very much like a storm, calm one moment and then it was thunderous. A lot had happened to her to cause this, but the loss of her prized horse and her accolades, sent her over the edge. Even Rafi’s mood was unpredictable due to the event, but unlike her, he could aim that anger at any target he wished and get away with it. Danii had to find other ways to deal with it and most of the time it was internalized or taken out o the garden seeing she did not have horses to groom and her sparring partners all seemed to have vanished.
She glanced at her aunt Circenia as she entered and gave her a quick smile and nod in greeting before she chose to go back to her work. There would likely be questions as to why Danii was not with her family, but she’d deal with it if and when that time came.
Danae was not a weak girl.
She couldn’t be. Not with the family she had been born into and the destiny that had seemingly been put onto her shoulders. After all, even though she was the youngest, there was no question that she was the brightest sibling and not even Elias could hold a candle to her talents in the family trade. Little Danny was the girl who had defied burly sailors and crude traders who had been determined to chase her out of meetings she supposedly did not have a place in. The very same meetings that she had gained access to due her love her learning and her unapologetic way of rejecting what was expected of girls of her stature. She was the girl who lost everything and instead of breaking down, she went after the pirate who had done with the determination to make him fix it. Danae had not backed down when he had threatened her. She was her mother’s willful child. The daughter who dared to forge her path when the one that she wanted was closed to her. Danae was the one who could look the heir of a great family in the eyes and openly insult him in front of countless senators instead of fawning at his feet like she was expected to. She was bold. She was independent. She was iron-willed. Most importantly though, she was brave as a bull, sharp as a tack, and never willing to take no for answer.
So, how could she be so utterly broken in the span of a few weeks?
As much as these questions churned about in her mind, Danae could see that they too were reflected in the thoughts of her sewing companion. Although Cyrene tried to not let it show, the younger girl was more than well aware that she was, to the older girl, essentially a wounded animal. It was clear in the way that the Nikolaos glanced at her and the way Cyrene flinched at Danae’s pricked finger did not escape her attention either. It couldn’t. Not with the younger girl being riddled with the sheer amount of anxiety that this event had brought her. She was already out of her element thanks to the nature of the event, nevermind the extra trauma on top from her run-in with Lukos and the loss of her nobility. She was on edge and aware of everything. She had to be. Danae needed to protect herself from whatever was going to come next. Absolutely anything could be a threat and her fractured mental state told her that she needed to be ready for anything that dared to come her way.
So, she couldn’t miss the utterly shocked response of Cyrene when she spoke for the first time in weeks only for her to sound like a frog. Even though Danae turned her head away, to hide the shame that plagued her, those destructive thoughts began coursing through her mind, cursing herself for even trying. The red thread was ignored as it fell from Danae’s hands as she tried to clear away the few tears that her weaknesses had decided to grace upon the world. She didn’t notice that she had even dropped it nor would she have cared if she did. Not even keeping the gods mattered as much to her at that moment as not appearing weak in front of Cyrene. However, Danae knew she saw.
How couldn’t she see? This was supposed to be a happy event where everyone came together and here Danae is, sniveling in the corner. The young girl was thoroughly convinced that the other girl must have regretted coming over to her for whatever reason had encouraged her to do so in the first place. Danae was already in a bit of a tailspin thanks to the quality of her voice, she didn’t want to let her insecurities come out to play as well.
“I’m sorry for my current state Lady Cyrene,” Danae managed to quietly croak out with her head still turned away from the other girl. Her words were not a true apology though, just merely a chance for Cyrene to escape without the shame of doing so. This was what Danae believed her worried glances to be, after all. They couldn’t be anything else, at least, not in her mind as she considered how unladylike it was for Danae to be crying and how she of all people was supposed to hold her head up high at this moment. Not doing so was probably too much for Cyrene to handle and Danae did not want to embarrass herself further on top of this, “You don’t have to sit with --”
Her words were brought to a sudden halt though when she felt Cyrene reach out for her. At first, Danae stiffened under the touch, mentally unprepared for the simple action as well as the comforting words that followed. Danae slowly turned her head to the other girl, suddenly not caring about the tear tracks on her face as she processed the fact that instead of running away, Cyrene had instead reached out to her. But on top of that, she was saying things that Danae desperately needed to hear, but didn’t know it until they were echoing in her head. Things like:
‘It will be alright, with time.’
‘You are still Lady Danae of Stravos’
And most importantly, ‘You have nothing to be ashamed of’
The last statement was the one that affected Danae the most and it was made clear to the girl that said it in the way that the Stravos girl scrambled for Cyrene’s hand again; not willing to break that reassuring point of human contact that Danae didn’t know she needed. As she glanced into the gaze of the other girl the tears that had been welling now had no reason to be held back. Quietly they fell her face before Danae reached to wipe them away. Her heart thudded so loudly in her chest that she couldn’t hear her own barely audible whispers thanking the girl. However, they quickly gave way to more a more substantial whispered comment that conveyed how powerless Danae felt in this situation amid the gentle sobs that racked her chest.
“I didn’t do anything and they took everything. They took it because they were scared of my brother. They punished us for him.” Danae knew that she shouldn’t say something like that. It was so obvious within her hushed whisper that she was speaking of the Xanthos family. They could justify it however they liked. At the core of their actions, they were trying to prevent Elias from becoming King and they caught the whole family in their crosshairs. It was so obvious, but saying it out loud to a member of their barony. For all Danae knew her statement could further condemn them, but Danae knew that someone needed to hear the truth that she truly had done nothing. That she didn’t deserve what had happened.
However, the things that Cyrene said had made her believe that maybe the Nikolaos girl was a bit disillusioned by the actions of the Xanthos family as well. Could this be the signs of a fracture against the coward of a queen who ruined lives for a crown she ran away from?
Either way, Danae knew it was too risky to say anything else and she had grown far too emotional for her mental state to handle at that moment. She relinquished the other girl’s hand and wiped away her tears one final time as she resettled back into place, letting the last bits of emotion work through her system, using her short stature to shield herself from the other women who were hopefully far too concerned with their gossip to take notice of the young noblewoman crying in the corner and if they didn’t… well, this girl certainly had reason to cry. Danae couldn’t even glance in the direction of her mother and sister who were both expecting Danae to hold her head high like them, something she didn’t have the personal strength to do when confronted with everything.
“Thank you Cyrene.” Danae said in a hushed tone, her voice becoming less gravelly and more normal with each word she said, “I had no idea… I can’t let them…” She trailed off at the end, still unsure of how to process everything. Danae was far too emotionally fragile for coherent thought right now. Instead, all her brain could focus on making things appear normal. So, quietly, she picked up the thread again and tried to refocus on the flower, but it was utterly impossible. Her brain was far too overactive and her voice was taking up too many of her thoughts.
So quietly she said to the girl who encouraged Danae to speak once again, “It’s been so long since I’ve spoken. I’ve been far too ashamed of what happened.[/b]” it was a confession she had never intended to make, but it still felt amazing to say it all the same. It gave her an odd sort of strength to finally say what she had been dealing with internally for so long.
She used this strength for her next statement, probably the bravest thing she had done in weeks and the most promising sign that the girl who had been forced into hiding by her shame was once again reemerging, “If it’s alright Lady Cyrene… can we just sit and talk for a few moments.” It was such a strange thing to ask truthfully, but it was a big thing for Danae and it showed that after weeks of hiding away… she was ready to come out again.
And maybe, just maybe, things could be almost normal again.
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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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Danae was not a weak girl.
She couldn’t be. Not with the family she had been born into and the destiny that had seemingly been put onto her shoulders. After all, even though she was the youngest, there was no question that she was the brightest sibling and not even Elias could hold a candle to her talents in the family trade. Little Danny was the girl who had defied burly sailors and crude traders who had been determined to chase her out of meetings she supposedly did not have a place in. The very same meetings that she had gained access to due her love her learning and her unapologetic way of rejecting what was expected of girls of her stature. She was the girl who lost everything and instead of breaking down, she went after the pirate who had done with the determination to make him fix it. Danae had not backed down when he had threatened her. She was her mother’s willful child. The daughter who dared to forge her path when the one that she wanted was closed to her. Danae was the one who could look the heir of a great family in the eyes and openly insult him in front of countless senators instead of fawning at his feet like she was expected to. She was bold. She was independent. She was iron-willed. Most importantly though, she was brave as a bull, sharp as a tack, and never willing to take no for answer.
So, how could she be so utterly broken in the span of a few weeks?
As much as these questions churned about in her mind, Danae could see that they too were reflected in the thoughts of her sewing companion. Although Cyrene tried to not let it show, the younger girl was more than well aware that she was, to the older girl, essentially a wounded animal. It was clear in the way that the Nikolaos glanced at her and the way Cyrene flinched at Danae’s pricked finger did not escape her attention either. It couldn’t. Not with the younger girl being riddled with the sheer amount of anxiety that this event had brought her. She was already out of her element thanks to the nature of the event, nevermind the extra trauma on top from her run-in with Lukos and the loss of her nobility. She was on edge and aware of everything. She had to be. Danae needed to protect herself from whatever was going to come next. Absolutely anything could be a threat and her fractured mental state told her that she needed to be ready for anything that dared to come her way.
So, she couldn’t miss the utterly shocked response of Cyrene when she spoke for the first time in weeks only for her to sound like a frog. Even though Danae turned her head away, to hide the shame that plagued her, those destructive thoughts began coursing through her mind, cursing herself for even trying. The red thread was ignored as it fell from Danae’s hands as she tried to clear away the few tears that her weaknesses had decided to grace upon the world. She didn’t notice that she had even dropped it nor would she have cared if she did. Not even keeping the gods mattered as much to her at that moment as not appearing weak in front of Cyrene. However, Danae knew she saw.
How couldn’t she see? This was supposed to be a happy event where everyone came together and here Danae is, sniveling in the corner. The young girl was thoroughly convinced that the other girl must have regretted coming over to her for whatever reason had encouraged her to do so in the first place. Danae was already in a bit of a tailspin thanks to the quality of her voice, she didn’t want to let her insecurities come out to play as well.
“I’m sorry for my current state Lady Cyrene,” Danae managed to quietly croak out with her head still turned away from the other girl. Her words were not a true apology though, just merely a chance for Cyrene to escape without the shame of doing so. This was what Danae believed her worried glances to be, after all. They couldn’t be anything else, at least, not in her mind as she considered how unladylike it was for Danae to be crying and how she of all people was supposed to hold her head up high at this moment. Not doing so was probably too much for Cyrene to handle and Danae did not want to embarrass herself further on top of this, “You don’t have to sit with --”
Her words were brought to a sudden halt though when she felt Cyrene reach out for her. At first, Danae stiffened under the touch, mentally unprepared for the simple action as well as the comforting words that followed. Danae slowly turned her head to the other girl, suddenly not caring about the tear tracks on her face as she processed the fact that instead of running away, Cyrene had instead reached out to her. But on top of that, she was saying things that Danae desperately needed to hear, but didn’t know it until they were echoing in her head. Things like:
‘It will be alright, with time.’
‘You are still Lady Danae of Stravos’
And most importantly, ‘You have nothing to be ashamed of’
The last statement was the one that affected Danae the most and it was made clear to the girl that said it in the way that the Stravos girl scrambled for Cyrene’s hand again; not willing to break that reassuring point of human contact that Danae didn’t know she needed. As she glanced into the gaze of the other girl the tears that had been welling now had no reason to be held back. Quietly they fell her face before Danae reached to wipe them away. Her heart thudded so loudly in her chest that she couldn’t hear her own barely audible whispers thanking the girl. However, they quickly gave way to more a more substantial whispered comment that conveyed how powerless Danae felt in this situation amid the gentle sobs that racked her chest.
“I didn’t do anything and they took everything. They took it because they were scared of my brother. They punished us for him.” Danae knew that she shouldn’t say something like that. It was so obvious within her hushed whisper that she was speaking of the Xanthos family. They could justify it however they liked. At the core of their actions, they were trying to prevent Elias from becoming King and they caught the whole family in their crosshairs. It was so obvious, but saying it out loud to a member of their barony. For all Danae knew her statement could further condemn them, but Danae knew that someone needed to hear the truth that she truly had done nothing. That she didn’t deserve what had happened.
However, the things that Cyrene said had made her believe that maybe the Nikolaos girl was a bit disillusioned by the actions of the Xanthos family as well. Could this be the signs of a fracture against the coward of a queen who ruined lives for a crown she ran away from?
Either way, Danae knew it was too risky to say anything else and she had grown far too emotional for her mental state to handle at that moment. She relinquished the other girl’s hand and wiped away her tears one final time as she resettled back into place, letting the last bits of emotion work through her system, using her short stature to shield herself from the other women who were hopefully far too concerned with their gossip to take notice of the young noblewoman crying in the corner and if they didn’t… well, this girl certainly had reason to cry. Danae couldn’t even glance in the direction of her mother and sister who were both expecting Danae to hold her head high like them, something she didn’t have the personal strength to do when confronted with everything.
“Thank you Cyrene.” Danae said in a hushed tone, her voice becoming less gravelly and more normal with each word she said, “I had no idea… I can’t let them…” She trailed off at the end, still unsure of how to process everything. Danae was far too emotionally fragile for coherent thought right now. Instead, all her brain could focus on making things appear normal. So, quietly, she picked up the thread again and tried to refocus on the flower, but it was utterly impossible. Her brain was far too overactive and her voice was taking up too many of her thoughts.
So quietly she said to the girl who encouraged Danae to speak once again, “It’s been so long since I’ve spoken. I’ve been far too ashamed of what happened.[/b]” it was a confession she had never intended to make, but it still felt amazing to say it all the same. It gave her an odd sort of strength to finally say what she had been dealing with internally for so long.
She used this strength for her next statement, probably the bravest thing she had done in weeks and the most promising sign that the girl who had been forced into hiding by her shame was once again reemerging, “If it’s alright Lady Cyrene… can we just sit and talk for a few moments.” It was such a strange thing to ask truthfully, but it was a big thing for Danae and it showed that after weeks of hiding away… she was ready to come out again.
And maybe, just maybe, things could be almost normal again.
Danae was not a weak girl.
She couldn’t be. Not with the family she had been born into and the destiny that had seemingly been put onto her shoulders. After all, even though she was the youngest, there was no question that she was the brightest sibling and not even Elias could hold a candle to her talents in the family trade. Little Danny was the girl who had defied burly sailors and crude traders who had been determined to chase her out of meetings she supposedly did not have a place in. The very same meetings that she had gained access to due her love her learning and her unapologetic way of rejecting what was expected of girls of her stature. She was the girl who lost everything and instead of breaking down, she went after the pirate who had done with the determination to make him fix it. Danae had not backed down when he had threatened her. She was her mother’s willful child. The daughter who dared to forge her path when the one that she wanted was closed to her. Danae was the one who could look the heir of a great family in the eyes and openly insult him in front of countless senators instead of fawning at his feet like she was expected to. She was bold. She was independent. She was iron-willed. Most importantly though, she was brave as a bull, sharp as a tack, and never willing to take no for answer.
So, how could she be so utterly broken in the span of a few weeks?
As much as these questions churned about in her mind, Danae could see that they too were reflected in the thoughts of her sewing companion. Although Cyrene tried to not let it show, the younger girl was more than well aware that she was, to the older girl, essentially a wounded animal. It was clear in the way that the Nikolaos glanced at her and the way Cyrene flinched at Danae’s pricked finger did not escape her attention either. It couldn’t. Not with the younger girl being riddled with the sheer amount of anxiety that this event had brought her. She was already out of her element thanks to the nature of the event, nevermind the extra trauma on top from her run-in with Lukos and the loss of her nobility. She was on edge and aware of everything. She had to be. Danae needed to protect herself from whatever was going to come next. Absolutely anything could be a threat and her fractured mental state told her that she needed to be ready for anything that dared to come her way.
So, she couldn’t miss the utterly shocked response of Cyrene when she spoke for the first time in weeks only for her to sound like a frog. Even though Danae turned her head away, to hide the shame that plagued her, those destructive thoughts began coursing through her mind, cursing herself for even trying. The red thread was ignored as it fell from Danae’s hands as she tried to clear away the few tears that her weaknesses had decided to grace upon the world. She didn’t notice that she had even dropped it nor would she have cared if she did. Not even keeping the gods mattered as much to her at that moment as not appearing weak in front of Cyrene. However, Danae knew she saw.
How couldn’t she see? This was supposed to be a happy event where everyone came together and here Danae is, sniveling in the corner. The young girl was thoroughly convinced that the other girl must have regretted coming over to her for whatever reason had encouraged her to do so in the first place. Danae was already in a bit of a tailspin thanks to the quality of her voice, she didn’t want to let her insecurities come out to play as well.
“I’m sorry for my current state Lady Cyrene,” Danae managed to quietly croak out with her head still turned away from the other girl. Her words were not a true apology though, just merely a chance for Cyrene to escape without the shame of doing so. This was what Danae believed her worried glances to be, after all. They couldn’t be anything else, at least, not in her mind as she considered how unladylike it was for Danae to be crying and how she of all people was supposed to hold her head up high at this moment. Not doing so was probably too much for Cyrene to handle and Danae did not want to embarrass herself further on top of this, “You don’t have to sit with --”
Her words were brought to a sudden halt though when she felt Cyrene reach out for her. At first, Danae stiffened under the touch, mentally unprepared for the simple action as well as the comforting words that followed. Danae slowly turned her head to the other girl, suddenly not caring about the tear tracks on her face as she processed the fact that instead of running away, Cyrene had instead reached out to her. But on top of that, she was saying things that Danae desperately needed to hear, but didn’t know it until they were echoing in her head. Things like:
‘It will be alright, with time.’
‘You are still Lady Danae of Stravos’
And most importantly, ‘You have nothing to be ashamed of’
The last statement was the one that affected Danae the most and it was made clear to the girl that said it in the way that the Stravos girl scrambled for Cyrene’s hand again; not willing to break that reassuring point of human contact that Danae didn’t know she needed. As she glanced into the gaze of the other girl the tears that had been welling now had no reason to be held back. Quietly they fell her face before Danae reached to wipe them away. Her heart thudded so loudly in her chest that she couldn’t hear her own barely audible whispers thanking the girl. However, they quickly gave way to more a more substantial whispered comment that conveyed how powerless Danae felt in this situation amid the gentle sobs that racked her chest.
“I didn’t do anything and they took everything. They took it because they were scared of my brother. They punished us for him.” Danae knew that she shouldn’t say something like that. It was so obvious within her hushed whisper that she was speaking of the Xanthos family. They could justify it however they liked. At the core of their actions, they were trying to prevent Elias from becoming King and they caught the whole family in their crosshairs. It was so obvious, but saying it out loud to a member of their barony. For all Danae knew her statement could further condemn them, but Danae knew that someone needed to hear the truth that she truly had done nothing. That she didn’t deserve what had happened.
However, the things that Cyrene said had made her believe that maybe the Nikolaos girl was a bit disillusioned by the actions of the Xanthos family as well. Could this be the signs of a fracture against the coward of a queen who ruined lives for a crown she ran away from?
Either way, Danae knew it was too risky to say anything else and she had grown far too emotional for her mental state to handle at that moment. She relinquished the other girl’s hand and wiped away her tears one final time as she resettled back into place, letting the last bits of emotion work through her system, using her short stature to shield herself from the other women who were hopefully far too concerned with their gossip to take notice of the young noblewoman crying in the corner and if they didn’t… well, this girl certainly had reason to cry. Danae couldn’t even glance in the direction of her mother and sister who were both expecting Danae to hold her head high like them, something she didn’t have the personal strength to do when confronted with everything.
“Thank you Cyrene.” Danae said in a hushed tone, her voice becoming less gravelly and more normal with each word she said, “I had no idea… I can’t let them…” She trailed off at the end, still unsure of how to process everything. Danae was far too emotionally fragile for coherent thought right now. Instead, all her brain could focus on making things appear normal. So, quietly, she picked up the thread again and tried to refocus on the flower, but it was utterly impossible. Her brain was far too overactive and her voice was taking up too many of her thoughts.
So quietly she said to the girl who encouraged Danae to speak once again, “It’s been so long since I’ve spoken. I’ve been far too ashamed of what happened.[/b]” it was a confession she had never intended to make, but it still felt amazing to say it all the same. It gave her an odd sort of strength to finally say what she had been dealing with internally for so long.
She used this strength for her next statement, probably the bravest thing she had done in weeks and the most promising sign that the girl who had been forced into hiding by her shame was once again reemerging, “If it’s alright Lady Cyrene… can we just sit and talk for a few moments.” It was such a strange thing to ask truthfully, but it was a big thing for Danae and it showed that after weeks of hiding away… she was ready to come out again.
And maybe, just maybe, things could be almost normal again.
Hebe of Antonis was thrilled to head to the Naos of Athena and make the beloved Goddess a beautiful himation to wear in gratitude of escorting the late King into the Underworld! While the house slaves rolled up her knitted socks and parted her long hair into two, the young girl wondered about where King Minas was settled in the world down under. Was he drinking wine with the past Kings in the Elysium Fields? Sitting in the ferryboat with Charon? Tossing the discus around for Cerebus? Oh, how she yearned to play the sport right now! Well, whatever he was doing it was all thanks to the Goddess Athena for guiding him on his journey.
Surely death wasn't all about playing games with a three-headed dog or partying it up with your ancestors, for there was also a crucial downside. She wondered if King Minas stopped to think about his two daughters in the living realm, did he worry? Did he believe they can go on without him? So many unanswered questions, so much so that such concerns shouldn't occupy the noble girl's head. Still, it was something worth considering due to the fact that the event was surrounded by the fact that the King was dead. Taking a deep breath, Hebe filled her cheeks with air resembling a human blow-fish as the slaves braided her hair and pinned it at the top of her head like a crown, except it looked parallel to a long rope. Stretching the edges of her lilac gown to hide her socks with sandals, the slaves finished dressing her and dismissed themselves.
Hebe stood, her first instinct was to always look down and see if the gown hid her feet. If it did, she was perfect to head out, and if it didn't she would have to either have extra fabric added to the edges of wear another dress. It was a routine she must do if the rest of the family were to depart on noble engagements such as this one. Ordinarily, the young lady of Antonis didn't mind doing this, but what made the corners of her mouth turn downward was the fact that she must walk inside of the temple to get to her destination. Temples stood as locations for religion, and being one of the accursed... Well, the Gods did not look upon her with favor so wandering near a Temple was similar to minor punishment and the girl treated it as such. Folding her hands, she silently prayed to Athena, apologizing for offending her by entering the temple. Prayers wouldn't be enough, so she'd have to settle for other forms of apologies. Pinching the sides of her gown to lift it up for room to walk, she ran outside of her room and out on the front where her mother and sisters waited.
Her mother had a basket filled with fresh fruits and bread for each of them to carry, it was for the hardworking citizens and slaves who provided refreshments for them and the other wealthy women who concerned themselves with the large himation. The youngest grinned from ear to ear, her mother was so kind and charitable to all and it was so inspiring that she thought and cared for other people. "Wow, that's a great idea!” She exclaimed, beaming and scanning the baskets. "Thanks mother!” Hebe reached out and strategically grabbed the basket with the most food. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed her eldest sister Sanasa roll her eyes and grab a basket before heading to the carriage. "Oh Sana, sure you're a baroness now but you should still listen to mother, you're not -that- grown~." Commented Hebe, who nudged her older sister's backside with her own basket and followed her into the carriage sitting between her and Marietta.
Despite the recent death of the ruling monarch, the girls were chatty and lively to a certain extent. They conversed about the activities they'd done and the places they've seen in the Capitol: Evi was the loudest of the bunch, Sanasa was blunt, while Marietta chimed in with fewer responses, some only including one-word answers such as 'Yes' or 'Really.', and Hebe was chatty all the same with the exception on their opinions about the women that will attend.
They arrived late and headed inside of the Temple, with the fourteen-year old lagging behind. Once her mother and sisters made it to the court yard, she sharply inhaled and took slow steps towards the large statue of Athena. Rummaging through the basket for the largest fruit or loaves, plucking a lemon, a vine of grapes, an apple, and two loaves of bread as gifts. Setting them at the Goddess's bronze feet, Hebe dropped to her knees, closed her eyes and begun to speak.
“I am dearly sorry for offending you by stepping into your temple with my abnormality. I bear gifts and hope that you will let me pass peacefully. Also, thank you for guiding King Minas to the Underworld-- please tell him I said, 'Hello'!" [/font]
With that request and another piece of fruit lain at the Goddess's feet, she stood up and bowed her head before departing towards the exit to the courtyard.
Once she reached the courtyard, it felt like a large weight lifted from her shoulders. The Gods sure did work fast! Hebe returned to her lively self and made her way around the courtyard to greet some of the slaves and citizens, similar to what her sisters were doing with the baskets. Handing each a loaf of bread and fruit.
“Good evening and thank you for your hard work, please take the time to relax and have a bite to eat!”
“Hello, thank you for helping us!”
“Good day isn't it? Please help yourself!”
It was evident that Lady Sotiria and Lord Alehandros raised their daughters quite well, with the display of charity and generosity. Swaying her empty basket around, she speedily walked over to her relatives. Like her, they were higher in nobility and had royal blood running through their veins. “Granny! You look beautiful today! Huh-- where did all of the gray in your hair go?” She shouted, throwing her arms around Lady Sera of Marikas who was her father's mother. Hebe was under the assumption that her grandmother had brittle bones and no, it wasn't because of her temperament... it was because she was old! Unfortunately, those dyed strands couldn't fool the youngest of Antonis. With a giggle, she gave her a light squeeze before moving on to her great Aunt Circenia who apparently recently lost her noble title. As customary, she'd refer to her as 'Lady Stavros' in court. Well, this wasn't a court or royal setting so the lively girl decided to be casual.
“Great Aunt Circenia, I love your chiton!”
Well, that didn't go over too well with Evi who was greeting Elena. Evi reached over as if she was trying to fix Hebe's dress, and slyly pinched her thigh. The young lady mouthed, 'Ow' with a hurtful expression lined in her brown eyes. She wasn't sure why there was a need for the pinch, so she quickly shrugged it off and nodded towards her Aunt Agathe, Elena, Danil, and cousin Chara. “Aunt Agathe, Aunt Elena, Aunt Daniil, Lady Vasia and Lady Chara, it's lovely to see you all!” Now, Evi narrowed her eyes towards the youngest which wasn't scarcely noticed.
Turning her head to the side, she noticed her cousin Danae and a familiar blonde sitting at the corner of the courtyard. Tilting her head to the side in curiosity, Hebe wondered what the girls were speaking about. “I will be with Lady Danae and her friend, mother!” Informed the boisterous youth as she headed in their direction. Approaching the two older girls, she dragged a chair towards them (Dismissing a slave who attempted to aid her) and placed it next to them. “Hello Lady Danae and--” Her brown eyes flickered to the other woman's face, who resembled her father's retainer Hyla a little bit. “You look very familiar, do we know each other?” Sitting in the chair, folded one leg over the other thus making sure to hide her foot. One slave came by and handed her the needle to begin working on the himation, which she did right away as she waited for the blonde lady's response.
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Hebe of Antonis was thrilled to head to the Naos of Athena and make the beloved Goddess a beautiful himation to wear in gratitude of escorting the late King into the Underworld! While the house slaves rolled up her knitted socks and parted her long hair into two, the young girl wondered about where King Minas was settled in the world down under. Was he drinking wine with the past Kings in the Elysium Fields? Sitting in the ferryboat with Charon? Tossing the discus around for Cerebus? Oh, how she yearned to play the sport right now! Well, whatever he was doing it was all thanks to the Goddess Athena for guiding him on his journey.
Surely death wasn't all about playing games with a three-headed dog or partying it up with your ancestors, for there was also a crucial downside. She wondered if King Minas stopped to think about his two daughters in the living realm, did he worry? Did he believe they can go on without him? So many unanswered questions, so much so that such concerns shouldn't occupy the noble girl's head. Still, it was something worth considering due to the fact that the event was surrounded by the fact that the King was dead. Taking a deep breath, Hebe filled her cheeks with air resembling a human blow-fish as the slaves braided her hair and pinned it at the top of her head like a crown, except it looked parallel to a long rope. Stretching the edges of her lilac gown to hide her socks with sandals, the slaves finished dressing her and dismissed themselves.
Hebe stood, her first instinct was to always look down and see if the gown hid her feet. If it did, she was perfect to head out, and if it didn't she would have to either have extra fabric added to the edges of wear another dress. It was a routine she must do if the rest of the family were to depart on noble engagements such as this one. Ordinarily, the young lady of Antonis didn't mind doing this, but what made the corners of her mouth turn downward was the fact that she must walk inside of the temple to get to her destination. Temples stood as locations for religion, and being one of the accursed... Well, the Gods did not look upon her with favor so wandering near a Temple was similar to minor punishment and the girl treated it as such. Folding her hands, she silently prayed to Athena, apologizing for offending her by entering the temple. Prayers wouldn't be enough, so she'd have to settle for other forms of apologies. Pinching the sides of her gown to lift it up for room to walk, she ran outside of her room and out on the front where her mother and sisters waited.
Her mother had a basket filled with fresh fruits and bread for each of them to carry, it was for the hardworking citizens and slaves who provided refreshments for them and the other wealthy women who concerned themselves with the large himation. The youngest grinned from ear to ear, her mother was so kind and charitable to all and it was so inspiring that she thought and cared for other people. "Wow, that's a great idea!” She exclaimed, beaming and scanning the baskets. "Thanks mother!” Hebe reached out and strategically grabbed the basket with the most food. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed her eldest sister Sanasa roll her eyes and grab a basket before heading to the carriage. "Oh Sana, sure you're a baroness now but you should still listen to mother, you're not -that- grown~." Commented Hebe, who nudged her older sister's backside with her own basket and followed her into the carriage sitting between her and Marietta.
Despite the recent death of the ruling monarch, the girls were chatty and lively to a certain extent. They conversed about the activities they'd done and the places they've seen in the Capitol: Evi was the loudest of the bunch, Sanasa was blunt, while Marietta chimed in with fewer responses, some only including one-word answers such as 'Yes' or 'Really.', and Hebe was chatty all the same with the exception on their opinions about the women that will attend.
They arrived late and headed inside of the Temple, with the fourteen-year old lagging behind. Once her mother and sisters made it to the court yard, she sharply inhaled and took slow steps towards the large statue of Athena. Rummaging through the basket for the largest fruit or loaves, plucking a lemon, a vine of grapes, an apple, and two loaves of bread as gifts. Setting them at the Goddess's bronze feet, Hebe dropped to her knees, closed her eyes and begun to speak.
“I am dearly sorry for offending you by stepping into your temple with my abnormality. I bear gifts and hope that you will let me pass peacefully. Also, thank you for guiding King Minas to the Underworld-- please tell him I said, 'Hello'!" [/font]
With that request and another piece of fruit lain at the Goddess's feet, she stood up and bowed her head before departing towards the exit to the courtyard.
Once she reached the courtyard, it felt like a large weight lifted from her shoulders. The Gods sure did work fast! Hebe returned to her lively self and made her way around the courtyard to greet some of the slaves and citizens, similar to what her sisters were doing with the baskets. Handing each a loaf of bread and fruit.
“Good evening and thank you for your hard work, please take the time to relax and have a bite to eat!”
“Hello, thank you for helping us!”
“Good day isn't it? Please help yourself!”
It was evident that Lady Sotiria and Lord Alehandros raised their daughters quite well, with the display of charity and generosity. Swaying her empty basket around, she speedily walked over to her relatives. Like her, they were higher in nobility and had royal blood running through their veins. “Granny! You look beautiful today! Huh-- where did all of the gray in your hair go?” She shouted, throwing her arms around Lady Sera of Marikas who was her father's mother. Hebe was under the assumption that her grandmother had brittle bones and no, it wasn't because of her temperament... it was because she was old! Unfortunately, those dyed strands couldn't fool the youngest of Antonis. With a giggle, she gave her a light squeeze before moving on to her great Aunt Circenia who apparently recently lost her noble title. As customary, she'd refer to her as 'Lady Stavros' in court. Well, this wasn't a court or royal setting so the lively girl decided to be casual.
“Great Aunt Circenia, I love your chiton!”
Well, that didn't go over too well with Evi who was greeting Elena. Evi reached over as if she was trying to fix Hebe's dress, and slyly pinched her thigh. The young lady mouthed, 'Ow' with a hurtful expression lined in her brown eyes. She wasn't sure why there was a need for the pinch, so she quickly shrugged it off and nodded towards her Aunt Agathe, Elena, Danil, and cousin Chara. “Aunt Agathe, Aunt Elena, Aunt Daniil, Lady Vasia and Lady Chara, it's lovely to see you all!” Now, Evi narrowed her eyes towards the youngest which wasn't scarcely noticed.
Turning her head to the side, she noticed her cousin Danae and a familiar blonde sitting at the corner of the courtyard. Tilting her head to the side in curiosity, Hebe wondered what the girls were speaking about. “I will be with Lady Danae and her friend, mother!” Informed the boisterous youth as she headed in their direction. Approaching the two older girls, she dragged a chair towards them (Dismissing a slave who attempted to aid her) and placed it next to them. “Hello Lady Danae and--” Her brown eyes flickered to the other woman's face, who resembled her father's retainer Hyla a little bit. “You look very familiar, do we know each other?” Sitting in the chair, folded one leg over the other thus making sure to hide her foot. One slave came by and handed her the needle to begin working on the himation, which she did right away as she waited for the blonde lady's response.
Hebe of Antonis was thrilled to head to the Naos of Athena and make the beloved Goddess a beautiful himation to wear in gratitude of escorting the late King into the Underworld! While the house slaves rolled up her knitted socks and parted her long hair into two, the young girl wondered about where King Minas was settled in the world down under. Was he drinking wine with the past Kings in the Elysium Fields? Sitting in the ferryboat with Charon? Tossing the discus around for Cerebus? Oh, how she yearned to play the sport right now! Well, whatever he was doing it was all thanks to the Goddess Athena for guiding him on his journey.
Surely death wasn't all about playing games with a three-headed dog or partying it up with your ancestors, for there was also a crucial downside. She wondered if King Minas stopped to think about his two daughters in the living realm, did he worry? Did he believe they can go on without him? So many unanswered questions, so much so that such concerns shouldn't occupy the noble girl's head. Still, it was something worth considering due to the fact that the event was surrounded by the fact that the King was dead. Taking a deep breath, Hebe filled her cheeks with air resembling a human blow-fish as the slaves braided her hair and pinned it at the top of her head like a crown, except it looked parallel to a long rope. Stretching the edges of her lilac gown to hide her socks with sandals, the slaves finished dressing her and dismissed themselves.
Hebe stood, her first instinct was to always look down and see if the gown hid her feet. If it did, she was perfect to head out, and if it didn't she would have to either have extra fabric added to the edges of wear another dress. It was a routine she must do if the rest of the family were to depart on noble engagements such as this one. Ordinarily, the young lady of Antonis didn't mind doing this, but what made the corners of her mouth turn downward was the fact that she must walk inside of the temple to get to her destination. Temples stood as locations for religion, and being one of the accursed... Well, the Gods did not look upon her with favor so wandering near a Temple was similar to minor punishment and the girl treated it as such. Folding her hands, she silently prayed to Athena, apologizing for offending her by entering the temple. Prayers wouldn't be enough, so she'd have to settle for other forms of apologies. Pinching the sides of her gown to lift it up for room to walk, she ran outside of her room and out on the front where her mother and sisters waited.
Her mother had a basket filled with fresh fruits and bread for each of them to carry, it was for the hardworking citizens and slaves who provided refreshments for them and the other wealthy women who concerned themselves with the large himation. The youngest grinned from ear to ear, her mother was so kind and charitable to all and it was so inspiring that she thought and cared for other people. "Wow, that's a great idea!” She exclaimed, beaming and scanning the baskets. "Thanks mother!” Hebe reached out and strategically grabbed the basket with the most food. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed her eldest sister Sanasa roll her eyes and grab a basket before heading to the carriage. "Oh Sana, sure you're a baroness now but you should still listen to mother, you're not -that- grown~." Commented Hebe, who nudged her older sister's backside with her own basket and followed her into the carriage sitting between her and Marietta.
Despite the recent death of the ruling monarch, the girls were chatty and lively to a certain extent. They conversed about the activities they'd done and the places they've seen in the Capitol: Evi was the loudest of the bunch, Sanasa was blunt, while Marietta chimed in with fewer responses, some only including one-word answers such as 'Yes' or 'Really.', and Hebe was chatty all the same with the exception on their opinions about the women that will attend.
They arrived late and headed inside of the Temple, with the fourteen-year old lagging behind. Once her mother and sisters made it to the court yard, she sharply inhaled and took slow steps towards the large statue of Athena. Rummaging through the basket for the largest fruit or loaves, plucking a lemon, a vine of grapes, an apple, and two loaves of bread as gifts. Setting them at the Goddess's bronze feet, Hebe dropped to her knees, closed her eyes and begun to speak.
“I am dearly sorry for offending you by stepping into your temple with my abnormality. I bear gifts and hope that you will let me pass peacefully. Also, thank you for guiding King Minas to the Underworld-- please tell him I said, 'Hello'!" [/font]
With that request and another piece of fruit lain at the Goddess's feet, she stood up and bowed her head before departing towards the exit to the courtyard.
Once she reached the courtyard, it felt like a large weight lifted from her shoulders. The Gods sure did work fast! Hebe returned to her lively self and made her way around the courtyard to greet some of the slaves and citizens, similar to what her sisters were doing with the baskets. Handing each a loaf of bread and fruit.
“Good evening and thank you for your hard work, please take the time to relax and have a bite to eat!”
“Hello, thank you for helping us!”
“Good day isn't it? Please help yourself!”
It was evident that Lady Sotiria and Lord Alehandros raised their daughters quite well, with the display of charity and generosity. Swaying her empty basket around, she speedily walked over to her relatives. Like her, they were higher in nobility and had royal blood running through their veins. “Granny! You look beautiful today! Huh-- where did all of the gray in your hair go?” She shouted, throwing her arms around Lady Sera of Marikas who was her father's mother. Hebe was under the assumption that her grandmother had brittle bones and no, it wasn't because of her temperament... it was because she was old! Unfortunately, those dyed strands couldn't fool the youngest of Antonis. With a giggle, she gave her a light squeeze before moving on to her great Aunt Circenia who apparently recently lost her noble title. As customary, she'd refer to her as 'Lady Stavros' in court. Well, this wasn't a court or royal setting so the lively girl decided to be casual.
“Great Aunt Circenia, I love your chiton!”
Well, that didn't go over too well with Evi who was greeting Elena. Evi reached over as if she was trying to fix Hebe's dress, and slyly pinched her thigh. The young lady mouthed, 'Ow' with a hurtful expression lined in her brown eyes. She wasn't sure why there was a need for the pinch, so she quickly shrugged it off and nodded towards her Aunt Agathe, Elena, Danil, and cousin Chara. “Aunt Agathe, Aunt Elena, Aunt Daniil, Lady Vasia and Lady Chara, it's lovely to see you all!” Now, Evi narrowed her eyes towards the youngest which wasn't scarcely noticed.
Turning her head to the side, she noticed her cousin Danae and a familiar blonde sitting at the corner of the courtyard. Tilting her head to the side in curiosity, Hebe wondered what the girls were speaking about. “I will be with Lady Danae and her friend, mother!” Informed the boisterous youth as she headed in their direction. Approaching the two older girls, she dragged a chair towards them (Dismissing a slave who attempted to aid her) and placed it next to them. “Hello Lady Danae and--” Her brown eyes flickered to the other woman's face, who resembled her father's retainer Hyla a little bit. “You look very familiar, do we know each other?” Sitting in the chair, folded one leg over the other thus making sure to hide her foot. One slave came by and handed her the needle to begin working on the himation, which she did right away as she waited for the blonde lady's response.
Cyrene certainly wasn't expecting her words to strike nearly as deep as they did within Danae, as suddenly one of her hands was captured within the Stravos,' and her eyes widened as they snapped back to her, just in time to see tears spill from the teenager's eyes. Oh, no. Not here.
Gingerly setting down the fabric she'd been embroidering, Cyrene tentatively glanced around the Naos to see if anyone was watching, before slowly shifting to sit more in front of the girl than beside her, where she could obscure most views of the now crying Danae. Yes, she was not wailing, but Cyrene could not, with a good conscience, subject this girl to any more unwanted attention, especially because of her brash decision to open up the Stravos' clearly fresh wounds.
And then, Danae spoke. And Cyrene could feel her heart sink into her stomach. It was no wonder her father had voted against changing the line of succession. Persephone would do whatever she could to stay in power, even if that meant destroying the life of an innocent. And Cyrene knew that for sure now.
Cyrene slowly moved her other hand to close around Danae's, giving them a tight squeeze as she looked the girl straight in the eye. Cyrene bit her bottom lip. There was nothing she could say without endangering herself and her family, the Nikolaos were liegemen to the Xanthos house. But the blonde's eyes, tucked under a furrowed brow, communicated everything the sixteen-year-old could have wondered. Cyrene was just as afraid for Athenia as her new companion. For its stability, and for its soul.
As quickly as Danae had ceased her hand, she let go, yet Cyrene's gaze did not dare to leave the girl until she saw that she had managed some level of composure, at which time, the twenty-two-year-old shifted back to her seat beside the brunette, and resumed her embroidery, ears perked up in case Danae had anything else she wished to say.
And, it seemed she did. As Cyrene's gaze focused intently on the fabric before her, she hung on to every word that came from the girl's lips, only glancing over when she trailed off. But, soon, she'd started again, and Cyrene's eyes went right back to her needlework. The younger noble's words let a feeling of relief run over Cyrene: she had not further damaged the deeply-wounded Danae...her words had brought the girl back, if only slightly. In a hushed tone, the Nikolaos responded, "You've regained yourself. Lady Danae of Stravos...You mustn't let unmerited shame control you. No longer."
Cyrene wasn't quite sure where her words were coming from, but her conviction was strong: much bolder, much more confident than the shrinking violet that she was known to be. Quickly, it dawned on her: she did not want to see Danae of Stravos, a beautiful and powerful girl, resign herself the way that Cyrene had done. She would not allow it. When the Stravos spoke again, asking to just talk, the blonde's eyes once again glanced in her direction, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she kept at the embroidery in front of her. "Yes, of course we..."
Cyrene trailed off in both her words and her stitching due to the loud image of a rather boisterous, bubbly-looking girl, perhaps Danae's age, making a beeline for where they sat. Cyrene was sure she'd seen the girl before. Certainly at King Minas' funeral, at least...But where, she was not...Antonis. This girl was an Antonis.
Unprepared for the sudden burst of sunshine following a rather dread-filled conversation, Cyrene only blinked as the girl sat down, quickly plastering a court smile over the genuine one that Danae had brought to her lips. Looking up at the young girl from her spot on the ground, Cyrene's hands fingered the fabric in front of her as the girl addressed her.
"I do not believe we have been acquainted as of yet, but I am Cyrene of Nikolaos. You are an Antonis, yes? My younger brother, Hyla, is a retainer to your father, I believe." After a quick, awkward moment of silence, Cyrene forced an awkward laugh before speaking again. "In any case, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady...?"
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Cyrene certainly wasn't expecting her words to strike nearly as deep as they did within Danae, as suddenly one of her hands was captured within the Stravos,' and her eyes widened as they snapped back to her, just in time to see tears spill from the teenager's eyes. Oh, no. Not here.
Gingerly setting down the fabric she'd been embroidering, Cyrene tentatively glanced around the Naos to see if anyone was watching, before slowly shifting to sit more in front of the girl than beside her, where she could obscure most views of the now crying Danae. Yes, she was not wailing, but Cyrene could not, with a good conscience, subject this girl to any more unwanted attention, especially because of her brash decision to open up the Stravos' clearly fresh wounds.
And then, Danae spoke. And Cyrene could feel her heart sink into her stomach. It was no wonder her father had voted against changing the line of succession. Persephone would do whatever she could to stay in power, even if that meant destroying the life of an innocent. And Cyrene knew that for sure now.
Cyrene slowly moved her other hand to close around Danae's, giving them a tight squeeze as she looked the girl straight in the eye. Cyrene bit her bottom lip. There was nothing she could say without endangering herself and her family, the Nikolaos were liegemen to the Xanthos house. But the blonde's eyes, tucked under a furrowed brow, communicated everything the sixteen-year-old could have wondered. Cyrene was just as afraid for Athenia as her new companion. For its stability, and for its soul.
As quickly as Danae had ceased her hand, she let go, yet Cyrene's gaze did not dare to leave the girl until she saw that she had managed some level of composure, at which time, the twenty-two-year-old shifted back to her seat beside the brunette, and resumed her embroidery, ears perked up in case Danae had anything else she wished to say.
And, it seemed she did. As Cyrene's gaze focused intently on the fabric before her, she hung on to every word that came from the girl's lips, only glancing over when she trailed off. But, soon, she'd started again, and Cyrene's eyes went right back to her needlework. The younger noble's words let a feeling of relief run over Cyrene: she had not further damaged the deeply-wounded Danae...her words had brought the girl back, if only slightly. In a hushed tone, the Nikolaos responded, "You've regained yourself. Lady Danae of Stravos...You mustn't let unmerited shame control you. No longer."
Cyrene wasn't quite sure where her words were coming from, but her conviction was strong: much bolder, much more confident than the shrinking violet that she was known to be. Quickly, it dawned on her: she did not want to see Danae of Stravos, a beautiful and powerful girl, resign herself the way that Cyrene had done. She would not allow it. When the Stravos spoke again, asking to just talk, the blonde's eyes once again glanced in her direction, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she kept at the embroidery in front of her. "Yes, of course we..."
Cyrene trailed off in both her words and her stitching due to the loud image of a rather boisterous, bubbly-looking girl, perhaps Danae's age, making a beeline for where they sat. Cyrene was sure she'd seen the girl before. Certainly at King Minas' funeral, at least...But where, she was not...Antonis. This girl was an Antonis.
Unprepared for the sudden burst of sunshine following a rather dread-filled conversation, Cyrene only blinked as the girl sat down, quickly plastering a court smile over the genuine one that Danae had brought to her lips. Looking up at the young girl from her spot on the ground, Cyrene's hands fingered the fabric in front of her as the girl addressed her.
"I do not believe we have been acquainted as of yet, but I am Cyrene of Nikolaos. You are an Antonis, yes? My younger brother, Hyla, is a retainer to your father, I believe." After a quick, awkward moment of silence, Cyrene forced an awkward laugh before speaking again. "In any case, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady...?"
Cyrene certainly wasn't expecting her words to strike nearly as deep as they did within Danae, as suddenly one of her hands was captured within the Stravos,' and her eyes widened as they snapped back to her, just in time to see tears spill from the teenager's eyes. Oh, no. Not here.
Gingerly setting down the fabric she'd been embroidering, Cyrene tentatively glanced around the Naos to see if anyone was watching, before slowly shifting to sit more in front of the girl than beside her, where she could obscure most views of the now crying Danae. Yes, she was not wailing, but Cyrene could not, with a good conscience, subject this girl to any more unwanted attention, especially because of her brash decision to open up the Stravos' clearly fresh wounds.
And then, Danae spoke. And Cyrene could feel her heart sink into her stomach. It was no wonder her father had voted against changing the line of succession. Persephone would do whatever she could to stay in power, even if that meant destroying the life of an innocent. And Cyrene knew that for sure now.
Cyrene slowly moved her other hand to close around Danae's, giving them a tight squeeze as she looked the girl straight in the eye. Cyrene bit her bottom lip. There was nothing she could say without endangering herself and her family, the Nikolaos were liegemen to the Xanthos house. But the blonde's eyes, tucked under a furrowed brow, communicated everything the sixteen-year-old could have wondered. Cyrene was just as afraid for Athenia as her new companion. For its stability, and for its soul.
As quickly as Danae had ceased her hand, she let go, yet Cyrene's gaze did not dare to leave the girl until she saw that she had managed some level of composure, at which time, the twenty-two-year-old shifted back to her seat beside the brunette, and resumed her embroidery, ears perked up in case Danae had anything else she wished to say.
And, it seemed she did. As Cyrene's gaze focused intently on the fabric before her, she hung on to every word that came from the girl's lips, only glancing over when she trailed off. But, soon, she'd started again, and Cyrene's eyes went right back to her needlework. The younger noble's words let a feeling of relief run over Cyrene: she had not further damaged the deeply-wounded Danae...her words had brought the girl back, if only slightly. In a hushed tone, the Nikolaos responded, "You've regained yourself. Lady Danae of Stravos...You mustn't let unmerited shame control you. No longer."
Cyrene wasn't quite sure where her words were coming from, but her conviction was strong: much bolder, much more confident than the shrinking violet that she was known to be. Quickly, it dawned on her: she did not want to see Danae of Stravos, a beautiful and powerful girl, resign herself the way that Cyrene had done. She would not allow it. When the Stravos spoke again, asking to just talk, the blonde's eyes once again glanced in her direction, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she kept at the embroidery in front of her. "Yes, of course we..."
Cyrene trailed off in both her words and her stitching due to the loud image of a rather boisterous, bubbly-looking girl, perhaps Danae's age, making a beeline for where they sat. Cyrene was sure she'd seen the girl before. Certainly at King Minas' funeral, at least...But where, she was not...Antonis. This girl was an Antonis.
Unprepared for the sudden burst of sunshine following a rather dread-filled conversation, Cyrene only blinked as the girl sat down, quickly plastering a court smile over the genuine one that Danae had brought to her lips. Looking up at the young girl from her spot on the ground, Cyrene's hands fingered the fabric in front of her as the girl addressed her.
"I do not believe we have been acquainted as of yet, but I am Cyrene of Nikolaos. You are an Antonis, yes? My younger brother, Hyla, is a retainer to your father, I believe." After a quick, awkward moment of silence, Cyrene forced an awkward laugh before speaking again. "In any case, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady...?"
The blonde had shifted her bright gaze towards Agathe at the woman’s rejoinder, a laugh bubbling up and she tilted head to the side. “ I fear if our efforts are to be judged on my own embroidery skills then you might be right, Lady Agathe. But let us hope your talents outshine my own and that the goddess will forgive me”
If the Antonis daughter noticed the slight froideur that seemed to permeate their small gathering, she chose to ignore it. There was little benefit in being hostile to those who one mingled with often, and Vasia was not so petty as to hold the sins of one against all. They as women ought to be more discerning with their judgement than the clumsy efforts of the menfolk. And Vasia was quite polished at keeping her thoughts from her face anyway.
She let a silence fall as the noble women bent to their task of stitching, falling into a quiet rhythm of pushing the bone needle through, and round, through and round, until the simple silhouette of a bloom began to appear.Occasionally she lifted her gaze to survey the women around her, but was content enough to stay silent for a little while, listening to the snippets of conversation that could be heard from other parts of the hall. Long, dextrous fingers wrapped the thread and knotted it, before Vasia reached down to select a contrasting colour to the deep rose she had used so far. Slipping the end of the silken thread between her lips to moisten it, she lifted the needle up close to thread it, frowning a little as she concentrated. And when she was done, she looked to Agathe once more.
“Is your sister quite alright over there?” she enquired softly, flicking her gaze towards where the dark haired girl sat silently, a frown drawn low across her brow. “ Will she not come and join us?”
For an event intended to bring the women of the capitol back together, they seemed to be doing a rather good job of making it a solo endeavour. Vasia exchanged a glance with Sofia. Time to put an end to that.
“Have any of you seen the young Princess of late?” She asked, looking around their small circle. “ I have been meaning to call on her but I hear she has not been receiving visitors? That is sad in a time when she will be needing people around her more than ever”
Emilia was older than the Antonis girl had been when she had lost her mother. But Emilia had lost her father and then sister in sch quick succession, it was almost impossible for Vasia not to feel for the girl. Appearing for all intents and purposes as of she were focusing solely on the fine needlework at her fingers, the blonde woman nevertheless made quick glances towards those she sat with. Hardly a friendly crowd, but Vasia was not one to be daunted by such things. She held her own in a house filled with pigheaded military men - dear to her as they were- but women were often not so simple. More subtle and and muted in their expressions, less direct and to the point. A different language to the one she had adapted to at home, but one that Vasia was fluent in nevertheless.
There was not much time to receive answers though before her young cousins came over and Vasia smiled warmly and returned the greeting. "Lady Evie, Lady Hebe, delightful to see you both"
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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The blonde had shifted her bright gaze towards Agathe at the woman’s rejoinder, a laugh bubbling up and she tilted head to the side. “ I fear if our efforts are to be judged on my own embroidery skills then you might be right, Lady Agathe. But let us hope your talents outshine my own and that the goddess will forgive me”
If the Antonis daughter noticed the slight froideur that seemed to permeate their small gathering, she chose to ignore it. There was little benefit in being hostile to those who one mingled with often, and Vasia was not so petty as to hold the sins of one against all. They as women ought to be more discerning with their judgement than the clumsy efforts of the menfolk. And Vasia was quite polished at keeping her thoughts from her face anyway.
She let a silence fall as the noble women bent to their task of stitching, falling into a quiet rhythm of pushing the bone needle through, and round, through and round, until the simple silhouette of a bloom began to appear.Occasionally she lifted her gaze to survey the women around her, but was content enough to stay silent for a little while, listening to the snippets of conversation that could be heard from other parts of the hall. Long, dextrous fingers wrapped the thread and knotted it, before Vasia reached down to select a contrasting colour to the deep rose she had used so far. Slipping the end of the silken thread between her lips to moisten it, she lifted the needle up close to thread it, frowning a little as she concentrated. And when she was done, she looked to Agathe once more.
“Is your sister quite alright over there?” she enquired softly, flicking her gaze towards where the dark haired girl sat silently, a frown drawn low across her brow. “ Will she not come and join us?”
For an event intended to bring the women of the capitol back together, they seemed to be doing a rather good job of making it a solo endeavour. Vasia exchanged a glance with Sofia. Time to put an end to that.
“Have any of you seen the young Princess of late?” She asked, looking around their small circle. “ I have been meaning to call on her but I hear she has not been receiving visitors? That is sad in a time when she will be needing people around her more than ever”
Emilia was older than the Antonis girl had been when she had lost her mother. But Emilia had lost her father and then sister in sch quick succession, it was almost impossible for Vasia not to feel for the girl. Appearing for all intents and purposes as of she were focusing solely on the fine needlework at her fingers, the blonde woman nevertheless made quick glances towards those she sat with. Hardly a friendly crowd, but Vasia was not one to be daunted by such things. She held her own in a house filled with pigheaded military men - dear to her as they were- but women were often not so simple. More subtle and and muted in their expressions, less direct and to the point. A different language to the one she had adapted to at home, but one that Vasia was fluent in nevertheless.
There was not much time to receive answers though before her young cousins came over and Vasia smiled warmly and returned the greeting. "Lady Evie, Lady Hebe, delightful to see you both"
The blonde had shifted her bright gaze towards Agathe at the woman’s rejoinder, a laugh bubbling up and she tilted head to the side. “ I fear if our efforts are to be judged on my own embroidery skills then you might be right, Lady Agathe. But let us hope your talents outshine my own and that the goddess will forgive me”
If the Antonis daughter noticed the slight froideur that seemed to permeate their small gathering, she chose to ignore it. There was little benefit in being hostile to those who one mingled with often, and Vasia was not so petty as to hold the sins of one against all. They as women ought to be more discerning with their judgement than the clumsy efforts of the menfolk. And Vasia was quite polished at keeping her thoughts from her face anyway.
She let a silence fall as the noble women bent to their task of stitching, falling into a quiet rhythm of pushing the bone needle through, and round, through and round, until the simple silhouette of a bloom began to appear.Occasionally she lifted her gaze to survey the women around her, but was content enough to stay silent for a little while, listening to the snippets of conversation that could be heard from other parts of the hall. Long, dextrous fingers wrapped the thread and knotted it, before Vasia reached down to select a contrasting colour to the deep rose she had used so far. Slipping the end of the silken thread between her lips to moisten it, she lifted the needle up close to thread it, frowning a little as she concentrated. And when she was done, she looked to Agathe once more.
“Is your sister quite alright over there?” she enquired softly, flicking her gaze towards where the dark haired girl sat silently, a frown drawn low across her brow. “ Will she not come and join us?”
For an event intended to bring the women of the capitol back together, they seemed to be doing a rather good job of making it a solo endeavour. Vasia exchanged a glance with Sofia. Time to put an end to that.
“Have any of you seen the young Princess of late?” She asked, looking around their small circle. “ I have been meaning to call on her but I hear she has not been receiving visitors? That is sad in a time when she will be needing people around her more than ever”
Emilia was older than the Antonis girl had been when she had lost her mother. But Emilia had lost her father and then sister in sch quick succession, it was almost impossible for Vasia not to feel for the girl. Appearing for all intents and purposes as of she were focusing solely on the fine needlework at her fingers, the blonde woman nevertheless made quick glances towards those she sat with. Hardly a friendly crowd, but Vasia was not one to be daunted by such things. She held her own in a house filled with pigheaded military men - dear to her as they were- but women were often not so simple. More subtle and and muted in their expressions, less direct and to the point. A different language to the one she had adapted to at home, but one that Vasia was fluent in nevertheless.
There was not much time to receive answers though before her young cousins came over and Vasia smiled warmly and returned the greeting. "Lady Evie, Lady Hebe, delightful to see you both"