The chatbox has been hidden for this page. It will reopen upon refresh. To hide the CBox permanently, select "Permanently Toggle Cbox" in your profile User Settings.
This chatbox is hidden. To reopen, edit your User Settings.
Everything from the moment Persephone had woken up back in her rooms in the royal palace seemed to be some kind of strange lucid dream. Something that was happening to another person entirely that Persephone was just being told of. That had nothing to do with herself, nor her own life. And yet, her emotions knew different. They knew the fearful terror of running for one's life. They knew the desperation of trying to reach her sister in the chaos. They knew the resignation of giving in, the grief of accepting the logical conclusions of leaving her sister behind in that place... Her heart knew the truth of the situation and seemed to think her a coward; too weak to deal with it all. In an effort to protect her from heartbreak or panic, her heart and mind seemed to have closed down. She was unaware of anything that could be considered a particularly strong feeling. She was entirely beyond a personal connection. Instead, she was simply herself. Or, at least, the self she had always played to be. Princess Persephone. Bright, cheerful, pleasant, appropriate. With no strong emotions and no heartbreak.
As soon as she had given in whilst being carried in Iason's arms, Persephone had said nothing for the rest of the journey to his boat. Or at least, she later found out that it was his boat. At the time, she had no idea and couldn't care less where she was being taken. She had been cut off entirely from her own thoughts and feelings. She had been silent; completely in shock, as Lord Iason had carried her to a small cabin below deck and settled her to sleep. She had not released the crown and papers when he had gently tried to prise them from her with the suggestion that it would be easier to sleep without them. And she hadn't even met his eye as he had been forced to leave the room without so much as a consideration, thanks or glance in his direction. She had been devoid of all humanity until stress, exhaustion and the plain desire to escape from the world had taken hold of her mind and eyes and forced her to sleep.
By the time the morning sun came around, Persephone was awake and back on track. Her numbness gone, her simple disconnect had begun. Like when her mother had died, when her father had died and now when her sister was most assuredly dead, Persephone picked herself up from her bed, looked around the rocking and swaying room, and allowed the years of practical and etiquette training to take over. She had stood, found the clothing that had been thoughtfully set aside for her and dressed. She had brushed her hair with the comb provided from somewhere. She had tied the strands back herself into a thick braid that she was unused to. And she had gone about her business as perfectly normal.
Her first order of business had been to thank the captain and speak with him appropriately. Despite wearing riding pants and a long man's tunic, Persephone continued to hold herself as if she were dressed in royal raiment. She had held her head high, her back straight, her hands demurely before her. She had smiled, commented on things in amusement. She'd even laughed.
None of it was real. And the fact that it was all fake was something Persephone herself was ignorant of. She was on autopilot. Unable to compute that how she was behaving, thinking and applying herself was all an act that had been fused into her self-defence mentality from a young age. In her mind, she was simply doing what needed to be done.
For the week it took the get to Taengea, Persephone kept herself unfeasibly busy. She had bandaged up and cared for the warrior who had aided her and Iason - Demetrius was his name - despite it taking nearly four times to secure a bandage tight enough to do him any good. She had aided in preparing meals for the crew. She had stood for long periods of time talking with the captain about sea faring. She had also vomited a fair number of times over the back of the ship where no-one could see. Given it being her first time on a boat, it turned out she got seasick fairly badly. Wonderful.
But she was determined not to keep such depressing thoughts in mind for long and, instead, kept herself busy at all times. This was to ensure that, when she went to bed as the night-time fell, she was able to sleep.
Not that she did for long. Determined to never go to bed before she was dead on her feet - her mind naturally shying away from the result of her lying in bed and thinking, Persephone didn't retire each night until hours after darkness fell and late into the early morning. She then woke with the sun and repeated the pattern. She managed a few hours of sleep each night maximum. The rest of her time was spent desperately trying to fill the hours with tasks that she could perform, conversations she could have, or appearances she could keep up. All an entirely subconscious effort to avoid the truth that she had left behind in Athenia.
By the time the ship arrived in Taengea, Persephone's face had gone from finely boned to gaunt. Dark smudges had appeared under her eyes. She had lost significant weight (not that her overlarge tunic would show the difference in her physique). She had never spoken of what had happened in Athenia and had changed the subject if anyone so much as mentioned the kingdom, focusing instead of the facts and figures and stories of the lands of Taengea, where they were headed.
The dock they arrived at was, according to Iason, only a few hours ride away from their destination. Though whether they were headed for his own barony or his father's Persephone had never thought to ask. Instead, she simply donned the hooded cloak she had found on the ship, pulled the cowl close to her face and headed down the gangplank of the ship, disembarking from the vessel and headed for one of three horses that were being held to one side by the fighter Demetrius, clearly having been sent for the animals by Iason whilst the lord stayed by her side, as he did now.
Upon approaching the side of the animal and raising her hands to pull herself up onto its back, Persephone found it impossible to mount. Whether it was her own body; the physical or mental state of exhaustion she was in, or the fact that the horse was a few hands taller than her usual ride, she didn't know. She simply convinced herself that the second was true, as she tried again - and failed to reach a leg up and over the back of the animal, before she hopped back down the ground, feeling her throat tighten and her features twist against the desire to cry with frustration. She took a calming breath and tried again...
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Everything from the moment Persephone had woken up back in her rooms in the royal palace seemed to be some kind of strange lucid dream. Something that was happening to another person entirely that Persephone was just being told of. That had nothing to do with herself, nor her own life. And yet, her emotions knew different. They knew the fearful terror of running for one's life. They knew the desperation of trying to reach her sister in the chaos. They knew the resignation of giving in, the grief of accepting the logical conclusions of leaving her sister behind in that place... Her heart knew the truth of the situation and seemed to think her a coward; too weak to deal with it all. In an effort to protect her from heartbreak or panic, her heart and mind seemed to have closed down. She was unaware of anything that could be considered a particularly strong feeling. She was entirely beyond a personal connection. Instead, she was simply herself. Or, at least, the self she had always played to be. Princess Persephone. Bright, cheerful, pleasant, appropriate. With no strong emotions and no heartbreak.
As soon as she had given in whilst being carried in Iason's arms, Persephone had said nothing for the rest of the journey to his boat. Or at least, she later found out that it was his boat. At the time, she had no idea and couldn't care less where she was being taken. She had been cut off entirely from her own thoughts and feelings. She had been silent; completely in shock, as Lord Iason had carried her to a small cabin below deck and settled her to sleep. She had not released the crown and papers when he had gently tried to prise them from her with the suggestion that it would be easier to sleep without them. And she hadn't even met his eye as he had been forced to leave the room without so much as a consideration, thanks or glance in his direction. She had been devoid of all humanity until stress, exhaustion and the plain desire to escape from the world had taken hold of her mind and eyes and forced her to sleep.
By the time the morning sun came around, Persephone was awake and back on track. Her numbness gone, her simple disconnect had begun. Like when her mother had died, when her father had died and now when her sister was most assuredly dead, Persephone picked herself up from her bed, looked around the rocking and swaying room, and allowed the years of practical and etiquette training to take over. She had stood, found the clothing that had been thoughtfully set aside for her and dressed. She had brushed her hair with the comb provided from somewhere. She had tied the strands back herself into a thick braid that she was unused to. And she had gone about her business as perfectly normal.
Her first order of business had been to thank the captain and speak with him appropriately. Despite wearing riding pants and a long man's tunic, Persephone continued to hold herself as if she were dressed in royal raiment. She had held her head high, her back straight, her hands demurely before her. She had smiled, commented on things in amusement. She'd even laughed.
None of it was real. And the fact that it was all fake was something Persephone herself was ignorant of. She was on autopilot. Unable to compute that how she was behaving, thinking and applying herself was all an act that had been fused into her self-defence mentality from a young age. In her mind, she was simply doing what needed to be done.
For the week it took the get to Taengea, Persephone kept herself unfeasibly busy. She had bandaged up and cared for the warrior who had aided her and Iason - Demetrius was his name - despite it taking nearly four times to secure a bandage tight enough to do him any good. She had aided in preparing meals for the crew. She had stood for long periods of time talking with the captain about sea faring. She had also vomited a fair number of times over the back of the ship where no-one could see. Given it being her first time on a boat, it turned out she got seasick fairly badly. Wonderful.
But she was determined not to keep such depressing thoughts in mind for long and, instead, kept herself busy at all times. This was to ensure that, when she went to bed as the night-time fell, she was able to sleep.
Not that she did for long. Determined to never go to bed before she was dead on her feet - her mind naturally shying away from the result of her lying in bed and thinking, Persephone didn't retire each night until hours after darkness fell and late into the early morning. She then woke with the sun and repeated the pattern. She managed a few hours of sleep each night maximum. The rest of her time was spent desperately trying to fill the hours with tasks that she could perform, conversations she could have, or appearances she could keep up. All an entirely subconscious effort to avoid the truth that she had left behind in Athenia.
By the time the ship arrived in Taengea, Persephone's face had gone from finely boned to gaunt. Dark smudges had appeared under her eyes. She had lost significant weight (not that her overlarge tunic would show the difference in her physique). She had never spoken of what had happened in Athenia and had changed the subject if anyone so much as mentioned the kingdom, focusing instead of the facts and figures and stories of the lands of Taengea, where they were headed.
The dock they arrived at was, according to Iason, only a few hours ride away from their destination. Though whether they were headed for his own barony or his father's Persephone had never thought to ask. Instead, she simply donned the hooded cloak she had found on the ship, pulled the cowl close to her face and headed down the gangplank of the ship, disembarking from the vessel and headed for one of three horses that were being held to one side by the fighter Demetrius, clearly having been sent for the animals by Iason whilst the lord stayed by her side, as he did now.
Upon approaching the side of the animal and raising her hands to pull herself up onto its back, Persephone found it impossible to mount. Whether it was her own body; the physical or mental state of exhaustion she was in, or the fact that the horse was a few hands taller than her usual ride, she didn't know. She simply convinced herself that the second was true, as she tried again - and failed to reach a leg up and over the back of the animal, before she hopped back down the ground, feeling her throat tighten and her features twist against the desire to cry with frustration. She took a calming breath and tried again...
Everything from the moment Persephone had woken up back in her rooms in the royal palace seemed to be some kind of strange lucid dream. Something that was happening to another person entirely that Persephone was just being told of. That had nothing to do with herself, nor her own life. And yet, her emotions knew different. They knew the fearful terror of running for one's life. They knew the desperation of trying to reach her sister in the chaos. They knew the resignation of giving in, the grief of accepting the logical conclusions of leaving her sister behind in that place... Her heart knew the truth of the situation and seemed to think her a coward; too weak to deal with it all. In an effort to protect her from heartbreak or panic, her heart and mind seemed to have closed down. She was unaware of anything that could be considered a particularly strong feeling. She was entirely beyond a personal connection. Instead, she was simply herself. Or, at least, the self she had always played to be. Princess Persephone. Bright, cheerful, pleasant, appropriate. With no strong emotions and no heartbreak.
As soon as she had given in whilst being carried in Iason's arms, Persephone had said nothing for the rest of the journey to his boat. Or at least, she later found out that it was his boat. At the time, she had no idea and couldn't care less where she was being taken. She had been cut off entirely from her own thoughts and feelings. She had been silent; completely in shock, as Lord Iason had carried her to a small cabin below deck and settled her to sleep. She had not released the crown and papers when he had gently tried to prise them from her with the suggestion that it would be easier to sleep without them. And she hadn't even met his eye as he had been forced to leave the room without so much as a consideration, thanks or glance in his direction. She had been devoid of all humanity until stress, exhaustion and the plain desire to escape from the world had taken hold of her mind and eyes and forced her to sleep.
By the time the morning sun came around, Persephone was awake and back on track. Her numbness gone, her simple disconnect had begun. Like when her mother had died, when her father had died and now when her sister was most assuredly dead, Persephone picked herself up from her bed, looked around the rocking and swaying room, and allowed the years of practical and etiquette training to take over. She had stood, found the clothing that had been thoughtfully set aside for her and dressed. She had brushed her hair with the comb provided from somewhere. She had tied the strands back herself into a thick braid that she was unused to. And she had gone about her business as perfectly normal.
Her first order of business had been to thank the captain and speak with him appropriately. Despite wearing riding pants and a long man's tunic, Persephone continued to hold herself as if she were dressed in royal raiment. She had held her head high, her back straight, her hands demurely before her. She had smiled, commented on things in amusement. She'd even laughed.
None of it was real. And the fact that it was all fake was something Persephone herself was ignorant of. She was on autopilot. Unable to compute that how she was behaving, thinking and applying herself was all an act that had been fused into her self-defence mentality from a young age. In her mind, she was simply doing what needed to be done.
For the week it took the get to Taengea, Persephone kept herself unfeasibly busy. She had bandaged up and cared for the warrior who had aided her and Iason - Demetrius was his name - despite it taking nearly four times to secure a bandage tight enough to do him any good. She had aided in preparing meals for the crew. She had stood for long periods of time talking with the captain about sea faring. She had also vomited a fair number of times over the back of the ship where no-one could see. Given it being her first time on a boat, it turned out she got seasick fairly badly. Wonderful.
But she was determined not to keep such depressing thoughts in mind for long and, instead, kept herself busy at all times. This was to ensure that, when she went to bed as the night-time fell, she was able to sleep.
Not that she did for long. Determined to never go to bed before she was dead on her feet - her mind naturally shying away from the result of her lying in bed and thinking, Persephone didn't retire each night until hours after darkness fell and late into the early morning. She then woke with the sun and repeated the pattern. She managed a few hours of sleep each night maximum. The rest of her time was spent desperately trying to fill the hours with tasks that she could perform, conversations she could have, or appearances she could keep up. All an entirely subconscious effort to avoid the truth that she had left behind in Athenia.
By the time the ship arrived in Taengea, Persephone's face had gone from finely boned to gaunt. Dark smudges had appeared under her eyes. She had lost significant weight (not that her overlarge tunic would show the difference in her physique). She had never spoken of what had happened in Athenia and had changed the subject if anyone so much as mentioned the kingdom, focusing instead of the facts and figures and stories of the lands of Taengea, where they were headed.
The dock they arrived at was, according to Iason, only a few hours ride away from their destination. Though whether they were headed for his own barony or his father's Persephone had never thought to ask. Instead, she simply donned the hooded cloak she had found on the ship, pulled the cowl close to her face and headed down the gangplank of the ship, disembarking from the vessel and headed for one of three horses that were being held to one side by the fighter Demetrius, clearly having been sent for the animals by Iason whilst the lord stayed by her side, as he did now.
Upon approaching the side of the animal and raising her hands to pull herself up onto its back, Persephone found it impossible to mount. Whether it was her own body; the physical or mental state of exhaustion she was in, or the fact that the horse was a few hands taller than her usual ride, she didn't know. She simply convinced herself that the second was true, as she tried again - and failed to reach a leg up and over the back of the animal, before she hopped back down the ground, feeling her throat tighten and her features twist against the desire to cry with frustration. She took a calming breath and tried again...
For the entirety of the trip from Athenia to Taengea, it felt as if Persephone had spoken to everyone but him. She refused to look him in the eye or spend a moment with him outside of the company of others and he knew she blamed him for making her leave. IN her mind it was no doubt his fault that Emilia had not also been saved, and the guilt was eating at him even as he chose to sleep on the deck of the boat with the crew, doing what he could to help. Perhaps she would want to break off their engagement, leave him and live her own life instead of going through with the marriage, but first they had to get safe.
With no time to grab most of his belongings aside from the few things that had been loaded onto the boat prior to the king's death, Iason had gone without a proper shave for the week by the time the boat landed at port. His return home was far sooner than he had thought, and after giving the wounded gladiator instruction, he left the boat with furtive glances to ensure no one was looking at them too closely. The cloak over Persephone's face hid her identity for the most part, and as Demetrius held the horse steady for her he watched her attempts to mount with a wince. She was used to a more dainty beast than the ones procured and as she set herself up for yet another attempt, Iason stepped in.
"Here." Holding out his hand to give her a proper leg up, Iason tried to meet her eyes for the first time since the night he'd woken her to flee the palace. He was well seasoned in giving assistance mounting to his younger sisters and in this instance there was little difference, she needed help and it was his duty and honor to offer it. It was the thinness of her face now that he got a proper look that had him worried, a frown creasing his forehead as he waited her response. "Or, if you prefer, ride with me. That way you can rest, though it's not a long trip."
Taking her to his father's house seemed the safest option. People would expect him to return to visit his father after the accident after all, it would be strange to take her first to his own barony and then make a return trip. That way his sisters could keep her company and if ever he or his father had to leave, the other could keep her safe. It would be interesting to see what his father thought of the woman he had been intending to marry, to see how she got along with his family, if she chose to remain with them of course. She could always choose to present herself to the king and queen of Taengea for asylum instead.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
For the entirety of the trip from Athenia to Taengea, it felt as if Persephone had spoken to everyone but him. She refused to look him in the eye or spend a moment with him outside of the company of others and he knew she blamed him for making her leave. IN her mind it was no doubt his fault that Emilia had not also been saved, and the guilt was eating at him even as he chose to sleep on the deck of the boat with the crew, doing what he could to help. Perhaps she would want to break off their engagement, leave him and live her own life instead of going through with the marriage, but first they had to get safe.
With no time to grab most of his belongings aside from the few things that had been loaded onto the boat prior to the king's death, Iason had gone without a proper shave for the week by the time the boat landed at port. His return home was far sooner than he had thought, and after giving the wounded gladiator instruction, he left the boat with furtive glances to ensure no one was looking at them too closely. The cloak over Persephone's face hid her identity for the most part, and as Demetrius held the horse steady for her he watched her attempts to mount with a wince. She was used to a more dainty beast than the ones procured and as she set herself up for yet another attempt, Iason stepped in.
"Here." Holding out his hand to give her a proper leg up, Iason tried to meet her eyes for the first time since the night he'd woken her to flee the palace. He was well seasoned in giving assistance mounting to his younger sisters and in this instance there was little difference, she needed help and it was his duty and honor to offer it. It was the thinness of her face now that he got a proper look that had him worried, a frown creasing his forehead as he waited her response. "Or, if you prefer, ride with me. That way you can rest, though it's not a long trip."
Taking her to his father's house seemed the safest option. People would expect him to return to visit his father after the accident after all, it would be strange to take her first to his own barony and then make a return trip. That way his sisters could keep her company and if ever he or his father had to leave, the other could keep her safe. It would be interesting to see what his father thought of the woman he had been intending to marry, to see how she got along with his family, if she chose to remain with them of course. She could always choose to present herself to the king and queen of Taengea for asylum instead.
For the entirety of the trip from Athenia to Taengea, it felt as if Persephone had spoken to everyone but him. She refused to look him in the eye or spend a moment with him outside of the company of others and he knew she blamed him for making her leave. IN her mind it was no doubt his fault that Emilia had not also been saved, and the guilt was eating at him even as he chose to sleep on the deck of the boat with the crew, doing what he could to help. Perhaps she would want to break off their engagement, leave him and live her own life instead of going through with the marriage, but first they had to get safe.
With no time to grab most of his belongings aside from the few things that had been loaded onto the boat prior to the king's death, Iason had gone without a proper shave for the week by the time the boat landed at port. His return home was far sooner than he had thought, and after giving the wounded gladiator instruction, he left the boat with furtive glances to ensure no one was looking at them too closely. The cloak over Persephone's face hid her identity for the most part, and as Demetrius held the horse steady for her he watched her attempts to mount with a wince. She was used to a more dainty beast than the ones procured and as she set herself up for yet another attempt, Iason stepped in.
"Here." Holding out his hand to give her a proper leg up, Iason tried to meet her eyes for the first time since the night he'd woken her to flee the palace. He was well seasoned in giving assistance mounting to his younger sisters and in this instance there was little difference, she needed help and it was his duty and honor to offer it. It was the thinness of her face now that he got a proper look that had him worried, a frown creasing his forehead as he waited her response. "Or, if you prefer, ride with me. That way you can rest, though it's not a long trip."
Taking her to his father's house seemed the safest option. People would expect him to return to visit his father after the accident after all, it would be strange to take her first to his own barony and then make a return trip. That way his sisters could keep her company and if ever he or his father had to leave, the other could keep her safe. It would be interesting to see what his father thought of the woman he had been intending to marry, to see how she got along with his family, if she chose to remain with them of course. She could always choose to present herself to the king and queen of Taengea for asylum instead.
Persephone had managed to remain numb for so long but with the return to civilisation on land - even just a few minutes of it - she could already feel her emotions starting to change. It was easy, when on a boat out at sea, to think yourself in a fugue state. To have your life in suspension; that nothing had ever happened or gone wrong. Or that it had but there were not yet any consequences nor fallouts from such a tragedy. Once ashore, there were people everywhere. They were living, carrying out their daily duties. So, simple a thing like the boy tying the cargo in a practised manner, the old man eating a piece of bread so clearly his breakfast... each behaving as they had done every day for weeks no doubt. It was indicative of time passing. And not only that... but of time passing in a way that suggested complete ignorance or lack of importance to what had happened back in Athenia.
Logic dictated that these people might not yet have heard the news. That they might be carrying on as normal simply because they were unaware. But reason also stated that, even if they did, it would likely not affect them. They would still go about their days as normal. Her entire world had disintegrated in the last week and yet it would affect nobody. Somehow it made it all the harsher, turning a dull ache in her heart to a knife wound.
When she failed to be able to get onto the back of the horse - so simple a task that she was now apparently incapable of. Persephone felt her throat constrict and her features start to twist. She smoothed them out with a swallow and a moment of closing her eyes.
A soft voice came from beside her as Iason stepped forwards. His single word of aid was accompanied by him bending over to off a hand in getting her up onto the animal's back. She felt that tell-tale tightening in her throat again and pushed it back, way deep down. She could not afford to feel gratitude or compassion. If she felt that, she would feel it all...
"I'm fine, thank you." She managed to speak aloud, in answer to his offer to ride with him. As considerate as she knew the offer to be, she wasn't in a position where she could openly allow someone else to look after her. For her to lean on someone or wrap her arms around them physically or metaphorically. She needed to be self-sufficient and remain cut off.
She did, however, accept his help. And without much effort, he had her securely on the horse's back. Settling into the low saddle and taking up the reins with a practised hand, Persephone ensured that her hood was in place and her cloak covered her gown - one that was simple and cotton and had already caused a light rash on her upper arms and hips where it rubbed (her skin was not used to the coarser fabrics) - with its tail. Neither her dress nor footwear (leather sandals designed for a man and clearly ill fitting) were likely to give her away as the Queen of Athenia.
Not that that's what she was as anymore.
When Iason had bent in order to help her onto her mount, he had attempted to meet her eyes - similar to how he had done intermittently throughout the voyage from her homeland. Were she able to think of others in that moment, she would have realised the discontent he must have been feeling. The uncertainty of what all of this meant for him and his position as her fiancé. Whether it was still viable. Whether she still needed him. Whether he was doing what was right when she had given him no instruction or approval along the entire journey.
But she didn't think it. And she didn't see it. Instead, she simply saw the man she was slowly coming to know - bearded now, rather than clean shaven and, in many ways, all the more handsome for it - and kind.
That was what Persephone had learnt most strongly about the Lord Iason during his time in Athenia. He was kind. No man would spend as much time as he had playing the appropriate role as her fiancé or ensuring the appropriate handling of her personage with compassion and consideration, if he wasn't so very kind.
And right now, kindness opened up the opportunity for trust and reliance. Reliance allowed you to be weak with someone. Weakness allowed you to be open. And Persephone could not open herself to her thoughts and feelings right now...
Which meant she couldn't deal with Iason being kind.
So, as it had done every time he had attempted it on the boat, Persephone's eyes had met his just briefly - as if by natural instinct - and then had flitted away as she had made the pretence of settling herself on the horse's back.
Taking a calming breath, Persephone kicked her steed into motion, as the small party of three headed where Iason led. Persephone assumed this to be either his own barony or that of his family's but she had made no comment or query regarding it. Instead, she simply looked forwards. Literally. She watched the road ahead and the horizon change, her gaze faded and turned inward. She wasn't really thinking as much as trying decidedly to not think and pull her emotions into order and slowly, as they rode, she felt herself grow calmer and gain some of the numbness she had felt on the boat. That seemed to be the way of it at least. Little waves of emotion had popped up infrequently since they left Athenia. As if her subconscious mind was telling her she had things she had to deal with. But good control and mental prowess had allowed her to push it all back down beneath the surface and shoulder shut the door on those thoughts each and every time...
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Persephone had managed to remain numb for so long but with the return to civilisation on land - even just a few minutes of it - she could already feel her emotions starting to change. It was easy, when on a boat out at sea, to think yourself in a fugue state. To have your life in suspension; that nothing had ever happened or gone wrong. Or that it had but there were not yet any consequences nor fallouts from such a tragedy. Once ashore, there were people everywhere. They were living, carrying out their daily duties. So, simple a thing like the boy tying the cargo in a practised manner, the old man eating a piece of bread so clearly his breakfast... each behaving as they had done every day for weeks no doubt. It was indicative of time passing. And not only that... but of time passing in a way that suggested complete ignorance or lack of importance to what had happened back in Athenia.
Logic dictated that these people might not yet have heard the news. That they might be carrying on as normal simply because they were unaware. But reason also stated that, even if they did, it would likely not affect them. They would still go about their days as normal. Her entire world had disintegrated in the last week and yet it would affect nobody. Somehow it made it all the harsher, turning a dull ache in her heart to a knife wound.
When she failed to be able to get onto the back of the horse - so simple a task that she was now apparently incapable of. Persephone felt her throat constrict and her features start to twist. She smoothed them out with a swallow and a moment of closing her eyes.
A soft voice came from beside her as Iason stepped forwards. His single word of aid was accompanied by him bending over to off a hand in getting her up onto the animal's back. She felt that tell-tale tightening in her throat again and pushed it back, way deep down. She could not afford to feel gratitude or compassion. If she felt that, she would feel it all...
"I'm fine, thank you." She managed to speak aloud, in answer to his offer to ride with him. As considerate as she knew the offer to be, she wasn't in a position where she could openly allow someone else to look after her. For her to lean on someone or wrap her arms around them physically or metaphorically. She needed to be self-sufficient and remain cut off.
She did, however, accept his help. And without much effort, he had her securely on the horse's back. Settling into the low saddle and taking up the reins with a practised hand, Persephone ensured that her hood was in place and her cloak covered her gown - one that was simple and cotton and had already caused a light rash on her upper arms and hips where it rubbed (her skin was not used to the coarser fabrics) - with its tail. Neither her dress nor footwear (leather sandals designed for a man and clearly ill fitting) were likely to give her away as the Queen of Athenia.
Not that that's what she was as anymore.
When Iason had bent in order to help her onto her mount, he had attempted to meet her eyes - similar to how he had done intermittently throughout the voyage from her homeland. Were she able to think of others in that moment, she would have realised the discontent he must have been feeling. The uncertainty of what all of this meant for him and his position as her fiancé. Whether it was still viable. Whether she still needed him. Whether he was doing what was right when she had given him no instruction or approval along the entire journey.
But she didn't think it. And she didn't see it. Instead, she simply saw the man she was slowly coming to know - bearded now, rather than clean shaven and, in many ways, all the more handsome for it - and kind.
That was what Persephone had learnt most strongly about the Lord Iason during his time in Athenia. He was kind. No man would spend as much time as he had playing the appropriate role as her fiancé or ensuring the appropriate handling of her personage with compassion and consideration, if he wasn't so very kind.
And right now, kindness opened up the opportunity for trust and reliance. Reliance allowed you to be weak with someone. Weakness allowed you to be open. And Persephone could not open herself to her thoughts and feelings right now...
Which meant she couldn't deal with Iason being kind.
So, as it had done every time he had attempted it on the boat, Persephone's eyes had met his just briefly - as if by natural instinct - and then had flitted away as she had made the pretence of settling herself on the horse's back.
Taking a calming breath, Persephone kicked her steed into motion, as the small party of three headed where Iason led. Persephone assumed this to be either his own barony or that of his family's but she had made no comment or query regarding it. Instead, she simply looked forwards. Literally. She watched the road ahead and the horizon change, her gaze faded and turned inward. She wasn't really thinking as much as trying decidedly to not think and pull her emotions into order and slowly, as they rode, she felt herself grow calmer and gain some of the numbness she had felt on the boat. That seemed to be the way of it at least. Little waves of emotion had popped up infrequently since they left Athenia. As if her subconscious mind was telling her she had things she had to deal with. But good control and mental prowess had allowed her to push it all back down beneath the surface and shoulder shut the door on those thoughts each and every time...
Persephone had managed to remain numb for so long but with the return to civilisation on land - even just a few minutes of it - she could already feel her emotions starting to change. It was easy, when on a boat out at sea, to think yourself in a fugue state. To have your life in suspension; that nothing had ever happened or gone wrong. Or that it had but there were not yet any consequences nor fallouts from such a tragedy. Once ashore, there were people everywhere. They were living, carrying out their daily duties. So, simple a thing like the boy tying the cargo in a practised manner, the old man eating a piece of bread so clearly his breakfast... each behaving as they had done every day for weeks no doubt. It was indicative of time passing. And not only that... but of time passing in a way that suggested complete ignorance or lack of importance to what had happened back in Athenia.
Logic dictated that these people might not yet have heard the news. That they might be carrying on as normal simply because they were unaware. But reason also stated that, even if they did, it would likely not affect them. They would still go about their days as normal. Her entire world had disintegrated in the last week and yet it would affect nobody. Somehow it made it all the harsher, turning a dull ache in her heart to a knife wound.
When she failed to be able to get onto the back of the horse - so simple a task that she was now apparently incapable of. Persephone felt her throat constrict and her features start to twist. She smoothed them out with a swallow and a moment of closing her eyes.
A soft voice came from beside her as Iason stepped forwards. His single word of aid was accompanied by him bending over to off a hand in getting her up onto the animal's back. She felt that tell-tale tightening in her throat again and pushed it back, way deep down. She could not afford to feel gratitude or compassion. If she felt that, she would feel it all...
"I'm fine, thank you." She managed to speak aloud, in answer to his offer to ride with him. As considerate as she knew the offer to be, she wasn't in a position where she could openly allow someone else to look after her. For her to lean on someone or wrap her arms around them physically or metaphorically. She needed to be self-sufficient and remain cut off.
She did, however, accept his help. And without much effort, he had her securely on the horse's back. Settling into the low saddle and taking up the reins with a practised hand, Persephone ensured that her hood was in place and her cloak covered her gown - one that was simple and cotton and had already caused a light rash on her upper arms and hips where it rubbed (her skin was not used to the coarser fabrics) - with its tail. Neither her dress nor footwear (leather sandals designed for a man and clearly ill fitting) were likely to give her away as the Queen of Athenia.
Not that that's what she was as anymore.
When Iason had bent in order to help her onto her mount, he had attempted to meet her eyes - similar to how he had done intermittently throughout the voyage from her homeland. Were she able to think of others in that moment, she would have realised the discontent he must have been feeling. The uncertainty of what all of this meant for him and his position as her fiancé. Whether it was still viable. Whether she still needed him. Whether he was doing what was right when she had given him no instruction or approval along the entire journey.
But she didn't think it. And she didn't see it. Instead, she simply saw the man she was slowly coming to know - bearded now, rather than clean shaven and, in many ways, all the more handsome for it - and kind.
That was what Persephone had learnt most strongly about the Lord Iason during his time in Athenia. He was kind. No man would spend as much time as he had playing the appropriate role as her fiancé or ensuring the appropriate handling of her personage with compassion and consideration, if he wasn't so very kind.
And right now, kindness opened up the opportunity for trust and reliance. Reliance allowed you to be weak with someone. Weakness allowed you to be open. And Persephone could not open herself to her thoughts and feelings right now...
Which meant she couldn't deal with Iason being kind.
So, as it had done every time he had attempted it on the boat, Persephone's eyes had met his just briefly - as if by natural instinct - and then had flitted away as she had made the pretence of settling herself on the horse's back.
Taking a calming breath, Persephone kicked her steed into motion, as the small party of three headed where Iason led. Persephone assumed this to be either his own barony or that of his family's but she had made no comment or query regarding it. Instead, she simply looked forwards. Literally. She watched the road ahead and the horizon change, her gaze faded and turned inward. She wasn't really thinking as much as trying decidedly to not think and pull her emotions into order and slowly, as they rode, she felt herself grow calmer and gain some of the numbness she had felt on the boat. That seemed to be the way of it at least. Little waves of emotion had popped up infrequently since they left Athenia. As if her subconscious mind was telling her she had things she had to deal with. But good control and mental prowess had allowed her to push it all back down beneath the surface and shoulder shut the door on those thoughts each and every time...
As soon as she was settled atop the horse he moved away, leaving Demetrius holding her horse for a moment longer and hoisting himself on his own. He was trying not to let it sting, that she still wouldn't look at him or meet his gaze, that every opportunity he had to help her was rejected. Was he not saving her and instead kidnapping her? That was what it had come to feel like as the days passed, that he was holding her against her will and forcing her to leave her home country even though leaving her behind would have meant her death. He had thought he was doing his duty by getting her safely out and bringing her to his father's home where they could consider strategy and where to go from here, but what if instead she resented him taking her away? What if she decided she wanted nothing to do with him and their betrothal simply dissolved from here.
Waiting until the still injured soldier had mounted up to join them, Iason set off for his father's home at a quicker pace than perhaps might have been sensible. Given how weak Persephone looked it was reckless, but for the first time in a long while he felt an anger bubbling in him that he had not felt in a long while. Certainly never towards her. He was unhappy at her inability to speak to him or look him in the eye, the closeness he had been hoping to foster put off even more in her coldness. She could smile and speak with anyone else but him, and he could feel the blame and perhaps it was hate she was starting to feel for him.
The ride didn't take long, just a little less than an hour to arrive at his father's home in Meganea. When they rode into the courtyard he could see familiar faces of staff who were shocked to see him again. Like him, they had all thought it would be years before he ever returned for a visit. Dismounting rapidly, he spoke to his father's steward in quick hushed tones, giving him the bare bones of what had happened and who accompanied him before turning back to his company. Demetrius had slid from the back of his mount as quickly as Iason, and was now being helped inside to have his wounds properly seen to by a physician while the son of the baron moved to the side of his betrothed.
He held out his hand to help her dismount, going through the motions of propriety as opposed to any real desire to do so. He wouldn't be surprised if she kicked him away and subconsciously braced himself for just that.
"Your majesty. Welcome to Meganea. My father will greet us shortly."
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
As soon as she was settled atop the horse he moved away, leaving Demetrius holding her horse for a moment longer and hoisting himself on his own. He was trying not to let it sting, that she still wouldn't look at him or meet his gaze, that every opportunity he had to help her was rejected. Was he not saving her and instead kidnapping her? That was what it had come to feel like as the days passed, that he was holding her against her will and forcing her to leave her home country even though leaving her behind would have meant her death. He had thought he was doing his duty by getting her safely out and bringing her to his father's home where they could consider strategy and where to go from here, but what if instead she resented him taking her away? What if she decided she wanted nothing to do with him and their betrothal simply dissolved from here.
Waiting until the still injured soldier had mounted up to join them, Iason set off for his father's home at a quicker pace than perhaps might have been sensible. Given how weak Persephone looked it was reckless, but for the first time in a long while he felt an anger bubbling in him that he had not felt in a long while. Certainly never towards her. He was unhappy at her inability to speak to him or look him in the eye, the closeness he had been hoping to foster put off even more in her coldness. She could smile and speak with anyone else but him, and he could feel the blame and perhaps it was hate she was starting to feel for him.
The ride didn't take long, just a little less than an hour to arrive at his father's home in Meganea. When they rode into the courtyard he could see familiar faces of staff who were shocked to see him again. Like him, they had all thought it would be years before he ever returned for a visit. Dismounting rapidly, he spoke to his father's steward in quick hushed tones, giving him the bare bones of what had happened and who accompanied him before turning back to his company. Demetrius had slid from the back of his mount as quickly as Iason, and was now being helped inside to have his wounds properly seen to by a physician while the son of the baron moved to the side of his betrothed.
He held out his hand to help her dismount, going through the motions of propriety as opposed to any real desire to do so. He wouldn't be surprised if she kicked him away and subconsciously braced himself for just that.
"Your majesty. Welcome to Meganea. My father will greet us shortly."
As soon as she was settled atop the horse he moved away, leaving Demetrius holding her horse for a moment longer and hoisting himself on his own. He was trying not to let it sting, that she still wouldn't look at him or meet his gaze, that every opportunity he had to help her was rejected. Was he not saving her and instead kidnapping her? That was what it had come to feel like as the days passed, that he was holding her against her will and forcing her to leave her home country even though leaving her behind would have meant her death. He had thought he was doing his duty by getting her safely out and bringing her to his father's home where they could consider strategy and where to go from here, but what if instead she resented him taking her away? What if she decided she wanted nothing to do with him and their betrothal simply dissolved from here.
Waiting until the still injured soldier had mounted up to join them, Iason set off for his father's home at a quicker pace than perhaps might have been sensible. Given how weak Persephone looked it was reckless, but for the first time in a long while he felt an anger bubbling in him that he had not felt in a long while. Certainly never towards her. He was unhappy at her inability to speak to him or look him in the eye, the closeness he had been hoping to foster put off even more in her coldness. She could smile and speak with anyone else but him, and he could feel the blame and perhaps it was hate she was starting to feel for him.
The ride didn't take long, just a little less than an hour to arrive at his father's home in Meganea. When they rode into the courtyard he could see familiar faces of staff who were shocked to see him again. Like him, they had all thought it would be years before he ever returned for a visit. Dismounting rapidly, he spoke to his father's steward in quick hushed tones, giving him the bare bones of what had happened and who accompanied him before turning back to his company. Demetrius had slid from the back of his mount as quickly as Iason, and was now being helped inside to have his wounds properly seen to by a physician while the son of the baron moved to the side of his betrothed.
He held out his hand to help her dismount, going through the motions of propriety as opposed to any real desire to do so. He wouldn't be surprised if she kicked him away and subconsciously braced himself for just that.
"Your majesty. Welcome to Meganea. My father will greet us shortly."
The journey was not long - as Iason had promised. Perhaps a total of three hours before they arrived at Meganea. The home of Iason's family and where he was raised. The lands had become different quickly the further from the sea they had travelled and Persephone felt a jealous and prickly thought enter her mind when she considered the fact that she had always wanted to travel. She didn't know whether to laugh, snort or cry at such an idea. Instead, she did nothing at all. She simply rode with her horse beside Lord Iason's and watched the world go by them. Unlike in Athenia, where vegetation was low and the horizon able to seen in almost any direction, the lands of Taengea were much more cultivated with lush flora and impressive forests. Whilst the main colour, as far as the eye could see, in Athenia was always blue; blue sea, blue sky... here it was very much green. It was almost strange to the eye to witness so much fertile lands...
It was clear when they began to get close to Iason's family home. The roads that were wide enough for multiple carts to pass one another had thinned out into single pathways that were only wide enough to support their two horses with Demetrius protecting them from the rear.
Upon turning their horses into a private estate with high walls and a wrought iron gate, Persephone expected to see the Dimitrou manor house right away. But, apparently the Dimitrous liked their land as much as they liked their home because it was another several miles before the actual building came into view.
Lord Iason behaved as was expected... polite and gallant and offering her a hand down from her horse after her had sent a servant of some kind to fetch his father.
A moment of panic flickered through her chest as she considered what she was wearing. A serving maid's dress and men's shoes. Her hair in a thick braid, suitable for a commoner. She pulled her the cowl of her cloak further forward and draw the sides of her cloak together. She knew that the Lord Iason had two unmarried sisters. Perhaps one of them would have clothing that was more appropriate for her to wear when creating a Head of a House. For now, she would just have to make do and try not to embarrass herself too greatly.
As her fingers felt at the rough edges of her cloak, however, Persephone changed her mind.
A Queen was not a Queen because of what she wore.
So what if the dress had scuffed a rash on her shoulders or legs? So what if her hair was every which way? It didn't change who she was.
Before she could change her mind, Persephone pulled hard at the cloak and had it off herself in a few moments. Her hair frizzed a little and strands hung loose around her face. The dress was ill-fitting when she got it and even more so now that she had lost weight. But she utterly refused to give in. Her mother would not have. Her father would not have. Emilia...
She couldn't think of Emilia right now.
Bringing her feet together, her legs straightened, her back seemed to elongate as she appeared to grow taller, her chin rose and her bearing and carriage changed entirely, as she held her hands before her, the cloak over her joined fingers. She might not look like the Queen of Athenia, but she would greet the Lord Gavriil as one if it killed her.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
The journey was not long - as Iason had promised. Perhaps a total of three hours before they arrived at Meganea. The home of Iason's family and where he was raised. The lands had become different quickly the further from the sea they had travelled and Persephone felt a jealous and prickly thought enter her mind when she considered the fact that she had always wanted to travel. She didn't know whether to laugh, snort or cry at such an idea. Instead, she did nothing at all. She simply rode with her horse beside Lord Iason's and watched the world go by them. Unlike in Athenia, where vegetation was low and the horizon able to seen in almost any direction, the lands of Taengea were much more cultivated with lush flora and impressive forests. Whilst the main colour, as far as the eye could see, in Athenia was always blue; blue sea, blue sky... here it was very much green. It was almost strange to the eye to witness so much fertile lands...
It was clear when they began to get close to Iason's family home. The roads that were wide enough for multiple carts to pass one another had thinned out into single pathways that were only wide enough to support their two horses with Demetrius protecting them from the rear.
Upon turning their horses into a private estate with high walls and a wrought iron gate, Persephone expected to see the Dimitrou manor house right away. But, apparently the Dimitrous liked their land as much as they liked their home because it was another several miles before the actual building came into view.
Lord Iason behaved as was expected... polite and gallant and offering her a hand down from her horse after her had sent a servant of some kind to fetch his father.
A moment of panic flickered through her chest as she considered what she was wearing. A serving maid's dress and men's shoes. Her hair in a thick braid, suitable for a commoner. She pulled her the cowl of her cloak further forward and draw the sides of her cloak together. She knew that the Lord Iason had two unmarried sisters. Perhaps one of them would have clothing that was more appropriate for her to wear when creating a Head of a House. For now, she would just have to make do and try not to embarrass herself too greatly.
As her fingers felt at the rough edges of her cloak, however, Persephone changed her mind.
A Queen was not a Queen because of what she wore.
So what if the dress had scuffed a rash on her shoulders or legs? So what if her hair was every which way? It didn't change who she was.
Before she could change her mind, Persephone pulled hard at the cloak and had it off herself in a few moments. Her hair frizzed a little and strands hung loose around her face. The dress was ill-fitting when she got it and even more so now that she had lost weight. But she utterly refused to give in. Her mother would not have. Her father would not have. Emilia...
She couldn't think of Emilia right now.
Bringing her feet together, her legs straightened, her back seemed to elongate as she appeared to grow taller, her chin rose and her bearing and carriage changed entirely, as she held her hands before her, the cloak over her joined fingers. She might not look like the Queen of Athenia, but she would greet the Lord Gavriil as one if it killed her.
The journey was not long - as Iason had promised. Perhaps a total of three hours before they arrived at Meganea. The home of Iason's family and where he was raised. The lands had become different quickly the further from the sea they had travelled and Persephone felt a jealous and prickly thought enter her mind when she considered the fact that she had always wanted to travel. She didn't know whether to laugh, snort or cry at such an idea. Instead, she did nothing at all. She simply rode with her horse beside Lord Iason's and watched the world go by them. Unlike in Athenia, where vegetation was low and the horizon able to seen in almost any direction, the lands of Taengea were much more cultivated with lush flora and impressive forests. Whilst the main colour, as far as the eye could see, in Athenia was always blue; blue sea, blue sky... here it was very much green. It was almost strange to the eye to witness so much fertile lands...
It was clear when they began to get close to Iason's family home. The roads that were wide enough for multiple carts to pass one another had thinned out into single pathways that were only wide enough to support their two horses with Demetrius protecting them from the rear.
Upon turning their horses into a private estate with high walls and a wrought iron gate, Persephone expected to see the Dimitrou manor house right away. But, apparently the Dimitrous liked their land as much as they liked their home because it was another several miles before the actual building came into view.
Lord Iason behaved as was expected... polite and gallant and offering her a hand down from her horse after her had sent a servant of some kind to fetch his father.
A moment of panic flickered through her chest as she considered what she was wearing. A serving maid's dress and men's shoes. Her hair in a thick braid, suitable for a commoner. She pulled her the cowl of her cloak further forward and draw the sides of her cloak together. She knew that the Lord Iason had two unmarried sisters. Perhaps one of them would have clothing that was more appropriate for her to wear when creating a Head of a House. For now, she would just have to make do and try not to embarrass herself too greatly.
As her fingers felt at the rough edges of her cloak, however, Persephone changed her mind.
A Queen was not a Queen because of what she wore.
So what if the dress had scuffed a rash on her shoulders or legs? So what if her hair was every which way? It didn't change who she was.
Before she could change her mind, Persephone pulled hard at the cloak and had it off herself in a few moments. Her hair frizzed a little and strands hung loose around her face. The dress was ill-fitting when she got it and even more so now that she had lost weight. But she utterly refused to give in. Her mother would not have. Her father would not have. Emilia...
She couldn't think of Emilia right now.
Bringing her feet together, her legs straightened, her back seemed to elongate as she appeared to grow taller, her chin rose and her bearing and carriage changed entirely, as she held her hands before her, the cloak over her joined fingers. She might not look like the Queen of Athenia, but she would greet the Lord Gavriil as one if it killed her.
Birds called to one another overhead as Gavriil and Dorothea rode through their usual forest trails. Each of them had a doe slung over the back of their horses and in Gavriil’s arms sat a quivering fawn. He rumbled out a low tune as they rode, over which Dorothea sang in higher pitches. Neither of them were particularly good, but their song wasn’t for the enjoyment of any audience, so much as to pass the time and entertain themselves.
The forest was an endless parade of greens in every conceivable shade, from the dark, narrow leaves of the bushes to the broad, draping leaves of the trees. The Baron of Menganea was most at home within the walls of this forest. Largely untouched by the general populace, the animals were rampant here. Deer roamed in quiet groups, birds flitted to and fro, foxes scuttled through the underbrush, and bears moved freely about.
Life was lived in this forest and there was nowhere else Gavriil of Dimitrou would rather be. What made it even better was the presence of his daughter. Iason hadn’t lived within the family walls for a few years and the patriarch had grown used to his son’s absences, but Iason had still visited often. Now, he was having to deal with the possibility of never seeing his son again. Sure, Iason had promised to visit in a few years but Gavriil knew that such promises were easily made and hard to keep.
He had privately mourned what felt like the loss of his son, and yet in that was a mixture of pride and joy. Iason was bound for higher, better things. It was selfish to keep him here. Knowing that Iason was in Athenia, Gavriil and Dorothea both spared not a single thought that the horses in the courtyard could belong to him. Instead, Gavriil thought that perhaps some lord or merchant had stopped by, while Dorothea was working on how to avoid talking to anyone at all.
“Take these, Baetos,” Gavriil said as his horse clattered into the back courtyard with Dorothea behind him.
“I’ll help, father,” Dorothea volunteered as she slid nimbly from her mount and turned immediately to begin untying her kill.
Gavriil didn’t stop her from doing it, as he knew her want to avoid talking to the boring merchants who sometimes came this way. Baetos, his steward, an old, bent man, glanced at the deer and then at Gavriil. “My lord, You’re wanted in the front courtyard. My lord Iason has come and-”
Gavriil didn’t wait for more. His face was grave as he advanced indoors with Dorothea hot on his heels. Both father and daughter raced through the house and while Dorothea burst out of the front doors like a wild thing, flinging herself onto her brother and bypassing the princess completely, Gavriil followed at a more sedate pace, with his grave concern etched into his features.
“Iason?” his gaze scanned the little company and then landed on Persephone. Like her, Gavriil himself was not dressed with the intention of impressing everyone he met. His hunting clothes were well worn, though the material had been very fine and sturdy at one time. His boots had scuffs and due to falling off the horse that very morning, he had a huge muddy patch on his left thigh and a few leaves still left in his hair.
Even through the dirt and leaves, he was still obviously Baron of Meganea. His bearing was erect and straight. The way he stood suggested that he was perfectly comfortable in his surroundings and with all these people on his doorstep but the stiff set to his shoulders betrayed his concern as to the ‘why’. Probably he should have guessed that he was looking at the former monarch of Athenia...but that was too far out of the realm of possibility.
His real guess was that Iason had fallen for this beautiful young woman, rather than the princess, and fled back home. This did not look good on his son but that was just his first thought of why Iason might be here, instead of where he should be. Word of Athenia’s trouble did not outrace their flight.
Jerking his gaze back from his son, he quirked his eyebrows for an explanation, rather than outright demanding one.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Birds called to one another overhead as Gavriil and Dorothea rode through their usual forest trails. Each of them had a doe slung over the back of their horses and in Gavriil’s arms sat a quivering fawn. He rumbled out a low tune as they rode, over which Dorothea sang in higher pitches. Neither of them were particularly good, but their song wasn’t for the enjoyment of any audience, so much as to pass the time and entertain themselves.
The forest was an endless parade of greens in every conceivable shade, from the dark, narrow leaves of the bushes to the broad, draping leaves of the trees. The Baron of Menganea was most at home within the walls of this forest. Largely untouched by the general populace, the animals were rampant here. Deer roamed in quiet groups, birds flitted to and fro, foxes scuttled through the underbrush, and bears moved freely about.
Life was lived in this forest and there was nowhere else Gavriil of Dimitrou would rather be. What made it even better was the presence of his daughter. Iason hadn’t lived within the family walls for a few years and the patriarch had grown used to his son’s absences, but Iason had still visited often. Now, he was having to deal with the possibility of never seeing his son again. Sure, Iason had promised to visit in a few years but Gavriil knew that such promises were easily made and hard to keep.
He had privately mourned what felt like the loss of his son, and yet in that was a mixture of pride and joy. Iason was bound for higher, better things. It was selfish to keep him here. Knowing that Iason was in Athenia, Gavriil and Dorothea both spared not a single thought that the horses in the courtyard could belong to him. Instead, Gavriil thought that perhaps some lord or merchant had stopped by, while Dorothea was working on how to avoid talking to anyone at all.
“Take these, Baetos,” Gavriil said as his horse clattered into the back courtyard with Dorothea behind him.
“I’ll help, father,” Dorothea volunteered as she slid nimbly from her mount and turned immediately to begin untying her kill.
Gavriil didn’t stop her from doing it, as he knew her want to avoid talking to the boring merchants who sometimes came this way. Baetos, his steward, an old, bent man, glanced at the deer and then at Gavriil. “My lord, You’re wanted in the front courtyard. My lord Iason has come and-”
Gavriil didn’t wait for more. His face was grave as he advanced indoors with Dorothea hot on his heels. Both father and daughter raced through the house and while Dorothea burst out of the front doors like a wild thing, flinging herself onto her brother and bypassing the princess completely, Gavriil followed at a more sedate pace, with his grave concern etched into his features.
“Iason?” his gaze scanned the little company and then landed on Persephone. Like her, Gavriil himself was not dressed with the intention of impressing everyone he met. His hunting clothes were well worn, though the material had been very fine and sturdy at one time. His boots had scuffs and due to falling off the horse that very morning, he had a huge muddy patch on his left thigh and a few leaves still left in his hair.
Even through the dirt and leaves, he was still obviously Baron of Meganea. His bearing was erect and straight. The way he stood suggested that he was perfectly comfortable in his surroundings and with all these people on his doorstep but the stiff set to his shoulders betrayed his concern as to the ‘why’. Probably he should have guessed that he was looking at the former monarch of Athenia...but that was too far out of the realm of possibility.
His real guess was that Iason had fallen for this beautiful young woman, rather than the princess, and fled back home. This did not look good on his son but that was just his first thought of why Iason might be here, instead of where he should be. Word of Athenia’s trouble did not outrace their flight.
Jerking his gaze back from his son, he quirked his eyebrows for an explanation, rather than outright demanding one.
Birds called to one another overhead as Gavriil and Dorothea rode through their usual forest trails. Each of them had a doe slung over the back of their horses and in Gavriil’s arms sat a quivering fawn. He rumbled out a low tune as they rode, over which Dorothea sang in higher pitches. Neither of them were particularly good, but their song wasn’t for the enjoyment of any audience, so much as to pass the time and entertain themselves.
The forest was an endless parade of greens in every conceivable shade, from the dark, narrow leaves of the bushes to the broad, draping leaves of the trees. The Baron of Menganea was most at home within the walls of this forest. Largely untouched by the general populace, the animals were rampant here. Deer roamed in quiet groups, birds flitted to and fro, foxes scuttled through the underbrush, and bears moved freely about.
Life was lived in this forest and there was nowhere else Gavriil of Dimitrou would rather be. What made it even better was the presence of his daughter. Iason hadn’t lived within the family walls for a few years and the patriarch had grown used to his son’s absences, but Iason had still visited often. Now, he was having to deal with the possibility of never seeing his son again. Sure, Iason had promised to visit in a few years but Gavriil knew that such promises were easily made and hard to keep.
He had privately mourned what felt like the loss of his son, and yet in that was a mixture of pride and joy. Iason was bound for higher, better things. It was selfish to keep him here. Knowing that Iason was in Athenia, Gavriil and Dorothea both spared not a single thought that the horses in the courtyard could belong to him. Instead, Gavriil thought that perhaps some lord or merchant had stopped by, while Dorothea was working on how to avoid talking to anyone at all.
“Take these, Baetos,” Gavriil said as his horse clattered into the back courtyard with Dorothea behind him.
“I’ll help, father,” Dorothea volunteered as she slid nimbly from her mount and turned immediately to begin untying her kill.
Gavriil didn’t stop her from doing it, as he knew her want to avoid talking to the boring merchants who sometimes came this way. Baetos, his steward, an old, bent man, glanced at the deer and then at Gavriil. “My lord, You’re wanted in the front courtyard. My lord Iason has come and-”
Gavriil didn’t wait for more. His face was grave as he advanced indoors with Dorothea hot on his heels. Both father and daughter raced through the house and while Dorothea burst out of the front doors like a wild thing, flinging herself onto her brother and bypassing the princess completely, Gavriil followed at a more sedate pace, with his grave concern etched into his features.
“Iason?” his gaze scanned the little company and then landed on Persephone. Like her, Gavriil himself was not dressed with the intention of impressing everyone he met. His hunting clothes were well worn, though the material had been very fine and sturdy at one time. His boots had scuffs and due to falling off the horse that very morning, he had a huge muddy patch on his left thigh and a few leaves still left in his hair.
Even through the dirt and leaves, he was still obviously Baron of Meganea. His bearing was erect and straight. The way he stood suggested that he was perfectly comfortable in his surroundings and with all these people on his doorstep but the stiff set to his shoulders betrayed his concern as to the ‘why’. Probably he should have guessed that he was looking at the former monarch of Athenia...but that was too far out of the realm of possibility.
His real guess was that Iason had fallen for this beautiful young woman, rather than the princess, and fled back home. This did not look good on his son but that was just his first thought of why Iason might be here, instead of where he should be. Word of Athenia’s trouble did not outrace their flight.
Jerking his gaze back from his son, he quirked his eyebrows for an explanation, rather than outright demanding one.
Persephone was not used to being ignored. And she was put upon in such a way twice by the Dimitrou clan. The young girl, whom by age and familiarity with Iason, Persephone could easily identify as Dorothea of Dimitrou, bypassed her entirely, all rules of etiquette flung to the winds and formality left just as wayward. The man behind her spoke to Iason first without any formal greeting her direction. As a monarch it was expected that you were the first to receive any attentions within or outside of a room. It was entirely strange to suddenly be relegated, not only to not a princess within this kingdom, but to a nobody at all. For that was clearly what these two thought of her.
Persephone felt her back straighten, her jaw tighten and her pride spark at that... and yet at the same time she felt her heart squeeze and take a mild mauling of its own at the idea that she now was... in fact... nobody at all. Her kingdom, her House, her family... No!
The word cut through her mind before her thoughts could reach their full conclusion and Persephone found herself latching into her pride if only as a safety line within her own mind.
Her chin rose a little and Persephone took matters into her own hands before Iason could be placed into a position of discomfort or awkward introductions that would reveal his family's lack of countenance and etiquette. Taking several quick and divinely graceful steps forward - even in a gown that was several inches too short and hung in the the wrong way on her frame, Persephone's poise in motion could turn heads - Persephone offered her one of her hands, knuckles facing up, towards the man who - according to current arrangement - was to be her future father in law.
"Lord Gavriil..." She greeted, her tone one of measured propriety and a calmness that sounded numb. "I apologise for the spontaneity of our arrival but circumstances within my kingdom required us to make haste of a safe harbour." Persephone's eyes glanced towards her fiance before falling back to his sire. "Your son graciously offered your own barony as just such a place."
Arranging her features into what she hoped to be an expression of consideration and compassion, Persephone's eyes watched as the lord of Meganea took in her carriage and language and likely came to the correct assumption that she was to confirm regardless. "I am Persephone of Xanthos and I thank you for any hospitality you can give without due notice."
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Persephone was not used to being ignored. And she was put upon in such a way twice by the Dimitrou clan. The young girl, whom by age and familiarity with Iason, Persephone could easily identify as Dorothea of Dimitrou, bypassed her entirely, all rules of etiquette flung to the winds and formality left just as wayward. The man behind her spoke to Iason first without any formal greeting her direction. As a monarch it was expected that you were the first to receive any attentions within or outside of a room. It was entirely strange to suddenly be relegated, not only to not a princess within this kingdom, but to a nobody at all. For that was clearly what these two thought of her.
Persephone felt her back straighten, her jaw tighten and her pride spark at that... and yet at the same time she felt her heart squeeze and take a mild mauling of its own at the idea that she now was... in fact... nobody at all. Her kingdom, her House, her family... No!
The word cut through her mind before her thoughts could reach their full conclusion and Persephone found herself latching into her pride if only as a safety line within her own mind.
Her chin rose a little and Persephone took matters into her own hands before Iason could be placed into a position of discomfort or awkward introductions that would reveal his family's lack of countenance and etiquette. Taking several quick and divinely graceful steps forward - even in a gown that was several inches too short and hung in the the wrong way on her frame, Persephone's poise in motion could turn heads - Persephone offered her one of her hands, knuckles facing up, towards the man who - according to current arrangement - was to be her future father in law.
"Lord Gavriil..." She greeted, her tone one of measured propriety and a calmness that sounded numb. "I apologise for the spontaneity of our arrival but circumstances within my kingdom required us to make haste of a safe harbour." Persephone's eyes glanced towards her fiance before falling back to his sire. "Your son graciously offered your own barony as just such a place."
Arranging her features into what she hoped to be an expression of consideration and compassion, Persephone's eyes watched as the lord of Meganea took in her carriage and language and likely came to the correct assumption that she was to confirm regardless. "I am Persephone of Xanthos and I thank you for any hospitality you can give without due notice."
Persephone was not used to being ignored. And she was put upon in such a way twice by the Dimitrou clan. The young girl, whom by age and familiarity with Iason, Persephone could easily identify as Dorothea of Dimitrou, bypassed her entirely, all rules of etiquette flung to the winds and formality left just as wayward. The man behind her spoke to Iason first without any formal greeting her direction. As a monarch it was expected that you were the first to receive any attentions within or outside of a room. It was entirely strange to suddenly be relegated, not only to not a princess within this kingdom, but to a nobody at all. For that was clearly what these two thought of her.
Persephone felt her back straighten, her jaw tighten and her pride spark at that... and yet at the same time she felt her heart squeeze and take a mild mauling of its own at the idea that she now was... in fact... nobody at all. Her kingdom, her House, her family... No!
The word cut through her mind before her thoughts could reach their full conclusion and Persephone found herself latching into her pride if only as a safety line within her own mind.
Her chin rose a little and Persephone took matters into her own hands before Iason could be placed into a position of discomfort or awkward introductions that would reveal his family's lack of countenance and etiquette. Taking several quick and divinely graceful steps forward - even in a gown that was several inches too short and hung in the the wrong way on her frame, Persephone's poise in motion could turn heads - Persephone offered her one of her hands, knuckles facing up, towards the man who - according to current arrangement - was to be her future father in law.
"Lord Gavriil..." She greeted, her tone one of measured propriety and a calmness that sounded numb. "I apologise for the spontaneity of our arrival but circumstances within my kingdom required us to make haste of a safe harbour." Persephone's eyes glanced towards her fiance before falling back to his sire. "Your son graciously offered your own barony as just such a place."
Arranging her features into what she hoped to be an expression of consideration and compassion, Persephone's eyes watched as the lord of Meganea took in her carriage and language and likely came to the correct assumption that she was to confirm regardless. "I am Persephone of Xanthos and I thank you for any hospitality you can give without due notice."
There were no words for the relief and joy he felt at the sight of his youngest sister bolting toward him and his arms were open and ready to welcome her hug before she slammed into him. Dorothea had a habit of greeting him as if it was both the first and last time she had ever seen him and after everything they had been through in the past few days he returned it without holding back. It took him a moment to lift his head from where it had buried in the familiar wild curls of his sister's dark hair to meet his father's gaze, but when he finally did he tried to convey the seriousness of their situation.
He was in the midst of searching for the right words when Persephone stepped forward and took charge of the introductions. As she always did. With everything. The happiness he'd felt at returning home fell back beneath the veil he'd been keeping over his own emotions since they left and she refused to speak or look at him. Where before he'd found her control charming if confusing, now it simply felt like a cold hatred, resentment towards him for saving her life. Pursing his lips, he pried Dorothea off of him with a whispered request to tend to the injured soldier and his mount, watching her lead both of them off toward the stables before turning back to gauge his father's reaction to the queen's words.
"There was a revolt. An attempted assassination the night of the king's funeral."
Persephone might have been dancing around the words and sitting on formality but Iason was not accustomed to such behavior or polite words when his family was nearby. Ignoring any thought of protocol, he instead crossed the gap between them and embraced his father without shame. He'd thought that years would pass between them before they saw one another and it wasn't until he saw the older man that he realized how homesick he had been. The loss of the king and then the attack had been a shock that he hadn't allowed himself to fear until this moment and now with his father close it felt foolishly as if no harm could come to them now.
"We escaped but we know nothing of who orchestrated it. This seemed the safest place to bring her majesty until we could determine the next step."
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
There were no words for the relief and joy he felt at the sight of his youngest sister bolting toward him and his arms were open and ready to welcome her hug before she slammed into him. Dorothea had a habit of greeting him as if it was both the first and last time she had ever seen him and after everything they had been through in the past few days he returned it without holding back. It took him a moment to lift his head from where it had buried in the familiar wild curls of his sister's dark hair to meet his father's gaze, but when he finally did he tried to convey the seriousness of their situation.
He was in the midst of searching for the right words when Persephone stepped forward and took charge of the introductions. As she always did. With everything. The happiness he'd felt at returning home fell back beneath the veil he'd been keeping over his own emotions since they left and she refused to speak or look at him. Where before he'd found her control charming if confusing, now it simply felt like a cold hatred, resentment towards him for saving her life. Pursing his lips, he pried Dorothea off of him with a whispered request to tend to the injured soldier and his mount, watching her lead both of them off toward the stables before turning back to gauge his father's reaction to the queen's words.
"There was a revolt. An attempted assassination the night of the king's funeral."
Persephone might have been dancing around the words and sitting on formality but Iason was not accustomed to such behavior or polite words when his family was nearby. Ignoring any thought of protocol, he instead crossed the gap between them and embraced his father without shame. He'd thought that years would pass between them before they saw one another and it wasn't until he saw the older man that he realized how homesick he had been. The loss of the king and then the attack had been a shock that he hadn't allowed himself to fear until this moment and now with his father close it felt foolishly as if no harm could come to them now.
"We escaped but we know nothing of who orchestrated it. This seemed the safest place to bring her majesty until we could determine the next step."
There were no words for the relief and joy he felt at the sight of his youngest sister bolting toward him and his arms were open and ready to welcome her hug before she slammed into him. Dorothea had a habit of greeting him as if it was both the first and last time she had ever seen him and after everything they had been through in the past few days he returned it without holding back. It took him a moment to lift his head from where it had buried in the familiar wild curls of his sister's dark hair to meet his father's gaze, but when he finally did he tried to convey the seriousness of their situation.
He was in the midst of searching for the right words when Persephone stepped forward and took charge of the introductions. As she always did. With everything. The happiness he'd felt at returning home fell back beneath the veil he'd been keeping over his own emotions since they left and she refused to speak or look at him. Where before he'd found her control charming if confusing, now it simply felt like a cold hatred, resentment towards him for saving her life. Pursing his lips, he pried Dorothea off of him with a whispered request to tend to the injured soldier and his mount, watching her lead both of them off toward the stables before turning back to gauge his father's reaction to the queen's words.
"There was a revolt. An attempted assassination the night of the king's funeral."
Persephone might have been dancing around the words and sitting on formality but Iason was not accustomed to such behavior or polite words when his family was nearby. Ignoring any thought of protocol, he instead crossed the gap between them and embraced his father without shame. He'd thought that years would pass between them before they saw one another and it wasn't until he saw the older man that he realized how homesick he had been. The loss of the king and then the attack had been a shock that he hadn't allowed himself to fear until this moment and now with his father close it felt foolishly as if no harm could come to them now.
"We escaped but we know nothing of who orchestrated it. This seemed the safest place to bring her majesty until we could determine the next step."
Of all the lords of Taengea, Lord Gavriil was the one to stand on the least amount of ceremony, but even he had limits. That limit was momentarily reached when the young woman, whom Gavriil had, up to this point, totally assumed was Iason’s illicit lover, reached forward and addressed him as her equal. His gaze snapped toward Iason once she finally introduced herself as the very monarch he’d been thinking his son ran out on. Rather than bowing immediately, as he probably should have, Gavriil frowned down at Persephone, then over at Iason, and back down at Persephone once again.
Her hand was still extended, knuckles waiting to be kissed. She wasn’t his monarch to swear such fealty to. However, rather than quibble about such matters, he merely took her hand and lightly pressed the expected formality of the kiss there, before letting her hand go and straightening back up. What should he have expected, he wondered? Before him was a slip of a girl who did not appear to have the ability to lead any armies.
But then, Athenia didn’t usually have cause to lead armies, if his memory served correctly.
His attention was drawn back when Iason supplied the barest hint of detail that she did not. “Funeral?” He felt like all he was doing lately was repeating what people said as he tried to process the massive changes to the global landscape that happened beyond these sacred walls. Changes that he hadn’t heard until now. When he’d gone out riding earlier this morning, the king of Athenia was still alive, Iason was going to be happily married soon, if not already, and he was having stew for supper.
He’d barely let go of Persephone’s hand before there was a man sized blur and his son had him in a tight embrace. Like Iason, he’d assumed it would be years, if ever, that he would see his son again. To have his boy home, even under these circumstances was, to put it bluntly, relieving. This was completely selfish, of course, but he was happy to have been able to skip knowledge of any of these events and already have his answer of if Iason and his intended were alright.
Once Iason was saying that they’d come for a safe place, Gavriil held him out at arm’s length to look him over. “Yes, yes, you did fine,” he said, not being at all subtle about looking Iason up and down for wounds. But he was obviously fine and so Gavriil let him go.
This was….not ideal. Iason was probably right that they would not be pursued by her revolution all the way to Taengea, but to Gavriil’s mind, the palati was the correct place for a monarch to have gone for help. Of course, he wasn’t privy to the relationship between the royal families of Taengea and Athenia, though he’d always assumed that his government had no qualms with either Athenia or Colchis. At least, not for many years.
But the two people he was looking at didn’t seem at all politically minded. They seemed like two children who needed guidance. ..and food, now that he was looking closer at the queen.
“Come inside,” he gave a short bow to Persephone and then glanced at Dorothea. “Take her majesty and find her some things suitable for her to wear.” Dorothea gave exactly one look but otherwise said nothing at all except for a polite “Your majesty?” to Persephone. Gavriil hadn’t expected his daughter to put up any kind of a fight. Dorothea had a mind of her own but she wasn’t cruel or selfish. She obviously hadn’t expected to be asked to share clothes with a queen, however, and the look had been one of alarm, rather than of contempt.
"Your room, Iason..." Gavriil gestured vaguely, meaning for Iason to sleep in his old room, rather than to go to it immediately. They'd figure out a room for Persephone. This house was old and had seen several expansions. Plus, it didn't matter how far out this estate was, visitors were always showing up. There were plenty of rooms for Iason's intended to stay.
After a moment, Gavriil rubbed at two day scruff on his chin as he considered telling the cook that there would be a few more to dine there...and wondering if it was worth the trouble. Or if he should just start roasting one of the deer himself.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Of all the lords of Taengea, Lord Gavriil was the one to stand on the least amount of ceremony, but even he had limits. That limit was momentarily reached when the young woman, whom Gavriil had, up to this point, totally assumed was Iason’s illicit lover, reached forward and addressed him as her equal. His gaze snapped toward Iason once she finally introduced herself as the very monarch he’d been thinking his son ran out on. Rather than bowing immediately, as he probably should have, Gavriil frowned down at Persephone, then over at Iason, and back down at Persephone once again.
Her hand was still extended, knuckles waiting to be kissed. She wasn’t his monarch to swear such fealty to. However, rather than quibble about such matters, he merely took her hand and lightly pressed the expected formality of the kiss there, before letting her hand go and straightening back up. What should he have expected, he wondered? Before him was a slip of a girl who did not appear to have the ability to lead any armies.
But then, Athenia didn’t usually have cause to lead armies, if his memory served correctly.
His attention was drawn back when Iason supplied the barest hint of detail that she did not. “Funeral?” He felt like all he was doing lately was repeating what people said as he tried to process the massive changes to the global landscape that happened beyond these sacred walls. Changes that he hadn’t heard until now. When he’d gone out riding earlier this morning, the king of Athenia was still alive, Iason was going to be happily married soon, if not already, and he was having stew for supper.
He’d barely let go of Persephone’s hand before there was a man sized blur and his son had him in a tight embrace. Like Iason, he’d assumed it would be years, if ever, that he would see his son again. To have his boy home, even under these circumstances was, to put it bluntly, relieving. This was completely selfish, of course, but he was happy to have been able to skip knowledge of any of these events and already have his answer of if Iason and his intended were alright.
Once Iason was saying that they’d come for a safe place, Gavriil held him out at arm’s length to look him over. “Yes, yes, you did fine,” he said, not being at all subtle about looking Iason up and down for wounds. But he was obviously fine and so Gavriil let him go.
This was….not ideal. Iason was probably right that they would not be pursued by her revolution all the way to Taengea, but to Gavriil’s mind, the palati was the correct place for a monarch to have gone for help. Of course, he wasn’t privy to the relationship between the royal families of Taengea and Athenia, though he’d always assumed that his government had no qualms with either Athenia or Colchis. At least, not for many years.
But the two people he was looking at didn’t seem at all politically minded. They seemed like two children who needed guidance. ..and food, now that he was looking closer at the queen.
“Come inside,” he gave a short bow to Persephone and then glanced at Dorothea. “Take her majesty and find her some things suitable for her to wear.” Dorothea gave exactly one look but otherwise said nothing at all except for a polite “Your majesty?” to Persephone. Gavriil hadn’t expected his daughter to put up any kind of a fight. Dorothea had a mind of her own but she wasn’t cruel or selfish. She obviously hadn’t expected to be asked to share clothes with a queen, however, and the look had been one of alarm, rather than of contempt.
"Your room, Iason..." Gavriil gestured vaguely, meaning for Iason to sleep in his old room, rather than to go to it immediately. They'd figure out a room for Persephone. This house was old and had seen several expansions. Plus, it didn't matter how far out this estate was, visitors were always showing up. There were plenty of rooms for Iason's intended to stay.
After a moment, Gavriil rubbed at two day scruff on his chin as he considered telling the cook that there would be a few more to dine there...and wondering if it was worth the trouble. Or if he should just start roasting one of the deer himself.
Of all the lords of Taengea, Lord Gavriil was the one to stand on the least amount of ceremony, but even he had limits. That limit was momentarily reached when the young woman, whom Gavriil had, up to this point, totally assumed was Iason’s illicit lover, reached forward and addressed him as her equal. His gaze snapped toward Iason once she finally introduced herself as the very monarch he’d been thinking his son ran out on. Rather than bowing immediately, as he probably should have, Gavriil frowned down at Persephone, then over at Iason, and back down at Persephone once again.
Her hand was still extended, knuckles waiting to be kissed. She wasn’t his monarch to swear such fealty to. However, rather than quibble about such matters, he merely took her hand and lightly pressed the expected formality of the kiss there, before letting her hand go and straightening back up. What should he have expected, he wondered? Before him was a slip of a girl who did not appear to have the ability to lead any armies.
But then, Athenia didn’t usually have cause to lead armies, if his memory served correctly.
His attention was drawn back when Iason supplied the barest hint of detail that she did not. “Funeral?” He felt like all he was doing lately was repeating what people said as he tried to process the massive changes to the global landscape that happened beyond these sacred walls. Changes that he hadn’t heard until now. When he’d gone out riding earlier this morning, the king of Athenia was still alive, Iason was going to be happily married soon, if not already, and he was having stew for supper.
He’d barely let go of Persephone’s hand before there was a man sized blur and his son had him in a tight embrace. Like Iason, he’d assumed it would be years, if ever, that he would see his son again. To have his boy home, even under these circumstances was, to put it bluntly, relieving. This was completely selfish, of course, but he was happy to have been able to skip knowledge of any of these events and already have his answer of if Iason and his intended were alright.
Once Iason was saying that they’d come for a safe place, Gavriil held him out at arm’s length to look him over. “Yes, yes, you did fine,” he said, not being at all subtle about looking Iason up and down for wounds. But he was obviously fine and so Gavriil let him go.
This was….not ideal. Iason was probably right that they would not be pursued by her revolution all the way to Taengea, but to Gavriil’s mind, the palati was the correct place for a monarch to have gone for help. Of course, he wasn’t privy to the relationship between the royal families of Taengea and Athenia, though he’d always assumed that his government had no qualms with either Athenia or Colchis. At least, not for many years.
But the two people he was looking at didn’t seem at all politically minded. They seemed like two children who needed guidance. ..and food, now that he was looking closer at the queen.
“Come inside,” he gave a short bow to Persephone and then glanced at Dorothea. “Take her majesty and find her some things suitable for her to wear.” Dorothea gave exactly one look but otherwise said nothing at all except for a polite “Your majesty?” to Persephone. Gavriil hadn’t expected his daughter to put up any kind of a fight. Dorothea had a mind of her own but she wasn’t cruel or selfish. She obviously hadn’t expected to be asked to share clothes with a queen, however, and the look had been one of alarm, rather than of contempt.
"Your room, Iason..." Gavriil gestured vaguely, meaning for Iason to sleep in his old room, rather than to go to it immediately. They'd figure out a room for Persephone. This house was old and had seen several expansions. Plus, it didn't matter how far out this estate was, visitors were always showing up. There were plenty of rooms for Iason's intended to stay.
After a moment, Gavriil rubbed at two day scruff on his chin as he considered telling the cook that there would be a few more to dine there...and wondering if it was worth the trouble. Or if he should just start roasting one of the deer himself.
Persephone only blinked at the lack of care or propriety given by the Lord. She couldn't much blame him. They had dropped onto his doorstep without prewarning or preamble and he was entitled be frustrated at the lack of formality. What then seemed to puzzle her further, however, was that formality seemed to be the last thing on the minds of father and son as they took to embracing in genuine love and affection.
Persephone felt her throat clench and a sting start up behind her eyes so she glanced away quickly and held herself regally as she appeared to be surveying the lands. She swallowed.
Not in all her years since becoming an adult had her father ever embraced her like that; with such a lack of inhibition or dignity. All emotion and no rank. Minas had been a generous King and a loving father and she had never once felt lacking in affection from her paternal figure but she could not help but feel a sharp barb of foreign jealousy. Not only that these two men appeared to share a bond she had never experienced with anyone - including her own sire - but that they had each other at all.
It was the same spark that had cut through her chest when the young Dorothea had leapt to hold her brother. A father... a sister... Persephone closed her eyes to calm her mind and allow it to become numb once more...
When the Lord of Meganea looked away from his son and turned his attention to practical matters, Persephone felt a moment of embarrassed gratitude when he suggested that the Lady Dorothea find her something more suitable to wear...
The rest of the afternoon seemed to move with that same feeling and back drop. At times she was presented with a situation where she was embarrassed; unable to produce any travelling clothes, luggage or her own horse. Where she was asked questions by Dorothea and saved from the answers by her father and uncle. The gratitude was towards those two men but most assuredly towards the other male that catered to her needs throughout the afternoon and the evening meal.
Lord Iason was respectability itself. He took care of her and he saw to every practical need she might have. Being the only one on the premises that could understand the little preparation she had had when leaving her home, he was the only one with the ability of forethought to ensure that such measures were provided for before they were even noticed to be missing.
And she was thankful for it. Truly, she was. But Persephone could not voice that. She could not expel or express it beyond more than a polite murmur of thanks; words that showed more the manner she was born with than the emotions she held behind them. For she couldn't truly express her genuine feelings. To open up and to offer him true thanks would be to show that she knew how much she needed the care he was offering her. To admit that she needed that care, meant being open to the knowledge of what had happened to her and her family; that which had placed her in a position of needing his care.
Such a simple thing as a genuine thank you terrified Persephone's deepest subconscious, because she knew that an offering of thanks was an acceptance of the loss of her sister. Her House. Her kingdom. And everything that she had built her life around.
And she just wasn't physically or mentally able to allow herself to come to terms with it.
Instead, she remained cold, icy and polite. She offered a smile here and a nod there... graceful and poised as always. But it appeared to even those who didn't know her that she was behaving like a doll or puppet more than a human. She was following protocol, not her own thoughts or feelings.
When Persephone was offered the chance to retire to her rooms, she took it reluctantly. Amongst others she was forced to follow her childhood training to rely on that necessary protocol. Alone, that would not be necessary, and the lack of audience would make continuing onwards that much harder.
So, when she was guided to her room and the Lord Iason asked to come into the room with her for a moment, Persephone was - once again - unobviously thankful that he was postponing such an eventuality, even by just a few minutes.
Now, standing in her rooms and clothed in the Lady Dorothea's chiton of hunter green; a shade that suited the beautiful Dimitrou girl but made Persephone's palette look murky - Persephone stood with her spine erect and her hands place demurely before her. She stood with the impression of someone strong but the slightly deeper hollows to her collarbone and beneath her cheekbones indicated someone who had been tested beyond the limits of their strength, regardless of the fact that she was still, physically, standing.
She watched the man before her silently, allowing him to take the floor as he seemed uncomfortable to do...
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Persephone only blinked at the lack of care or propriety given by the Lord. She couldn't much blame him. They had dropped onto his doorstep without prewarning or preamble and he was entitled be frustrated at the lack of formality. What then seemed to puzzle her further, however, was that formality seemed to be the last thing on the minds of father and son as they took to embracing in genuine love and affection.
Persephone felt her throat clench and a sting start up behind her eyes so she glanced away quickly and held herself regally as she appeared to be surveying the lands. She swallowed.
Not in all her years since becoming an adult had her father ever embraced her like that; with such a lack of inhibition or dignity. All emotion and no rank. Minas had been a generous King and a loving father and she had never once felt lacking in affection from her paternal figure but she could not help but feel a sharp barb of foreign jealousy. Not only that these two men appeared to share a bond she had never experienced with anyone - including her own sire - but that they had each other at all.
It was the same spark that had cut through her chest when the young Dorothea had leapt to hold her brother. A father... a sister... Persephone closed her eyes to calm her mind and allow it to become numb once more...
When the Lord of Meganea looked away from his son and turned his attention to practical matters, Persephone felt a moment of embarrassed gratitude when he suggested that the Lady Dorothea find her something more suitable to wear...
The rest of the afternoon seemed to move with that same feeling and back drop. At times she was presented with a situation where she was embarrassed; unable to produce any travelling clothes, luggage or her own horse. Where she was asked questions by Dorothea and saved from the answers by her father and uncle. The gratitude was towards those two men but most assuredly towards the other male that catered to her needs throughout the afternoon and the evening meal.
Lord Iason was respectability itself. He took care of her and he saw to every practical need she might have. Being the only one on the premises that could understand the little preparation she had had when leaving her home, he was the only one with the ability of forethought to ensure that such measures were provided for before they were even noticed to be missing.
And she was thankful for it. Truly, she was. But Persephone could not voice that. She could not expel or express it beyond more than a polite murmur of thanks; words that showed more the manner she was born with than the emotions she held behind them. For she couldn't truly express her genuine feelings. To open up and to offer him true thanks would be to show that she knew how much she needed the care he was offering her. To admit that she needed that care, meant being open to the knowledge of what had happened to her and her family; that which had placed her in a position of needing his care.
Such a simple thing as a genuine thank you terrified Persephone's deepest subconscious, because she knew that an offering of thanks was an acceptance of the loss of her sister. Her House. Her kingdom. And everything that she had built her life around.
And she just wasn't physically or mentally able to allow herself to come to terms with it.
Instead, she remained cold, icy and polite. She offered a smile here and a nod there... graceful and poised as always. But it appeared to even those who didn't know her that she was behaving like a doll or puppet more than a human. She was following protocol, not her own thoughts or feelings.
When Persephone was offered the chance to retire to her rooms, she took it reluctantly. Amongst others she was forced to follow her childhood training to rely on that necessary protocol. Alone, that would not be necessary, and the lack of audience would make continuing onwards that much harder.
So, when she was guided to her room and the Lord Iason asked to come into the room with her for a moment, Persephone was - once again - unobviously thankful that he was postponing such an eventuality, even by just a few minutes.
Now, standing in her rooms and clothed in the Lady Dorothea's chiton of hunter green; a shade that suited the beautiful Dimitrou girl but made Persephone's palette look murky - Persephone stood with her spine erect and her hands place demurely before her. She stood with the impression of someone strong but the slightly deeper hollows to her collarbone and beneath her cheekbones indicated someone who had been tested beyond the limits of their strength, regardless of the fact that she was still, physically, standing.
She watched the man before her silently, allowing him to take the floor as he seemed uncomfortable to do...
Persephone only blinked at the lack of care or propriety given by the Lord. She couldn't much blame him. They had dropped onto his doorstep without prewarning or preamble and he was entitled be frustrated at the lack of formality. What then seemed to puzzle her further, however, was that formality seemed to be the last thing on the minds of father and son as they took to embracing in genuine love and affection.
Persephone felt her throat clench and a sting start up behind her eyes so she glanced away quickly and held herself regally as she appeared to be surveying the lands. She swallowed.
Not in all her years since becoming an adult had her father ever embraced her like that; with such a lack of inhibition or dignity. All emotion and no rank. Minas had been a generous King and a loving father and she had never once felt lacking in affection from her paternal figure but she could not help but feel a sharp barb of foreign jealousy. Not only that these two men appeared to share a bond she had never experienced with anyone - including her own sire - but that they had each other at all.
It was the same spark that had cut through her chest when the young Dorothea had leapt to hold her brother. A father... a sister... Persephone closed her eyes to calm her mind and allow it to become numb once more...
When the Lord of Meganea looked away from his son and turned his attention to practical matters, Persephone felt a moment of embarrassed gratitude when he suggested that the Lady Dorothea find her something more suitable to wear...
The rest of the afternoon seemed to move with that same feeling and back drop. At times she was presented with a situation where she was embarrassed; unable to produce any travelling clothes, luggage or her own horse. Where she was asked questions by Dorothea and saved from the answers by her father and uncle. The gratitude was towards those two men but most assuredly towards the other male that catered to her needs throughout the afternoon and the evening meal.
Lord Iason was respectability itself. He took care of her and he saw to every practical need she might have. Being the only one on the premises that could understand the little preparation she had had when leaving her home, he was the only one with the ability of forethought to ensure that such measures were provided for before they were even noticed to be missing.
And she was thankful for it. Truly, she was. But Persephone could not voice that. She could not expel or express it beyond more than a polite murmur of thanks; words that showed more the manner she was born with than the emotions she held behind them. For she couldn't truly express her genuine feelings. To open up and to offer him true thanks would be to show that she knew how much she needed the care he was offering her. To admit that she needed that care, meant being open to the knowledge of what had happened to her and her family; that which had placed her in a position of needing his care.
Such a simple thing as a genuine thank you terrified Persephone's deepest subconscious, because she knew that an offering of thanks was an acceptance of the loss of her sister. Her House. Her kingdom. And everything that she had built her life around.
And she just wasn't physically or mentally able to allow herself to come to terms with it.
Instead, she remained cold, icy and polite. She offered a smile here and a nod there... graceful and poised as always. But it appeared to even those who didn't know her that she was behaving like a doll or puppet more than a human. She was following protocol, not her own thoughts or feelings.
When Persephone was offered the chance to retire to her rooms, she took it reluctantly. Amongst others she was forced to follow her childhood training to rely on that necessary protocol. Alone, that would not be necessary, and the lack of audience would make continuing onwards that much harder.
So, when she was guided to her room and the Lord Iason asked to come into the room with her for a moment, Persephone was - once again - unobviously thankful that he was postponing such an eventuality, even by just a few minutes.
Now, standing in her rooms and clothed in the Lady Dorothea's chiton of hunter green; a shade that suited the beautiful Dimitrou girl but made Persephone's palette look murky - Persephone stood with her spine erect and her hands place demurely before her. She stood with the impression of someone strong but the slightly deeper hollows to her collarbone and beneath her cheekbones indicated someone who had been tested beyond the limits of their strength, regardless of the fact that she was still, physically, standing.
She watched the man before her silently, allowing him to take the floor as he seemed uncomfortable to do...
Nodding in response to his father's reassurance that he'd done well, Iason let him look over and ensure that no harm had come to him, returning the favor after news of the accident that had reached him earlier. It was that accident of his father's that had caused him to prepare the ship in the first place that allowed them their escape, but he was glad to see that the old man appeared in fine health as always with no lasting injury or illness. Following his father's request, Iason looked back to his betrothed as his sister took her in hand, leading her away to recover from the journey. She still hadn't looked at him, made eye contact, or said anything outside of the scantest few words.
Only once Persephone and Dorothea had vanished from sight did the young baron finally recount everything that had happened, from receiving the letter informing him of his father's injury, the death of the king, and the attack on the palace. His features were grim as he admitted he hadn't turned back to save Emilia, the guilt he had been holding back showing evident on him now.
"I didn't think there was time. I could only save one not both. They've surely killed her to remove all Xanthos from the line of succession. Stravos, is the family I believe responsible. They were disgraced in the senate after wrongdoing, but their son seemed mad enough to try something like this."
The dinner shared by family and guest was a quiet affair, Iason himself said little to nothing except for in response to things that had nothing to do with Athenia, trying like his father and uncle to steer the conversation away from something to add further disdain for him and his to Persephone's mind. When it ended, he rose and with a shallow bow guided the queen to the chambers that had been prepared for her to rest, not far from his own. Instead of departing, he paused for a long moment before he knew he couldn't walk away without saying something, asking the questions that had been preying on his mind.
"May I have a word, your majesty? Just a moment, alone." With her assent Iason followed her and waited until the door was closed behind them to drop the image of formality and the mask he himself had been wearing since she first scorned him. Now he allowed the frustration through and simply stared at her before shaking his head.
"Do you wish to marry me? Have you ever thought for a moment for yourself instead of thinking like a princess to decide if a union with me is what you want? Or did you decide the instant we left Athenia that you could be free of me and that's why you treat me so harshly."
Perhaps he should have been more kind, more gentle and understanding, but those qualities had faded each time he had tried to smile and received nothing back, when he tried to engage her in conversation and got nothing in return. Except for the brief moment in the garden when she had kissed him, and shed tears, he had never seen anything but stone on her perfect features.
"I know we are different, our families are different. But now for all we know, your only family is mine and you are welcome to it if you can give me any kind of sign that this is what you want. I will honor our contract and marry you if only I could see that you do not despise me like you seem to."
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Nodding in response to his father's reassurance that he'd done well, Iason let him look over and ensure that no harm had come to him, returning the favor after news of the accident that had reached him earlier. It was that accident of his father's that had caused him to prepare the ship in the first place that allowed them their escape, but he was glad to see that the old man appeared in fine health as always with no lasting injury or illness. Following his father's request, Iason looked back to his betrothed as his sister took her in hand, leading her away to recover from the journey. She still hadn't looked at him, made eye contact, or said anything outside of the scantest few words.
Only once Persephone and Dorothea had vanished from sight did the young baron finally recount everything that had happened, from receiving the letter informing him of his father's injury, the death of the king, and the attack on the palace. His features were grim as he admitted he hadn't turned back to save Emilia, the guilt he had been holding back showing evident on him now.
"I didn't think there was time. I could only save one not both. They've surely killed her to remove all Xanthos from the line of succession. Stravos, is the family I believe responsible. They were disgraced in the senate after wrongdoing, but their son seemed mad enough to try something like this."
The dinner shared by family and guest was a quiet affair, Iason himself said little to nothing except for in response to things that had nothing to do with Athenia, trying like his father and uncle to steer the conversation away from something to add further disdain for him and his to Persephone's mind. When it ended, he rose and with a shallow bow guided the queen to the chambers that had been prepared for her to rest, not far from his own. Instead of departing, he paused for a long moment before he knew he couldn't walk away without saying something, asking the questions that had been preying on his mind.
"May I have a word, your majesty? Just a moment, alone." With her assent Iason followed her and waited until the door was closed behind them to drop the image of formality and the mask he himself had been wearing since she first scorned him. Now he allowed the frustration through and simply stared at her before shaking his head.
"Do you wish to marry me? Have you ever thought for a moment for yourself instead of thinking like a princess to decide if a union with me is what you want? Or did you decide the instant we left Athenia that you could be free of me and that's why you treat me so harshly."
Perhaps he should have been more kind, more gentle and understanding, but those qualities had faded each time he had tried to smile and received nothing back, when he tried to engage her in conversation and got nothing in return. Except for the brief moment in the garden when she had kissed him, and shed tears, he had never seen anything but stone on her perfect features.
"I know we are different, our families are different. But now for all we know, your only family is mine and you are welcome to it if you can give me any kind of sign that this is what you want. I will honor our contract and marry you if only I could see that you do not despise me like you seem to."
Nodding in response to his father's reassurance that he'd done well, Iason let him look over and ensure that no harm had come to him, returning the favor after news of the accident that had reached him earlier. It was that accident of his father's that had caused him to prepare the ship in the first place that allowed them their escape, but he was glad to see that the old man appeared in fine health as always with no lasting injury or illness. Following his father's request, Iason looked back to his betrothed as his sister took her in hand, leading her away to recover from the journey. She still hadn't looked at him, made eye contact, or said anything outside of the scantest few words.
Only once Persephone and Dorothea had vanished from sight did the young baron finally recount everything that had happened, from receiving the letter informing him of his father's injury, the death of the king, and the attack on the palace. His features were grim as he admitted he hadn't turned back to save Emilia, the guilt he had been holding back showing evident on him now.
"I didn't think there was time. I could only save one not both. They've surely killed her to remove all Xanthos from the line of succession. Stravos, is the family I believe responsible. They were disgraced in the senate after wrongdoing, but their son seemed mad enough to try something like this."
The dinner shared by family and guest was a quiet affair, Iason himself said little to nothing except for in response to things that had nothing to do with Athenia, trying like his father and uncle to steer the conversation away from something to add further disdain for him and his to Persephone's mind. When it ended, he rose and with a shallow bow guided the queen to the chambers that had been prepared for her to rest, not far from his own. Instead of departing, he paused for a long moment before he knew he couldn't walk away without saying something, asking the questions that had been preying on his mind.
"May I have a word, your majesty? Just a moment, alone." With her assent Iason followed her and waited until the door was closed behind them to drop the image of formality and the mask he himself had been wearing since she first scorned him. Now he allowed the frustration through and simply stared at her before shaking his head.
"Do you wish to marry me? Have you ever thought for a moment for yourself instead of thinking like a princess to decide if a union with me is what you want? Or did you decide the instant we left Athenia that you could be free of me and that's why you treat me so harshly."
Perhaps he should have been more kind, more gentle and understanding, but those qualities had faded each time he had tried to smile and received nothing back, when he tried to engage her in conversation and got nothing in return. Except for the brief moment in the garden when she had kissed him, and shed tears, he had never seen anything but stone on her perfect features.
"I know we are different, our families are different. But now for all we know, your only family is mine and you are welcome to it if you can give me any kind of sign that this is what you want. I will honor our contract and marry you if only I could see that you do not despise me like you seem to."
Persephone watched the man's features changed before her eyes. Lord Iason seemed to be a peaceful man at heart - a good natured one. Like herself, he honoured doing the right thing and behaved accordingly but it was clear (especially now that she had met his family) that while propriety appeased his sense of justice, informality and jovial connection appeased his heart. He had mastered what she had only begun to realise was a necessary skill. He knew how to be both Lord or Prince or whatever title he held and himself. Separately. And without one compromising the other. She on the other hand had only recently begun to realise the "Princess" was not both her name and nature. And now not her purpose either.
As he let down his formal mask of polite reflection - an expression she hadn't realise he had been struggling to hold in place - an almost angry glint came to his eye and his features set into a harder look that had her hackles instantly rise. Her defensiveness grew and her skin seemed to tighten. It was a natural response when asked questions so directly and one she was experienced in. Many Senators were just as direct and far blunter in their manners of address. Unfortunately, it was likely the exact opposite reaction to what Iason was wanting; her subconscious relating his directness with the like she had dealt with before and drawing up the shield of "princess" to handle it.
When spoke initially, her mouth popped open for a second upon him accusing her of treating him harshly. But she wasn't truly able to formulate a response fast enough before he continued. This time demanding whether their union was something she wanted. Poking at the very thoughts she herself had been wrestling with recently; did she know what she wanted. Did she want him? Want a union with him? Want... what? A future with him? What future? Was she to be Queen? Was she not? What family did she have now that wasn't to be inherited out of pity? Her thoughts started to spiral so she put a clamp down onto them as hard as her subconscious mind knew how. She took a slow breath and then spoke, her words careful.
"I apologise. I wasn't aware I had made you feel thus." She began, addressing his personal feelings first. "I didn't not believe I was addressing you in a manner that was unfeeling and had attempted to only be polite."
Her gaze bet his steadily, her gaze cold. Her features tightened and she felt her chin wobble for a moment before she was able to hold it in check again. His words of "no other family but his" had cut deep, despite how caring he might have intended the offer to be.
She felt her chest tighten and her heart quicken in panic at the way her thoughts were encouraging her tongue to go. This man had done everything right. He had agreed to marry her for the sake of his family and the connection between the two kingdoms. He had done so for money, mostly, but had managed to do so with all the grace and integrity that she would have had to have from a future fiancé. He had performed as perfectly as any regent might at her side in numerous public events. He had allowed her to take the lead in their relationship - or lack thereof. He had rescued her from what she was confident would have been certain death. He had given her space. He had found her sanctuary. He had protected her from discussion at the dinner table.
Lord Iason was a man of integrity, dignity, compassion and courage. A man who would be any woman's desire for the perfect husband.
And what did she had to offer him now? No money, no title, no kingdom... Not even the connection with a noble house, for such a matter was moot when she - a sole female - was the only living survivor of it.
And yet he still offered to honour his agreement to her.
No.
Her actions - or rather her presence or existence, for it was hardly a deliberate act of her own - had ruined enough lives over the last month. She would not ruin that of a man so good at heart.
"No." She told him calmly, the word breaking a little in her throat before it reached her mouth. "For everything that you are Lord Iason and everything that you deserve, I do not want you to marry me." She confirmed, her words chosen very carefully. It was he she did not want to marry her. Almost unbeknownst to her, Persephone's brow wrinkled a moment, her eyes widening, her eyebrows drawing close. There was a wrinkle just above the point of her nose and the edges of her mouth turned down against a rising chin. Her features were smooth a second later as she refused to allow the emotion to remain on her face. Her voice broke a little again as she spoke but it was calm by the end of her next statement. "I can no longer offer you the incentives from my side of this agreement, nor offer you even average considerations. Your family would make neither a profitable or mediocre advantage becoming attached to myself and I would not have any further detriment befall on them after their hospitality." She swallowed, her frame still stone and unyielding to the point where every muscle in her body seemed to hurt and ache. "You owe me, nor the family I now solely represent, anything at all, Lord Iason."
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Persephone watched the man's features changed before her eyes. Lord Iason seemed to be a peaceful man at heart - a good natured one. Like herself, he honoured doing the right thing and behaved accordingly but it was clear (especially now that she had met his family) that while propriety appeased his sense of justice, informality and jovial connection appeased his heart. He had mastered what she had only begun to realise was a necessary skill. He knew how to be both Lord or Prince or whatever title he held and himself. Separately. And without one compromising the other. She on the other hand had only recently begun to realise the "Princess" was not both her name and nature. And now not her purpose either.
As he let down his formal mask of polite reflection - an expression she hadn't realise he had been struggling to hold in place - an almost angry glint came to his eye and his features set into a harder look that had her hackles instantly rise. Her defensiveness grew and her skin seemed to tighten. It was a natural response when asked questions so directly and one she was experienced in. Many Senators were just as direct and far blunter in their manners of address. Unfortunately, it was likely the exact opposite reaction to what Iason was wanting; her subconscious relating his directness with the like she had dealt with before and drawing up the shield of "princess" to handle it.
When spoke initially, her mouth popped open for a second upon him accusing her of treating him harshly. But she wasn't truly able to formulate a response fast enough before he continued. This time demanding whether their union was something she wanted. Poking at the very thoughts she herself had been wrestling with recently; did she know what she wanted. Did she want him? Want a union with him? Want... what? A future with him? What future? Was she to be Queen? Was she not? What family did she have now that wasn't to be inherited out of pity? Her thoughts started to spiral so she put a clamp down onto them as hard as her subconscious mind knew how. She took a slow breath and then spoke, her words careful.
"I apologise. I wasn't aware I had made you feel thus." She began, addressing his personal feelings first. "I didn't not believe I was addressing you in a manner that was unfeeling and had attempted to only be polite."
Her gaze bet his steadily, her gaze cold. Her features tightened and she felt her chin wobble for a moment before she was able to hold it in check again. His words of "no other family but his" had cut deep, despite how caring he might have intended the offer to be.
She felt her chest tighten and her heart quicken in panic at the way her thoughts were encouraging her tongue to go. This man had done everything right. He had agreed to marry her for the sake of his family and the connection between the two kingdoms. He had done so for money, mostly, but had managed to do so with all the grace and integrity that she would have had to have from a future fiancé. He had performed as perfectly as any regent might at her side in numerous public events. He had allowed her to take the lead in their relationship - or lack thereof. He had rescued her from what she was confident would have been certain death. He had given her space. He had found her sanctuary. He had protected her from discussion at the dinner table.
Lord Iason was a man of integrity, dignity, compassion and courage. A man who would be any woman's desire for the perfect husband.
And what did she had to offer him now? No money, no title, no kingdom... Not even the connection with a noble house, for such a matter was moot when she - a sole female - was the only living survivor of it.
And yet he still offered to honour his agreement to her.
No.
Her actions - or rather her presence or existence, for it was hardly a deliberate act of her own - had ruined enough lives over the last month. She would not ruin that of a man so good at heart.
"No." She told him calmly, the word breaking a little in her throat before it reached her mouth. "For everything that you are Lord Iason and everything that you deserve, I do not want you to marry me." She confirmed, her words chosen very carefully. It was he she did not want to marry her. Almost unbeknownst to her, Persephone's brow wrinkled a moment, her eyes widening, her eyebrows drawing close. There was a wrinkle just above the point of her nose and the edges of her mouth turned down against a rising chin. Her features were smooth a second later as she refused to allow the emotion to remain on her face. Her voice broke a little again as she spoke but it was calm by the end of her next statement. "I can no longer offer you the incentives from my side of this agreement, nor offer you even average considerations. Your family would make neither a profitable or mediocre advantage becoming attached to myself and I would not have any further detriment befall on them after their hospitality." She swallowed, her frame still stone and unyielding to the point where every muscle in her body seemed to hurt and ache. "You owe me, nor the family I now solely represent, anything at all, Lord Iason."
Persephone watched the man's features changed before her eyes. Lord Iason seemed to be a peaceful man at heart - a good natured one. Like herself, he honoured doing the right thing and behaved accordingly but it was clear (especially now that she had met his family) that while propriety appeased his sense of justice, informality and jovial connection appeased his heart. He had mastered what she had only begun to realise was a necessary skill. He knew how to be both Lord or Prince or whatever title he held and himself. Separately. And without one compromising the other. She on the other hand had only recently begun to realise the "Princess" was not both her name and nature. And now not her purpose either.
As he let down his formal mask of polite reflection - an expression she hadn't realise he had been struggling to hold in place - an almost angry glint came to his eye and his features set into a harder look that had her hackles instantly rise. Her defensiveness grew and her skin seemed to tighten. It was a natural response when asked questions so directly and one she was experienced in. Many Senators were just as direct and far blunter in their manners of address. Unfortunately, it was likely the exact opposite reaction to what Iason was wanting; her subconscious relating his directness with the like she had dealt with before and drawing up the shield of "princess" to handle it.
When spoke initially, her mouth popped open for a second upon him accusing her of treating him harshly. But she wasn't truly able to formulate a response fast enough before he continued. This time demanding whether their union was something she wanted. Poking at the very thoughts she herself had been wrestling with recently; did she know what she wanted. Did she want him? Want a union with him? Want... what? A future with him? What future? Was she to be Queen? Was she not? What family did she have now that wasn't to be inherited out of pity? Her thoughts started to spiral so she put a clamp down onto them as hard as her subconscious mind knew how. She took a slow breath and then spoke, her words careful.
"I apologise. I wasn't aware I had made you feel thus." She began, addressing his personal feelings first. "I didn't not believe I was addressing you in a manner that was unfeeling and had attempted to only be polite."
Her gaze bet his steadily, her gaze cold. Her features tightened and she felt her chin wobble for a moment before she was able to hold it in check again. His words of "no other family but his" had cut deep, despite how caring he might have intended the offer to be.
She felt her chest tighten and her heart quicken in panic at the way her thoughts were encouraging her tongue to go. This man had done everything right. He had agreed to marry her for the sake of his family and the connection between the two kingdoms. He had done so for money, mostly, but had managed to do so with all the grace and integrity that she would have had to have from a future fiancé. He had performed as perfectly as any regent might at her side in numerous public events. He had allowed her to take the lead in their relationship - or lack thereof. He had rescued her from what she was confident would have been certain death. He had given her space. He had found her sanctuary. He had protected her from discussion at the dinner table.
Lord Iason was a man of integrity, dignity, compassion and courage. A man who would be any woman's desire for the perfect husband.
And what did she had to offer him now? No money, no title, no kingdom... Not even the connection with a noble house, for such a matter was moot when she - a sole female - was the only living survivor of it.
And yet he still offered to honour his agreement to her.
No.
Her actions - or rather her presence or existence, for it was hardly a deliberate act of her own - had ruined enough lives over the last month. She would not ruin that of a man so good at heart.
"No." She told him calmly, the word breaking a little in her throat before it reached her mouth. "For everything that you are Lord Iason and everything that you deserve, I do not want you to marry me." She confirmed, her words chosen very carefully. It was he she did not want to marry her. Almost unbeknownst to her, Persephone's brow wrinkled a moment, her eyes widening, her eyebrows drawing close. There was a wrinkle just above the point of her nose and the edges of her mouth turned down against a rising chin. Her features were smooth a second later as she refused to allow the emotion to remain on her face. Her voice broke a little again as she spoke but it was calm by the end of her next statement. "I can no longer offer you the incentives from my side of this agreement, nor offer you even average considerations. Your family would make neither a profitable or mediocre advantage becoming attached to myself and I would not have any further detriment befall on them after their hospitality." She swallowed, her frame still stone and unyielding to the point where every muscle in her body seemed to hurt and ache. "You owe me, nor the family I now solely represent, anything at all, Lord Iason."
As instantly as he had spoken he'd noticed the shift, the subtle change in her bearing and expression that showed him the princess was still very much in control of the woman. Did she even know how to separate the two? It didn't seem to be the case. Her cold gaze meeting his brought a sinking feeling to his chest and he sighed as she responded. Of course she hadn't realized she was making him feel this way, she barely had any sort of access to feelings herself so how could she know.
He couldn't respond to the apology, it felt hollow and false like everything else she had said and done. Instead he shook his head and sighed as she continued, saying she would not marry him, twisting it to sound as if it was her not him. It struck him harder than he had expected even though he had opened up the topic in the first place. He cared for her, truly he did. She was beautiful and more perfect than anyone he deserved, her regal elegance had drawn him in but now he needed to see that she had feelings, feelings for him most importantly. Love was not something he expected, though he had hoped it might have a chance to grow, but at the very least knowledge that she didn't outright despise him was something he needed in order to move forward.
"That's not what I mean. I don't give a fig for the riches and prestige, we're past that now and it doesn't matter. I would be happy to live my life here as a baron, I would happily have you at my side. But forget what the princess or the queen says. What does Persephone want? Without thinking of what the queen owes, what does the woman desire?"
Iason knew he was asking a good deal of her, more than he had ever done before. He had been happy to play supportive consort, when there was a kingdom and politics to play, but now they were simply humans and it didn't matter what their noble personas desired. If she as a woman wanted him as a man he would marry her without hesitation. But if she hated him, if she didn't want him, he would do what he could to find her peace wherever she wanted to be and leave it at that. He could find another marriage and so could she.
"Think on it. Tonight. I will not break the contract until you know what you truly wish. If it is to stay with me, then stay with me. If not, we will find you whatever it is you desire. Goodnight, Persephone."
Without waiting for her rebuttal, Iason gave another shallow bow and turned to leave her room, returning to his own chambers with a heavy sigh and falling on his bed.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
As instantly as he had spoken he'd noticed the shift, the subtle change in her bearing and expression that showed him the princess was still very much in control of the woman. Did she even know how to separate the two? It didn't seem to be the case. Her cold gaze meeting his brought a sinking feeling to his chest and he sighed as she responded. Of course she hadn't realized she was making him feel this way, she barely had any sort of access to feelings herself so how could she know.
He couldn't respond to the apology, it felt hollow and false like everything else she had said and done. Instead he shook his head and sighed as she continued, saying she would not marry him, twisting it to sound as if it was her not him. It struck him harder than he had expected even though he had opened up the topic in the first place. He cared for her, truly he did. She was beautiful and more perfect than anyone he deserved, her regal elegance had drawn him in but now he needed to see that she had feelings, feelings for him most importantly. Love was not something he expected, though he had hoped it might have a chance to grow, but at the very least knowledge that she didn't outright despise him was something he needed in order to move forward.
"That's not what I mean. I don't give a fig for the riches and prestige, we're past that now and it doesn't matter. I would be happy to live my life here as a baron, I would happily have you at my side. But forget what the princess or the queen says. What does Persephone want? Without thinking of what the queen owes, what does the woman desire?"
Iason knew he was asking a good deal of her, more than he had ever done before. He had been happy to play supportive consort, when there was a kingdom and politics to play, but now they were simply humans and it didn't matter what their noble personas desired. If she as a woman wanted him as a man he would marry her without hesitation. But if she hated him, if she didn't want him, he would do what he could to find her peace wherever she wanted to be and leave it at that. He could find another marriage and so could she.
"Think on it. Tonight. I will not break the contract until you know what you truly wish. If it is to stay with me, then stay with me. If not, we will find you whatever it is you desire. Goodnight, Persephone."
Without waiting for her rebuttal, Iason gave another shallow bow and turned to leave her room, returning to his own chambers with a heavy sigh and falling on his bed.
As instantly as he had spoken he'd noticed the shift, the subtle change in her bearing and expression that showed him the princess was still very much in control of the woman. Did she even know how to separate the two? It didn't seem to be the case. Her cold gaze meeting his brought a sinking feeling to his chest and he sighed as she responded. Of course she hadn't realized she was making him feel this way, she barely had any sort of access to feelings herself so how could she know.
He couldn't respond to the apology, it felt hollow and false like everything else she had said and done. Instead he shook his head and sighed as she continued, saying she would not marry him, twisting it to sound as if it was her not him. It struck him harder than he had expected even though he had opened up the topic in the first place. He cared for her, truly he did. She was beautiful and more perfect than anyone he deserved, her regal elegance had drawn him in but now he needed to see that she had feelings, feelings for him most importantly. Love was not something he expected, though he had hoped it might have a chance to grow, but at the very least knowledge that she didn't outright despise him was something he needed in order to move forward.
"That's not what I mean. I don't give a fig for the riches and prestige, we're past that now and it doesn't matter. I would be happy to live my life here as a baron, I would happily have you at my side. But forget what the princess or the queen says. What does Persephone want? Without thinking of what the queen owes, what does the woman desire?"
Iason knew he was asking a good deal of her, more than he had ever done before. He had been happy to play supportive consort, when there was a kingdom and politics to play, but now they were simply humans and it didn't matter what their noble personas desired. If she as a woman wanted him as a man he would marry her without hesitation. But if she hated him, if she didn't want him, he would do what he could to find her peace wherever she wanted to be and leave it at that. He could find another marriage and so could she.
"Think on it. Tonight. I will not break the contract until you know what you truly wish. If it is to stay with me, then stay with me. If not, we will find you whatever it is you desire. Goodnight, Persephone."
Without waiting for her rebuttal, Iason gave another shallow bow and turned to leave her room, returning to his own chambers with a heavy sigh and falling on his bed.
When Iason spoke, it was as if they were having a conversation in two different languages and it frustrated Persephone. And clearly him too. He spoke with a desperate edge to his voice. A frustration that she wasn't getting what he was saying. But the truth was she understood it. She did. She knew what he was asking and what he was seeking. She knew that he was trying to have a conversation with the woman she was down beneath all her rank and propriety and training. The problem was that woman just wasn't there right now. Like she was a maid taking a message for her mistress and unable to give the messenger the emotion he was looking for upon its receipt. She just wasn't capable of it.
So, when he tried asking what the woman wanted. Putting aside everything else. Persephone had just stayed where she was. She had opened her mouth for a moment, she had closed it. She had blinked. But she hadn't been able to formulate any words that seemed to make sense to her.
Part of it was her detachment from herself.
Part of it was her inability to understand why Iason would even wish to continue their engagement when she was making it perfectly clear that there was nothing to her - as a woman - to be engaged to.
And the third part was the ultimate crushing sense of doom that his words had started to uncurl somewhere in the vicinity or her lower stomach and spine.
He had talked about being a baron. Here in Taengea. He had talked about having her for his wife, as she was. No princess. No queen. He had talked about living his life - her life - their lives... in this kingdom.
It was all just a confirmation; the final nail in the coffin. That reminded her that there was nothing for her now. No home, no family, no kingdom.
When Iason left the room, she said nothing to stop him, so deep was her feeling of drowning. She said nothing to halt his steps, to correct the look of hurt in his eyes, to call him back from down the corridor. She had simply stood. Blinked. And felt something... something far away in the back of her mind - or was it her heart? - detach. And float away...
And suddenly... clear thought wasn't really possible... and nothing really mattered…
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
When Iason spoke, it was as if they were having a conversation in two different languages and it frustrated Persephone. And clearly him too. He spoke with a desperate edge to his voice. A frustration that she wasn't getting what he was saying. But the truth was she understood it. She did. She knew what he was asking and what he was seeking. She knew that he was trying to have a conversation with the woman she was down beneath all her rank and propriety and training. The problem was that woman just wasn't there right now. Like she was a maid taking a message for her mistress and unable to give the messenger the emotion he was looking for upon its receipt. She just wasn't capable of it.
So, when he tried asking what the woman wanted. Putting aside everything else. Persephone had just stayed where she was. She had opened her mouth for a moment, she had closed it. She had blinked. But she hadn't been able to formulate any words that seemed to make sense to her.
Part of it was her detachment from herself.
Part of it was her inability to understand why Iason would even wish to continue their engagement when she was making it perfectly clear that there was nothing to her - as a woman - to be engaged to.
And the third part was the ultimate crushing sense of doom that his words had started to uncurl somewhere in the vicinity or her lower stomach and spine.
He had talked about being a baron. Here in Taengea. He had talked about having her for his wife, as she was. No princess. No queen. He had talked about living his life - her life - their lives... in this kingdom.
It was all just a confirmation; the final nail in the coffin. That reminded her that there was nothing for her now. No home, no family, no kingdom.
When Iason left the room, she said nothing to stop him, so deep was her feeling of drowning. She said nothing to halt his steps, to correct the look of hurt in his eyes, to call him back from down the corridor. She had simply stood. Blinked. And felt something... something far away in the back of her mind - or was it her heart? - detach. And float away...
And suddenly... clear thought wasn't really possible... and nothing really mattered…
When Iason spoke, it was as if they were having a conversation in two different languages and it frustrated Persephone. And clearly him too. He spoke with a desperate edge to his voice. A frustration that she wasn't getting what he was saying. But the truth was she understood it. She did. She knew what he was asking and what he was seeking. She knew that he was trying to have a conversation with the woman she was down beneath all her rank and propriety and training. The problem was that woman just wasn't there right now. Like she was a maid taking a message for her mistress and unable to give the messenger the emotion he was looking for upon its receipt. She just wasn't capable of it.
So, when he tried asking what the woman wanted. Putting aside everything else. Persephone had just stayed where she was. She had opened her mouth for a moment, she had closed it. She had blinked. But she hadn't been able to formulate any words that seemed to make sense to her.
Part of it was her detachment from herself.
Part of it was her inability to understand why Iason would even wish to continue their engagement when she was making it perfectly clear that there was nothing to her - as a woman - to be engaged to.
And the third part was the ultimate crushing sense of doom that his words had started to uncurl somewhere in the vicinity or her lower stomach and spine.
He had talked about being a baron. Here in Taengea. He had talked about having her for his wife, as she was. No princess. No queen. He had talked about living his life - her life - their lives... in this kingdom.
It was all just a confirmation; the final nail in the coffin. That reminded her that there was nothing for her now. No home, no family, no kingdom.
When Iason left the room, she said nothing to stop him, so deep was her feeling of drowning. She said nothing to halt his steps, to correct the look of hurt in his eyes, to call him back from down the corridor. She had simply stood. Blinked. And felt something... something far away in the back of her mind - or was it her heart? - detach. And float away...
And suddenly... clear thought wasn't really possible... and nothing really mattered…
