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Finding she was in entirely too much pain to decline assistance, Essa did as Yiannis instructed, transferring her weight and slinging an arm up over his shoulder that he might act as a living crutch. She appreciated that her cousin made no efforts to chide her, or school her behavior, or admonish her for ruining her gown and ending up wounded on a day that celebrated peace. Either he was too good-natured for such, or he was astute enough to know an unwise decision. Hobbling as they went towards the water vendor, Essa absorbed Yiannis’ tales like a sponge, her imagination conjuring such vivid creatures.
“I was just in our border at sunrise. We had to lead a campaign to push the Persians back into their desert. You know the story. Cut off the head of the snake, and end his terror. But there was so much more to it than warfare. We've seen unbelievable creatures, like a fearsome sea monster with rows and rows of jagged teeth. Poseidon saw fit to warn us all that it was coming by putting a sharp fin on his back that poked just above the surface of the water. There's one that looks like this creature, but much softer, with a long nose. They swim in groups, but jump out of the waves and coarse back in, almost playfully. Once we'd made landfall, we saw some truly bizarre things. Lizards sunning themselves that were as long as my leg. Enormous, spotted cats as beautiful as they were deadly. Say, you've got that in common with them, don't you?”
In a mixture of hopping and limping, the two traversed the festival grounds, Essa momentarily enthralled with the verbal pictures her cousin painted. She cut a glance towards him, a mix of skepticism and wonderment. “These creatures are real?” His likening her to one of these spotted cats drew a smirk from her, poking a finger into his side playfully. “Such golden-tongued flattery, cousin. I learned from the best,” she smiled. Her mother certainly met that description, though Essa herself wasn’t sure she herself could be described as beautiful. She hardly liked anything about herself when she looked in the reflecting glass.
Upon reaching the vendor and his barrels of water, the man appeared momentarily hesitant but it was shortlived, getting to his feet and ladling out water for her to clean her bloody hands.
“One must be careful, my fair lady.”
The vendor’s words reached Essa’s ears as she wrung her fingers together and rubbed the dried crimson from between her fingers. “The dunking booth was a bit intense,” she answered him without looking up, a perfectly acceptable answer. “Cup of water please.” With her hands reasonably clean, she hoisted her wounded leg a bit and began unwrapping the strips of her gown she’d torn off to fashion an impromptu bandage. They were heavily soiled and in need of changing. “I need to clean up, and probably change,” Essa murmured, assessing her physical appearance to that of having been robbed and beaten. “At least before my mother sees. Or sister.” Unwinding the last strip from her lower leg, the considerable gash came into view, clean edges denoting injury with an edged weapon like a blade, the gaping and lower shadowing suggesting some degree of depth. The Colcian daughter of Princess Tythra winced a little, just a little. She’d incurred similar wounds when she was ‘practicing’ swordplay in her room, but none so deep. She took care not to pull at the wound where the last wrap had dried to it, so as not to further instigate more bleeding.
“When I'd left, I was worried the unspoken truces might be broken and I'd be halfway across the world when my family needed me. They can't rely on Vangelis for everything.”
Essa exhaled as she finished the gruesome task of unmasking the laceration, before looking up to Yiannis again. “Everything seems to be fine. I mean, we’re here,” she motioned all around her. Surely if this wasn’t a testament to the interkingdom commitment to peace, she didn’t know what would be. “You’re off serving your country, Yiannis. That is a great honor. And the family is not without our recognition for such,” she offered him, the family party boy that he was. One corner of her mouth slipped up in a coy grin. “But...yeah….can’t rely on Vang for everything. You’ll just have to shoulder that burden of being the one who really gets things done, eh?”
“To come back to a festival celebrating a lack of open conflict was certainly a surprise. How did we reach this state of affairs, where peace became the prevailing trend? More importantly, what have you been up to while I was gone?”
Essa readily took the carved horn cup from the vendor, chugging the cool water inside without coming up for air until she’d finished every drop. Reaching out she clutched her cousin’s arm once more and hopped closer to him on her good foot, looking for a place to sit. “Better to remain a unified region is it not? If your Persian friends continue to test the boundaries, having backup will be most helpful,” the young woman reasoned out. Another smile flashed. “I mean, they all suck compared to us, but….ya know. They’ll make a wondrous mess of things on the battlefield. They’ll do their parts, as best they can. As for me…..” One shoulder bumped in a shrug, rubbing at her cheek for a moment. “I’m just….the same I guess.” She dare not mention the incident at the old fort, or the nightmares that had haunted her since, or the paranoia that ebbed along the shoreline of her psyche every so often, causing her to glance over her shoulder, or stare at empty rooms in suspicion, or inch ever so carefully around corners, ever remembering those people. “I’m just….here.” It sounded painfully melancholy, and in effort to divert from such gloom, she popped a quick grin. “You know, just...getting into trouble at dunking booths and the like,” she referenced the alleged source of her injury again. “Nothing as exciting as war or strange animals.” While she generally hated to admit she was lonely and oft felt isolated, or like an outsider in her own home, she hated even more the feeling of being vulnerable to people. At least, most people. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re home. And thank you.”
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Finding she was in entirely too much pain to decline assistance, Essa did as Yiannis instructed, transferring her weight and slinging an arm up over his shoulder that he might act as a living crutch. She appreciated that her cousin made no efforts to chide her, or school her behavior, or admonish her for ruining her gown and ending up wounded on a day that celebrated peace. Either he was too good-natured for such, or he was astute enough to know an unwise decision. Hobbling as they went towards the water vendor, Essa absorbed Yiannis’ tales like a sponge, her imagination conjuring such vivid creatures.
“I was just in our border at sunrise. We had to lead a campaign to push the Persians back into their desert. You know the story. Cut off the head of the snake, and end his terror. But there was so much more to it than warfare. We've seen unbelievable creatures, like a fearsome sea monster with rows and rows of jagged teeth. Poseidon saw fit to warn us all that it was coming by putting a sharp fin on his back that poked just above the surface of the water. There's one that looks like this creature, but much softer, with a long nose. They swim in groups, but jump out of the waves and coarse back in, almost playfully. Once we'd made landfall, we saw some truly bizarre things. Lizards sunning themselves that were as long as my leg. Enormous, spotted cats as beautiful as they were deadly. Say, you've got that in common with them, don't you?”
In a mixture of hopping and limping, the two traversed the festival grounds, Essa momentarily enthralled with the verbal pictures her cousin painted. She cut a glance towards him, a mix of skepticism and wonderment. “These creatures are real?” His likening her to one of these spotted cats drew a smirk from her, poking a finger into his side playfully. “Such golden-tongued flattery, cousin. I learned from the best,” she smiled. Her mother certainly met that description, though Essa herself wasn’t sure she herself could be described as beautiful. She hardly liked anything about herself when she looked in the reflecting glass.
Upon reaching the vendor and his barrels of water, the man appeared momentarily hesitant but it was shortlived, getting to his feet and ladling out water for her to clean her bloody hands.
“One must be careful, my fair lady.”
The vendor’s words reached Essa’s ears as she wrung her fingers together and rubbed the dried crimson from between her fingers. “The dunking booth was a bit intense,” she answered him without looking up, a perfectly acceptable answer. “Cup of water please.” With her hands reasonably clean, she hoisted her wounded leg a bit and began unwrapping the strips of her gown she’d torn off to fashion an impromptu bandage. They were heavily soiled and in need of changing. “I need to clean up, and probably change,” Essa murmured, assessing her physical appearance to that of having been robbed and beaten. “At least before my mother sees. Or sister.” Unwinding the last strip from her lower leg, the considerable gash came into view, clean edges denoting injury with an edged weapon like a blade, the gaping and lower shadowing suggesting some degree of depth. The Colcian daughter of Princess Tythra winced a little, just a little. She’d incurred similar wounds when she was ‘practicing’ swordplay in her room, but none so deep. She took care not to pull at the wound where the last wrap had dried to it, so as not to further instigate more bleeding.
“When I'd left, I was worried the unspoken truces might be broken and I'd be halfway across the world when my family needed me. They can't rely on Vangelis for everything.”
Essa exhaled as she finished the gruesome task of unmasking the laceration, before looking up to Yiannis again. “Everything seems to be fine. I mean, we’re here,” she motioned all around her. Surely if this wasn’t a testament to the interkingdom commitment to peace, she didn’t know what would be. “You’re off serving your country, Yiannis. That is a great honor. And the family is not without our recognition for such,” she offered him, the family party boy that he was. One corner of her mouth slipped up in a coy grin. “But...yeah….can’t rely on Vang for everything. You’ll just have to shoulder that burden of being the one who really gets things done, eh?”
“To come back to a festival celebrating a lack of open conflict was certainly a surprise. How did we reach this state of affairs, where peace became the prevailing trend? More importantly, what have you been up to while I was gone?”
Essa readily took the carved horn cup from the vendor, chugging the cool water inside without coming up for air until she’d finished every drop. Reaching out she clutched her cousin’s arm once more and hopped closer to him on her good foot, looking for a place to sit. “Better to remain a unified region is it not? If your Persian friends continue to test the boundaries, having backup will be most helpful,” the young woman reasoned out. Another smile flashed. “I mean, they all suck compared to us, but….ya know. They’ll make a wondrous mess of things on the battlefield. They’ll do their parts, as best they can. As for me…..” One shoulder bumped in a shrug, rubbing at her cheek for a moment. “I’m just….the same I guess.” She dare not mention the incident at the old fort, or the nightmares that had haunted her since, or the paranoia that ebbed along the shoreline of her psyche every so often, causing her to glance over her shoulder, or stare at empty rooms in suspicion, or inch ever so carefully around corners, ever remembering those people. “I’m just….here.” It sounded painfully melancholy, and in effort to divert from such gloom, she popped a quick grin. “You know, just...getting into trouble at dunking booths and the like,” she referenced the alleged source of her injury again. “Nothing as exciting as war or strange animals.” While she generally hated to admit she was lonely and oft felt isolated, or like an outsider in her own home, she hated even more the feeling of being vulnerable to people. At least, most people. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re home. And thank you.”
Finding she was in entirely too much pain to decline assistance, Essa did as Yiannis instructed, transferring her weight and slinging an arm up over his shoulder that he might act as a living crutch. She appreciated that her cousin made no efforts to chide her, or school her behavior, or admonish her for ruining her gown and ending up wounded on a day that celebrated peace. Either he was too good-natured for such, or he was astute enough to know an unwise decision. Hobbling as they went towards the water vendor, Essa absorbed Yiannis’ tales like a sponge, her imagination conjuring such vivid creatures.
“I was just in our border at sunrise. We had to lead a campaign to push the Persians back into their desert. You know the story. Cut off the head of the snake, and end his terror. But there was so much more to it than warfare. We've seen unbelievable creatures, like a fearsome sea monster with rows and rows of jagged teeth. Poseidon saw fit to warn us all that it was coming by putting a sharp fin on his back that poked just above the surface of the water. There's one that looks like this creature, but much softer, with a long nose. They swim in groups, but jump out of the waves and coarse back in, almost playfully. Once we'd made landfall, we saw some truly bizarre things. Lizards sunning themselves that were as long as my leg. Enormous, spotted cats as beautiful as they were deadly. Say, you've got that in common with them, don't you?”
In a mixture of hopping and limping, the two traversed the festival grounds, Essa momentarily enthralled with the verbal pictures her cousin painted. She cut a glance towards him, a mix of skepticism and wonderment. “These creatures are real?” His likening her to one of these spotted cats drew a smirk from her, poking a finger into his side playfully. “Such golden-tongued flattery, cousin. I learned from the best,” she smiled. Her mother certainly met that description, though Essa herself wasn’t sure she herself could be described as beautiful. She hardly liked anything about herself when she looked in the reflecting glass.
Upon reaching the vendor and his barrels of water, the man appeared momentarily hesitant but it was shortlived, getting to his feet and ladling out water for her to clean her bloody hands.
“One must be careful, my fair lady.”
The vendor’s words reached Essa’s ears as she wrung her fingers together and rubbed the dried crimson from between her fingers. “The dunking booth was a bit intense,” she answered him without looking up, a perfectly acceptable answer. “Cup of water please.” With her hands reasonably clean, she hoisted her wounded leg a bit and began unwrapping the strips of her gown she’d torn off to fashion an impromptu bandage. They were heavily soiled and in need of changing. “I need to clean up, and probably change,” Essa murmured, assessing her physical appearance to that of having been robbed and beaten. “At least before my mother sees. Or sister.” Unwinding the last strip from her lower leg, the considerable gash came into view, clean edges denoting injury with an edged weapon like a blade, the gaping and lower shadowing suggesting some degree of depth. The Colcian daughter of Princess Tythra winced a little, just a little. She’d incurred similar wounds when she was ‘practicing’ swordplay in her room, but none so deep. She took care not to pull at the wound where the last wrap had dried to it, so as not to further instigate more bleeding.
“When I'd left, I was worried the unspoken truces might be broken and I'd be halfway across the world when my family needed me. They can't rely on Vangelis for everything.”
Essa exhaled as she finished the gruesome task of unmasking the laceration, before looking up to Yiannis again. “Everything seems to be fine. I mean, we’re here,” she motioned all around her. Surely if this wasn’t a testament to the interkingdom commitment to peace, she didn’t know what would be. “You’re off serving your country, Yiannis. That is a great honor. And the family is not without our recognition for such,” she offered him, the family party boy that he was. One corner of her mouth slipped up in a coy grin. “But...yeah….can’t rely on Vang for everything. You’ll just have to shoulder that burden of being the one who really gets things done, eh?”
“To come back to a festival celebrating a lack of open conflict was certainly a surprise. How did we reach this state of affairs, where peace became the prevailing trend? More importantly, what have you been up to while I was gone?”
Essa readily took the carved horn cup from the vendor, chugging the cool water inside without coming up for air until she’d finished every drop. Reaching out she clutched her cousin’s arm once more and hopped closer to him on her good foot, looking for a place to sit. “Better to remain a unified region is it not? If your Persian friends continue to test the boundaries, having backup will be most helpful,” the young woman reasoned out. Another smile flashed. “I mean, they all suck compared to us, but….ya know. They’ll make a wondrous mess of things on the battlefield. They’ll do their parts, as best they can. As for me…..” One shoulder bumped in a shrug, rubbing at her cheek for a moment. “I’m just….the same I guess.” She dare not mention the incident at the old fort, or the nightmares that had haunted her since, or the paranoia that ebbed along the shoreline of her psyche every so often, causing her to glance over her shoulder, or stare at empty rooms in suspicion, or inch ever so carefully around corners, ever remembering those people. “I’m just….here.” It sounded painfully melancholy, and in effort to divert from such gloom, she popped a quick grin. “You know, just...getting into trouble at dunking booths and the like,” she referenced the alleged source of her injury again. “Nothing as exciting as war or strange animals.” While she generally hated to admit she was lonely and oft felt isolated, or like an outsider in her own home, she hated even more the feeling of being vulnerable to people. At least, most people. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re home. And thank you.”
The young artist's features were as beauteous as her work. Ophelia silently noted this as Rene's rosebud lips upturned into a smile, azure eyes locking on jade. Ophelia could not bring herself to feel envious of the girl's ethereal appearance, for her soul was as beauteous as every other part of her. Indeed, it shone so brightly that her body was no fit vessel to contain it, and so through the warmth of her smile and the brightness of her eyes, the vivacity of her soul seeped through.
Never could she envy Rene, not for her bird-like physique or even her seemingly gods-given talent, as she might have done another girl. Then again, most other girls Ophelia had met were not worthy of such gifts. They were scheming, conniving creatures who sought only to claw their way to the top, shredding their rivals to pieces with invisible talons, while Rene sought only peace and prosperity for all. The young Nikoleos was truly a manifestation of all that was good in the world, and should the Gods see fit to gift her with every grace, Ophelia would never question it.
The girl's words were gracious as always, sweet as honey but filled with sincerity, unlike the saccharine deceptions that dripped so easily from the mouths of most Grecian nobles. Perhaps this was due to her absence from the court and all its intrigues; if this was so, Ophelia was glad of it. The Royal Court could be a deadly place, corrupt as a festering wound. She herself had managed to retain her innocence for the most part, but she was painfully aware that she had not escaped entirely untarnished.
"My dear, considering the fact that you have likely not picked up a lyre in many years, you did extremely well," Ophelia responded gently. "I was truly impressed with you. I could never criticize one so brave as you. It must have been so difficult not only to converse in front of all those people, but to make yourself vulnerable before them. Had I been asked, for example, to attempt to solve a math problem in front of a crowd that large, I believe I would have fallen to pieces! Your bravery truly astonished me in the best of ways." She smiled brilliantly at the young artisan, taking one of the girl's tiny hands in her own. Brushing a callous with a smooth, pale finger, she momentarily forgot their attendants and became lost in her own thoughts. "Yes...you are a servant of Aphrodite. A creature of great beauty that produces beautiful things. And you serve her well, my dear one."
'You are a beautiful person, Lady Ophelia, and it is my privilege to call you a friend.'
Earning her epithet truly, the cheeks of the Condos Rose flushed as red as the flower that graced the sigil of her house. Her eyes cast demurely downwards for a moment before lifting to meet Rene's once more.
"You are too kind to me," she murmured. "For truly the honour is mine. I have never known one so kind and gentle as you. You represent everything that I wish we all could be. You are goodness in its purest form."
Ophelia let out an airy, mellifluous laugh, emerald eyes glimmering with mirth as they lit once more on Aphrodite's servant. "I should hope I know you well after so many years," she jested lightly, tilting her head to the side as she considered the words of her friend. "Well, as beautiful as your art is, and of that there can be no denial, it may be that you find yourself in a similar situation on account of something else -- your family, perhaps? It may be that one day you are called to be speak before the court," she winked, threading her arm through Rene's. "We cannot permit Celine to to have all the glory forever, can we?" she questioned rhetorically. She knew that Rene would be perfectly content to allow her eldest sister to remain in the spotlight, the star around which the family all revolved. Personally, Ophelia believed that Rene deserved better. How was she ever to make an advantageous marriage if no man ever had the opportunity to lay eyes upon her? To fall in love with her many wondrous qualities? Then again, perhaps Rene did not seek a husband; perhaps she intended to make her own way in life, a solitary soul guided only by the muses.
Astute as she was, Ophelia did not miss the subtle change in her friend's expression. The little lark looked suddenly pensive, and the Consod Rose wondered if perhaps something was ailing her. Before she could ask, however, Rene's expression smoothed itself into a tranquil smile and she spoke in answer to the question that had been put to her.
"Well, my host is, at present, probably inebriated," Ophelia winked once again. "Between you and I, my dearest brother-in-law has a hard time staying sober. But if we happen to run into him, I shall gladly introduce you. It may be more appropriate for me to present you to my parents-in-law though, they may be a tad less..." she paused, searching for a word that would not cast Mikael in such a bad light. "...intense. They are very kind and have been gracious hosts to me. And yes, I would love to see what the stalls have on offer. I hear there are many beautiful things to be found here; I was actually going to suggest a shopping trip to Arcanaes sometime, if you would like that?"
Rene was quiet. Too quiet. It was not like her, and it unnerved the Lady Ophelia. As they walked along, she watched the girl out of the corner of her eye, wondering how best to broach the subject of her silence. She did not wish to give offence, but nor did she wish to seem uncaring. She had noticed a change in her friend -- surely it would remisse of her not to point it out? If something was amiss with Rene, was it not her duty to discover what it was?
Rene's tentative murmur startled her out of her thoughts, jolting her back to the present. Ophelia listened in silence as the girl spoke, falling into the realms of quiet speculation. Rene was right, such a thing was by no means common. Even in her own household, Ophelia's male relatives had always made it quite plain to her that her place was at court and nowhere near the family business. But Rene's family were different. For one thing, they were Athenian. Athenians, she knew, were more accepting of intelligence and ambition in women. She knew for a fact that most Athenian women were educated far better than those in Taengea, and it was only her undeniable intelligence that had prompted her tutors to take a special interest in her schooling. Had she been of average intellect, she may not have received a near equal education to her brother. She also knew the Nikoleos family to be supportive, kind, some might even say doting. They were certainly a far cry from the Condos house.
"Your family may well support you in this," her words were carefully chosen, each syllable measured and well thought out. "They are not as mine are. My family make clear my place as a woman is in the court, but your family seem more open-minded, and it is my understanding that Athenians are more able to grasp the intelligence of women than Taengeans are," she lowered her voice, not wishing to be caught speaking ill of her own people by anyone who might report her. "In Taengea, it often seems as though women are thought of as nothing more than decorations; that does not seem so very true in Athena. I also know that you are capable of great things when you set your mind to them. 'Tis a lofty goal, but not unachievable. You may face opposition, but if you can be brave and look those opponents dead in the eye, telling them that they are wrong and you can equal them and should be given the chance to, then I see no reason why you ought not put your plans into effect."
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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The young artist's features were as beauteous as her work. Ophelia silently noted this as Rene's rosebud lips upturned into a smile, azure eyes locking on jade. Ophelia could not bring herself to feel envious of the girl's ethereal appearance, for her soul was as beauteous as every other part of her. Indeed, it shone so brightly that her body was no fit vessel to contain it, and so through the warmth of her smile and the brightness of her eyes, the vivacity of her soul seeped through.
Never could she envy Rene, not for her bird-like physique or even her seemingly gods-given talent, as she might have done another girl. Then again, most other girls Ophelia had met were not worthy of such gifts. They were scheming, conniving creatures who sought only to claw their way to the top, shredding their rivals to pieces with invisible talons, while Rene sought only peace and prosperity for all. The young Nikoleos was truly a manifestation of all that was good in the world, and should the Gods see fit to gift her with every grace, Ophelia would never question it.
The girl's words were gracious as always, sweet as honey but filled with sincerity, unlike the saccharine deceptions that dripped so easily from the mouths of most Grecian nobles. Perhaps this was due to her absence from the court and all its intrigues; if this was so, Ophelia was glad of it. The Royal Court could be a deadly place, corrupt as a festering wound. She herself had managed to retain her innocence for the most part, but she was painfully aware that she had not escaped entirely untarnished.
"My dear, considering the fact that you have likely not picked up a lyre in many years, you did extremely well," Ophelia responded gently. "I was truly impressed with you. I could never criticize one so brave as you. It must have been so difficult not only to converse in front of all those people, but to make yourself vulnerable before them. Had I been asked, for example, to attempt to solve a math problem in front of a crowd that large, I believe I would have fallen to pieces! Your bravery truly astonished me in the best of ways." She smiled brilliantly at the young artisan, taking one of the girl's tiny hands in her own. Brushing a callous with a smooth, pale finger, she momentarily forgot their attendants and became lost in her own thoughts. "Yes...you are a servant of Aphrodite. A creature of great beauty that produces beautiful things. And you serve her well, my dear one."
'You are a beautiful person, Lady Ophelia, and it is my privilege to call you a friend.'
Earning her epithet truly, the cheeks of the Condos Rose flushed as red as the flower that graced the sigil of her house. Her eyes cast demurely downwards for a moment before lifting to meet Rene's once more.
"You are too kind to me," she murmured. "For truly the honour is mine. I have never known one so kind and gentle as you. You represent everything that I wish we all could be. You are goodness in its purest form."
Ophelia let out an airy, mellifluous laugh, emerald eyes glimmering with mirth as they lit once more on Aphrodite's servant. "I should hope I know you well after so many years," she jested lightly, tilting her head to the side as she considered the words of her friend. "Well, as beautiful as your art is, and of that there can be no denial, it may be that you find yourself in a similar situation on account of something else -- your family, perhaps? It may be that one day you are called to be speak before the court," she winked, threading her arm through Rene's. "We cannot permit Celine to to have all the glory forever, can we?" she questioned rhetorically. She knew that Rene would be perfectly content to allow her eldest sister to remain in the spotlight, the star around which the family all revolved. Personally, Ophelia believed that Rene deserved better. How was she ever to make an advantageous marriage if no man ever had the opportunity to lay eyes upon her? To fall in love with her many wondrous qualities? Then again, perhaps Rene did not seek a husband; perhaps she intended to make her own way in life, a solitary soul guided only by the muses.
Astute as she was, Ophelia did not miss the subtle change in her friend's expression. The little lark looked suddenly pensive, and the Consod Rose wondered if perhaps something was ailing her. Before she could ask, however, Rene's expression smoothed itself into a tranquil smile and she spoke in answer to the question that had been put to her.
"Well, my host is, at present, probably inebriated," Ophelia winked once again. "Between you and I, my dearest brother-in-law has a hard time staying sober. But if we happen to run into him, I shall gladly introduce you. It may be more appropriate for me to present you to my parents-in-law though, they may be a tad less..." she paused, searching for a word that would not cast Mikael in such a bad light. "...intense. They are very kind and have been gracious hosts to me. And yes, I would love to see what the stalls have on offer. I hear there are many beautiful things to be found here; I was actually going to suggest a shopping trip to Arcanaes sometime, if you would like that?"
Rene was quiet. Too quiet. It was not like her, and it unnerved the Lady Ophelia. As they walked along, she watched the girl out of the corner of her eye, wondering how best to broach the subject of her silence. She did not wish to give offence, but nor did she wish to seem uncaring. She had noticed a change in her friend -- surely it would remisse of her not to point it out? If something was amiss with Rene, was it not her duty to discover what it was?
Rene's tentative murmur startled her out of her thoughts, jolting her back to the present. Ophelia listened in silence as the girl spoke, falling into the realms of quiet speculation. Rene was right, such a thing was by no means common. Even in her own household, Ophelia's male relatives had always made it quite plain to her that her place was at court and nowhere near the family business. But Rene's family were different. For one thing, they were Athenian. Athenians, she knew, were more accepting of intelligence and ambition in women. She knew for a fact that most Athenian women were educated far better than those in Taengea, and it was only her undeniable intelligence that had prompted her tutors to take a special interest in her schooling. Had she been of average intellect, she may not have received a near equal education to her brother. She also knew the Nikoleos family to be supportive, kind, some might even say doting. They were certainly a far cry from the Condos house.
"Your family may well support you in this," her words were carefully chosen, each syllable measured and well thought out. "They are not as mine are. My family make clear my place as a woman is in the court, but your family seem more open-minded, and it is my understanding that Athenians are more able to grasp the intelligence of women than Taengeans are," she lowered her voice, not wishing to be caught speaking ill of her own people by anyone who might report her. "In Taengea, it often seems as though women are thought of as nothing more than decorations; that does not seem so very true in Athena. I also know that you are capable of great things when you set your mind to them. 'Tis a lofty goal, but not unachievable. You may face opposition, but if you can be brave and look those opponents dead in the eye, telling them that they are wrong and you can equal them and should be given the chance to, then I see no reason why you ought not put your plans into effect."
The young artist's features were as beauteous as her work. Ophelia silently noted this as Rene's rosebud lips upturned into a smile, azure eyes locking on jade. Ophelia could not bring herself to feel envious of the girl's ethereal appearance, for her soul was as beauteous as every other part of her. Indeed, it shone so brightly that her body was no fit vessel to contain it, and so through the warmth of her smile and the brightness of her eyes, the vivacity of her soul seeped through.
Never could she envy Rene, not for her bird-like physique or even her seemingly gods-given talent, as she might have done another girl. Then again, most other girls Ophelia had met were not worthy of such gifts. They were scheming, conniving creatures who sought only to claw their way to the top, shredding their rivals to pieces with invisible talons, while Rene sought only peace and prosperity for all. The young Nikoleos was truly a manifestation of all that was good in the world, and should the Gods see fit to gift her with every grace, Ophelia would never question it.
The girl's words were gracious as always, sweet as honey but filled with sincerity, unlike the saccharine deceptions that dripped so easily from the mouths of most Grecian nobles. Perhaps this was due to her absence from the court and all its intrigues; if this was so, Ophelia was glad of it. The Royal Court could be a deadly place, corrupt as a festering wound. She herself had managed to retain her innocence for the most part, but she was painfully aware that she had not escaped entirely untarnished.
"My dear, considering the fact that you have likely not picked up a lyre in many years, you did extremely well," Ophelia responded gently. "I was truly impressed with you. I could never criticize one so brave as you. It must have been so difficult not only to converse in front of all those people, but to make yourself vulnerable before them. Had I been asked, for example, to attempt to solve a math problem in front of a crowd that large, I believe I would have fallen to pieces! Your bravery truly astonished me in the best of ways." She smiled brilliantly at the young artisan, taking one of the girl's tiny hands in her own. Brushing a callous with a smooth, pale finger, she momentarily forgot their attendants and became lost in her own thoughts. "Yes...you are a servant of Aphrodite. A creature of great beauty that produces beautiful things. And you serve her well, my dear one."
'You are a beautiful person, Lady Ophelia, and it is my privilege to call you a friend.'
Earning her epithet truly, the cheeks of the Condos Rose flushed as red as the flower that graced the sigil of her house. Her eyes cast demurely downwards for a moment before lifting to meet Rene's once more.
"You are too kind to me," she murmured. "For truly the honour is mine. I have never known one so kind and gentle as you. You represent everything that I wish we all could be. You are goodness in its purest form."
Ophelia let out an airy, mellifluous laugh, emerald eyes glimmering with mirth as they lit once more on Aphrodite's servant. "I should hope I know you well after so many years," she jested lightly, tilting her head to the side as she considered the words of her friend. "Well, as beautiful as your art is, and of that there can be no denial, it may be that you find yourself in a similar situation on account of something else -- your family, perhaps? It may be that one day you are called to be speak before the court," she winked, threading her arm through Rene's. "We cannot permit Celine to to have all the glory forever, can we?" she questioned rhetorically. She knew that Rene would be perfectly content to allow her eldest sister to remain in the spotlight, the star around which the family all revolved. Personally, Ophelia believed that Rene deserved better. How was she ever to make an advantageous marriage if no man ever had the opportunity to lay eyes upon her? To fall in love with her many wondrous qualities? Then again, perhaps Rene did not seek a husband; perhaps she intended to make her own way in life, a solitary soul guided only by the muses.
Astute as she was, Ophelia did not miss the subtle change in her friend's expression. The little lark looked suddenly pensive, and the Consod Rose wondered if perhaps something was ailing her. Before she could ask, however, Rene's expression smoothed itself into a tranquil smile and she spoke in answer to the question that had been put to her.
"Well, my host is, at present, probably inebriated," Ophelia winked once again. "Between you and I, my dearest brother-in-law has a hard time staying sober. But if we happen to run into him, I shall gladly introduce you. It may be more appropriate for me to present you to my parents-in-law though, they may be a tad less..." she paused, searching for a word that would not cast Mikael in such a bad light. "...intense. They are very kind and have been gracious hosts to me. And yes, I would love to see what the stalls have on offer. I hear there are many beautiful things to be found here; I was actually going to suggest a shopping trip to Arcanaes sometime, if you would like that?"
Rene was quiet. Too quiet. It was not like her, and it unnerved the Lady Ophelia. As they walked along, she watched the girl out of the corner of her eye, wondering how best to broach the subject of her silence. She did not wish to give offence, but nor did she wish to seem uncaring. She had noticed a change in her friend -- surely it would remisse of her not to point it out? If something was amiss with Rene, was it not her duty to discover what it was?
Rene's tentative murmur startled her out of her thoughts, jolting her back to the present. Ophelia listened in silence as the girl spoke, falling into the realms of quiet speculation. Rene was right, such a thing was by no means common. Even in her own household, Ophelia's male relatives had always made it quite plain to her that her place was at court and nowhere near the family business. But Rene's family were different. For one thing, they were Athenian. Athenians, she knew, were more accepting of intelligence and ambition in women. She knew for a fact that most Athenian women were educated far better than those in Taengea, and it was only her undeniable intelligence that had prompted her tutors to take a special interest in her schooling. Had she been of average intellect, she may not have received a near equal education to her brother. She also knew the Nikoleos family to be supportive, kind, some might even say doting. They were certainly a far cry from the Condos house.
"Your family may well support you in this," her words were carefully chosen, each syllable measured and well thought out. "They are not as mine are. My family make clear my place as a woman is in the court, but your family seem more open-minded, and it is my understanding that Athenians are more able to grasp the intelligence of women than Taengeans are," she lowered her voice, not wishing to be caught speaking ill of her own people by anyone who might report her. "In Taengea, it often seems as though women are thought of as nothing more than decorations; that does not seem so very true in Athena. I also know that you are capable of great things when you set your mind to them. 'Tis a lofty goal, but not unachievable. You may face opposition, but if you can be brave and look those opponents dead in the eye, telling them that they are wrong and you can equal them and should be given the chance to, then I see no reason why you ought not put your plans into effect."
The crowd was thick in the festival, and Alexandros felt comfortable mingling with all of the people. His bright blue eyes remained expressive and a smile stayed on his lips unless they were occupied with his goblet of wine. The young man wandered from group to group, speaking with those he had met before and those he hadn't, enjoying the revelry that was such a unique occasion. He could barely remember the times from before the treaty, but that did little to mar the impressive nature of this decade of peace within the fickle nations of the Isles. The sounds of music and poetry caught his ears and he maneuvered his way through the throng of people to the pair of women who had given voice to the arts. It seemed that the performances had stopped by the time that he had arrived, but seeing the two of them and hearing their discussion gave Alexandros cause to stay and speak. His curiosity had been piqued.
He sauntered up to the duo with a confident smile on his lips, a goblet of wine in his had, a pair of swords on his belt, while wearing a rather plain, albeit well made, tunic and a cloak. He was an attractive man, who cut an impressive figure, and he knew it all too well. The blonde and the brunette seemed involved in a conversation that excluded the others around them. He caught only the last bit of the conversation well enough to comprehend what they were discussing, and was surprised by the boldness of the young blonde. "Able to sing like the birds, a vision of the goddess of beauty herself, and ambitious too. My ladies, I must apologize for the intrusion, but You both struck me from across the way and I found myself dragged as if by fate to this point. You have no reason to accept my encroachment on your conversation or my company, but if you have it within you to allow me to join you, then I would be most appreciative. My name is Alexandros Iraklidis, and what, pray tell, do they call you two most spectacular of women?"
His voice was husky, bordering on deep, but he spoke pleasantly as he introduced himself. His smile remained in place as he talked, and his bright blue eyes moved between them as he spoke, attempting to ingratiate himself with these obviously higher class women. He had taken his best shot, and now there was nothing left to do but wait and see where it would go. He brought his cup up to his lips and took a long draught from it as he waited on their judgement.
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The crowd was thick in the festival, and Alexandros felt comfortable mingling with all of the people. His bright blue eyes remained expressive and a smile stayed on his lips unless they were occupied with his goblet of wine. The young man wandered from group to group, speaking with those he had met before and those he hadn't, enjoying the revelry that was such a unique occasion. He could barely remember the times from before the treaty, but that did little to mar the impressive nature of this decade of peace within the fickle nations of the Isles. The sounds of music and poetry caught his ears and he maneuvered his way through the throng of people to the pair of women who had given voice to the arts. It seemed that the performances had stopped by the time that he had arrived, but seeing the two of them and hearing their discussion gave Alexandros cause to stay and speak. His curiosity had been piqued.
He sauntered up to the duo with a confident smile on his lips, a goblet of wine in his had, a pair of swords on his belt, while wearing a rather plain, albeit well made, tunic and a cloak. He was an attractive man, who cut an impressive figure, and he knew it all too well. The blonde and the brunette seemed involved in a conversation that excluded the others around them. He caught only the last bit of the conversation well enough to comprehend what they were discussing, and was surprised by the boldness of the young blonde. "Able to sing like the birds, a vision of the goddess of beauty herself, and ambitious too. My ladies, I must apologize for the intrusion, but You both struck me from across the way and I found myself dragged as if by fate to this point. You have no reason to accept my encroachment on your conversation or my company, but if you have it within you to allow me to join you, then I would be most appreciative. My name is Alexandros Iraklidis, and what, pray tell, do they call you two most spectacular of women?"
His voice was husky, bordering on deep, but he spoke pleasantly as he introduced himself. His smile remained in place as he talked, and his bright blue eyes moved between them as he spoke, attempting to ingratiate himself with these obviously higher class women. He had taken his best shot, and now there was nothing left to do but wait and see where it would go. He brought his cup up to his lips and took a long draught from it as he waited on their judgement.
The crowd was thick in the festival, and Alexandros felt comfortable mingling with all of the people. His bright blue eyes remained expressive and a smile stayed on his lips unless they were occupied with his goblet of wine. The young man wandered from group to group, speaking with those he had met before and those he hadn't, enjoying the revelry that was such a unique occasion. He could barely remember the times from before the treaty, but that did little to mar the impressive nature of this decade of peace within the fickle nations of the Isles. The sounds of music and poetry caught his ears and he maneuvered his way through the throng of people to the pair of women who had given voice to the arts. It seemed that the performances had stopped by the time that he had arrived, but seeing the two of them and hearing their discussion gave Alexandros cause to stay and speak. His curiosity had been piqued.
He sauntered up to the duo with a confident smile on his lips, a goblet of wine in his had, a pair of swords on his belt, while wearing a rather plain, albeit well made, tunic and a cloak. He was an attractive man, who cut an impressive figure, and he knew it all too well. The blonde and the brunette seemed involved in a conversation that excluded the others around them. He caught only the last bit of the conversation well enough to comprehend what they were discussing, and was surprised by the boldness of the young blonde. "Able to sing like the birds, a vision of the goddess of beauty herself, and ambitious too. My ladies, I must apologize for the intrusion, but You both struck me from across the way and I found myself dragged as if by fate to this point. You have no reason to accept my encroachment on your conversation or my company, but if you have it within you to allow me to join you, then I would be most appreciative. My name is Alexandros Iraklidis, and what, pray tell, do they call you two most spectacular of women?"
His voice was husky, bordering on deep, but he spoke pleasantly as he introduced himself. His smile remained in place as he talked, and his bright blue eyes moved between them as he spoke, attempting to ingratiate himself with these obviously higher class women. He had taken his best shot, and now there was nothing left to do but wait and see where it would go. He brought his cup up to his lips and took a long draught from it as he waited on their judgement.
As if the gods themselves had blessed the day with superb weather, the heat cast from Apollo’s chariot was all but neutralized by the gentle breezes billowing in from the coasts, keeping the temperatures comfortable. Blue skies overhead and abundant vegetation and grass made for a resplendent scene, with a symphonic backdrop of music, laughter and merriment. Moving between the shadows cast by the generous boughs of ancient trees into sunlight, Rene walked abreast with her cherished companion from Tangea. As always, Ophelia’s council was nothing if not enshrined in Rene’s ears, hanging on every word and praising it as gospel. The beautiful Tangean with locks of dark chocolate and alabaster skin had been a tremendous influence for Rene, instilling in the otherwise shy young woman confidence to emulate. Ever composed, ever graceful, Ophelia held court from her sparkling dais on which Rene had placed her, gentling the otherwise turbulent world around her with her silky voice, kind eye and gracious demeanor. If Evanthe only knew what a magnificent creature privately ached for her, something not openly spoke of, but Rene had spent enough time around the Tangean jewel to know where her eyes were drawn.
“Your family may well support you in this. They are not as mine are. My family makes clear my place as a woman in the court, but your family seem more open-minded, and it is my understanding that Athenians are more able to grasp the intelligence of women than Taengeans are.”
Ophelia’s wisdom was second to none. It offered a balance of reality and encouragement alike, support and advisory. The truth of the matter was that Rene’s entrepreneurial ideas were ambitious for such times, and without royal blood in her veins, the task of consummation would very much be quite the uphill march, not even counting familial considerations.
“My family has been loving, this is true, but my sweet Ophelia, you know as well as any, that I am the least of my house. My standing is inconsequential, my position as marriage eligible is nil. That said, I do believe such has given me the leeway to pursue the things as I have. Were I to intensify my emphasis on being something more, well, how well should such a thing be perceived. Who am I that I should stand at my father’s door and make known my aspirations.” It wasn’t entirely a question. “In Taengea, it often seems as though women are thought of as nothing more than decorations; that does not seem so very true in Athena. I also know that you are capable of great things when you set your mind to them. 'Tis a lofty goal, but not unachievable. You may face opposition, but if you can be brave and look those opponents dead in the eye, telling them that they are wrong and you can equal them and should be given the chance to, then I see no reason why you ought not put your plans into effect.”
There it was again. Confidence came so fascinatingly easy to Ophelia, and Rene admired her endless for that. She could not believe it was all an act. The Tangean star was never superficial, or artificial, and Rene had no reason to believe as much. “It is amazing to me,” she said with a small smile. “Your assurance, and belief. I am but a lesser daughter of greater men and women. But I shall strive to pursue this, to whatever end. Thank you, Ophelia. I can always count on your guidance, objective and honest, yet hopeful. I am indebted to you for your friendship and advisory.”
In the most casual of saunters, the ladies drifted amid the fair grounds, amid myriad beautiful faces. Distracted by the conversation, Rene had not noticed the approach of an individual until he stood less than a meter in front of them. Where her cobalt gaze had been on the ground, preening over the blades of grass contemplatively, they came to rest on the sandaled feet of a man. Slowly her bright blue eyes lifted, tracing up well-defined legs to a modest yet clean tunic. Even covered with the lineny fabric, it was obvious the physique beneath was toned and strong. The handsome face that crowned all of that sinew was smiling at the two, words of silver spilling out of his perfect lips.
“Able to sing like the birds, a vision of the goddess of beauty herself, and ambitious too. My ladies, I must apologize for the intrusion, but You both struck me from across the way and I found myself dragged as if by fate to this point. You have no reason to accept my encroachment on your conversation or my company, but if you have it within you to allow me to join you, then I would be most appreciative. My name is Alexandros Iraklidis, and what, pray tell, do they call you two most spectacular of women?”
Having literally never been on the receiving end of such flattery, Rene felt her cheeks warm, instantly averting her gaze, lest she stare too intently, too long. Though the courts were chock full of attractive men, none saw fit to converse with Rene outside of necessity and all of her practice and determination wavered for a moment. Inherently shy, she managed a polite smile, jittery as it was. Working up the courage to stand out in front of any was a difficult task for the otherwise bashful noble, an endeavor that she continuously strove for. She had done so well with Aea, with her sister Kai, their father Master Cassero, playing music in front of the crowd gathered at the bards’ station. And here, under the blue eyed gaze of an attractive man, she felt such fortitude falter. Surely he was admiring Ophelia, and who could blame him. She was a magnificent beauty with a golden heart, the finest catch in all the kingdoms. Perhaps Ophelia likewise found him attractive. Rene would no sooner deprive her beloved friend of a dapper man’s companionship than she would air to breathe. In those moments, she found a bit of courage to bridge the introductions.
“It is a blessing to make your acquaintance, Alexandros Iraklidis. May I present, the Rose of the Condos, Lady Ophelia,” the petite blonde gestured to the stunning brunette beside her.
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Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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As if the gods themselves had blessed the day with superb weather, the heat cast from Apollo’s chariot was all but neutralized by the gentle breezes billowing in from the coasts, keeping the temperatures comfortable. Blue skies overhead and abundant vegetation and grass made for a resplendent scene, with a symphonic backdrop of music, laughter and merriment. Moving between the shadows cast by the generous boughs of ancient trees into sunlight, Rene walked abreast with her cherished companion from Tangea. As always, Ophelia’s council was nothing if not enshrined in Rene’s ears, hanging on every word and praising it as gospel. The beautiful Tangean with locks of dark chocolate and alabaster skin had been a tremendous influence for Rene, instilling in the otherwise shy young woman confidence to emulate. Ever composed, ever graceful, Ophelia held court from her sparkling dais on which Rene had placed her, gentling the otherwise turbulent world around her with her silky voice, kind eye and gracious demeanor. If Evanthe only knew what a magnificent creature privately ached for her, something not openly spoke of, but Rene had spent enough time around the Tangean jewel to know where her eyes were drawn.
“Your family may well support you in this. They are not as mine are. My family makes clear my place as a woman in the court, but your family seem more open-minded, and it is my understanding that Athenians are more able to grasp the intelligence of women than Taengeans are.”
Ophelia’s wisdom was second to none. It offered a balance of reality and encouragement alike, support and advisory. The truth of the matter was that Rene’s entrepreneurial ideas were ambitious for such times, and without royal blood in her veins, the task of consummation would very much be quite the uphill march, not even counting familial considerations.
“My family has been loving, this is true, but my sweet Ophelia, you know as well as any, that I am the least of my house. My standing is inconsequential, my position as marriage eligible is nil. That said, I do believe such has given me the leeway to pursue the things as I have. Were I to intensify my emphasis on being something more, well, how well should such a thing be perceived. Who am I that I should stand at my father’s door and make known my aspirations.” It wasn’t entirely a question. “In Taengea, it often seems as though women are thought of as nothing more than decorations; that does not seem so very true in Athena. I also know that you are capable of great things when you set your mind to them. 'Tis a lofty goal, but not unachievable. You may face opposition, but if you can be brave and look those opponents dead in the eye, telling them that they are wrong and you can equal them and should be given the chance to, then I see no reason why you ought not put your plans into effect.”
There it was again. Confidence came so fascinatingly easy to Ophelia, and Rene admired her endless for that. She could not believe it was all an act. The Tangean star was never superficial, or artificial, and Rene had no reason to believe as much. “It is amazing to me,” she said with a small smile. “Your assurance, and belief. I am but a lesser daughter of greater men and women. But I shall strive to pursue this, to whatever end. Thank you, Ophelia. I can always count on your guidance, objective and honest, yet hopeful. I am indebted to you for your friendship and advisory.”
In the most casual of saunters, the ladies drifted amid the fair grounds, amid myriad beautiful faces. Distracted by the conversation, Rene had not noticed the approach of an individual until he stood less than a meter in front of them. Where her cobalt gaze had been on the ground, preening over the blades of grass contemplatively, they came to rest on the sandaled feet of a man. Slowly her bright blue eyes lifted, tracing up well-defined legs to a modest yet clean tunic. Even covered with the lineny fabric, it was obvious the physique beneath was toned and strong. The handsome face that crowned all of that sinew was smiling at the two, words of silver spilling out of his perfect lips.
“Able to sing like the birds, a vision of the goddess of beauty herself, and ambitious too. My ladies, I must apologize for the intrusion, but You both struck me from across the way and I found myself dragged as if by fate to this point. You have no reason to accept my encroachment on your conversation or my company, but if you have it within you to allow me to join you, then I would be most appreciative. My name is Alexandros Iraklidis, and what, pray tell, do they call you two most spectacular of women?”
Having literally never been on the receiving end of such flattery, Rene felt her cheeks warm, instantly averting her gaze, lest she stare too intently, too long. Though the courts were chock full of attractive men, none saw fit to converse with Rene outside of necessity and all of her practice and determination wavered for a moment. Inherently shy, she managed a polite smile, jittery as it was. Working up the courage to stand out in front of any was a difficult task for the otherwise bashful noble, an endeavor that she continuously strove for. She had done so well with Aea, with her sister Kai, their father Master Cassero, playing music in front of the crowd gathered at the bards’ station. And here, under the blue eyed gaze of an attractive man, she felt such fortitude falter. Surely he was admiring Ophelia, and who could blame him. She was a magnificent beauty with a golden heart, the finest catch in all the kingdoms. Perhaps Ophelia likewise found him attractive. Rene would no sooner deprive her beloved friend of a dapper man’s companionship than she would air to breathe. In those moments, she found a bit of courage to bridge the introductions.
“It is a blessing to make your acquaintance, Alexandros Iraklidis. May I present, the Rose of the Condos, Lady Ophelia,” the petite blonde gestured to the stunning brunette beside her.
As if the gods themselves had blessed the day with superb weather, the heat cast from Apollo’s chariot was all but neutralized by the gentle breezes billowing in from the coasts, keeping the temperatures comfortable. Blue skies overhead and abundant vegetation and grass made for a resplendent scene, with a symphonic backdrop of music, laughter and merriment. Moving between the shadows cast by the generous boughs of ancient trees into sunlight, Rene walked abreast with her cherished companion from Tangea. As always, Ophelia’s council was nothing if not enshrined in Rene’s ears, hanging on every word and praising it as gospel. The beautiful Tangean with locks of dark chocolate and alabaster skin had been a tremendous influence for Rene, instilling in the otherwise shy young woman confidence to emulate. Ever composed, ever graceful, Ophelia held court from her sparkling dais on which Rene had placed her, gentling the otherwise turbulent world around her with her silky voice, kind eye and gracious demeanor. If Evanthe only knew what a magnificent creature privately ached for her, something not openly spoke of, but Rene had spent enough time around the Tangean jewel to know where her eyes were drawn.
“Your family may well support you in this. They are not as mine are. My family makes clear my place as a woman in the court, but your family seem more open-minded, and it is my understanding that Athenians are more able to grasp the intelligence of women than Taengeans are.”
Ophelia’s wisdom was second to none. It offered a balance of reality and encouragement alike, support and advisory. The truth of the matter was that Rene’s entrepreneurial ideas were ambitious for such times, and without royal blood in her veins, the task of consummation would very much be quite the uphill march, not even counting familial considerations.
“My family has been loving, this is true, but my sweet Ophelia, you know as well as any, that I am the least of my house. My standing is inconsequential, my position as marriage eligible is nil. That said, I do believe such has given me the leeway to pursue the things as I have. Were I to intensify my emphasis on being something more, well, how well should such a thing be perceived. Who am I that I should stand at my father’s door and make known my aspirations.” It wasn’t entirely a question. “In Taengea, it often seems as though women are thought of as nothing more than decorations; that does not seem so very true in Athena. I also know that you are capable of great things when you set your mind to them. 'Tis a lofty goal, but not unachievable. You may face opposition, but if you can be brave and look those opponents dead in the eye, telling them that they are wrong and you can equal them and should be given the chance to, then I see no reason why you ought not put your plans into effect.”
There it was again. Confidence came so fascinatingly easy to Ophelia, and Rene admired her endless for that. She could not believe it was all an act. The Tangean star was never superficial, or artificial, and Rene had no reason to believe as much. “It is amazing to me,” she said with a small smile. “Your assurance, and belief. I am but a lesser daughter of greater men and women. But I shall strive to pursue this, to whatever end. Thank you, Ophelia. I can always count on your guidance, objective and honest, yet hopeful. I am indebted to you for your friendship and advisory.”
In the most casual of saunters, the ladies drifted amid the fair grounds, amid myriad beautiful faces. Distracted by the conversation, Rene had not noticed the approach of an individual until he stood less than a meter in front of them. Where her cobalt gaze had been on the ground, preening over the blades of grass contemplatively, they came to rest on the sandaled feet of a man. Slowly her bright blue eyes lifted, tracing up well-defined legs to a modest yet clean tunic. Even covered with the lineny fabric, it was obvious the physique beneath was toned and strong. The handsome face that crowned all of that sinew was smiling at the two, words of silver spilling out of his perfect lips.
“Able to sing like the birds, a vision of the goddess of beauty herself, and ambitious too. My ladies, I must apologize for the intrusion, but You both struck me from across the way and I found myself dragged as if by fate to this point. You have no reason to accept my encroachment on your conversation or my company, but if you have it within you to allow me to join you, then I would be most appreciative. My name is Alexandros Iraklidis, and what, pray tell, do they call you two most spectacular of women?”
Having literally never been on the receiving end of such flattery, Rene felt her cheeks warm, instantly averting her gaze, lest she stare too intently, too long. Though the courts were chock full of attractive men, none saw fit to converse with Rene outside of necessity and all of her practice and determination wavered for a moment. Inherently shy, she managed a polite smile, jittery as it was. Working up the courage to stand out in front of any was a difficult task for the otherwise bashful noble, an endeavor that she continuously strove for. She had done so well with Aea, with her sister Kai, their father Master Cassero, playing music in front of the crowd gathered at the bards’ station. And here, under the blue eyed gaze of an attractive man, she felt such fortitude falter. Surely he was admiring Ophelia, and who could blame him. She was a magnificent beauty with a golden heart, the finest catch in all the kingdoms. Perhaps Ophelia likewise found him attractive. Rene would no sooner deprive her beloved friend of a dapper man’s companionship than she would air to breathe. In those moments, she found a bit of courage to bridge the introductions.
“It is a blessing to make your acquaintance, Alexandros Iraklidis. May I present, the Rose of the Condos, Lady Ophelia,” the petite blonde gestured to the stunning brunette beside her.
In the background, Ophelia could just about make out the tune of a lively melody, presumably an ode to the girl with the copper coin. It was mostly drowned out however by the ceaseless hum of conversation -- voices silken sonorous, stern and stagnated blending together to create a splendid collage of sound. Vendors hollered the prices of their wares in accents of the three Kingdoms and beyond, while around them words of love and hatred were exchanged.
Ophelia ignored all of this, concentrating her attention entirely on the angelic auricomous beauty that walked at her side, if walked was truly the word. Rene seemed more to glide, her sandalled feet barely skimming the ground. Then again, such was the case with Ophelia. The noble Taengean did not fail to notice the way in which which tye young artisan was gazing at her, as though writ upon her soul were the secrets of the universe, and her emerald eyes the key to their discovery. Flattered as she was, she was not so hubristic as to assume herself in possession of such knowledge. She was intelligent, certainly -- moreso than many of her sex -- but no match for most men; certainly no match for her own patron Goddess, Athena. She sometimes liked to think that Athena might think her wise, perhaps praise her zeal for learning, but she knew that she must never be presumptuous enough to compare herself to the Great One. Athena's knowledge was divine; it came from within. Her knowledge came from hours of study, both of books and of people.
She did have to secretly admit though that it was flattering to have one as skilled as Rene admire her, and so she was not as eager to express these sentiments aloud as she ought to have been. Humility was a virtue, but Ophelia knew deep down that her intellect for outshone her humility. She could be proud, though not as proud as some she knew. Still, she did hope this pride was not great enough to draw the notice of the Gods. The last thing she would ever wish to do would be to anger them.
Would it anger them to encourage Rene? Surely not. Athena would likely encourage the advancement of a woman, as would Artemis. Of course, she dared not presume so definitely, for that would be blasphemous, but how could they fail to support the endeavour? Artemis was protectress of women and Athena, in her wisdom, would amost certainly admire Rene's strategic boldness? Ophelia made up her mind to pray for her friend, not just to the obvious dieties, but to those lesser acknowledged beings who rarely received a prayer. Rene would need all the help she could get if she was serious about starting a business.
The Condos Rose set her lips in a firm line, her emerald eyes flashing with disapproval. 'I am the least of my family...' Oh, how she hated those words, but that was truly how Rene viewed herself -- perhaps even what her family had taught her to believe. Were that the case, she would have to re-evaluate her opinion of them. She loved her own family dearly, but she was far from blind to their faults. They knew this as well as she did. "Being the youngest does not make you the least," she insisted. "I am willing to bet that some of your middle sisters have not an iota of your talent; I am not being cruel, I am being truthful. Who are you to stand at your father's door and make known your ambitions? You are his daughter. The most he can do is refuse you and should he do so then you can come up with another plan. Perhaps you can search for a business partner and use their land? Or negotiate with your father to buy some of his land with the money you make from your commissions? There is almost always a way, Rene, to counteract the word 'no,' One must simply be persistent enough to find it, and maintain a smile while doing so. After all, we wouldn't want the men to think they have entirely lost their grip on us, it would scare them out of their wits. Well, what little wit some of them do have."
Though the last part was a mere jest, Ophelia's smile was momentarily bitter. Few men of intellect had any honour nowadays and few men of honour were in possession of a brain. It was truly a shame that the two qualities could not seem to co-exist within the male species. She held no grudge against them -- it was not their fault that they ruled supreme while their wives and daughters were relegated to lives of unquestioning obedience, but they seemed in no great rush to solve the dilemma of the fairer sex. In fact, most men seemed to rather enjoy lording over the women in their life, entrapping them in metaphorical cages of iron if they were poor and gold if they were wealthy. Her own family were not quite so restrictive, but they kept her on an auran leesh. She felt it chafing always at her throat, knowing they would pull it taut and haul her to their sides to be chastised like a disobedient pet should she set a single toe out of line.
Oh, if only they could her thoughts...
'I am but a lesser daughter of greater women and men -- '
Ophelia forced her muscles not to stiffen. She had heard worse than this. She had forced herself to speak in a similar vein, though the words had risen like bile in her tongue despite emerging like a birdsong from her mouth. This was what was expected of women here, what they were conditioned to believe. In order to get along, a woman must speak so. Rene was no lesser daughter for being born last, not in Ophelia's eyes at least, but in the eyes of the world she was. In the eyes of her parents? Ophelia could not say.
'But I shall strive to pursue this, to whatever end.'
The Condos Rose exhaled on a silent sigh of relief, her breath mingling with the gentle breeze. She knew not why it was suddenly so important to her that Rene pursue her wild ambition, merely that it was. She wanted Rene to do this not only for herself, but for every woman who had ever been denied their dream. In her mind's eye, she saw the young Nikoleos rising high above the rest, a beacon of hope for those who felt there was none.
"You need not thank me," Ophelia dropped her voice to a hushed whisper, gently taking both of the other girl's hands. She clasped them tightly, staring meaningfully into the azure eyes of the ingénue. Her words were hurried, which was unlike her, but she felt an urgent need to get her point across. "Rene, do you know what this would mean? If you accomplished this, what it would signify? You would be a role-model for women everywhere, a symbol of independence and freedom. Imagine if you made enough money to live on your own terms -- your business, combined with your commissions. You could..." she swallowed hard, hardly able to believe herself what she was suggesting. And yet she was suggesting it. "...You may not have to marry at all if you did not wish to. I mean, without becoming a Priestess. You could just devote your life to your business and your painting."
Suddenly remembering something, she froze. Was there not a law that entitled the Father to all of Rene's assets? As quickly as her heart had lifted, it sank to the bottom of her chest like a ship pulled down by a Siren's Song.
"Oh..." she shook her head, a mournful sigh escaping her. "Your father, it would all depend upon your father. I mean, whether or not he would release your funds to you. I am hopeful that he would; I should like to think that he is a decent man, and knowing that you have made this money yourself, he would. Do you receive the money you make for your art, or does he keep it?" Her cheeks flushed slightly as she realized how very personal a question this was, but she had not asked in malice, or even in curiosity, but for practical reasons. If she had a better mental image of Rene's father, she was almost certain that she would be able to judge how he might react to his daughter's proposal. If that was so, she could plot for different scenarios, have a loophole ready for almost any outcome. She was better at that than people gave her credit for.
Ophelia barely took in the sensory feast around her. The air was impregnated with the sweet smell of flowers and the clashing aromas of over a hundred spices; birds cawed and shrieked and chirped as they dove under and over the clouds. Tables were adored with everything from decorative knives to silver-backed mirrors. Ophelia gave only a passing glance to a stall that flew the Condos banner, the grey-haired sagan manning it having been sent by her father from Taengea.
It was as they neared the honeyed duck that Ophelia perked up a little, rousing herself from her thoughts. This was all very well and good, but she knew for both her sake and Rene's that she must not let the idea consume her. Any intensity on her part would frighten the little dove, as would any attempt to sculpt her into a role-model for women without a voice. No, Rene spoke much more clearly through her art, and that was the way it was meant to be. If either of them were destined to give women more of a voice, it was Ophelia. She at least had no fear of crowds, and was already somewhat of a controversial figure because of her dealings with the poor. There were many of her rank who found her philanthropic work to be either a waste of time or a tactic to manipulate others into perceiving her as some kind of saint. Of course, she would have to tread lightly, but she was accustomed to that also. She had become somewhat of an expert at treading on eggshells throughout her life, walking the thin line between propriety with her dear Evanthe, yet never crossing into the delicious promiseland of danger. She dared not. Her reputation, her family's and Evanthe's depended on her walking the line.
Just as she was about to ask Rene if she was partial to duck, she caught sight of a man. A young man, classically handsome with his dark hair, blue eyes and muscular form. Ophelia might have been impressed by him were it not for his seeming arrogance, which oozed from his countenance in the form of his casual saunter. Nevertheless this was a social event and Ophelia was here to do House Condos proud. She would give this man no reason to slight her.
She glanced momentarily over at Rene to see how she was taking the situation. The girl's cerulean gaze drifted upward to meet his. Ophelia too rested her gaze upon him, taking in his appearance more fully. From his muscled form and clean yet simple tunic, she guessed he was a militant and thus owed due respect.
As he spoke, she listened attentively. His voice was surprisingly pleasing to the ear. Not exactly musical, but far from the harsh bark customary of many military men. Not soft, but not overly loud. It was the voice of a man who was clearly accustomed to being heard, yet there was a certain charm to it. His smile was bright, his eyes gleaming in the sunlight. Ophelia found herself drawn to them each time they landed upon her, her lips subconsciously upturning.
'Able to sing like the birds, a vision of the goddess of beauty herself, and ambitious too. My ladies, I must apologize for the intrusion, but You both struck me from across the way and I found myself dragged as if by fate to this point. You have no reason to accept my encroachment on your conversation or my company, but if you have it within you to allow me to join you, then I would be most appreciative. My name is Alexandros Iraklidis, and what, pray tell, do they call you two most spectacular of women?'
Rene had introduced only her. She shot her friend a quizzical glance, then realized that she was trying to play matchmaker. Her smile broadened into a grin at this, but she dared not correct Rene. This man was hardly a suitable match, but he might prove to make an amiable companion, perhaps even a dear friend. She bent her knees in a curtsy, dipping her head in a slight bow. "Indeed, Sir, you are welcome among us. Please, remain as long as you wish. May I, in turn, do the honour of presenting my dearest companion, Lady Rene of House Nikoleos? 'Twas no doubt her ode you heard as hers was played last. The Lady Aea is very talented, is she not? Have you had the pleasure of hearing her father Cassero play? He did me the honour of a song."
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In the background, Ophelia could just about make out the tune of a lively melody, presumably an ode to the girl with the copper coin. It was mostly drowned out however by the ceaseless hum of conversation -- voices silken sonorous, stern and stagnated blending together to create a splendid collage of sound. Vendors hollered the prices of their wares in accents of the three Kingdoms and beyond, while around them words of love and hatred were exchanged.
Ophelia ignored all of this, concentrating her attention entirely on the angelic auricomous beauty that walked at her side, if walked was truly the word. Rene seemed more to glide, her sandalled feet barely skimming the ground. Then again, such was the case with Ophelia. The noble Taengean did not fail to notice the way in which which tye young artisan was gazing at her, as though writ upon her soul were the secrets of the universe, and her emerald eyes the key to their discovery. Flattered as she was, she was not so hubristic as to assume herself in possession of such knowledge. She was intelligent, certainly -- moreso than many of her sex -- but no match for most men; certainly no match for her own patron Goddess, Athena. She sometimes liked to think that Athena might think her wise, perhaps praise her zeal for learning, but she knew that she must never be presumptuous enough to compare herself to the Great One. Athena's knowledge was divine; it came from within. Her knowledge came from hours of study, both of books and of people.
She did have to secretly admit though that it was flattering to have one as skilled as Rene admire her, and so she was not as eager to express these sentiments aloud as she ought to have been. Humility was a virtue, but Ophelia knew deep down that her intellect for outshone her humility. She could be proud, though not as proud as some she knew. Still, she did hope this pride was not great enough to draw the notice of the Gods. The last thing she would ever wish to do would be to anger them.
Would it anger them to encourage Rene? Surely not. Athena would likely encourage the advancement of a woman, as would Artemis. Of course, she dared not presume so definitely, for that would be blasphemous, but how could they fail to support the endeavour? Artemis was protectress of women and Athena, in her wisdom, would amost certainly admire Rene's strategic boldness? Ophelia made up her mind to pray for her friend, not just to the obvious dieties, but to those lesser acknowledged beings who rarely received a prayer. Rene would need all the help she could get if she was serious about starting a business.
The Condos Rose set her lips in a firm line, her emerald eyes flashing with disapproval. 'I am the least of my family...' Oh, how she hated those words, but that was truly how Rene viewed herself -- perhaps even what her family had taught her to believe. Were that the case, she would have to re-evaluate her opinion of them. She loved her own family dearly, but she was far from blind to their faults. They knew this as well as she did. "Being the youngest does not make you the least," she insisted. "I am willing to bet that some of your middle sisters have not an iota of your talent; I am not being cruel, I am being truthful. Who are you to stand at your father's door and make known your ambitions? You are his daughter. The most he can do is refuse you and should he do so then you can come up with another plan. Perhaps you can search for a business partner and use their land? Or negotiate with your father to buy some of his land with the money you make from your commissions? There is almost always a way, Rene, to counteract the word 'no,' One must simply be persistent enough to find it, and maintain a smile while doing so. After all, we wouldn't want the men to think they have entirely lost their grip on us, it would scare them out of their wits. Well, what little wit some of them do have."
Though the last part was a mere jest, Ophelia's smile was momentarily bitter. Few men of intellect had any honour nowadays and few men of honour were in possession of a brain. It was truly a shame that the two qualities could not seem to co-exist within the male species. She held no grudge against them -- it was not their fault that they ruled supreme while their wives and daughters were relegated to lives of unquestioning obedience, but they seemed in no great rush to solve the dilemma of the fairer sex. In fact, most men seemed to rather enjoy lording over the women in their life, entrapping them in metaphorical cages of iron if they were poor and gold if they were wealthy. Her own family were not quite so restrictive, but they kept her on an auran leesh. She felt it chafing always at her throat, knowing they would pull it taut and haul her to their sides to be chastised like a disobedient pet should she set a single toe out of line.
Oh, if only they could her thoughts...
'I am but a lesser daughter of greater women and men -- '
Ophelia forced her muscles not to stiffen. She had heard worse than this. She had forced herself to speak in a similar vein, though the words had risen like bile in her tongue despite emerging like a birdsong from her mouth. This was what was expected of women here, what they were conditioned to believe. In order to get along, a woman must speak so. Rene was no lesser daughter for being born last, not in Ophelia's eyes at least, but in the eyes of the world she was. In the eyes of her parents? Ophelia could not say.
'But I shall strive to pursue this, to whatever end.'
The Condos Rose exhaled on a silent sigh of relief, her breath mingling with the gentle breeze. She knew not why it was suddenly so important to her that Rene pursue her wild ambition, merely that it was. She wanted Rene to do this not only for herself, but for every woman who had ever been denied their dream. In her mind's eye, she saw the young Nikoleos rising high above the rest, a beacon of hope for those who felt there was none.
"You need not thank me," Ophelia dropped her voice to a hushed whisper, gently taking both of the other girl's hands. She clasped them tightly, staring meaningfully into the azure eyes of the ingénue. Her words were hurried, which was unlike her, but she felt an urgent need to get her point across. "Rene, do you know what this would mean? If you accomplished this, what it would signify? You would be a role-model for women everywhere, a symbol of independence and freedom. Imagine if you made enough money to live on your own terms -- your business, combined with your commissions. You could..." she swallowed hard, hardly able to believe herself what she was suggesting. And yet she was suggesting it. "...You may not have to marry at all if you did not wish to. I mean, without becoming a Priestess. You could just devote your life to your business and your painting."
Suddenly remembering something, she froze. Was there not a law that entitled the Father to all of Rene's assets? As quickly as her heart had lifted, it sank to the bottom of her chest like a ship pulled down by a Siren's Song.
"Oh..." she shook her head, a mournful sigh escaping her. "Your father, it would all depend upon your father. I mean, whether or not he would release your funds to you. I am hopeful that he would; I should like to think that he is a decent man, and knowing that you have made this money yourself, he would. Do you receive the money you make for your art, or does he keep it?" Her cheeks flushed slightly as she realized how very personal a question this was, but she had not asked in malice, or even in curiosity, but for practical reasons. If she had a better mental image of Rene's father, she was almost certain that she would be able to judge how he might react to his daughter's proposal. If that was so, she could plot for different scenarios, have a loophole ready for almost any outcome. She was better at that than people gave her credit for.
Ophelia barely took in the sensory feast around her. The air was impregnated with the sweet smell of flowers and the clashing aromas of over a hundred spices; birds cawed and shrieked and chirped as they dove under and over the clouds. Tables were adored with everything from decorative knives to silver-backed mirrors. Ophelia gave only a passing glance to a stall that flew the Condos banner, the grey-haired sagan manning it having been sent by her father from Taengea.
It was as they neared the honeyed duck that Ophelia perked up a little, rousing herself from her thoughts. This was all very well and good, but she knew for both her sake and Rene's that she must not let the idea consume her. Any intensity on her part would frighten the little dove, as would any attempt to sculpt her into a role-model for women without a voice. No, Rene spoke much more clearly through her art, and that was the way it was meant to be. If either of them were destined to give women more of a voice, it was Ophelia. She at least had no fear of crowds, and was already somewhat of a controversial figure because of her dealings with the poor. There were many of her rank who found her philanthropic work to be either a waste of time or a tactic to manipulate others into perceiving her as some kind of saint. Of course, she would have to tread lightly, but she was accustomed to that also. She had become somewhat of an expert at treading on eggshells throughout her life, walking the thin line between propriety with her dear Evanthe, yet never crossing into the delicious promiseland of danger. She dared not. Her reputation, her family's and Evanthe's depended on her walking the line.
Just as she was about to ask Rene if she was partial to duck, she caught sight of a man. A young man, classically handsome with his dark hair, blue eyes and muscular form. Ophelia might have been impressed by him were it not for his seeming arrogance, which oozed from his countenance in the form of his casual saunter. Nevertheless this was a social event and Ophelia was here to do House Condos proud. She would give this man no reason to slight her.
She glanced momentarily over at Rene to see how she was taking the situation. The girl's cerulean gaze drifted upward to meet his. Ophelia too rested her gaze upon him, taking in his appearance more fully. From his muscled form and clean yet simple tunic, she guessed he was a militant and thus owed due respect.
As he spoke, she listened attentively. His voice was surprisingly pleasing to the ear. Not exactly musical, but far from the harsh bark customary of many military men. Not soft, but not overly loud. It was the voice of a man who was clearly accustomed to being heard, yet there was a certain charm to it. His smile was bright, his eyes gleaming in the sunlight. Ophelia found herself drawn to them each time they landed upon her, her lips subconsciously upturning.
'Able to sing like the birds, a vision of the goddess of beauty herself, and ambitious too. My ladies, I must apologize for the intrusion, but You both struck me from across the way and I found myself dragged as if by fate to this point. You have no reason to accept my encroachment on your conversation or my company, but if you have it within you to allow me to join you, then I would be most appreciative. My name is Alexandros Iraklidis, and what, pray tell, do they call you two most spectacular of women?'
Rene had introduced only her. She shot her friend a quizzical glance, then realized that she was trying to play matchmaker. Her smile broadened into a grin at this, but she dared not correct Rene. This man was hardly a suitable match, but he might prove to make an amiable companion, perhaps even a dear friend. She bent her knees in a curtsy, dipping her head in a slight bow. "Indeed, Sir, you are welcome among us. Please, remain as long as you wish. May I, in turn, do the honour of presenting my dearest companion, Lady Rene of House Nikoleos? 'Twas no doubt her ode you heard as hers was played last. The Lady Aea is very talented, is she not? Have you had the pleasure of hearing her father Cassero play? He did me the honour of a song."
In the background, Ophelia could just about make out the tune of a lively melody, presumably an ode to the girl with the copper coin. It was mostly drowned out however by the ceaseless hum of conversation -- voices silken sonorous, stern and stagnated blending together to create a splendid collage of sound. Vendors hollered the prices of their wares in accents of the three Kingdoms and beyond, while around them words of love and hatred were exchanged.
Ophelia ignored all of this, concentrating her attention entirely on the angelic auricomous beauty that walked at her side, if walked was truly the word. Rene seemed more to glide, her sandalled feet barely skimming the ground. Then again, such was the case with Ophelia. The noble Taengean did not fail to notice the way in which which tye young artisan was gazing at her, as though writ upon her soul were the secrets of the universe, and her emerald eyes the key to their discovery. Flattered as she was, she was not so hubristic as to assume herself in possession of such knowledge. She was intelligent, certainly -- moreso than many of her sex -- but no match for most men; certainly no match for her own patron Goddess, Athena. She sometimes liked to think that Athena might think her wise, perhaps praise her zeal for learning, but she knew that she must never be presumptuous enough to compare herself to the Great One. Athena's knowledge was divine; it came from within. Her knowledge came from hours of study, both of books and of people.
She did have to secretly admit though that it was flattering to have one as skilled as Rene admire her, and so she was not as eager to express these sentiments aloud as she ought to have been. Humility was a virtue, but Ophelia knew deep down that her intellect for outshone her humility. She could be proud, though not as proud as some she knew. Still, she did hope this pride was not great enough to draw the notice of the Gods. The last thing she would ever wish to do would be to anger them.
Would it anger them to encourage Rene? Surely not. Athena would likely encourage the advancement of a woman, as would Artemis. Of course, she dared not presume so definitely, for that would be blasphemous, but how could they fail to support the endeavour? Artemis was protectress of women and Athena, in her wisdom, would amost certainly admire Rene's strategic boldness? Ophelia made up her mind to pray for her friend, not just to the obvious dieties, but to those lesser acknowledged beings who rarely received a prayer. Rene would need all the help she could get if she was serious about starting a business.
The Condos Rose set her lips in a firm line, her emerald eyes flashing with disapproval. 'I am the least of my family...' Oh, how she hated those words, but that was truly how Rene viewed herself -- perhaps even what her family had taught her to believe. Were that the case, she would have to re-evaluate her opinion of them. She loved her own family dearly, but she was far from blind to their faults. They knew this as well as she did. "Being the youngest does not make you the least," she insisted. "I am willing to bet that some of your middle sisters have not an iota of your talent; I am not being cruel, I am being truthful. Who are you to stand at your father's door and make known your ambitions? You are his daughter. The most he can do is refuse you and should he do so then you can come up with another plan. Perhaps you can search for a business partner and use their land? Or negotiate with your father to buy some of his land with the money you make from your commissions? There is almost always a way, Rene, to counteract the word 'no,' One must simply be persistent enough to find it, and maintain a smile while doing so. After all, we wouldn't want the men to think they have entirely lost their grip on us, it would scare them out of their wits. Well, what little wit some of them do have."
Though the last part was a mere jest, Ophelia's smile was momentarily bitter. Few men of intellect had any honour nowadays and few men of honour were in possession of a brain. It was truly a shame that the two qualities could not seem to co-exist within the male species. She held no grudge against them -- it was not their fault that they ruled supreme while their wives and daughters were relegated to lives of unquestioning obedience, but they seemed in no great rush to solve the dilemma of the fairer sex. In fact, most men seemed to rather enjoy lording over the women in their life, entrapping them in metaphorical cages of iron if they were poor and gold if they were wealthy. Her own family were not quite so restrictive, but they kept her on an auran leesh. She felt it chafing always at her throat, knowing they would pull it taut and haul her to their sides to be chastised like a disobedient pet should she set a single toe out of line.
Oh, if only they could her thoughts...
'I am but a lesser daughter of greater women and men -- '
Ophelia forced her muscles not to stiffen. She had heard worse than this. She had forced herself to speak in a similar vein, though the words had risen like bile in her tongue despite emerging like a birdsong from her mouth. This was what was expected of women here, what they were conditioned to believe. In order to get along, a woman must speak so. Rene was no lesser daughter for being born last, not in Ophelia's eyes at least, but in the eyes of the world she was. In the eyes of her parents? Ophelia could not say.
'But I shall strive to pursue this, to whatever end.'
The Condos Rose exhaled on a silent sigh of relief, her breath mingling with the gentle breeze. She knew not why it was suddenly so important to her that Rene pursue her wild ambition, merely that it was. She wanted Rene to do this not only for herself, but for every woman who had ever been denied their dream. In her mind's eye, she saw the young Nikoleos rising high above the rest, a beacon of hope for those who felt there was none.
"You need not thank me," Ophelia dropped her voice to a hushed whisper, gently taking both of the other girl's hands. She clasped them tightly, staring meaningfully into the azure eyes of the ingénue. Her words were hurried, which was unlike her, but she felt an urgent need to get her point across. "Rene, do you know what this would mean? If you accomplished this, what it would signify? You would be a role-model for women everywhere, a symbol of independence and freedom. Imagine if you made enough money to live on your own terms -- your business, combined with your commissions. You could..." she swallowed hard, hardly able to believe herself what she was suggesting. And yet she was suggesting it. "...You may not have to marry at all if you did not wish to. I mean, without becoming a Priestess. You could just devote your life to your business and your painting."
Suddenly remembering something, she froze. Was there not a law that entitled the Father to all of Rene's assets? As quickly as her heart had lifted, it sank to the bottom of her chest like a ship pulled down by a Siren's Song.
"Oh..." she shook her head, a mournful sigh escaping her. "Your father, it would all depend upon your father. I mean, whether or not he would release your funds to you. I am hopeful that he would; I should like to think that he is a decent man, and knowing that you have made this money yourself, he would. Do you receive the money you make for your art, or does he keep it?" Her cheeks flushed slightly as she realized how very personal a question this was, but she had not asked in malice, or even in curiosity, but for practical reasons. If she had a better mental image of Rene's father, she was almost certain that she would be able to judge how he might react to his daughter's proposal. If that was so, she could plot for different scenarios, have a loophole ready for almost any outcome. She was better at that than people gave her credit for.
Ophelia barely took in the sensory feast around her. The air was impregnated with the sweet smell of flowers and the clashing aromas of over a hundred spices; birds cawed and shrieked and chirped as they dove under and over the clouds. Tables were adored with everything from decorative knives to silver-backed mirrors. Ophelia gave only a passing glance to a stall that flew the Condos banner, the grey-haired sagan manning it having been sent by her father from Taengea.
It was as they neared the honeyed duck that Ophelia perked up a little, rousing herself from her thoughts. This was all very well and good, but she knew for both her sake and Rene's that she must not let the idea consume her. Any intensity on her part would frighten the little dove, as would any attempt to sculpt her into a role-model for women without a voice. No, Rene spoke much more clearly through her art, and that was the way it was meant to be. If either of them were destined to give women more of a voice, it was Ophelia. She at least had no fear of crowds, and was already somewhat of a controversial figure because of her dealings with the poor. There were many of her rank who found her philanthropic work to be either a waste of time or a tactic to manipulate others into perceiving her as some kind of saint. Of course, she would have to tread lightly, but she was accustomed to that also. She had become somewhat of an expert at treading on eggshells throughout her life, walking the thin line between propriety with her dear Evanthe, yet never crossing into the delicious promiseland of danger. She dared not. Her reputation, her family's and Evanthe's depended on her walking the line.
Just as she was about to ask Rene if she was partial to duck, she caught sight of a man. A young man, classically handsome with his dark hair, blue eyes and muscular form. Ophelia might have been impressed by him were it not for his seeming arrogance, which oozed from his countenance in the form of his casual saunter. Nevertheless this was a social event and Ophelia was here to do House Condos proud. She would give this man no reason to slight her.
She glanced momentarily over at Rene to see how she was taking the situation. The girl's cerulean gaze drifted upward to meet his. Ophelia too rested her gaze upon him, taking in his appearance more fully. From his muscled form and clean yet simple tunic, she guessed he was a militant and thus owed due respect.
As he spoke, she listened attentively. His voice was surprisingly pleasing to the ear. Not exactly musical, but far from the harsh bark customary of many military men. Not soft, but not overly loud. It was the voice of a man who was clearly accustomed to being heard, yet there was a certain charm to it. His smile was bright, his eyes gleaming in the sunlight. Ophelia found herself drawn to them each time they landed upon her, her lips subconsciously upturning.
'Able to sing like the birds, a vision of the goddess of beauty herself, and ambitious too. My ladies, I must apologize for the intrusion, but You both struck me from across the way and I found myself dragged as if by fate to this point. You have no reason to accept my encroachment on your conversation or my company, but if you have it within you to allow me to join you, then I would be most appreciative. My name is Alexandros Iraklidis, and what, pray tell, do they call you two most spectacular of women?'
Rene had introduced only her. She shot her friend a quizzical glance, then realized that she was trying to play matchmaker. Her smile broadened into a grin at this, but she dared not correct Rene. This man was hardly a suitable match, but he might prove to make an amiable companion, perhaps even a dear friend. She bent her knees in a curtsy, dipping her head in a slight bow. "Indeed, Sir, you are welcome among us. Please, remain as long as you wish. May I, in turn, do the honour of presenting my dearest companion, Lady Rene of House Nikoleos? 'Twas no doubt her ode you heard as hers was played last. The Lady Aea is very talented, is she not? Have you had the pleasure of hearing her father Cassero play? He did me the honour of a song."
“It is a blessing to make your acquaintance, Alexandros Iraklidis. May I present, the Rose of the Condos, Lady Ophelia,”[/font]
Alexandros was a bit surprised when the younger woman spoke first and only to introduce the woman at her side. He had heard of the Rose of Condos in passing, and the rumors of her beauty did not do her justice. Lush hair, beautiful and intelligent emerald eyes, and a shapely form were striking to the young captain. He knew that she was far above his own station, but that did not mean that he would not try his luck. He offered her his coarse and calloused hand to shake, and he met her emeralds with his own sapphires and a smile as he spoke. "Lady Ophelia, it is a great pleasure to make your acquaintance."
“Indeed, Sir, you are welcome among us. Please, remain as long as you wish. May I, in turn, do the honour of presenting my dearest companion, Lady Rene of House Nikoleos? 'Twas no doubt her ode you heard as hers was played last. The Lady Aea is very talented, is she not? Have you had the pleasure of hearing her father Cassero play? He did me the honour of a song.”[/font]
Despite the deference shown for her companion, it seemed the blonde was equal in rank to her friend, which surprised Alexandros less than the initial introduction. He had not heard of this Rene of Nikolaos, but he certainly wished to know more now that they had met. He cast his eyes to her and took in the form of the younger royal woman. He smiled and offered her his hand to shake as well, hoping that its rough surface would not harm her delicate hands. "Lady Rene, it is also a pleasure to meet you."
"I am afraid that in all of my travels around the world that I have not had the fortune of hearing either the Lady Aea or her father Cassero play and sing. If they are adored by those as cultured and talented as the pair of you, then I shall at some point find the time to listen to their talents as well." He said as they continued their walk through the grounds of the festival. "It seems to me that the two of you have been friends for quite some time, how did you meet and what drew you to each other?"
Even with the current company, Alexandros's appetite was sparked by something else. The decadent dishes laid out all through the festival were almost an affront to his nose and his hunger grew as they walked. A frown passed his lips as he looked over the options and for more wine. "Would either of you care for something to eat or drink? I find that all of the options laid out before us encourage me to partake more than I would otherwise. So much variety, all of the new flavors to try, so many new options." His words were covered in a double entendre, but that was the intention after all, to see how the pair would take such things, or if they were too innocent to pick up on such things.
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“It is a blessing to make your acquaintance, Alexandros Iraklidis. May I present, the Rose of the Condos, Lady Ophelia,”[/font]
Alexandros was a bit surprised when the younger woman spoke first and only to introduce the woman at her side. He had heard of the Rose of Condos in passing, and the rumors of her beauty did not do her justice. Lush hair, beautiful and intelligent emerald eyes, and a shapely form were striking to the young captain. He knew that she was far above his own station, but that did not mean that he would not try his luck. He offered her his coarse and calloused hand to shake, and he met her emeralds with his own sapphires and a smile as he spoke. "Lady Ophelia, it is a great pleasure to make your acquaintance."
“Indeed, Sir, you are welcome among us. Please, remain as long as you wish. May I, in turn, do the honour of presenting my dearest companion, Lady Rene of House Nikoleos? 'Twas no doubt her ode you heard as hers was played last. The Lady Aea is very talented, is she not? Have you had the pleasure of hearing her father Cassero play? He did me the honour of a song.”[/font]
Despite the deference shown for her companion, it seemed the blonde was equal in rank to her friend, which surprised Alexandros less than the initial introduction. He had not heard of this Rene of Nikolaos, but he certainly wished to know more now that they had met. He cast his eyes to her and took in the form of the younger royal woman. He smiled and offered her his hand to shake as well, hoping that its rough surface would not harm her delicate hands. "Lady Rene, it is also a pleasure to meet you."
"I am afraid that in all of my travels around the world that I have not had the fortune of hearing either the Lady Aea or her father Cassero play and sing. If they are adored by those as cultured and talented as the pair of you, then I shall at some point find the time to listen to their talents as well." He said as they continued their walk through the grounds of the festival. "It seems to me that the two of you have been friends for quite some time, how did you meet and what drew you to each other?"
Even with the current company, Alexandros's appetite was sparked by something else. The decadent dishes laid out all through the festival were almost an affront to his nose and his hunger grew as they walked. A frown passed his lips as he looked over the options and for more wine. "Would either of you care for something to eat or drink? I find that all of the options laid out before us encourage me to partake more than I would otherwise. So much variety, all of the new flavors to try, so many new options." His words were covered in a double entendre, but that was the intention after all, to see how the pair would take such things, or if they were too innocent to pick up on such things.
“It is a blessing to make your acquaintance, Alexandros Iraklidis. May I present, the Rose of the Condos, Lady Ophelia,”[/font]
Alexandros was a bit surprised when the younger woman spoke first and only to introduce the woman at her side. He had heard of the Rose of Condos in passing, and the rumors of her beauty did not do her justice. Lush hair, beautiful and intelligent emerald eyes, and a shapely form were striking to the young captain. He knew that she was far above his own station, but that did not mean that he would not try his luck. He offered her his coarse and calloused hand to shake, and he met her emeralds with his own sapphires and a smile as he spoke. "Lady Ophelia, it is a great pleasure to make your acquaintance."
“Indeed, Sir, you are welcome among us. Please, remain as long as you wish. May I, in turn, do the honour of presenting my dearest companion, Lady Rene of House Nikoleos? 'Twas no doubt her ode you heard as hers was played last. The Lady Aea is very talented, is she not? Have you had the pleasure of hearing her father Cassero play? He did me the honour of a song.”[/font]
Despite the deference shown for her companion, it seemed the blonde was equal in rank to her friend, which surprised Alexandros less than the initial introduction. He had not heard of this Rene of Nikolaos, but he certainly wished to know more now that they had met. He cast his eyes to her and took in the form of the younger royal woman. He smiled and offered her his hand to shake as well, hoping that its rough surface would not harm her delicate hands. "Lady Rene, it is also a pleasure to meet you."
"I am afraid that in all of my travels around the world that I have not had the fortune of hearing either the Lady Aea or her father Cassero play and sing. If they are adored by those as cultured and talented as the pair of you, then I shall at some point find the time to listen to their talents as well." He said as they continued their walk through the grounds of the festival. "It seems to me that the two of you have been friends for quite some time, how did you meet and what drew you to each other?"
Even with the current company, Alexandros's appetite was sparked by something else. The decadent dishes laid out all through the festival were almost an affront to his nose and his hunger grew as they walked. A frown passed his lips as he looked over the options and for more wine. "Would either of you care for something to eat or drink? I find that all of the options laid out before us encourage me to partake more than I would otherwise. So much variety, all of the new flavors to try, so many new options." His words were covered in a double entendre, but that was the intention after all, to see how the pair would take such things, or if they were too innocent to pick up on such things.
Alexandros was nothing if not a charming, borderline smarmy, with an auspicious smile and glinting eyes that hinted at the volume of stories behind them. Clearly well-schooled in the penchant for meeting women, or higher classes, or both, he spared no expense at gallantry. Mesmerized by the stately and attractive man, Rene struggled with words, highly uncultivated as the center of a man’s attention, even should it be fleeting and superficial. As his hand extended, Rene’s blue eyes dropped towards it as if to ensure she wasn’t imagining the gesture, and extended her own slip of a hand, significantly tinier than his, at her 5’ frame. He might have expected a hand like satin belonging to a woman of the aristocracy, but Rene’s wasn’t entirely that. Soft and delicate, it still bore dense spots here and there, the makings of calluses from her hours lovingly crafting each sculpture, each vase or amphora, each painting. Working with her hands so much, hers may have felt more coarse compared to the plethora of noble women in the kingdoms who did no such things. In her naivete, Rene had little cognizance that her touch did not stack up with her contemporaries, lacking the flawless silky texture of other nobles and royals.
“Lady Rene, it is also a pleasure to meet you. I am afraid that in all of my travels around the world that I have not had the fortune of hearing either the Lady Aea or her father Cassero play and sing. If they are adored by those as cultured and talented as the pair of you, then I shall at some point find the time to listen to their talents as well.”
“It is my pleasure in kind, Sir,” Rene answered timidly. In reference to the beautiful ballad that Aea and her family had serenaded the petite Athenian with, she flashed a proud little smile back over her shoulder towards the bard’s gathering. “You will not be disappointed, My Lord. Master Cassero and his family will delight your ears to the end of days, as Apollo himself has taken residence in their hearts. You are welcome to join us, of course,” she waved a hand in acceptance.
“It seems to me that the two of you have been friends for quite some time, how did you meet and what drew you to each other?”
Alexandros’ astute observation found praise in Rene’s own soul. She counted Ophelia among her closest friends and greatest confidants. Despite her timidity where she herself was concerned, Rene had no misgivings in lauding the splendor of her loved ones. Bravery came easily when she could extol the accomplishments of her friends and family, strange as it was. The youngest of six, she’d had much practice in celebrating the victories of others, rather than her own. “That is correct, Sir. The Lady Ophelia is one of my dearest friends. We met three years ago, in Athenia.” Rene’s lovely angelic face beamed as she took the hand of the porcelain doll beside her and gave it an affectionate squeeze. “She has been invaluable to me, as a voice of wisdom, and guidance, and encouragement over the years. She is an innovator in the world of philanthropy, and caring for the poor. I can only aspire for a heart as big as hers, and deeds as impactful,” she admitted endearingly. “You have chosen a magnificent lady to befriend.”
“Would either of you care for something to eat or drink? I find that all of the options laid out before us encourage me to partake more than I would otherwise. So much variety, all of the new flavors to try, so many new options.”
Innocent and sheltered as she was, and certainly unlettered in the art of innuendo and intimate play, Rene’s expression did not flicker in response to the suggestion of a versatile-seeking palate. Instead, with joviality tangled in residual shyness, she shrugged her near bare shoulders where her goddess white peplos was gathered, with neckline plunging to her navel. It was an unusually provocative and rather courageous dress she wore for the occasion, not something she usually donned, with a crown of golden olive branches around her cornsilk head. “I enjoy mead, from time to time,” she quipped gingerly. “Or a good vintage red. The Lady Ophelia’s family cultivates the finest grapes into the finest wines in all the kingdom. One would be remiss to deprive himself of such a taste on the lips.”
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Alexandros was nothing if not a charming, borderline smarmy, with an auspicious smile and glinting eyes that hinted at the volume of stories behind them. Clearly well-schooled in the penchant for meeting women, or higher classes, or both, he spared no expense at gallantry. Mesmerized by the stately and attractive man, Rene struggled with words, highly uncultivated as the center of a man’s attention, even should it be fleeting and superficial. As his hand extended, Rene’s blue eyes dropped towards it as if to ensure she wasn’t imagining the gesture, and extended her own slip of a hand, significantly tinier than his, at her 5’ frame. He might have expected a hand like satin belonging to a woman of the aristocracy, but Rene’s wasn’t entirely that. Soft and delicate, it still bore dense spots here and there, the makings of calluses from her hours lovingly crafting each sculpture, each vase or amphora, each painting. Working with her hands so much, hers may have felt more coarse compared to the plethora of noble women in the kingdoms who did no such things. In her naivete, Rene had little cognizance that her touch did not stack up with her contemporaries, lacking the flawless silky texture of other nobles and royals.
“Lady Rene, it is also a pleasure to meet you. I am afraid that in all of my travels around the world that I have not had the fortune of hearing either the Lady Aea or her father Cassero play and sing. If they are adored by those as cultured and talented as the pair of you, then I shall at some point find the time to listen to their talents as well.”
“It is my pleasure in kind, Sir,” Rene answered timidly. In reference to the beautiful ballad that Aea and her family had serenaded the petite Athenian with, she flashed a proud little smile back over her shoulder towards the bard’s gathering. “You will not be disappointed, My Lord. Master Cassero and his family will delight your ears to the end of days, as Apollo himself has taken residence in their hearts. You are welcome to join us, of course,” she waved a hand in acceptance.
“It seems to me that the two of you have been friends for quite some time, how did you meet and what drew you to each other?”
Alexandros’ astute observation found praise in Rene’s own soul. She counted Ophelia among her closest friends and greatest confidants. Despite her timidity where she herself was concerned, Rene had no misgivings in lauding the splendor of her loved ones. Bravery came easily when she could extol the accomplishments of her friends and family, strange as it was. The youngest of six, she’d had much practice in celebrating the victories of others, rather than her own. “That is correct, Sir. The Lady Ophelia is one of my dearest friends. We met three years ago, in Athenia.” Rene’s lovely angelic face beamed as she took the hand of the porcelain doll beside her and gave it an affectionate squeeze. “She has been invaluable to me, as a voice of wisdom, and guidance, and encouragement over the years. She is an innovator in the world of philanthropy, and caring for the poor. I can only aspire for a heart as big as hers, and deeds as impactful,” she admitted endearingly. “You have chosen a magnificent lady to befriend.”
“Would either of you care for something to eat or drink? I find that all of the options laid out before us encourage me to partake more than I would otherwise. So much variety, all of the new flavors to try, so many new options.”
Innocent and sheltered as she was, and certainly unlettered in the art of innuendo and intimate play, Rene’s expression did not flicker in response to the suggestion of a versatile-seeking palate. Instead, with joviality tangled in residual shyness, she shrugged her near bare shoulders where her goddess white peplos was gathered, with neckline plunging to her navel. It was an unusually provocative and rather courageous dress she wore for the occasion, not something she usually donned, with a crown of golden olive branches around her cornsilk head. “I enjoy mead, from time to time,” she quipped gingerly. “Or a good vintage red. The Lady Ophelia’s family cultivates the finest grapes into the finest wines in all the kingdom. One would be remiss to deprive himself of such a taste on the lips.”
Alexandros was nothing if not a charming, borderline smarmy, with an auspicious smile and glinting eyes that hinted at the volume of stories behind them. Clearly well-schooled in the penchant for meeting women, or higher classes, or both, he spared no expense at gallantry. Mesmerized by the stately and attractive man, Rene struggled with words, highly uncultivated as the center of a man’s attention, even should it be fleeting and superficial. As his hand extended, Rene’s blue eyes dropped towards it as if to ensure she wasn’t imagining the gesture, and extended her own slip of a hand, significantly tinier than his, at her 5’ frame. He might have expected a hand like satin belonging to a woman of the aristocracy, but Rene’s wasn’t entirely that. Soft and delicate, it still bore dense spots here and there, the makings of calluses from her hours lovingly crafting each sculpture, each vase or amphora, each painting. Working with her hands so much, hers may have felt more coarse compared to the plethora of noble women in the kingdoms who did no such things. In her naivete, Rene had little cognizance that her touch did not stack up with her contemporaries, lacking the flawless silky texture of other nobles and royals.
“Lady Rene, it is also a pleasure to meet you. I am afraid that in all of my travels around the world that I have not had the fortune of hearing either the Lady Aea or her father Cassero play and sing. If they are adored by those as cultured and talented as the pair of you, then I shall at some point find the time to listen to their talents as well.”
“It is my pleasure in kind, Sir,” Rene answered timidly. In reference to the beautiful ballad that Aea and her family had serenaded the petite Athenian with, she flashed a proud little smile back over her shoulder towards the bard’s gathering. “You will not be disappointed, My Lord. Master Cassero and his family will delight your ears to the end of days, as Apollo himself has taken residence in their hearts. You are welcome to join us, of course,” she waved a hand in acceptance.
“It seems to me that the two of you have been friends for quite some time, how did you meet and what drew you to each other?”
Alexandros’ astute observation found praise in Rene’s own soul. She counted Ophelia among her closest friends and greatest confidants. Despite her timidity where she herself was concerned, Rene had no misgivings in lauding the splendor of her loved ones. Bravery came easily when she could extol the accomplishments of her friends and family, strange as it was. The youngest of six, she’d had much practice in celebrating the victories of others, rather than her own. “That is correct, Sir. The Lady Ophelia is one of my dearest friends. We met three years ago, in Athenia.” Rene’s lovely angelic face beamed as she took the hand of the porcelain doll beside her and gave it an affectionate squeeze. “She has been invaluable to me, as a voice of wisdom, and guidance, and encouragement over the years. She is an innovator in the world of philanthropy, and caring for the poor. I can only aspire for a heart as big as hers, and deeds as impactful,” she admitted endearingly. “You have chosen a magnificent lady to befriend.”
“Would either of you care for something to eat or drink? I find that all of the options laid out before us encourage me to partake more than I would otherwise. So much variety, all of the new flavors to try, so many new options.”
Innocent and sheltered as she was, and certainly unlettered in the art of innuendo and intimate play, Rene’s expression did not flicker in response to the suggestion of a versatile-seeking palate. Instead, with joviality tangled in residual shyness, she shrugged her near bare shoulders where her goddess white peplos was gathered, with neckline plunging to her navel. It was an unusually provocative and rather courageous dress she wore for the occasion, not something she usually donned, with a crown of golden olive branches around her cornsilk head. “I enjoy mead, from time to time,” she quipped gingerly. “Or a good vintage red. The Lady Ophelia’s family cultivates the finest grapes into the finest wines in all the kingdom. One would be remiss to deprive himself of such a taste on the lips.”
They could speak of significant now: their chatter must be all a frivol, a masquerade for the sake of their newest companion. In a way, though, she was almost relieved. It would do her good to gentle her thoughts once again. This was a celebration of peace, after all, hardly the place to be making mutinous plans against the dominant sex. Soon her mind would quiet, her tempestuous rage dim once more to the well-concealed irritation that simmered always beneath the surface of her skin, never quite breaking through.
Ophelia was wise, Ophelia was cunning. She knew the dangers of speaking out, and so chose each word with care. Her opinions were shared only with those who would appreciate them, and never breathe a word of them to anyone. To many an acquaintance, she was Nikolias's dutiful, obedient daughter. To those who knew her well, she was a candid woman of learning with a wit as sharp as a wetstone and a heart as pure as gold.
'Alexandros Iraklidis...'
That name tugged at her, pulling on cords of familiarity. She had heard it spoken before, though where she could not say. As he was a militant however, it was highly possible that she had heard his name in connection with some great triumph. Most likely, he was a soldier of high rank, and thus had been mentioned in the courts. Young, handsome militants often drew the notice of lesser nobles, whose fathers would often marry their youngest daughters to military men.
He was admiring her, she noted, but not in a lascivious way. As he extended a hand, she met it with a pale, petite palm, threading her fingers through his. Her hand was smaller, with lithe fingers. Despite being uncalloused, years of archery, music and sewing clothes for the poor had given strength to her muscles. She had however learned to conceal this in her handshake, applying only the lightest pressure to the soldier's hand as she met his azure orbs.
From a safe distance away, her companions kept a watchful gaze, neither moving closer to dissolve the interaction, nor melting entirely into the shadows. It was clear that Evanthe in particular wanted to be seen, for now that she had returned she took particular pains not to be dwarfed by Ophelia's tall bodyguard. The elderly Thisbe watched the encounter carefully, but finding no sign of impropriety in the young man's conduct, allowed it to continue. Aoide observed with a little more excitement, her aquamarine eyes shimmering with envy, though she dared not put herself forward. Though as a handmaiden she was closer in rank to the handsome youth, he had clearly fixed his eyes on the rose and the dove, and who could blame him? They were stunning creatures.
"The pleasure is mine, Sir, I assure you," her words were as soft as a kiss as they drifted from her rosebud lips. "You will forgive me for my enquiry, but it seems your name is familiar to me? Pray tell how that may be?"
He wasted no time in endearing himself to Ophelia, first in his gentless with Rene, and then in his response to her enquiry. Though he had never had the good fortune of hearing Aea or her father play, nor had she until that very day, and it was very much as he said now. They were adored by her. A bright smile came unbidden to her lips as words 'cultured' and 'talented' passed his in description of her. And then he proved himself observant, not only that but sensitive enough to ask a question of true import. It seemed that frivolity was not be the flavour of this meeting after all.
"You do us great honour, Sir, to speak so highly of us," her eyes shone in the sunlight as they met his once again. "I am truly grateful to be in the company of one such as you. Until today, I too had not the privilege of hearing Miss Aea and her father play, but they are truly extraordinary bards."
'You will not be disappointed, My Lord. Master Cassero and his family will delight your ears to the end of days, as Apollo himself has taken residence in their hearts. You are welcome to join us, of course,'
Rene was, of course, eager to agree with her, though the gorgeous ballad she had received from Aea had probably helped to sway her also. As always, she was courtesy personified, reiterating Ophelia's assurance that the gentleman was welcome to join them. Ophelia dipped her head in a gracious nod, for she had already given her verbal consent.
'Twas Rene who gave answer to his enquiry, explaining how three years ago they had met at an Athenian event. Letters had passed almost ceaselessly between them since, in which they discussed everything from art and music to their families to the Gods. No subject was off limits, no thought unvoiced. Nobody bothered to read the letters, for their families doubtlessly believed they were simply the trivial ramblings of women. On occasion, they were, and what was wrong with that? One could find a dress she saw in a boutique beautiful and still have serious thoughts about how society might be improved. But that was a thing that most would never understand.
Rene's face was aglow as she slid her hand through Ophelia's. Ophelia closed her delicate fingers around the artisan's, squeezing them gently together. As the girl lifted her high on that ever-present invisible dais, Ophelia felt the the familiar heat creep into her cheeks. Rene's words were flattering indeed, and each time she heard herself praised so highly, she felt as if heart could burst with joy. It meant more than mere words could express to know that she had made such a great impact upon the life of a girl she cherished so dearly. She only hoped that things were truly as Rene said, and that her work with the poor was impacting them as much.
"Lady Rene is very kind to me," she murmured softly. "I am in truth merely a woman who strives always to do right by those who she cares for, be it her dearest friends or the people of Greece. I do sincerely hope, however, that I succeed in these endeavours."
And now he was offering food and drink, just like a proper gentleman. But there was something different in the way he spoke. Ophelia could not quite put her finger on it, but something was not quite right. Her stomach instinctively twisted into a tight knot, warning her of danger. But what danger could be had in sampling the foods of the stalls? His smile was it had been before...his tone, that was what was different. He spoke as if he meant to imply more than what he said, as if it were not the cuisine he wished to sample. Suddenly, Ophelia understood why her two guards had tensed, why Thisbe's lips were pursed, why Aoide looked almost envious and Evanthe wore a strange, unreadable expression.
Her stomach twisted into yet another knot.
Again, Rene was praising Ophelia -- more accurately, the splendid Condos wine. Ophelia glanced momentarily back at the stall that flew the Condos flag. Rene had not seen it, and Ophelia had no intentions of pointing it out to them. A huge fuss would certainly be made of her by all of the patrons; perhaps she would even be asked to crack open a cask in ceremony. People would wish to ask her questions, enquire after the health of her sister, her father, her brother. Rene would be left alone. Well, not alone. Rene would be left with Alexandros.
No. She would stay well away from the Condos flag. She would remain beside Rene. "If you ever find yourself in Taengea, Sir, I will happily oblige you by allowing you to sample our wines for free, in honour of your service to Greece," she promised him. Her voice was steady, betraying no hint of unease. "As for me, I am rather easy to please. I was about to suggest Rene and I sample that delicious-smelling honeyed duck, but if that is not to your taste, do you care for fruit skewers? Or...what is that drink they made for Uncle's birthday last year? It wasn't wine because, it had several fruits in it, but it was it was alcoholic and slightly stronger than wine, and it made one guest fall asleep, though to be fair she was only nine."
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They could speak of significant now: their chatter must be all a frivol, a masquerade for the sake of their newest companion. In a way, though, she was almost relieved. It would do her good to gentle her thoughts once again. This was a celebration of peace, after all, hardly the place to be making mutinous plans against the dominant sex. Soon her mind would quiet, her tempestuous rage dim once more to the well-concealed irritation that simmered always beneath the surface of her skin, never quite breaking through.
Ophelia was wise, Ophelia was cunning. She knew the dangers of speaking out, and so chose each word with care. Her opinions were shared only with those who would appreciate them, and never breathe a word of them to anyone. To many an acquaintance, she was Nikolias's dutiful, obedient daughter. To those who knew her well, she was a candid woman of learning with a wit as sharp as a wetstone and a heart as pure as gold.
'Alexandros Iraklidis...'
That name tugged at her, pulling on cords of familiarity. She had heard it spoken before, though where she could not say. As he was a militant however, it was highly possible that she had heard his name in connection with some great triumph. Most likely, he was a soldier of high rank, and thus had been mentioned in the courts. Young, handsome militants often drew the notice of lesser nobles, whose fathers would often marry their youngest daughters to military men.
He was admiring her, she noted, but not in a lascivious way. As he extended a hand, she met it with a pale, petite palm, threading her fingers through his. Her hand was smaller, with lithe fingers. Despite being uncalloused, years of archery, music and sewing clothes for the poor had given strength to her muscles. She had however learned to conceal this in her handshake, applying only the lightest pressure to the soldier's hand as she met his azure orbs.
From a safe distance away, her companions kept a watchful gaze, neither moving closer to dissolve the interaction, nor melting entirely into the shadows. It was clear that Evanthe in particular wanted to be seen, for now that she had returned she took particular pains not to be dwarfed by Ophelia's tall bodyguard. The elderly Thisbe watched the encounter carefully, but finding no sign of impropriety in the young man's conduct, allowed it to continue. Aoide observed with a little more excitement, her aquamarine eyes shimmering with envy, though she dared not put herself forward. Though as a handmaiden she was closer in rank to the handsome youth, he had clearly fixed his eyes on the rose and the dove, and who could blame him? They were stunning creatures.
"The pleasure is mine, Sir, I assure you," her words were as soft as a kiss as they drifted from her rosebud lips. "You will forgive me for my enquiry, but it seems your name is familiar to me? Pray tell how that may be?"
He wasted no time in endearing himself to Ophelia, first in his gentless with Rene, and then in his response to her enquiry. Though he had never had the good fortune of hearing Aea or her father play, nor had she until that very day, and it was very much as he said now. They were adored by her. A bright smile came unbidden to her lips as words 'cultured' and 'talented' passed his in description of her. And then he proved himself observant, not only that but sensitive enough to ask a question of true import. It seemed that frivolity was not be the flavour of this meeting after all.
"You do us great honour, Sir, to speak so highly of us," her eyes shone in the sunlight as they met his once again. "I am truly grateful to be in the company of one such as you. Until today, I too had not the privilege of hearing Miss Aea and her father play, but they are truly extraordinary bards."
'You will not be disappointed, My Lord. Master Cassero and his family will delight your ears to the end of days, as Apollo himself has taken residence in their hearts. You are welcome to join us, of course,'
Rene was, of course, eager to agree with her, though the gorgeous ballad she had received from Aea had probably helped to sway her also. As always, she was courtesy personified, reiterating Ophelia's assurance that the gentleman was welcome to join them. Ophelia dipped her head in a gracious nod, for she had already given her verbal consent.
'Twas Rene who gave answer to his enquiry, explaining how three years ago they had met at an Athenian event. Letters had passed almost ceaselessly between them since, in which they discussed everything from art and music to their families to the Gods. No subject was off limits, no thought unvoiced. Nobody bothered to read the letters, for their families doubtlessly believed they were simply the trivial ramblings of women. On occasion, they were, and what was wrong with that? One could find a dress she saw in a boutique beautiful and still have serious thoughts about how society might be improved. But that was a thing that most would never understand.
Rene's face was aglow as she slid her hand through Ophelia's. Ophelia closed her delicate fingers around the artisan's, squeezing them gently together. As the girl lifted her high on that ever-present invisible dais, Ophelia felt the the familiar heat creep into her cheeks. Rene's words were flattering indeed, and each time she heard herself praised so highly, she felt as if heart could burst with joy. It meant more than mere words could express to know that she had made such a great impact upon the life of a girl she cherished so dearly. She only hoped that things were truly as Rene said, and that her work with the poor was impacting them as much.
"Lady Rene is very kind to me," she murmured softly. "I am in truth merely a woman who strives always to do right by those who she cares for, be it her dearest friends or the people of Greece. I do sincerely hope, however, that I succeed in these endeavours."
And now he was offering food and drink, just like a proper gentleman. But there was something different in the way he spoke. Ophelia could not quite put her finger on it, but something was not quite right. Her stomach instinctively twisted into a tight knot, warning her of danger. But what danger could be had in sampling the foods of the stalls? His smile was it had been before...his tone, that was what was different. He spoke as if he meant to imply more than what he said, as if it were not the cuisine he wished to sample. Suddenly, Ophelia understood why her two guards had tensed, why Thisbe's lips were pursed, why Aoide looked almost envious and Evanthe wore a strange, unreadable expression.
Her stomach twisted into yet another knot.
Again, Rene was praising Ophelia -- more accurately, the splendid Condos wine. Ophelia glanced momentarily back at the stall that flew the Condos flag. Rene had not seen it, and Ophelia had no intentions of pointing it out to them. A huge fuss would certainly be made of her by all of the patrons; perhaps she would even be asked to crack open a cask in ceremony. People would wish to ask her questions, enquire after the health of her sister, her father, her brother. Rene would be left alone. Well, not alone. Rene would be left with Alexandros.
No. She would stay well away from the Condos flag. She would remain beside Rene. "If you ever find yourself in Taengea, Sir, I will happily oblige you by allowing you to sample our wines for free, in honour of your service to Greece," she promised him. Her voice was steady, betraying no hint of unease. "As for me, I am rather easy to please. I was about to suggest Rene and I sample that delicious-smelling honeyed duck, but if that is not to your taste, do you care for fruit skewers? Or...what is that drink they made for Uncle's birthday last year? It wasn't wine because, it had several fruits in it, but it was it was alcoholic and slightly stronger than wine, and it made one guest fall asleep, though to be fair she was only nine."
They could speak of significant now: their chatter must be all a frivol, a masquerade for the sake of their newest companion. In a way, though, she was almost relieved. It would do her good to gentle her thoughts once again. This was a celebration of peace, after all, hardly the place to be making mutinous plans against the dominant sex. Soon her mind would quiet, her tempestuous rage dim once more to the well-concealed irritation that simmered always beneath the surface of her skin, never quite breaking through.
Ophelia was wise, Ophelia was cunning. She knew the dangers of speaking out, and so chose each word with care. Her opinions were shared only with those who would appreciate them, and never breathe a word of them to anyone. To many an acquaintance, she was Nikolias's dutiful, obedient daughter. To those who knew her well, she was a candid woman of learning with a wit as sharp as a wetstone and a heart as pure as gold.
'Alexandros Iraklidis...'
That name tugged at her, pulling on cords of familiarity. She had heard it spoken before, though where she could not say. As he was a militant however, it was highly possible that she had heard his name in connection with some great triumph. Most likely, he was a soldier of high rank, and thus had been mentioned in the courts. Young, handsome militants often drew the notice of lesser nobles, whose fathers would often marry their youngest daughters to military men.
He was admiring her, she noted, but not in a lascivious way. As he extended a hand, she met it with a pale, petite palm, threading her fingers through his. Her hand was smaller, with lithe fingers. Despite being uncalloused, years of archery, music and sewing clothes for the poor had given strength to her muscles. She had however learned to conceal this in her handshake, applying only the lightest pressure to the soldier's hand as she met his azure orbs.
From a safe distance away, her companions kept a watchful gaze, neither moving closer to dissolve the interaction, nor melting entirely into the shadows. It was clear that Evanthe in particular wanted to be seen, for now that she had returned she took particular pains not to be dwarfed by Ophelia's tall bodyguard. The elderly Thisbe watched the encounter carefully, but finding no sign of impropriety in the young man's conduct, allowed it to continue. Aoide observed with a little more excitement, her aquamarine eyes shimmering with envy, though she dared not put herself forward. Though as a handmaiden she was closer in rank to the handsome youth, he had clearly fixed his eyes on the rose and the dove, and who could blame him? They were stunning creatures.
"The pleasure is mine, Sir, I assure you," her words were as soft as a kiss as they drifted from her rosebud lips. "You will forgive me for my enquiry, but it seems your name is familiar to me? Pray tell how that may be?"
He wasted no time in endearing himself to Ophelia, first in his gentless with Rene, and then in his response to her enquiry. Though he had never had the good fortune of hearing Aea or her father play, nor had she until that very day, and it was very much as he said now. They were adored by her. A bright smile came unbidden to her lips as words 'cultured' and 'talented' passed his in description of her. And then he proved himself observant, not only that but sensitive enough to ask a question of true import. It seemed that frivolity was not be the flavour of this meeting after all.
"You do us great honour, Sir, to speak so highly of us," her eyes shone in the sunlight as they met his once again. "I am truly grateful to be in the company of one such as you. Until today, I too had not the privilege of hearing Miss Aea and her father play, but they are truly extraordinary bards."
'You will not be disappointed, My Lord. Master Cassero and his family will delight your ears to the end of days, as Apollo himself has taken residence in their hearts. You are welcome to join us, of course,'
Rene was, of course, eager to agree with her, though the gorgeous ballad she had received from Aea had probably helped to sway her also. As always, she was courtesy personified, reiterating Ophelia's assurance that the gentleman was welcome to join them. Ophelia dipped her head in a gracious nod, for she had already given her verbal consent.
'Twas Rene who gave answer to his enquiry, explaining how three years ago they had met at an Athenian event. Letters had passed almost ceaselessly between them since, in which they discussed everything from art and music to their families to the Gods. No subject was off limits, no thought unvoiced. Nobody bothered to read the letters, for their families doubtlessly believed they were simply the trivial ramblings of women. On occasion, they were, and what was wrong with that? One could find a dress she saw in a boutique beautiful and still have serious thoughts about how society might be improved. But that was a thing that most would never understand.
Rene's face was aglow as she slid her hand through Ophelia's. Ophelia closed her delicate fingers around the artisan's, squeezing them gently together. As the girl lifted her high on that ever-present invisible dais, Ophelia felt the the familiar heat creep into her cheeks. Rene's words were flattering indeed, and each time she heard herself praised so highly, she felt as if heart could burst with joy. It meant more than mere words could express to know that she had made such a great impact upon the life of a girl she cherished so dearly. She only hoped that things were truly as Rene said, and that her work with the poor was impacting them as much.
"Lady Rene is very kind to me," she murmured softly. "I am in truth merely a woman who strives always to do right by those who she cares for, be it her dearest friends or the people of Greece. I do sincerely hope, however, that I succeed in these endeavours."
And now he was offering food and drink, just like a proper gentleman. But there was something different in the way he spoke. Ophelia could not quite put her finger on it, but something was not quite right. Her stomach instinctively twisted into a tight knot, warning her of danger. But what danger could be had in sampling the foods of the stalls? His smile was it had been before...his tone, that was what was different. He spoke as if he meant to imply more than what he said, as if it were not the cuisine he wished to sample. Suddenly, Ophelia understood why her two guards had tensed, why Thisbe's lips were pursed, why Aoide looked almost envious and Evanthe wore a strange, unreadable expression.
Her stomach twisted into yet another knot.
Again, Rene was praising Ophelia -- more accurately, the splendid Condos wine. Ophelia glanced momentarily back at the stall that flew the Condos flag. Rene had not seen it, and Ophelia had no intentions of pointing it out to them. A huge fuss would certainly be made of her by all of the patrons; perhaps she would even be asked to crack open a cask in ceremony. People would wish to ask her questions, enquire after the health of her sister, her father, her brother. Rene would be left alone. Well, not alone. Rene would be left with Alexandros.
No. She would stay well away from the Condos flag. She would remain beside Rene. "If you ever find yourself in Taengea, Sir, I will happily oblige you by allowing you to sample our wines for free, in honour of your service to Greece," she promised him. Her voice was steady, betraying no hint of unease. "As for me, I am rather easy to please. I was about to suggest Rene and I sample that delicious-smelling honeyed duck, but if that is not to your taste, do you care for fruit skewers? Or...what is that drink they made for Uncle's birthday last year? It wasn't wine because, it had several fruits in it, but it was it was alcoholic and slightly stronger than wine, and it made one guest fall asleep, though to be fair she was only nine."
“She has been invaluable to me, as a voice of wisdom, and guidance, and encouragement over the years. She is an innovator in the world of philanthropy, and caring for the poor. I can only aspire for a heart as big as hers, and deeds as impactful,” she admitted endearingly. “You have chosen a magnificent lady to befriend.”
Alexandros smiled softly towards Rene. The young woman's kindness and sweet nature was rather endearing, as was her loyalty to her friend. "I was hoping that I had chosen two magnificent ladies to befriend today, but if either of wishes that not to be the case, I will take my leave." He smirked as he spoke, teasing the young blonde for her deference to her friend.
“I enjoy mead, from time to time,” she quipped gingerly. “Or a good vintage red. The Lady Ophelia’s family cultivates the finest grapes into the finest wines in all the kingdom. One would be remiss to deprive himself of such a taste on the lips.” “As for me, I am rather easy to please. I was about to suggest Rene and I sample that delicious-smelling honeyed duck, but if that is not to your taste, do you care for fruit skewers? Or...what is that drink they made for Uncle's birthday last year? It wasn't wine because, it had several fruits in it, but it was it was alcoholic and slightly stronger than wine, and it made one guest fall asleep, though to be fair she was only nine.”
The younger woman failed to notice his innuendos, but the countenances of Ophelia and her retainers changed in an instant. It seemed that suggestions were not acceptable to them, with one being oblivious and the other putting up her guard, he decided to pivot away from such things and act as if it had never occurred. "The duck does smell delicious, I think that would be a wonderful suggestion. What say you Rene? Would you care for some honeyed duck?"
“The pleasure is mine, Sir, I assure you,” her words were as soft as a kiss as they drifted from her rosebud lips. “You will forgive me for my enquiry, but it seems your name is familiar to me? Pray tell how that may be?”
The young warrior was surprised to hear that mentions of him had traveled as wide as to reach the ears of the Condos in Taengea. He smiled broadly, as this idea stoked his already prodigious pride in his abilities. He spoke with a pleased and proud voice. "I am not sure what you have heard, but I am rather new to official military positions. I have spent most of my life earning fame as a mercenary for great acts of bravery. There is one such story that happened recently, that earned my promotion, if you two are inclined to hear it, then I shall regale you with the story, but I am certainly not as skilled as any bard would be."
“Lady Rene is very kind to me,” she murmured softly. “I am in truth merely a woman who strives always to do right by those who she cares for, be it her dearest friends or the people of Greece. I do sincerely hope, however, that I succeed in these endeavours.”
"Lady Rene seems to be very kind to everyone, certainly an admirable trait, as is trying to do right by everyone. I am afraid that I am not so upstanding. I do my best to do right by my friends and those that have helped me, but that is the extent of it. I'm afraid that my mother would not approve of that; she was much more in line with your ideals of doing right by everyone." Alexandros said, still smiling, but with some sadness in his eyes, which seemed to turn grey for a passing moment with his sadness.
“If you ever find yourself in Taengea, Sir, I will happily oblige you by allowing you to sample our wines for free, in honour of your service to Greece,” she promised him. Her voice was steady, betraying no hint of unease.
He gave a soft laugh at her offer of hospitality, perhaps such an offer was normal to those of her stature, but he was incredibly appreciative of the gesture. "My lady, I am afraid that I could not prevail upon the hospitality of you and your house like that. I am appreciative of the offer, it does mean a lot to me, but I would hate to take advantage of you in such a way."
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“She has been invaluable to me, as a voice of wisdom, and guidance, and encouragement over the years. She is an innovator in the world of philanthropy, and caring for the poor. I can only aspire for a heart as big as hers, and deeds as impactful,” she admitted endearingly. “You have chosen a magnificent lady to befriend.”
Alexandros smiled softly towards Rene. The young woman's kindness and sweet nature was rather endearing, as was her loyalty to her friend. "I was hoping that I had chosen two magnificent ladies to befriend today, but if either of wishes that not to be the case, I will take my leave." He smirked as he spoke, teasing the young blonde for her deference to her friend.
“I enjoy mead, from time to time,” she quipped gingerly. “Or a good vintage red. The Lady Ophelia’s family cultivates the finest grapes into the finest wines in all the kingdom. One would be remiss to deprive himself of such a taste on the lips.” “As for me, I am rather easy to please. I was about to suggest Rene and I sample that delicious-smelling honeyed duck, but if that is not to your taste, do you care for fruit skewers? Or...what is that drink they made for Uncle's birthday last year? It wasn't wine because, it had several fruits in it, but it was it was alcoholic and slightly stronger than wine, and it made one guest fall asleep, though to be fair she was only nine.”
The younger woman failed to notice his innuendos, but the countenances of Ophelia and her retainers changed in an instant. It seemed that suggestions were not acceptable to them, with one being oblivious and the other putting up her guard, he decided to pivot away from such things and act as if it had never occurred. "The duck does smell delicious, I think that would be a wonderful suggestion. What say you Rene? Would you care for some honeyed duck?"
“The pleasure is mine, Sir, I assure you,” her words were as soft as a kiss as they drifted from her rosebud lips. “You will forgive me for my enquiry, but it seems your name is familiar to me? Pray tell how that may be?”
The young warrior was surprised to hear that mentions of him had traveled as wide as to reach the ears of the Condos in Taengea. He smiled broadly, as this idea stoked his already prodigious pride in his abilities. He spoke with a pleased and proud voice. "I am not sure what you have heard, but I am rather new to official military positions. I have spent most of my life earning fame as a mercenary for great acts of bravery. There is one such story that happened recently, that earned my promotion, if you two are inclined to hear it, then I shall regale you with the story, but I am certainly not as skilled as any bard would be."
“Lady Rene is very kind to me,” she murmured softly. “I am in truth merely a woman who strives always to do right by those who she cares for, be it her dearest friends or the people of Greece. I do sincerely hope, however, that I succeed in these endeavours.”
"Lady Rene seems to be very kind to everyone, certainly an admirable trait, as is trying to do right by everyone. I am afraid that I am not so upstanding. I do my best to do right by my friends and those that have helped me, but that is the extent of it. I'm afraid that my mother would not approve of that; she was much more in line with your ideals of doing right by everyone." Alexandros said, still smiling, but with some sadness in his eyes, which seemed to turn grey for a passing moment with his sadness.
“If you ever find yourself in Taengea, Sir, I will happily oblige you by allowing you to sample our wines for free, in honour of your service to Greece,” she promised him. Her voice was steady, betraying no hint of unease.
He gave a soft laugh at her offer of hospitality, perhaps such an offer was normal to those of her stature, but he was incredibly appreciative of the gesture. "My lady, I am afraid that I could not prevail upon the hospitality of you and your house like that. I am appreciative of the offer, it does mean a lot to me, but I would hate to take advantage of you in such a way."
“She has been invaluable to me, as a voice of wisdom, and guidance, and encouragement over the years. She is an innovator in the world of philanthropy, and caring for the poor. I can only aspire for a heart as big as hers, and deeds as impactful,” she admitted endearingly. “You have chosen a magnificent lady to befriend.”
Alexandros smiled softly towards Rene. The young woman's kindness and sweet nature was rather endearing, as was her loyalty to her friend. "I was hoping that I had chosen two magnificent ladies to befriend today, but if either of wishes that not to be the case, I will take my leave." He smirked as he spoke, teasing the young blonde for her deference to her friend.
“I enjoy mead, from time to time,” she quipped gingerly. “Or a good vintage red. The Lady Ophelia’s family cultivates the finest grapes into the finest wines in all the kingdom. One would be remiss to deprive himself of such a taste on the lips.” “As for me, I am rather easy to please. I was about to suggest Rene and I sample that delicious-smelling honeyed duck, but if that is not to your taste, do you care for fruit skewers? Or...what is that drink they made for Uncle's birthday last year? It wasn't wine because, it had several fruits in it, but it was it was alcoholic and slightly stronger than wine, and it made one guest fall asleep, though to be fair she was only nine.”
The younger woman failed to notice his innuendos, but the countenances of Ophelia and her retainers changed in an instant. It seemed that suggestions were not acceptable to them, with one being oblivious and the other putting up her guard, he decided to pivot away from such things and act as if it had never occurred. "The duck does smell delicious, I think that would be a wonderful suggestion. What say you Rene? Would you care for some honeyed duck?"
“The pleasure is mine, Sir, I assure you,” her words were as soft as a kiss as they drifted from her rosebud lips. “You will forgive me for my enquiry, but it seems your name is familiar to me? Pray tell how that may be?”
The young warrior was surprised to hear that mentions of him had traveled as wide as to reach the ears of the Condos in Taengea. He smiled broadly, as this idea stoked his already prodigious pride in his abilities. He spoke with a pleased and proud voice. "I am not sure what you have heard, but I am rather new to official military positions. I have spent most of my life earning fame as a mercenary for great acts of bravery. There is one such story that happened recently, that earned my promotion, if you two are inclined to hear it, then I shall regale you with the story, but I am certainly not as skilled as any bard would be."
“Lady Rene is very kind to me,” she murmured softly. “I am in truth merely a woman who strives always to do right by those who she cares for, be it her dearest friends or the people of Greece. I do sincerely hope, however, that I succeed in these endeavours.”
"Lady Rene seems to be very kind to everyone, certainly an admirable trait, as is trying to do right by everyone. I am afraid that I am not so upstanding. I do my best to do right by my friends and those that have helped me, but that is the extent of it. I'm afraid that my mother would not approve of that; she was much more in line with your ideals of doing right by everyone." Alexandros said, still smiling, but with some sadness in his eyes, which seemed to turn grey for a passing moment with his sadness.
“If you ever find yourself in Taengea, Sir, I will happily oblige you by allowing you to sample our wines for free, in honour of your service to Greece,” she promised him. Her voice was steady, betraying no hint of unease.
He gave a soft laugh at her offer of hospitality, perhaps such an offer was normal to those of her stature, but he was incredibly appreciative of the gesture. "My lady, I am afraid that I could not prevail upon the hospitality of you and your house like that. I am appreciative of the offer, it does mean a lot to me, but I would hate to take advantage of you in such a way."
“I was hoping that I had chosen two magnificent ladies to befriend today, but if either of wishes that not to be the case, I will take my leave.”
Alexandros seemed to breathe charm, like an art he’d perfected over the years. His prodding was good-natured and smoothly delivered. Perhaps his tactics were likewise more fluidly received by the fairer sex more worldly traveled than she, but her response was merely a rosy cheeked grin. "Not necessary, Sir. Your companionship is welcome." The banter exchanged over the culinary delights of the festival went over Rene’s lovely head as far as insinuation, but sampling the cornucopia of fare was an exciting endeavor.
“As for me, I am rather easy to please. I was about to suggest Rene and I sample that delicious-smelling honeyed duck, but if that is not to your taste, do you care for fruit skewers? Or...what is that drink they made for Uncle's birthday last year? It wasn't wine because, it had several fruits in it, but it was it was alcoholic and slightly stronger than wine, and it made one guest fall asleep, though to be fair she was only nine.”
As ever, Ophelia was articulate and balletic as a conversationalist. The art of exchange came easily for her, as tutored and deft as she was, with gilded words and inviting demeanor. Rene admired her all the more, envisioning the glamorous brunette in the setting of the court, unwittingly commanding attention with her innate presence and effortless congeniality. She was a well-versed in the exploits of the court, and yet retained her benevolence and soft edges. It was fortunate that the two were together when Alexandros approached, else Rene might have found herself unable to string together the most primordial of sounds, and the handsome man would have deemed her a mute.
“The duck does smell delicious, I think that would be a wonderful suggestion. What say you Rene? Would you care for some honeyed duck?”
The blonde’s admiration of her enchanting friend wavered as she heard her name, clear blue eyes shifting back to the rakish man before them. Her saccharine lips spilling into a wide beam, she nodded subtly. “I have never tried many of these delicacies before. I should love to sample them as well.” Were her own words subterfuge? Not likely, but construed as such? Perhaps. Blissfully unaware, she participated in the unspoken game. “Are we able to peruse the art stalls as well?” Well, until then. Certainly nothing crushed the libido like an intellectual pursuit.
“You will forgive me for my enquiry, but it seems your name is familiar to me? Pray tell how that may be?”
It surprised Rene, but didn’t, that Ophelia took familiarity with Alexandros, cosmopolitan and proficient as she was. And the subject of her inquiry seemed equally as elated that his reputation had proceeded him. The swell of his chest was noticeable even to she, a specimen who thought highly of himself, and with inferable good reason.
“I am not sure what you have heard, but I am rather new to official military positions. I have spent most of my life earning fame as a mercenary for great acts of bravery. There is one such story that happened recently, that earned my promotion, if you two are inclined to hear it, then I shall regale you with the story, but I am certainly not as skilled as any bard would be.”
As Alexandros offered a bit of himself up in shameless self promotion, Rene found that confidence relatable, as far as her art went. It was the one facet of her life that she held no misgivings on, no second-guesses, no miring herself in internal diatribe regarding her inadequacies. It was the one and only place in her life that she shined, and while the stylish and self-assured soldier in front of them seemed to radiate his bravado in all three hundred sixty degrees, pride in one’s work was at least something she could relate to. “I should very much like to hear your story,” she inserted into the conversation. People very much loved to talk about themselves, to promote themselves, and recite their accomplishments. Rene would not deprive him of such an opportunity. While he seemed to suffer no shortage of ego, interest lay in his account as not only a social exchange, but potentially a source of influence. Art presented itself in every form, in every place, to the eye of creator. Perhaps Alexandros presented a remarkable study or cite for future work.
“Lady Rene seems to be very kind to everyone, certainly an admirable trait, as is trying to do right by everyone. I am afraid that I am not so upstanding. I do my best to do right by my friends and those that have helped me, but that is the extent of it. I'm afraid that my mother would not approve of that; she was much more in line with your ideals of doing right by everyone.”
The compliment paid made her cheeks sanguine again, once more lowering her head and gaze as if perpetually acquiescing to everyone around her for their greater worth in the world. “Your words pay a humble lady honor. I too have the shared privilege of very kind parents, and friends,” she threw a sideways glance up at Ophelia, “who have fostered magnanimity. I am fortunate that my life has afforded me the luxury of continued altruism. I imagine for a soldier, this is hard to do. One must feel the effects of battle and prolonged training and the like I should think. You seem to fare well, good Sir, though I am none to judge. I am merely an artist.” What she didn’t say was that somewhere deep inside, she did believe that art also changed the world, but in a very different way. Such things would have likely sounded laughable and unintelligible to a soldier.
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“I was hoping that I had chosen two magnificent ladies to befriend today, but if either of wishes that not to be the case, I will take my leave.”
Alexandros seemed to breathe charm, like an art he’d perfected over the years. His prodding was good-natured and smoothly delivered. Perhaps his tactics were likewise more fluidly received by the fairer sex more worldly traveled than she, but her response was merely a rosy cheeked grin. "Not necessary, Sir. Your companionship is welcome." The banter exchanged over the culinary delights of the festival went over Rene’s lovely head as far as insinuation, but sampling the cornucopia of fare was an exciting endeavor.
“As for me, I am rather easy to please. I was about to suggest Rene and I sample that delicious-smelling honeyed duck, but if that is not to your taste, do you care for fruit skewers? Or...what is that drink they made for Uncle's birthday last year? It wasn't wine because, it had several fruits in it, but it was it was alcoholic and slightly stronger than wine, and it made one guest fall asleep, though to be fair she was only nine.”
As ever, Ophelia was articulate and balletic as a conversationalist. The art of exchange came easily for her, as tutored and deft as she was, with gilded words and inviting demeanor. Rene admired her all the more, envisioning the glamorous brunette in the setting of the court, unwittingly commanding attention with her innate presence and effortless congeniality. She was a well-versed in the exploits of the court, and yet retained her benevolence and soft edges. It was fortunate that the two were together when Alexandros approached, else Rene might have found herself unable to string together the most primordial of sounds, and the handsome man would have deemed her a mute.
“The duck does smell delicious, I think that would be a wonderful suggestion. What say you Rene? Would you care for some honeyed duck?”
The blonde’s admiration of her enchanting friend wavered as she heard her name, clear blue eyes shifting back to the rakish man before them. Her saccharine lips spilling into a wide beam, she nodded subtly. “I have never tried many of these delicacies before. I should love to sample them as well.” Were her own words subterfuge? Not likely, but construed as such? Perhaps. Blissfully unaware, she participated in the unspoken game. “Are we able to peruse the art stalls as well?” Well, until then. Certainly nothing crushed the libido like an intellectual pursuit.
“You will forgive me for my enquiry, but it seems your name is familiar to me? Pray tell how that may be?”
It surprised Rene, but didn’t, that Ophelia took familiarity with Alexandros, cosmopolitan and proficient as she was. And the subject of her inquiry seemed equally as elated that his reputation had proceeded him. The swell of his chest was noticeable even to she, a specimen who thought highly of himself, and with inferable good reason.
“I am not sure what you have heard, but I am rather new to official military positions. I have spent most of my life earning fame as a mercenary for great acts of bravery. There is one such story that happened recently, that earned my promotion, if you two are inclined to hear it, then I shall regale you with the story, but I am certainly not as skilled as any bard would be.”
As Alexandros offered a bit of himself up in shameless self promotion, Rene found that confidence relatable, as far as her art went. It was the one facet of her life that she held no misgivings on, no second-guesses, no miring herself in internal diatribe regarding her inadequacies. It was the one and only place in her life that she shined, and while the stylish and self-assured soldier in front of them seemed to radiate his bravado in all three hundred sixty degrees, pride in one’s work was at least something she could relate to. “I should very much like to hear your story,” she inserted into the conversation. People very much loved to talk about themselves, to promote themselves, and recite their accomplishments. Rene would not deprive him of such an opportunity. While he seemed to suffer no shortage of ego, interest lay in his account as not only a social exchange, but potentially a source of influence. Art presented itself in every form, in every place, to the eye of creator. Perhaps Alexandros presented a remarkable study or cite for future work.
“Lady Rene seems to be very kind to everyone, certainly an admirable trait, as is trying to do right by everyone. I am afraid that I am not so upstanding. I do my best to do right by my friends and those that have helped me, but that is the extent of it. I'm afraid that my mother would not approve of that; she was much more in line with your ideals of doing right by everyone.”
The compliment paid made her cheeks sanguine again, once more lowering her head and gaze as if perpetually acquiescing to everyone around her for their greater worth in the world. “Your words pay a humble lady honor. I too have the shared privilege of very kind parents, and friends,” she threw a sideways glance up at Ophelia, “who have fostered magnanimity. I am fortunate that my life has afforded me the luxury of continued altruism. I imagine for a soldier, this is hard to do. One must feel the effects of battle and prolonged training and the like I should think. You seem to fare well, good Sir, though I am none to judge. I am merely an artist.” What she didn’t say was that somewhere deep inside, she did believe that art also changed the world, but in a very different way. Such things would have likely sounded laughable and unintelligible to a soldier.
“I was hoping that I had chosen two magnificent ladies to befriend today, but if either of wishes that not to be the case, I will take my leave.”
Alexandros seemed to breathe charm, like an art he’d perfected over the years. His prodding was good-natured and smoothly delivered. Perhaps his tactics were likewise more fluidly received by the fairer sex more worldly traveled than she, but her response was merely a rosy cheeked grin. "Not necessary, Sir. Your companionship is welcome." The banter exchanged over the culinary delights of the festival went over Rene’s lovely head as far as insinuation, but sampling the cornucopia of fare was an exciting endeavor.
“As for me, I am rather easy to please. I was about to suggest Rene and I sample that delicious-smelling honeyed duck, but if that is not to your taste, do you care for fruit skewers? Or...what is that drink they made for Uncle's birthday last year? It wasn't wine because, it had several fruits in it, but it was it was alcoholic and slightly stronger than wine, and it made one guest fall asleep, though to be fair she was only nine.”
As ever, Ophelia was articulate and balletic as a conversationalist. The art of exchange came easily for her, as tutored and deft as she was, with gilded words and inviting demeanor. Rene admired her all the more, envisioning the glamorous brunette in the setting of the court, unwittingly commanding attention with her innate presence and effortless congeniality. She was a well-versed in the exploits of the court, and yet retained her benevolence and soft edges. It was fortunate that the two were together when Alexandros approached, else Rene might have found herself unable to string together the most primordial of sounds, and the handsome man would have deemed her a mute.
“The duck does smell delicious, I think that would be a wonderful suggestion. What say you Rene? Would you care for some honeyed duck?”
The blonde’s admiration of her enchanting friend wavered as she heard her name, clear blue eyes shifting back to the rakish man before them. Her saccharine lips spilling into a wide beam, she nodded subtly. “I have never tried many of these delicacies before. I should love to sample them as well.” Were her own words subterfuge? Not likely, but construed as such? Perhaps. Blissfully unaware, she participated in the unspoken game. “Are we able to peruse the art stalls as well?” Well, until then. Certainly nothing crushed the libido like an intellectual pursuit.
“You will forgive me for my enquiry, but it seems your name is familiar to me? Pray tell how that may be?”
It surprised Rene, but didn’t, that Ophelia took familiarity with Alexandros, cosmopolitan and proficient as she was. And the subject of her inquiry seemed equally as elated that his reputation had proceeded him. The swell of his chest was noticeable even to she, a specimen who thought highly of himself, and with inferable good reason.
“I am not sure what you have heard, but I am rather new to official military positions. I have spent most of my life earning fame as a mercenary for great acts of bravery. There is one such story that happened recently, that earned my promotion, if you two are inclined to hear it, then I shall regale you with the story, but I am certainly not as skilled as any bard would be.”
As Alexandros offered a bit of himself up in shameless self promotion, Rene found that confidence relatable, as far as her art went. It was the one facet of her life that she held no misgivings on, no second-guesses, no miring herself in internal diatribe regarding her inadequacies. It was the one and only place in her life that she shined, and while the stylish and self-assured soldier in front of them seemed to radiate his bravado in all three hundred sixty degrees, pride in one’s work was at least something she could relate to. “I should very much like to hear your story,” she inserted into the conversation. People very much loved to talk about themselves, to promote themselves, and recite their accomplishments. Rene would not deprive him of such an opportunity. While he seemed to suffer no shortage of ego, interest lay in his account as not only a social exchange, but potentially a source of influence. Art presented itself in every form, in every place, to the eye of creator. Perhaps Alexandros presented a remarkable study or cite for future work.
“Lady Rene seems to be very kind to everyone, certainly an admirable trait, as is trying to do right by everyone. I am afraid that I am not so upstanding. I do my best to do right by my friends and those that have helped me, but that is the extent of it. I'm afraid that my mother would not approve of that; she was much more in line with your ideals of doing right by everyone.”
The compliment paid made her cheeks sanguine again, once more lowering her head and gaze as if perpetually acquiescing to everyone around her for their greater worth in the world. “Your words pay a humble lady honor. I too have the shared privilege of very kind parents, and friends,” she threw a sideways glance up at Ophelia, “who have fostered magnanimity. I am fortunate that my life has afforded me the luxury of continued altruism. I imagine for a soldier, this is hard to do. One must feel the effects of battle and prolonged training and the like I should think. You seem to fare well, good Sir, though I am none to judge. I am merely an artist.” What she didn’t say was that somewhere deep inside, she did believe that art also changed the world, but in a very different way. Such things would have likely sounded laughable and unintelligible to a soldier.
"It has to be re-braided," Persephone said as she ran her fingers through the thick dishevelled braid that hung heavily over her right shoulder. "I simply cannot attend a formal event looking like this," she added and now drew her other hand up to the braid and nervously held on to it. She took a seat when one of her servants came over to re-do her hair.
It was a critical event that she was about to attend, and her father and sister had already gone ahead. Not only was it a celebration of a lasting peace between the Grecian kingdoms, but it was also a massive gathering of people from all walks of life; from the lowest born peasant and slave to the monarchs of each kingdom. Now more than ever, the princess of Athenia - and in a way, the acting queen - had to look her best, be on her best behaviour, and show that she was indeed fit to hold her position.
It took all of Persephone's willpower to refrain from reaching up to hold onto her braid as it was being neatened up again. She was nervous. She had to make a good impression today. She had to. But instead of messing up her long, thick braid yet again, Persephone's hand moved to her upper arm, where her mother's armband sat perfectly around her bicep. She let her finger caress the golden swan that wrapped its wings around her arm protectively and gazed up at her through amethyst eyes. Her mother would have been able to walk out into the crown with ease. At least Persephone remembered it that way. Her memory of her mother was that of the queen she wanted to be.
"There, all done, your royal highness" the servant said as she cautiously placed the golden wreath on Persephone's head. Again, Persephone almost grabbed onto her braid, but she stayed her hand and rose from her seat. She looked down and smoothed the deep red sleeveless chiton before taking a step towards the exit of her temporary lodging.
She stopped and peeked out at the crowd. Persephone took a deep breath. Then another and another. She was building up the facade that she wanted people to see. At the last moment, she kicked off her sandals to go barefoot. She needed to feel grounded on a day like this, and people wouldn't notice anyway, she hoped.
Persephone found the posture befitting a royal princess and held her head high. Inside, her brain was screaming out all the tiny imperfections that she had already noticed since getting her hair fixed, but her face no longer betrayed her inner turmoil. A kind and gentle smile and warm, inviting eyes formed the barrier between what people saw and what she felt.
A final sigh before she took her first delicate steps out into the crowd was all she needed to compose herself fully. The ground was warm against her feet, but it calmed her. "Precious Athena, please don't let me say anything stupid today," she whispered to herself as she looked around for Emilia and her father. It took a while to find them, though, because her delicate steps and regal posture didn't exactly mix well with incredible speeds.
Makki
Persephone
Makki
Persephone
Awards
First Impressions:Slender; Her deep brown, almond-shaped eyes and her thick long and braided hair.
Address: Your Her Royal Highness
"It has to be re-braided," Persephone said as she ran her fingers through the thick dishevelled braid that hung heavily over her right shoulder. "I simply cannot attend a formal event looking like this," she added and now drew her other hand up to the braid and nervously held on to it. She took a seat when one of her servants came over to re-do her hair.
It was a critical event that she was about to attend, and her father and sister had already gone ahead. Not only was it a celebration of a lasting peace between the Grecian kingdoms, but it was also a massive gathering of people from all walks of life; from the lowest born peasant and slave to the monarchs of each kingdom. Now more than ever, the princess of Athenia - and in a way, the acting queen - had to look her best, be on her best behaviour, and show that she was indeed fit to hold her position.
It took all of Persephone's willpower to refrain from reaching up to hold onto her braid as it was being neatened up again. She was nervous. She had to make a good impression today. She had to. But instead of messing up her long, thick braid yet again, Persephone's hand moved to her upper arm, where her mother's armband sat perfectly around her bicep. She let her finger caress the golden swan that wrapped its wings around her arm protectively and gazed up at her through amethyst eyes. Her mother would have been able to walk out into the crown with ease. At least Persephone remembered it that way. Her memory of her mother was that of the queen she wanted to be.
"There, all done, your royal highness" the servant said as she cautiously placed the golden wreath on Persephone's head. Again, Persephone almost grabbed onto her braid, but she stayed her hand and rose from her seat. She looked down and smoothed the deep red sleeveless chiton before taking a step towards the exit of her temporary lodging.
She stopped and peeked out at the crowd. Persephone took a deep breath. Then another and another. She was building up the facade that she wanted people to see. At the last moment, she kicked off her sandals to go barefoot. She needed to feel grounded on a day like this, and people wouldn't notice anyway, she hoped.
Persephone found the posture befitting a royal princess and held her head high. Inside, her brain was screaming out all the tiny imperfections that she had already noticed since getting her hair fixed, but her face no longer betrayed her inner turmoil. A kind and gentle smile and warm, inviting eyes formed the barrier between what people saw and what she felt.
A final sigh before she took her first delicate steps out into the crowd was all she needed to compose herself fully. The ground was warm against her feet, but it calmed her. "Precious Athena, please don't let me say anything stupid today," she whispered to herself as she looked around for Emilia and her father. It took a while to find them, though, because her delicate steps and regal posture didn't exactly mix well with incredible speeds.
"It has to be re-braided," Persephone said as she ran her fingers through the thick dishevelled braid that hung heavily over her right shoulder. "I simply cannot attend a formal event looking like this," she added and now drew her other hand up to the braid and nervously held on to it. She took a seat when one of her servants came over to re-do her hair.
It was a critical event that she was about to attend, and her father and sister had already gone ahead. Not only was it a celebration of a lasting peace between the Grecian kingdoms, but it was also a massive gathering of people from all walks of life; from the lowest born peasant and slave to the monarchs of each kingdom. Now more than ever, the princess of Athenia - and in a way, the acting queen - had to look her best, be on her best behaviour, and show that she was indeed fit to hold her position.
It took all of Persephone's willpower to refrain from reaching up to hold onto her braid as it was being neatened up again. She was nervous. She had to make a good impression today. She had to. But instead of messing up her long, thick braid yet again, Persephone's hand moved to her upper arm, where her mother's armband sat perfectly around her bicep. She let her finger caress the golden swan that wrapped its wings around her arm protectively and gazed up at her through amethyst eyes. Her mother would have been able to walk out into the crown with ease. At least Persephone remembered it that way. Her memory of her mother was that of the queen she wanted to be.
"There, all done, your royal highness" the servant said as she cautiously placed the golden wreath on Persephone's head. Again, Persephone almost grabbed onto her braid, but she stayed her hand and rose from her seat. She looked down and smoothed the deep red sleeveless chiton before taking a step towards the exit of her temporary lodging.
She stopped and peeked out at the crowd. Persephone took a deep breath. Then another and another. She was building up the facade that she wanted people to see. At the last moment, she kicked off her sandals to go barefoot. She needed to feel grounded on a day like this, and people wouldn't notice anyway, she hoped.
Persephone found the posture befitting a royal princess and held her head high. Inside, her brain was screaming out all the tiny imperfections that she had already noticed since getting her hair fixed, but her face no longer betrayed her inner turmoil. A kind and gentle smile and warm, inviting eyes formed the barrier between what people saw and what she felt.
A final sigh before she took her first delicate steps out into the crowd was all she needed to compose herself fully. The ground was warm against her feet, but it calmed her. "Precious Athena, please don't let me say anything stupid today," she whispered to herself as she looked around for Emilia and her father. It took a while to find them, though, because her delicate steps and regal posture didn't exactly mix well with incredible speeds.
A smirk was playing across the handsome face of the handsome youth as he jested with Rene. He had a good temper, a blithe spirit and a pleasing countenance. Ophelia could not help but smile as she observed the interaction. Rene seemed to be taking his jibes in stride, for she offered a radiant smile and countered his offer to leave by assuring him that his companionship was welcome. Again, Ophelia nodded, her own smile still in place.
"I believe one as charming as you knows perfectly well that only a person crazed or envious would deny your friendship were it offered," Ophelia's voice was light and jovial, but her words were true. She was wise enough to know that he was aware of his own charm, though she saw nothing wrong with this for he seemed harmless enough in his use of it. Furthermore, his company was so pleasing that she could only imagine those unable to tame their green-eyed monsters refusing his companionship.
Had she been mistaken in her beliefs? She cast a furtive glance in the direction of her retainers. Her guards had relaxed their postures. Had she only imagined their clenched jaws but a moment ago? Aoide looked almost relieved though -- what did that mean? Thisbe, though, wore her typical kind smile. Surely that cold glimmer in the sweet old woman's eyes had been a mere trick of the light? Evanthe looked thoughtful, but that could mean anything. She could be thinking about her brother; she most likely was.
Deciding she has imagined something to be amiss with Alexandros, she offered him a bright smile in apology for her own moment of coldness. He was now suggesting that they sample the honeyed duck. She turned her eyes to Rene, wondering what her friend would say.
Rene's lips were parted in a broad grin that revealed a set of teeth so white they could easily be compared to a string of pearls. Alexandros was taking great care to ingratiate himself with Rene, and Ophelia appreciated that, for many overlooked her. She was, as she had said, the youngest daughter after all. At home her sister Dione was the bright star, the one others tended to remember. Now, however, with Dione absent, Rene was receiving her rightful chance to shine. An exquisite ballad had been written in her name, and now -- seemingly for the first time -- a gentleman was engaging her in friendly conversation. Of course, there could be nothing between them, but Rene could use this opportunity as a means of building her confidence around men, so that when -- should she desire it -- a suitor of appropriate standing made himself known, she would not frightened to speak with him. Ophelia was glad that she was present, however, for she knew that Rene would probably stumble were she forced to interact thus alone.
As it was, though, she was doing well.
'I have never tried many of those delicacies before. I should love to sample them as well,' her reply was short and sweet, She then enquired after the art stalls. Ophelia smiled gently, both at Rene and Alexandros.
"My dear friend here is a commissioned artist," she explained to him. "I expect she is short on materials, or wishes to gain some inspiration," these words spoken, she turned her gaze upon Rene. "I certainly have no objection. I actually need some new blue paint...I wonder if we can find some. I used the last yesterday painting the sky in a tribute to Athena; I think you would like it, though it is not nearly so good as anything you could create, my dear one."
Her gaze flicked once more to the handsome militant. "Is there anything you are in need of, Sir? We would be more than happy to help you find it. A gift for a special friend, perhaps? Or a relative back home?" In this way, she was hoping to learn more about him. Did he have any brothers or sisters? Any friends he held dear? What were his passions, his pursuits? Rene had dedicated her life to the visual arts, Ophelia to her charitable causes. She wondered if he, too, had a calling. Sometimes, what a person bought could be very telling. Ophelia, for instance, intended later to pick up more material, as she had shawls to sew for the elderly women in Vasilidon. She also wished to find appropriate gifts for her hosts, so that she might thank them for their kindness and hospitality. From these purchases, he might rightfully gleam that she was a talented seamstress who used her gifts for good, weaving a web of hope in which the poor were safely cocooned.
It seemed by his pleased expression that Alexandros was mildly surprised to hear that his name had reached her. Rene, however, seemed not at all surprised, but Rene knew her well. Rene knew that she paid attention, memorizing names with care. 'I am not sure what you have heard, but I am rather new to official military positions. I have spent most of my life earning fame as a mercenary for great acts of bravery. There is one such story that happened recently, that earned my promotion, if you two are inclined to hear it, then I shall regale you with the story, but I am certainly not as skilled as any bard would be.'
Ahhh. So that was how she had heard of him. A broad beam broke like the dawn across her face, her emerald eyes glistening as they caught Apollo's rays.
"I remember now that your name was mentioned at our table when we held a dinner party about three months ago. You were spoken of very highly, said to be very skilled and brave. The tale of which you speak was not recounted to us however, and I should very much like to hear it. It matters not that you are no wordsmith, for you more than make up for that with your great service to Greece." 'I should very much like to hear your story,' Rene agreed, much to the delight of the Taengean rose. Ophelia was a lover of tales, and never missed an opportunity to hear one if she could help it. Of course, she knew exactly what Rene was thinking -- this tale could make good inspiration for her latest creation. Perhaps she would turn out to be right and the muses would bless visit her once more.
An unmistakable sadness shone in his eyes as he spoke of his mother and her ideals, comparing them both to hers and his. He spoke well of Rene, of his mother, of her, but not of himself. His humility touched her, for he did not seem like a man worthy of woe. To do right by one's friends and family was an honourable thing. "You are a brave and noble man," she assured him, her voice gentle. She reached out momentarily, lightly brushing his arm with a delicate hand. "I am certain that your mother would be proud of all you have done. I certainly would, had I a son who was spoken of as highly as you were at our table. But your mother sounds as like she was a wonderful woman, and you are most correct about Lady Rene, she is indeed kind to everyone, a beacon of all that is good and pure in our world."
'Your words pay a humble lady honour,' Rene was, once more, a picture of docility and humility. 'I too have the shared privilege of very kind parents and friends who have fostered magnanimity.' Rene's azure eyes settled upon her as she spoke. Ophelia felt a burning heat crawl slowly up her cheeks, as she knew these words were partially meant for her. As usual, Rene was placing her on a pedestal of purity, hailing her the epitome of kindness and compassion. It was a role she strove to embody, not only because she would loathe to disappoint Rene, but because it was who she truly wished to be. Sometimes, however, she felt herself falling short, and self-loathing clawed at her insides.
'I am fortunate that my life has afforded me the luxury of continued altruism. I imagine for a soldier, this is hard to do. One must feel the effects of battle and prolonged training and the like I should think. You seem to fare well, good Sir, though I am none to judge. I am merely an artist.'
Ophelia's eyes drifted unbidden to Evanthe. Would Rene still think the same of her if she knew, or would her sweet, noble friend tear that invisible pedestal from beneath her feet and shred every paper rose ever crafted in her name? Bile rose in her throat at the thought, but she swallowed it down. Now was not the time to admire the way Evanthe's golden hair shone beneath the spotlight Apollo cast upon her, the perfect symmetry of her doll-like face, the energetic sparkle of her eyes. In fact, there was never a time. It could never, would never, must never be. Resolutely, she forced her gaze away from her handmaiden and onto Alexandros.
"Rene is quite right, Sir. You seem very well adjusted, though we would be in no position to know. The life of a soldier must be very difficult; I imagine you are forced daily to make decisions that we could not imagine. Yet you stand before us, perfectly charming and solicitous. I beg you most humbly not to be so harsh on yourself, for you do Greece great honour with your service, and us great honour with your companionship."
He laughed a little at the offer of her hospitality, but not in malice. Indeed, he seemed grateful for it. Ophelia kept an open warmth to her expression, wanting to make clear that she was genuine in her words. The man, however, graciously declined. "You are most kind to consider us, but should you ever have need of a friend, I hope you know that you have one."
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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A smirk was playing across the handsome face of the handsome youth as he jested with Rene. He had a good temper, a blithe spirit and a pleasing countenance. Ophelia could not help but smile as she observed the interaction. Rene seemed to be taking his jibes in stride, for she offered a radiant smile and countered his offer to leave by assuring him that his companionship was welcome. Again, Ophelia nodded, her own smile still in place.
"I believe one as charming as you knows perfectly well that only a person crazed or envious would deny your friendship were it offered," Ophelia's voice was light and jovial, but her words were true. She was wise enough to know that he was aware of his own charm, though she saw nothing wrong with this for he seemed harmless enough in his use of it. Furthermore, his company was so pleasing that she could only imagine those unable to tame their green-eyed monsters refusing his companionship.
Had she been mistaken in her beliefs? She cast a furtive glance in the direction of her retainers. Her guards had relaxed their postures. Had she only imagined their clenched jaws but a moment ago? Aoide looked almost relieved though -- what did that mean? Thisbe, though, wore her typical kind smile. Surely that cold glimmer in the sweet old woman's eyes had been a mere trick of the light? Evanthe looked thoughtful, but that could mean anything. She could be thinking about her brother; she most likely was.
Deciding she has imagined something to be amiss with Alexandros, she offered him a bright smile in apology for her own moment of coldness. He was now suggesting that they sample the honeyed duck. She turned her eyes to Rene, wondering what her friend would say.
Rene's lips were parted in a broad grin that revealed a set of teeth so white they could easily be compared to a string of pearls. Alexandros was taking great care to ingratiate himself with Rene, and Ophelia appreciated that, for many overlooked her. She was, as she had said, the youngest daughter after all. At home her sister Dione was the bright star, the one others tended to remember. Now, however, with Dione absent, Rene was receiving her rightful chance to shine. An exquisite ballad had been written in her name, and now -- seemingly for the first time -- a gentleman was engaging her in friendly conversation. Of course, there could be nothing between them, but Rene could use this opportunity as a means of building her confidence around men, so that when -- should she desire it -- a suitor of appropriate standing made himself known, she would not frightened to speak with him. Ophelia was glad that she was present, however, for she knew that Rene would probably stumble were she forced to interact thus alone.
As it was, though, she was doing well.
'I have never tried many of those delicacies before. I should love to sample them as well,' her reply was short and sweet, She then enquired after the art stalls. Ophelia smiled gently, both at Rene and Alexandros.
"My dear friend here is a commissioned artist," she explained to him. "I expect she is short on materials, or wishes to gain some inspiration," these words spoken, she turned her gaze upon Rene. "I certainly have no objection. I actually need some new blue paint...I wonder if we can find some. I used the last yesterday painting the sky in a tribute to Athena; I think you would like it, though it is not nearly so good as anything you could create, my dear one."
Her gaze flicked once more to the handsome militant. "Is there anything you are in need of, Sir? We would be more than happy to help you find it. A gift for a special friend, perhaps? Or a relative back home?" In this way, she was hoping to learn more about him. Did he have any brothers or sisters? Any friends he held dear? What were his passions, his pursuits? Rene had dedicated her life to the visual arts, Ophelia to her charitable causes. She wondered if he, too, had a calling. Sometimes, what a person bought could be very telling. Ophelia, for instance, intended later to pick up more material, as she had shawls to sew for the elderly women in Vasilidon. She also wished to find appropriate gifts for her hosts, so that she might thank them for their kindness and hospitality. From these purchases, he might rightfully gleam that she was a talented seamstress who used her gifts for good, weaving a web of hope in which the poor were safely cocooned.
It seemed by his pleased expression that Alexandros was mildly surprised to hear that his name had reached her. Rene, however, seemed not at all surprised, but Rene knew her well. Rene knew that she paid attention, memorizing names with care. 'I am not sure what you have heard, but I am rather new to official military positions. I have spent most of my life earning fame as a mercenary for great acts of bravery. There is one such story that happened recently, that earned my promotion, if you two are inclined to hear it, then I shall regale you with the story, but I am certainly not as skilled as any bard would be.'
Ahhh. So that was how she had heard of him. A broad beam broke like the dawn across her face, her emerald eyes glistening as they caught Apollo's rays.
"I remember now that your name was mentioned at our table when we held a dinner party about three months ago. You were spoken of very highly, said to be very skilled and brave. The tale of which you speak was not recounted to us however, and I should very much like to hear it. It matters not that you are no wordsmith, for you more than make up for that with your great service to Greece." 'I should very much like to hear your story,' Rene agreed, much to the delight of the Taengean rose. Ophelia was a lover of tales, and never missed an opportunity to hear one if she could help it. Of course, she knew exactly what Rene was thinking -- this tale could make good inspiration for her latest creation. Perhaps she would turn out to be right and the muses would bless visit her once more.
An unmistakable sadness shone in his eyes as he spoke of his mother and her ideals, comparing them both to hers and his. He spoke well of Rene, of his mother, of her, but not of himself. His humility touched her, for he did not seem like a man worthy of woe. To do right by one's friends and family was an honourable thing. "You are a brave and noble man," she assured him, her voice gentle. She reached out momentarily, lightly brushing his arm with a delicate hand. "I am certain that your mother would be proud of all you have done. I certainly would, had I a son who was spoken of as highly as you were at our table. But your mother sounds as like she was a wonderful woman, and you are most correct about Lady Rene, she is indeed kind to everyone, a beacon of all that is good and pure in our world."
'Your words pay a humble lady honour,' Rene was, once more, a picture of docility and humility. 'I too have the shared privilege of very kind parents and friends who have fostered magnanimity.' Rene's azure eyes settled upon her as she spoke. Ophelia felt a burning heat crawl slowly up her cheeks, as she knew these words were partially meant for her. As usual, Rene was placing her on a pedestal of purity, hailing her the epitome of kindness and compassion. It was a role she strove to embody, not only because she would loathe to disappoint Rene, but because it was who she truly wished to be. Sometimes, however, she felt herself falling short, and self-loathing clawed at her insides.
'I am fortunate that my life has afforded me the luxury of continued altruism. I imagine for a soldier, this is hard to do. One must feel the effects of battle and prolonged training and the like I should think. You seem to fare well, good Sir, though I am none to judge. I am merely an artist.'
Ophelia's eyes drifted unbidden to Evanthe. Would Rene still think the same of her if she knew, or would her sweet, noble friend tear that invisible pedestal from beneath her feet and shred every paper rose ever crafted in her name? Bile rose in her throat at the thought, but she swallowed it down. Now was not the time to admire the way Evanthe's golden hair shone beneath the spotlight Apollo cast upon her, the perfect symmetry of her doll-like face, the energetic sparkle of her eyes. In fact, there was never a time. It could never, would never, must never be. Resolutely, she forced her gaze away from her handmaiden and onto Alexandros.
"Rene is quite right, Sir. You seem very well adjusted, though we would be in no position to know. The life of a soldier must be very difficult; I imagine you are forced daily to make decisions that we could not imagine. Yet you stand before us, perfectly charming and solicitous. I beg you most humbly not to be so harsh on yourself, for you do Greece great honour with your service, and us great honour with your companionship."
He laughed a little at the offer of her hospitality, but not in malice. Indeed, he seemed grateful for it. Ophelia kept an open warmth to her expression, wanting to make clear that she was genuine in her words. The man, however, graciously declined. "You are most kind to consider us, but should you ever have need of a friend, I hope you know that you have one."
A smirk was playing across the handsome face of the handsome youth as he jested with Rene. He had a good temper, a blithe spirit and a pleasing countenance. Ophelia could not help but smile as she observed the interaction. Rene seemed to be taking his jibes in stride, for she offered a radiant smile and countered his offer to leave by assuring him that his companionship was welcome. Again, Ophelia nodded, her own smile still in place.
"I believe one as charming as you knows perfectly well that only a person crazed or envious would deny your friendship were it offered," Ophelia's voice was light and jovial, but her words were true. She was wise enough to know that he was aware of his own charm, though she saw nothing wrong with this for he seemed harmless enough in his use of it. Furthermore, his company was so pleasing that she could only imagine those unable to tame their green-eyed monsters refusing his companionship.
Had she been mistaken in her beliefs? She cast a furtive glance in the direction of her retainers. Her guards had relaxed their postures. Had she only imagined their clenched jaws but a moment ago? Aoide looked almost relieved though -- what did that mean? Thisbe, though, wore her typical kind smile. Surely that cold glimmer in the sweet old woman's eyes had been a mere trick of the light? Evanthe looked thoughtful, but that could mean anything. She could be thinking about her brother; she most likely was.
Deciding she has imagined something to be amiss with Alexandros, she offered him a bright smile in apology for her own moment of coldness. He was now suggesting that they sample the honeyed duck. She turned her eyes to Rene, wondering what her friend would say.
Rene's lips were parted in a broad grin that revealed a set of teeth so white they could easily be compared to a string of pearls. Alexandros was taking great care to ingratiate himself with Rene, and Ophelia appreciated that, for many overlooked her. She was, as she had said, the youngest daughter after all. At home her sister Dione was the bright star, the one others tended to remember. Now, however, with Dione absent, Rene was receiving her rightful chance to shine. An exquisite ballad had been written in her name, and now -- seemingly for the first time -- a gentleman was engaging her in friendly conversation. Of course, there could be nothing between them, but Rene could use this opportunity as a means of building her confidence around men, so that when -- should she desire it -- a suitor of appropriate standing made himself known, she would not frightened to speak with him. Ophelia was glad that she was present, however, for she knew that Rene would probably stumble were she forced to interact thus alone.
As it was, though, she was doing well.
'I have never tried many of those delicacies before. I should love to sample them as well,' her reply was short and sweet, She then enquired after the art stalls. Ophelia smiled gently, both at Rene and Alexandros.
"My dear friend here is a commissioned artist," she explained to him. "I expect she is short on materials, or wishes to gain some inspiration," these words spoken, she turned her gaze upon Rene. "I certainly have no objection. I actually need some new blue paint...I wonder if we can find some. I used the last yesterday painting the sky in a tribute to Athena; I think you would like it, though it is not nearly so good as anything you could create, my dear one."
Her gaze flicked once more to the handsome militant. "Is there anything you are in need of, Sir? We would be more than happy to help you find it. A gift for a special friend, perhaps? Or a relative back home?" In this way, she was hoping to learn more about him. Did he have any brothers or sisters? Any friends he held dear? What were his passions, his pursuits? Rene had dedicated her life to the visual arts, Ophelia to her charitable causes. She wondered if he, too, had a calling. Sometimes, what a person bought could be very telling. Ophelia, for instance, intended later to pick up more material, as she had shawls to sew for the elderly women in Vasilidon. She also wished to find appropriate gifts for her hosts, so that she might thank them for their kindness and hospitality. From these purchases, he might rightfully gleam that she was a talented seamstress who used her gifts for good, weaving a web of hope in which the poor were safely cocooned.
It seemed by his pleased expression that Alexandros was mildly surprised to hear that his name had reached her. Rene, however, seemed not at all surprised, but Rene knew her well. Rene knew that she paid attention, memorizing names with care. 'I am not sure what you have heard, but I am rather new to official military positions. I have spent most of my life earning fame as a mercenary for great acts of bravery. There is one such story that happened recently, that earned my promotion, if you two are inclined to hear it, then I shall regale you with the story, but I am certainly not as skilled as any bard would be.'
Ahhh. So that was how she had heard of him. A broad beam broke like the dawn across her face, her emerald eyes glistening as they caught Apollo's rays.
"I remember now that your name was mentioned at our table when we held a dinner party about three months ago. You were spoken of very highly, said to be very skilled and brave. The tale of which you speak was not recounted to us however, and I should very much like to hear it. It matters not that you are no wordsmith, for you more than make up for that with your great service to Greece." 'I should very much like to hear your story,' Rene agreed, much to the delight of the Taengean rose. Ophelia was a lover of tales, and never missed an opportunity to hear one if she could help it. Of course, she knew exactly what Rene was thinking -- this tale could make good inspiration for her latest creation. Perhaps she would turn out to be right and the muses would bless visit her once more.
An unmistakable sadness shone in his eyes as he spoke of his mother and her ideals, comparing them both to hers and his. He spoke well of Rene, of his mother, of her, but not of himself. His humility touched her, for he did not seem like a man worthy of woe. To do right by one's friends and family was an honourable thing. "You are a brave and noble man," she assured him, her voice gentle. She reached out momentarily, lightly brushing his arm with a delicate hand. "I am certain that your mother would be proud of all you have done. I certainly would, had I a son who was spoken of as highly as you were at our table. But your mother sounds as like she was a wonderful woman, and you are most correct about Lady Rene, she is indeed kind to everyone, a beacon of all that is good and pure in our world."
'Your words pay a humble lady honour,' Rene was, once more, a picture of docility and humility. 'I too have the shared privilege of very kind parents and friends who have fostered magnanimity.' Rene's azure eyes settled upon her as she spoke. Ophelia felt a burning heat crawl slowly up her cheeks, as she knew these words were partially meant for her. As usual, Rene was placing her on a pedestal of purity, hailing her the epitome of kindness and compassion. It was a role she strove to embody, not only because she would loathe to disappoint Rene, but because it was who she truly wished to be. Sometimes, however, she felt herself falling short, and self-loathing clawed at her insides.
'I am fortunate that my life has afforded me the luxury of continued altruism. I imagine for a soldier, this is hard to do. One must feel the effects of battle and prolonged training and the like I should think. You seem to fare well, good Sir, though I am none to judge. I am merely an artist.'
Ophelia's eyes drifted unbidden to Evanthe. Would Rene still think the same of her if she knew, or would her sweet, noble friend tear that invisible pedestal from beneath her feet and shred every paper rose ever crafted in her name? Bile rose in her throat at the thought, but she swallowed it down. Now was not the time to admire the way Evanthe's golden hair shone beneath the spotlight Apollo cast upon her, the perfect symmetry of her doll-like face, the energetic sparkle of her eyes. In fact, there was never a time. It could never, would never, must never be. Resolutely, she forced her gaze away from her handmaiden and onto Alexandros.
"Rene is quite right, Sir. You seem very well adjusted, though we would be in no position to know. The life of a soldier must be very difficult; I imagine you are forced daily to make decisions that we could not imagine. Yet you stand before us, perfectly charming and solicitous. I beg you most humbly not to be so harsh on yourself, for you do Greece great honour with your service, and us great honour with your companionship."
He laughed a little at the offer of her hospitality, but not in malice. Indeed, he seemed grateful for it. Ophelia kept an open warmth to her expression, wanting to make clear that she was genuine in her words. The man, however, graciously declined. "You are most kind to consider us, but should you ever have need of a friend, I hope you know that you have one."
“I believe one as charming as you knows perfectly well that only a person crazed or envious would deny your friendship were it offered,”
“Not necessary, Sir. Your companionship is welcome.”
Alexandros gave a broad smile that was genuinely pleased by this response, though he had not expected anything different. "You two Ladies of importance honor me by accepting me as a friend, I am most appreciative." His words were sincere and his tone more serious for the first time in the conversation.
“I have never tried many of these delicacies before. I should love to sample them as well.” Were her own words subterfuge? Not likely, but construed as such? Perhaps. Blissfully unaware, she participated in the unspoken game. “Are we able to peruse the art stalls as well?” “My dear friend here is a commissioned artist,” she explained to him. “I expect she is short on materials, or wishes to gain some inspiration,” these words spoken, she turned her gaze upon Rene. “I certainly have no objection. I actually need some new blue paint...I wonder if we can find some. I used the last yesterday painting the sky in a tribute to Athena; I think you would like it, though it is not nearly so good as anything you could create, my dear one.”
Her gaze flicked once more to the handsome militant. “Is there anything you are in need of, Sir? We would be more than happy to help you find it. A gift for a special friend, perhaps? Or a relative back home?”
"Ah! A commissioned artist and so young, I am truly impressed. Tell me, what sort of art do you favor? I think perhaps my services could be offered to model some great hero if you asked nicely enough." His words were a mix of curiosity and teasing as they moved closer to the stalls of the artists. "I am certain that the painting you made must be as lovely as you are, Lady Ophelia, surely your talent must parallel your beauty and intellect."
A frown crossed his lips as she mentioned picking up a gift for a relative or a close friend. "I am afraid that I am the only family that I have left," he said before he forced a smile once more. "But you two are the greatest friends that I have here in Greece, unless you wish to count the Stone Prince, but I doubt he would appreciate any gifts that his subordinate officer could give him."
“I remember now that your name was mentioned at our table when we held a dinner party about three months ago. You were spoken of very highly, said to be very skilled and brave. The tale of which you speak was not recounted to us however, and I should very much like to hear it. It matters not that you are no wordsmith, for you more than make up for that with your great service to Greece.”
“I should very much like to hear your story,” she inserted into the conversation.
His smile grew as they asked him to tell his story, pleased with the opportunity to tell of his exploits. "I warn you, it is perhaps not for the faint of heart, I shall remove the worst of it, for your benefit. Several months ago, our company was set upon by barbarians during an expedition to the North. Our Captain was killed in the initial charge, but the men held together. I began issuing commands, but could sense that the moral was breaking down. The barbarians were led by a giant of a man who had to have been at least half a foot taller than myself. I called out to him and issued a challenge of honor to fight one on one. He accepted and we stepped out from the shield walls. The fight was long and difficult, I earned several new scars for the effort, but, after nearly an hour, I landed a decisive blow and killed the giant. The company roared with triumph and set the barbarians to flight, we chased them until dusk, and I believe destroyed the fighting force of that tribe."
“Rene is quite right, Sir. You seem very well adjusted, though we would be in no position to know. The life of a soldier must be very difficult; I imagine you are forced daily to make decisions that we could not imagine. Yet you stand before us, perfectly charming and solicitous. I beg you most humbly not to be so harsh on yourself, for you do Greece great honour with your service, and us great honour with your companionship.”
“Your words pay a humble lady honor. I too have the shared privilege of very kind parents, and friends,” she threw a sideways glance up at Ophelia, “who have fostered magnanimity. I am fortunate that my life has afforded me the luxury of continued altruism. I imagine for a soldier, this is hard to do. One must feel the effects of battle and prolonged training and the like I should think. You seem to fare well, good Sir, though I am none to judge. I am merely an artist.”
"I must say that I appreciate the kind words, it is true that the life of a soldier is fraught with hardships and danger, but I do try my best to be a man of integrity and honor." He turned to face Rene, a bit troubled by her words. "A humble lady? Merely an artist? I feel as though you sell yourself short. You are a beautiful woman, with talents that few share. You are certainly not the least of any, perhaps you may be the finest lady here, baring the Lady Ophelia, who I am certain will agree with me."
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“I believe one as charming as you knows perfectly well that only a person crazed or envious would deny your friendship were it offered,”
“Not necessary, Sir. Your companionship is welcome.”
Alexandros gave a broad smile that was genuinely pleased by this response, though he had not expected anything different. "You two Ladies of importance honor me by accepting me as a friend, I am most appreciative." His words were sincere and his tone more serious for the first time in the conversation.
“I have never tried many of these delicacies before. I should love to sample them as well.” Were her own words subterfuge? Not likely, but construed as such? Perhaps. Blissfully unaware, she participated in the unspoken game. “Are we able to peruse the art stalls as well?” “My dear friend here is a commissioned artist,” she explained to him. “I expect she is short on materials, or wishes to gain some inspiration,” these words spoken, she turned her gaze upon Rene. “I certainly have no objection. I actually need some new blue paint...I wonder if we can find some. I used the last yesterday painting the sky in a tribute to Athena; I think you would like it, though it is not nearly so good as anything you could create, my dear one.”
Her gaze flicked once more to the handsome militant. “Is there anything you are in need of, Sir? We would be more than happy to help you find it. A gift for a special friend, perhaps? Or a relative back home?”
"Ah! A commissioned artist and so young, I am truly impressed. Tell me, what sort of art do you favor? I think perhaps my services could be offered to model some great hero if you asked nicely enough." His words were a mix of curiosity and teasing as they moved closer to the stalls of the artists. "I am certain that the painting you made must be as lovely as you are, Lady Ophelia, surely your talent must parallel your beauty and intellect."
A frown crossed his lips as she mentioned picking up a gift for a relative or a close friend. "I am afraid that I am the only family that I have left," he said before he forced a smile once more. "But you two are the greatest friends that I have here in Greece, unless you wish to count the Stone Prince, but I doubt he would appreciate any gifts that his subordinate officer could give him."
“I remember now that your name was mentioned at our table when we held a dinner party about three months ago. You were spoken of very highly, said to be very skilled and brave. The tale of which you speak was not recounted to us however, and I should very much like to hear it. It matters not that you are no wordsmith, for you more than make up for that with your great service to Greece.”
“I should very much like to hear your story,” she inserted into the conversation.
His smile grew as they asked him to tell his story, pleased with the opportunity to tell of his exploits. "I warn you, it is perhaps not for the faint of heart, I shall remove the worst of it, for your benefit. Several months ago, our company was set upon by barbarians during an expedition to the North. Our Captain was killed in the initial charge, but the men held together. I began issuing commands, but could sense that the moral was breaking down. The barbarians were led by a giant of a man who had to have been at least half a foot taller than myself. I called out to him and issued a challenge of honor to fight one on one. He accepted and we stepped out from the shield walls. The fight was long and difficult, I earned several new scars for the effort, but, after nearly an hour, I landed a decisive blow and killed the giant. The company roared with triumph and set the barbarians to flight, we chased them until dusk, and I believe destroyed the fighting force of that tribe."
“Rene is quite right, Sir. You seem very well adjusted, though we would be in no position to know. The life of a soldier must be very difficult; I imagine you are forced daily to make decisions that we could not imagine. Yet you stand before us, perfectly charming and solicitous. I beg you most humbly not to be so harsh on yourself, for you do Greece great honour with your service, and us great honour with your companionship.”
“Your words pay a humble lady honor. I too have the shared privilege of very kind parents, and friends,” she threw a sideways glance up at Ophelia, “who have fostered magnanimity. I am fortunate that my life has afforded me the luxury of continued altruism. I imagine for a soldier, this is hard to do. One must feel the effects of battle and prolonged training and the like I should think. You seem to fare well, good Sir, though I am none to judge. I am merely an artist.”
"I must say that I appreciate the kind words, it is true that the life of a soldier is fraught with hardships and danger, but I do try my best to be a man of integrity and honor." He turned to face Rene, a bit troubled by her words. "A humble lady? Merely an artist? I feel as though you sell yourself short. You are a beautiful woman, with talents that few share. You are certainly not the least of any, perhaps you may be the finest lady here, baring the Lady Ophelia, who I am certain will agree with me."
“I believe one as charming as you knows perfectly well that only a person crazed or envious would deny your friendship were it offered,”
“Not necessary, Sir. Your companionship is welcome.”
Alexandros gave a broad smile that was genuinely pleased by this response, though he had not expected anything different. "You two Ladies of importance honor me by accepting me as a friend, I am most appreciative." His words were sincere and his tone more serious for the first time in the conversation.
“I have never tried many of these delicacies before. I should love to sample them as well.” Were her own words subterfuge? Not likely, but construed as such? Perhaps. Blissfully unaware, she participated in the unspoken game. “Are we able to peruse the art stalls as well?” “My dear friend here is a commissioned artist,” she explained to him. “I expect she is short on materials, or wishes to gain some inspiration,” these words spoken, she turned her gaze upon Rene. “I certainly have no objection. I actually need some new blue paint...I wonder if we can find some. I used the last yesterday painting the sky in a tribute to Athena; I think you would like it, though it is not nearly so good as anything you could create, my dear one.”
Her gaze flicked once more to the handsome militant. “Is there anything you are in need of, Sir? We would be more than happy to help you find it. A gift for a special friend, perhaps? Or a relative back home?”
"Ah! A commissioned artist and so young, I am truly impressed. Tell me, what sort of art do you favor? I think perhaps my services could be offered to model some great hero if you asked nicely enough." His words were a mix of curiosity and teasing as they moved closer to the stalls of the artists. "I am certain that the painting you made must be as lovely as you are, Lady Ophelia, surely your talent must parallel your beauty and intellect."
A frown crossed his lips as she mentioned picking up a gift for a relative or a close friend. "I am afraid that I am the only family that I have left," he said before he forced a smile once more. "But you two are the greatest friends that I have here in Greece, unless you wish to count the Stone Prince, but I doubt he would appreciate any gifts that his subordinate officer could give him."
“I remember now that your name was mentioned at our table when we held a dinner party about three months ago. You were spoken of very highly, said to be very skilled and brave. The tale of which you speak was not recounted to us however, and I should very much like to hear it. It matters not that you are no wordsmith, for you more than make up for that with your great service to Greece.”
“I should very much like to hear your story,” she inserted into the conversation.
His smile grew as they asked him to tell his story, pleased with the opportunity to tell of his exploits. "I warn you, it is perhaps not for the faint of heart, I shall remove the worst of it, for your benefit. Several months ago, our company was set upon by barbarians during an expedition to the North. Our Captain was killed in the initial charge, but the men held together. I began issuing commands, but could sense that the moral was breaking down. The barbarians were led by a giant of a man who had to have been at least half a foot taller than myself. I called out to him and issued a challenge of honor to fight one on one. He accepted and we stepped out from the shield walls. The fight was long and difficult, I earned several new scars for the effort, but, after nearly an hour, I landed a decisive blow and killed the giant. The company roared with triumph and set the barbarians to flight, we chased them until dusk, and I believe destroyed the fighting force of that tribe."
“Rene is quite right, Sir. You seem very well adjusted, though we would be in no position to know. The life of a soldier must be very difficult; I imagine you are forced daily to make decisions that we could not imagine. Yet you stand before us, perfectly charming and solicitous. I beg you most humbly not to be so harsh on yourself, for you do Greece great honour with your service, and us great honour with your companionship.”
“Your words pay a humble lady honor. I too have the shared privilege of very kind parents, and friends,” she threw a sideways glance up at Ophelia, “who have fostered magnanimity. I am fortunate that my life has afforded me the luxury of continued altruism. I imagine for a soldier, this is hard to do. One must feel the effects of battle and prolonged training and the like I should think. You seem to fare well, good Sir, though I am none to judge. I am merely an artist.”
"I must say that I appreciate the kind words, it is true that the life of a soldier is fraught with hardships and danger, but I do try my best to be a man of integrity and honor." He turned to face Rene, a bit troubled by her words. "A humble lady? Merely an artist? I feel as though you sell yourself short. You are a beautiful woman, with talents that few share. You are certainly not the least of any, perhaps you may be the finest lady here, baring the Lady Ophelia, who I am certain will agree with me."
'Not necessary, Sir, your companionship is welcome,' Rene's sweet voice drifted like birdsong from her lips. A moment later, Ophelia added her own to the chorus. While Rene's voice was a gentle hum, hers was a silvery tinkle, clear as a bell. Each syllable was perfectly pronounced, lightly spiced with the unmistakable accent of a Teangean of noble birth. She smiled brightly at her lower-born companion, awaiting his response.
'You two Ladies of importance honor me by accepting me as a friend, I am most appreciative,' his sincerity seemed unfeigned, and for the first time during their discourse his expression was serious. Ophelia placed a hand to her heart, then rested that same hand lightly on his arm for the briefest instant. "I assure you Sir, we also feel ourselves honoured to be in such good company as yours. I believe that you have done us honour by deciding to grace us with your jovial presence."
As talk turned to the many delicies on offer, Rene revealed that she had never been so fortunate as to sample a honeyed duck. Ophelia grinned at this remark, though her eyes widened in slight surprise. Her dear friend truly had no idea what she had been missing. Before the day was out, she would have to discover what other delightful foods her young companion had yet to taste. She wondered briefly if Alexandros had been presented with the opportunity of indulging in some of the wonderful cuisine laid before them before this day. Perhaps he had not, and his soldier's fare was simple, or perhaps in his travels he had come upon some truly unique dishes.
At the news of Rene's accomplishment in art, he appeared to take true delight. He engaged Rene immediately in conversation, enquiring as to which mediums she preferred, and even jesting that he might be used to model as a great hero if she were to ask nicely. But as she gazed at him, she had no problems envisioning it. She could easily see him as a model for Heracles, Perseus, or any other great man of legend. She laughed gayly, deciding it would do no harm to flatter him with her observations. "I could envision it rather easily," she chimed. "Perhaps you should sculpt him, Rene. He would look most heroic slaying the minotaur in my own humble opinion."
They moved closer to the stalls of the artists, Ophelia keeping one eye on the items for sale and another on her companions. As he spoke of her own painting, a light dusting of pink briefly coated her cheeks like the faintest smattering of paint. "You are very kind, Sir, and I am flattered that you should recognize my intellect." Not many of his gender did, or if they did, they did not praise her for it. Most of the time, it was her beauty praised, or her skill in music. It was usually the women who praised her philanthropic acts and saw beyond the pleasing cadence of her voice to the words beneath. It seemed a small thing for him to do, but to Ophelia the fact that he had praised her mind rather than her looks mattered greatly. "In truth I know not if the painting is worthy of note, but I intend to offer it to Athena anyway, and I sincerely hope she will appreciate the work that went into it."
'I am afraid that I am the only family that I have left,' he confided, his expression momentarily collapsing into a frown. His smile soon returned though, as he assured the two that they were were the greatest friends he had in Greece, unless the Stone Prince was to be counted. The Stone Prince had always seemed to her a very bleak epithet, but having been showered with names like The Condos Rose and The Weaver of Dreams, she supposed many such titles would pale in comparison. "I am truly sorry to hear about your family, but it gladdens my heart to hear that you hold such sentiments towards us," she told him, picking up a pot of blue paint to examine it. "Hmmm...is this too watery perhaps?" she thought aloud, placing it gently down on the counter and selecting another, which was slightly thicker in consistency. "Rene? I think I need your assistance," she bit her lower lip, gesturing to the five blue paints. "Which of these would you say is the best?"
'I warn you, it is perhaps not for the faint of heart...' At these words, Ophelia's lips curved into a slightly mischievous smile. He offered to remove the worst of it for their benefits, but he needed not. Well, perhaps for Rene's, but she herself was a little less delicate than she looked. Though not made of steel, she was not the creature of porcelain that many believed her to be. A dark tale here and there was rather to her liking. But this was no mere ballad. This was a true story, being told by a real man of flesh and blood who stood before her. Perhaps, then, his omissions were for the best.
She listened with rapt attention as he explained how his company had been set upon by barbarians, his Captain slaughtered, and how he had bravely taken command. In her mind's eye, she pictured a swarm of savages, led by a towering beast of an uncivilized man. The fight played out almost like a dance in her head, the noble knight locked in fierce combat with the brutal beast. In her mind, swords clashed and spears flew, until a blow to the head sent the giant crashing to his knees, his skill crumbling to dust.
Of course, that was most likely very far from the truth, but as her kind companion had omitted the details of the fight, she had been forced to reconstruct it in her mind, and the picture she had painted was brutal and bloody. By the story's end, she was gazing up at him with undisguised admiration.
"You were very brave, Sir," the woman breathed in awe. "As were your men, but to take on that hulking beast alone truly proves that they were right to speak well of you at my table. You do Greece a great honour by serving in its forces; we are all very fortunate to have one as courageous as you protecting us all."
A slight smile danced across her rosebud lips as he spoke, his humble side shining through. He more than tried to be a man of integrity and honour, he succeeded, at least from what she had seen. His expression however was one of concern, and he turned to the Lady Rene. She did also, her eyebrows furrowed. When he spoke, she felt a sudden surge of affection towards him. He had captured, in his words, Rene's only flaw. She was humble to a fault, unable or unwilling to believe herself the wonderful person Ophelia knew her to be.
"I will gladly agree with you, Sir," she chimed enthusiastically, taking his words as no slight upon herself. Her eyes were alight with passion as she gazed upon her friend, and she felt now that she and Alexandros were truly in comradery, working together for a common cause. As she looked towards him, she met his gaze with a meaningful stare. "You see, my dear Alexandros, our dear Lady Rene refuses to believe a word I tell her!" her voice was light and playful, but her words were no lie. "I speak always of her talent, her beauty, her intellect, and tell her always that to be the youngest does not resign her to being the least. However, she is determined to think herself a bronze medallist in a room filled with golden champions. So will you please kindly tell her that I deceive her not when I say that she is the purest, sweetest creature ever to walk the earth? For I truly mean it with all of my heart."
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'Not necessary, Sir, your companionship is welcome,' Rene's sweet voice drifted like birdsong from her lips. A moment later, Ophelia added her own to the chorus. While Rene's voice was a gentle hum, hers was a silvery tinkle, clear as a bell. Each syllable was perfectly pronounced, lightly spiced with the unmistakable accent of a Teangean of noble birth. She smiled brightly at her lower-born companion, awaiting his response.
'You two Ladies of importance honor me by accepting me as a friend, I am most appreciative,' his sincerity seemed unfeigned, and for the first time during their discourse his expression was serious. Ophelia placed a hand to her heart, then rested that same hand lightly on his arm for the briefest instant. "I assure you Sir, we also feel ourselves honoured to be in such good company as yours. I believe that you have done us honour by deciding to grace us with your jovial presence."
As talk turned to the many delicies on offer, Rene revealed that she had never been so fortunate as to sample a honeyed duck. Ophelia grinned at this remark, though her eyes widened in slight surprise. Her dear friend truly had no idea what she had been missing. Before the day was out, she would have to discover what other delightful foods her young companion had yet to taste. She wondered briefly if Alexandros had been presented with the opportunity of indulging in some of the wonderful cuisine laid before them before this day. Perhaps he had not, and his soldier's fare was simple, or perhaps in his travels he had come upon some truly unique dishes.
At the news of Rene's accomplishment in art, he appeared to take true delight. He engaged Rene immediately in conversation, enquiring as to which mediums she preferred, and even jesting that he might be used to model as a great hero if she were to ask nicely. But as she gazed at him, she had no problems envisioning it. She could easily see him as a model for Heracles, Perseus, or any other great man of legend. She laughed gayly, deciding it would do no harm to flatter him with her observations. "I could envision it rather easily," she chimed. "Perhaps you should sculpt him, Rene. He would look most heroic slaying the minotaur in my own humble opinion."
They moved closer to the stalls of the artists, Ophelia keeping one eye on the items for sale and another on her companions. As he spoke of her own painting, a light dusting of pink briefly coated her cheeks like the faintest smattering of paint. "You are very kind, Sir, and I am flattered that you should recognize my intellect." Not many of his gender did, or if they did, they did not praise her for it. Most of the time, it was her beauty praised, or her skill in music. It was usually the women who praised her philanthropic acts and saw beyond the pleasing cadence of her voice to the words beneath. It seemed a small thing for him to do, but to Ophelia the fact that he had praised her mind rather than her looks mattered greatly. "In truth I know not if the painting is worthy of note, but I intend to offer it to Athena anyway, and I sincerely hope she will appreciate the work that went into it."
'I am afraid that I am the only family that I have left,' he confided, his expression momentarily collapsing into a frown. His smile soon returned though, as he assured the two that they were were the greatest friends he had in Greece, unless the Stone Prince was to be counted. The Stone Prince had always seemed to her a very bleak epithet, but having been showered with names like The Condos Rose and The Weaver of Dreams, she supposed many such titles would pale in comparison. "I am truly sorry to hear about your family, but it gladdens my heart to hear that you hold such sentiments towards us," she told him, picking up a pot of blue paint to examine it. "Hmmm...is this too watery perhaps?" she thought aloud, placing it gently down on the counter and selecting another, which was slightly thicker in consistency. "Rene? I think I need your assistance," she bit her lower lip, gesturing to the five blue paints. "Which of these would you say is the best?"
'I warn you, it is perhaps not for the faint of heart...' At these words, Ophelia's lips curved into a slightly mischievous smile. He offered to remove the worst of it for their benefits, but he needed not. Well, perhaps for Rene's, but she herself was a little less delicate than she looked. Though not made of steel, she was not the creature of porcelain that many believed her to be. A dark tale here and there was rather to her liking. But this was no mere ballad. This was a true story, being told by a real man of flesh and blood who stood before her. Perhaps, then, his omissions were for the best.
She listened with rapt attention as he explained how his company had been set upon by barbarians, his Captain slaughtered, and how he had bravely taken command. In her mind's eye, she pictured a swarm of savages, led by a towering beast of an uncivilized man. The fight played out almost like a dance in her head, the noble knight locked in fierce combat with the brutal beast. In her mind, swords clashed and spears flew, until a blow to the head sent the giant crashing to his knees, his skill crumbling to dust.
Of course, that was most likely very far from the truth, but as her kind companion had omitted the details of the fight, she had been forced to reconstruct it in her mind, and the picture she had painted was brutal and bloody. By the story's end, she was gazing up at him with undisguised admiration.
"You were very brave, Sir," the woman breathed in awe. "As were your men, but to take on that hulking beast alone truly proves that they were right to speak well of you at my table. You do Greece a great honour by serving in its forces; we are all very fortunate to have one as courageous as you protecting us all."
A slight smile danced across her rosebud lips as he spoke, his humble side shining through. He more than tried to be a man of integrity and honour, he succeeded, at least from what she had seen. His expression however was one of concern, and he turned to the Lady Rene. She did also, her eyebrows furrowed. When he spoke, she felt a sudden surge of affection towards him. He had captured, in his words, Rene's only flaw. She was humble to a fault, unable or unwilling to believe herself the wonderful person Ophelia knew her to be.
"I will gladly agree with you, Sir," she chimed enthusiastically, taking his words as no slight upon herself. Her eyes were alight with passion as she gazed upon her friend, and she felt now that she and Alexandros were truly in comradery, working together for a common cause. As she looked towards him, she met his gaze with a meaningful stare. "You see, my dear Alexandros, our dear Lady Rene refuses to believe a word I tell her!" her voice was light and playful, but her words were no lie. "I speak always of her talent, her beauty, her intellect, and tell her always that to be the youngest does not resign her to being the least. However, she is determined to think herself a bronze medallist in a room filled with golden champions. So will you please kindly tell her that I deceive her not when I say that she is the purest, sweetest creature ever to walk the earth? For I truly mean it with all of my heart."
'Not necessary, Sir, your companionship is welcome,' Rene's sweet voice drifted like birdsong from her lips. A moment later, Ophelia added her own to the chorus. While Rene's voice was a gentle hum, hers was a silvery tinkle, clear as a bell. Each syllable was perfectly pronounced, lightly spiced with the unmistakable accent of a Teangean of noble birth. She smiled brightly at her lower-born companion, awaiting his response.
'You two Ladies of importance honor me by accepting me as a friend, I am most appreciative,' his sincerity seemed unfeigned, and for the first time during their discourse his expression was serious. Ophelia placed a hand to her heart, then rested that same hand lightly on his arm for the briefest instant. "I assure you Sir, we also feel ourselves honoured to be in such good company as yours. I believe that you have done us honour by deciding to grace us with your jovial presence."
As talk turned to the many delicies on offer, Rene revealed that she had never been so fortunate as to sample a honeyed duck. Ophelia grinned at this remark, though her eyes widened in slight surprise. Her dear friend truly had no idea what she had been missing. Before the day was out, she would have to discover what other delightful foods her young companion had yet to taste. She wondered briefly if Alexandros had been presented with the opportunity of indulging in some of the wonderful cuisine laid before them before this day. Perhaps he had not, and his soldier's fare was simple, or perhaps in his travels he had come upon some truly unique dishes.
At the news of Rene's accomplishment in art, he appeared to take true delight. He engaged Rene immediately in conversation, enquiring as to which mediums she preferred, and even jesting that he might be used to model as a great hero if she were to ask nicely. But as she gazed at him, she had no problems envisioning it. She could easily see him as a model for Heracles, Perseus, or any other great man of legend. She laughed gayly, deciding it would do no harm to flatter him with her observations. "I could envision it rather easily," she chimed. "Perhaps you should sculpt him, Rene. He would look most heroic slaying the minotaur in my own humble opinion."
They moved closer to the stalls of the artists, Ophelia keeping one eye on the items for sale and another on her companions. As he spoke of her own painting, a light dusting of pink briefly coated her cheeks like the faintest smattering of paint. "You are very kind, Sir, and I am flattered that you should recognize my intellect." Not many of his gender did, or if they did, they did not praise her for it. Most of the time, it was her beauty praised, or her skill in music. It was usually the women who praised her philanthropic acts and saw beyond the pleasing cadence of her voice to the words beneath. It seemed a small thing for him to do, but to Ophelia the fact that he had praised her mind rather than her looks mattered greatly. "In truth I know not if the painting is worthy of note, but I intend to offer it to Athena anyway, and I sincerely hope she will appreciate the work that went into it."
'I am afraid that I am the only family that I have left,' he confided, his expression momentarily collapsing into a frown. His smile soon returned though, as he assured the two that they were were the greatest friends he had in Greece, unless the Stone Prince was to be counted. The Stone Prince had always seemed to her a very bleak epithet, but having been showered with names like The Condos Rose and The Weaver of Dreams, she supposed many such titles would pale in comparison. "I am truly sorry to hear about your family, but it gladdens my heart to hear that you hold such sentiments towards us," she told him, picking up a pot of blue paint to examine it. "Hmmm...is this too watery perhaps?" she thought aloud, placing it gently down on the counter and selecting another, which was slightly thicker in consistency. "Rene? I think I need your assistance," she bit her lower lip, gesturing to the five blue paints. "Which of these would you say is the best?"
'I warn you, it is perhaps not for the faint of heart...' At these words, Ophelia's lips curved into a slightly mischievous smile. He offered to remove the worst of it for their benefits, but he needed not. Well, perhaps for Rene's, but she herself was a little less delicate than she looked. Though not made of steel, she was not the creature of porcelain that many believed her to be. A dark tale here and there was rather to her liking. But this was no mere ballad. This was a true story, being told by a real man of flesh and blood who stood before her. Perhaps, then, his omissions were for the best.
She listened with rapt attention as he explained how his company had been set upon by barbarians, his Captain slaughtered, and how he had bravely taken command. In her mind's eye, she pictured a swarm of savages, led by a towering beast of an uncivilized man. The fight played out almost like a dance in her head, the noble knight locked in fierce combat with the brutal beast. In her mind, swords clashed and spears flew, until a blow to the head sent the giant crashing to his knees, his skill crumbling to dust.
Of course, that was most likely very far from the truth, but as her kind companion had omitted the details of the fight, she had been forced to reconstruct it in her mind, and the picture she had painted was brutal and bloody. By the story's end, she was gazing up at him with undisguised admiration.
"You were very brave, Sir," the woman breathed in awe. "As were your men, but to take on that hulking beast alone truly proves that they were right to speak well of you at my table. You do Greece a great honour by serving in its forces; we are all very fortunate to have one as courageous as you protecting us all."
A slight smile danced across her rosebud lips as he spoke, his humble side shining through. He more than tried to be a man of integrity and honour, he succeeded, at least from what she had seen. His expression however was one of concern, and he turned to the Lady Rene. She did also, her eyebrows furrowed. When he spoke, she felt a sudden surge of affection towards him. He had captured, in his words, Rene's only flaw. She was humble to a fault, unable or unwilling to believe herself the wonderful person Ophelia knew her to be.
"I will gladly agree with you, Sir," she chimed enthusiastically, taking his words as no slight upon herself. Her eyes were alight with passion as she gazed upon her friend, and she felt now that she and Alexandros were truly in comradery, working together for a common cause. As she looked towards him, she met his gaze with a meaningful stare. "You see, my dear Alexandros, our dear Lady Rene refuses to believe a word I tell her!" her voice was light and playful, but her words were no lie. "I speak always of her talent, her beauty, her intellect, and tell her always that to be the youngest does not resign her to being the least. However, she is determined to think herself a bronze medallist in a room filled with golden champions. So will you please kindly tell her that I deceive her not when I say that she is the purest, sweetest creature ever to walk the earth? For I truly mean it with all of my heart."
She should not enjoy the sight of tears so, but in that moment, she did. Aea did not think herself capable of such monstrosities, but when she finished her song and saw the water gathering like pearls in the Lady’s eyes, her chest filled and her stomach emptied. Aea had done that, she’d put those tears there, and she wished to see more.
Perhaps it was a requirement for all bards to be the most gentle of sadists. To call forth emotion and bring it to the surface of the audience as a tribute. It was humbling. Tears were a physical manifestation of the soul. It was the essence of man fracturing and peeking from behind the shell that housed it. That Lady Rene would allow Aea to see such a thing was a great honor; tears weren’t meant to be shared, that’s why hiding them was writ in the laws of man.
Those tears made Aea feel as if she could stride upon the air, like nothing could pull her down to the earth. She could do anything. Even the memory of the times when she could do nothing paled in comparison to this. Tears welled behind her own eyes, she did not know why. Perhaps it was the strange flutter near her heart, rising into her throat. She’d felt happiness before, but this was something else, something that had no name. Aea quickly blinked away her own impending sniveling and began the process of slicing her thoughts from her to let them float far away.
“You have been blessed, Lady Aea, by the great benefactor Apollo.”
Her thoughts came shooting back into her and Aea’s eyebrows pinched, her eyes widening. Lady. Aea bit her lip under her chalmys and could not speak. There was an overwhelming desire of the most foolish sort: an urge to kiss Lady Rene. Aea couldn’t tell if it was out of gratitude or physical desire, but she could not act upon it in any case. She did not even like the thought of other people’s saliva, why on earth should she want to kiss anyone, and a woman no less? It didn’t matter. Aea kept hold of her wild emotions just enough that she could focus on the words coming from of Lady Rene’s mouth.
“I can only aspire to live up to such worthiness as you have regaled. How do mere mortals achieve immortality, but through art? And you have canonized but a humble servant of Aphrodite with your lustrous poetry. I am eternally grateful.”
Aea couldn’t stop smiling, even as her lip quivered. Gods above, control yourself. She slammed a stone upon her thoughts once more, flattening them like insects, and this time, they did not arise again. She was getting so worked up and it was entirely unnecessary.
Rene smiled, “I hope I did not besmirch your fine work with my playing. Admittedly, it has been many moons since I have taken up a musical instrument. It has been an enjoyable revisit of such times.”
“I thought your playing was wonderful,” Ophelia added “Especially considering the fact that music is not your chosen medium.”
Aea nodded her head fervently. Lady Ophelia was much more eloquent than she, and there was nothing but truth in her words. “Lady Ophelia is right, you did wonderfully. Your note accentuation was lovely and on time. It made the volume of the root note incredibly strong.”
It really was quite impressive, especially if Lady Rene had not had any practice in a very long time. It was like Aea with a bow. It was not her primary weapon, and so she often missed her prey or overdrew, or underdrew, depending. The difference between Rene and herself was that Aea had no excuse for being a mediocre marksmith, and yet Rene had picked everything up just like that. She might have been envious if Lady Rene were not so...herself. Lady Rene was so pure and unmarred that Aea might harm herself before she raised a blade to such a person.
Besides, Aea would much rather steal her kiss than her life. And there she went again, drifting off into inappropriate, vile places. Lady Rene would be absolutely horrified if she could hear Aea’s thoughts at the moment, and so she turned them upon Lady Ophelia instead. Aea wondered if she had ever kissed anybody before and quickly busied herself with collecting the lyres so that she would not look at the older woman’s mouth.
It was easy to banish fascination when one was not looking upon an enigma. Aea could have stayed quiet and allowed her uncle to take over once more, but she didn't. Instead, she kept speaking. She did not know why, only that she had to if only to deflect her slowly mounting trepidation. Of what, she did not know, but incoming and assured disaster whipped her pulse, and it galloped faster for it.
“And Lady Ophelia, your fingers were so nimble! I should like to hear a song from you.” The lyres she cradled were heavy as iron. Fuck. She’d just imposed her demands on a noble. Who was she to even request such a thing, much less demand it? “That is...only if you would like to...one day.”
“It would be a great honour to play for one as talented as you, Miss Aea. Just as it was an honour to play with you. I am of course not as skilled as your wondrous father, but I hope one day to be.”
Aea heard Lady Ophelia’s words, but it was as if none of them truly made sense. She should answer, but she’d forgotten what the Lady said not seconds before. When Lady Ophelia slipped from the cart, Aea’s muscles did not coil or twitch, but her focus tunneled onto the older woman and her thoughts quieted.
“I want you to take this, for the pleasure you have given my friend and I in allowing us to play with you, and for the beautiful words you have spoken about her,” Lady Ophelia said.
Aea did not look at her uncle, but she did blink owlishly at the lady when she felt a coin pressed into her palm. More than that, the brush of the Lady’s fingers against Aea’s palm sent a shock through her entire system. On impulse, she startled, her limbs jerking ever so slightly. It was an odd sensation. Lady Ophelia was not a stranger in the traditional sense. Aea knew her name, had spent enough time around her to be relatively at ease, but she did not know the Lady well enough to call her a familiar party either. Aea wished her to not do that again. It made her skin crawl, which made no sense considering Aea would like nothing more than to touch her.
But the moment was gone in less than a second and away from the forefront of her mind, for the Lady had bent her head just-so to whisper. She was so close already that Aea could smell an alien sweetness upon her skin. If she moved closer, she might be able to smell the subtler notes upon the Lady's flesh.
“If you or your sister are in some kind of trouble, I will help you; seek me out before I leave Colchis, I shall be here for one month. If you are in any danger at all, come to the house of my in-laws and enquire after me, they are hosting me. If you say that I asked for you, they will not turn you away.”
Aea did not react to the Lady’s words. She knew better. A thousand nights of speaking to her cousin of things she dare not utter aloud had readied her for such a thing. The Lady's words sounded so ominous, and it shoved Aea closer to the edge, her feet still upon the cliff of panic, but inches from falling in a chasm of cold bloodlust. Her eyes swept about the area, looking for hulking men with chains and nasty grins. She saw none—she saw no menacing characters at all. Then her eyes landed upon her uncle Gatheron, across the aisle where the foot traffic milled. He was staring at either Aea or Ophelia, and had probably been watching their area the entire time. He certainly looked like he would chop them up with a smile, but Lady Ophelia wouldn’t know that. Everything was fine, Lady Ophelia simply saw Gatheron’s maimed face and assumed him a cut-throat. Aea did not blame her.
Aea stepped away from the edge of the cliff and settled once more into mild panic. The warmth from Lady Ophelia’s body made Aea sweat far harder than any sun’s blaze. She wished the older woman would give her space, and yet when the Lady stepped away, Aea had the desire to pull her back. At least she was not so impulsive as to act upon it.
Aea blinked rapidly at the Lady, only twice, but enough to tell her she understood. Maybe the Lady would not know such signals, maybe she would. Her heart was kind. Too kind. Aea prayed that it never had reason to change. Once Lady Ophelia was standing apart and smiling, Aea’s focus flared outward once more, and that feeling of certain doom was once more upon her.
But then her uncle stepped beside her and squeezed the back of her neck in such a way that she relaxed, for it snapped her from her fretting and reminded her that she was with those she could trust, that she was here, that she was alive.
“You did well, my heart,” Cassero kissed her head and her muscles loosened, her temper swinging quickly from alarm to comfort. He rarely gave affection so freely, but when he did, it was as if a simple hug could banish the entire world of its vileness and usher in a warm paradise where everything was plenty, and misery was crime. Aea was rooted to the ground once more, no longer in her head but among the living.
“You all did marvelously. It truly was a grand song, the notes blending together like a siren’s echo,” Uncle Cassero said.
“You have such a talented daughter, Sir Cassero. I can see why your daughters are your greatest treasures. It was such an honour to play alongside them. And I thank you most humbly for the use of your exquisite lyre. To know that my fingers have touched the instrument of one so talented is truly humbling.”
Aea did not allow herself to absorb the compliment, fearing her gladness might overcome her and turn her into a babbling child. She would review her compliments later...in private. There were so many to remember that the prospect was enough to swallow her, and so she banished that thought too. Instead, she smiled and bowed her head, for she was not being directly addressed.
“My Lady, such an instrument was made to be played by the likes of you, and I can only hope that one day you might have the opportunity to play it again. I thank you and Lady Rene for your continued contribution to the arts, and for your great works outside of it. Great ladies such as you are the artificers of our world. You are the idols young girls aspire to emulate, and it is through your example that we become a kinder and stronger nation that we were the day before. It is often overlooked, but it is our girls who create the future, for they raise the men who will rule tomorrow.”
The meeting was winding to an end. Though Aea had never truly had to say it before, she could feel a goodbye cleaving between them. Her nerves were calming. It was like the feeling she had at camp, or in the forest. The whole time, the festival felt like a battlefield. She’d never been allowed in the vanguard when her family went raiding a few summers past, but she was allowed to attack a rear formation from deep in the trees. She did not know what it felt to be in the heat of thrashing swords and flying limbs, but she knew what it felt to be hunted, she knew the sensation of imminent danger and inescapable anger. It had felt like that today. Even with the laughter chiming through the air and the sun beaming bright, despite the absence of blood on the ground or piss on the wind, it had been exactly like every time Aea wondered if she might die.
And now, it did not. Such an odd thing, fear. Such a strange place this world was, such a mystery to move within it. Aea knew how to speak, how to walk, how to pretend she was unafraid, but she’d just forgotten when she entered the city. She remembered now. Her performance was well-received, her family’s reputation unsullied, and their coffers still filling. She could relax.
“I apologize,” Aea said, her body language as straight and assured as it was in the privacy of the wilderness, “My tongue was apparently too heavy to allow speech. I meant only that I should like to hear your playing if ever I have the good fortune to meet you again, My Lady, and not be so greedy as to impose upon your enjoyment of the festivities today.”
“You need not apologize, my dear,” Ophelia’s voice was gentle and soothing, like the steady rock of a ship on the sea. Safe, warm, and bound for home. Ophelia. No, that was much too familiar—it was, and would always be, Lady Ophelia. “I certainly hope we meet again, for I have enjoyed this encounter very much, and should we, I would be delighted to play either for or with you.”
Aea inclined her head graciously. She would like that, though it was not to be. It surprised her that for a moment in time, she forgot that she was not Aea of Molossia, that Cassero was not her father, and Kaia was not her sister. She would never meet Lady Ophelia again, or at least she hoped she did not for the Lady’s sake. The festival was an outlier, a brief interlude from reality, and tomorrow she would be on the hunt once more. Whoever she crossed paths with beyond this day would be broken from the experience, regardless of whether they died from it or not.
Uncle Cassero bowed. “I thank you most graciously for your consideration this day. Truly, it is one I shall never forget, and I feel light as air knowing that I am kept as a friend in your consideration, Lady Ophelia, and hope that you should accept my friendship and utmost admiration in turn. The rumors, for once, did not lie, and I am glad for it—you truly are worth every esteem the common folk ascribe to you. If ever you should find yourself in Molossia, I will be most glad to receive you and your company at my hearth to refresh and rest if you should pass through the heart of the forest on your way to one of the estates. I extend the same invitation to you, Lady Rene, and pray that should we ever meet again, that it is your work we may view. I wish both of you Great Ladies, and your Houses, many blessings, and your health and happiness shall always be in my prayers to the Gods. By your leave, Lady Ophelia, Lady Rene, I shall excuse myself to attend to our good friends, as I spy a young miss there who would like a song of her very own.”
“That is very kind of you, Master Cassero. Should you and yours ever find yourself being embraced by the bustling ports and beautiful landscapes of Magnestis, please know that you are welcomed at House Nikolaos at any time.”
“Oh, you are most generous!” Lady Ophelia hand pressed to her chest. Aea did not look at it. “I shall gladly call upon you if I ever find myself in Molossia, for it would be such a delight to see you again! This day has brought me such joy. I shall think of you and your sweet daughters often, Good Sir. And should you ever need a place to rest if you ever find yourself in Taengea, please feel free to call upon me. I should be honoured to host you and your charming family. And yes, of course, attend to your audience, and take with you my best wishes for the future.”
Uncle Cassero pressed a hand to his own heart and kept himself bowed as he stepped away, “Until we meet again, great ladies, I wish you safe travels.”
He threw them a lopsided smile that was all warmth and no mischief before turning completely to the adolescent girl who’d been shyly holding up her coin. He bent and spoke to her with the sort of gentleness befit a grandfather, and Aea might have found it endearing if she did not know how well he was fooling the audience. That little girl should be careful of men like him, for those pretty grins hid a broken soul who liked nothing more than to shatter those around him into much smaller pieces.
For today, though, he could be himself at his best, and Aea did not fault him for the lie. After all, she was just as monstrously dishonest. And truthfully, she felt nothing for it. She should feel ashamed, but she did not, even if those she lied to were good. Perhaps because it was necessity and not malice, perhaps because she didn’t know them and would never see them again. Perhaps it was simply because she was as empty of human goodness as a mindless beast. Something to ponder upon later. She could not write—her father forbade literacy between Kaia and Aea—but she could think, and perhaps in this instance, she might produce an answer. What was it to lie, was it wicked, and why?
She held her hand out for her blonde cousin after gathering her bag full of utilities and necessities. Kaia took it and the two of them turned to the ladies. “It was very good to meet you.” Aea smiled a true smile because that was not a lie in the least. It was good. And confusing. And terrifying. And wonderful. And strange. She would never forget it. “It is a small field, perhaps we will meet again before the night is over with. With your permission, my sister and I will take our leave and bid you both enjoy the amusements of the day. If we should not see you again before dusk, I wish you safe travels home, and bid you a very fond farewell. I should hope to see you again someday.”
“Of course, by all means, go and enjoy the festivities. I sincerely hope our paths will cross again, but should they not, I too wish you both a safe journey,” Lady Ophelia said.
“Thank you again for your generosity, Lady Ophelia. Do forgive my earlier delay. I was not chosen to share Apollo’s gift of voice and word like my father and sister," Kaia said quietly.
For all of her skill and beauty, Aea's cousin was decidedly lacking in conversation and exposition. Aea might have suggested she practice if she did not already love Kaia just as she was, and if she did not feel a superiority for having something that Kaia did not.
Ophelia smiled, “Ah, but I believe you are much favoured by Aphrodite. I believe that each person has at least two talents. The key is being patient enough to find them. You have an eye for beauty. Those flowers you gave matched the outfits the patrons were wearing, did you notice? Never did a single flower clash. I was very impressed. You may have been doing that without even knowing. So there, that is one talent, and now you must discover your second. I shall leave that as a challenge for you. Perhaps you may discover it today. I understand that you are to visit the Temple now? I shall bid you adieu then, and hope that Artemis answers your prayers.”
“Indeed, it has been a most cherished experience for me, one I shall never forget. Thank you again for your exaltation. It is surely more than I deserve. Until we meet again….”
Aea waved at the ladies and pulled Kaia along, practically darting away from the entire spectacle. Flower arrangements. She tried not to be happy about Kaia’s perceived skill but failed. She was Lady Aea, and Kaia was good at flower arrangements and looking pretty. Today, Aea had beat Kaia, and she doubted anything could take her joy away. Joy. How strange. Was that what this feeling was called? It must be, for she could not ever remember being so light and full of laughter, so it was not mere happiness. The only thing that could make her happier was a pretty colored peplos, long and pinned at the sides like all of the other women wore—after all, she was Lady Aea, and ladies did not go about with bare thighs and ropes around their waists. With two owls, she was fairly certain she could afford at least a used one.
If not, then she would simply do what she always did and take what she wanted instead. Perhaps she would do it regardless—after all, it was much better to have two owls and a peplos than one owl and one peplos.
First Impressions:Hourglass; Glossy black hair that falls to her hips, piercing blue eyes, a voluptuous figure, and a serious, concentrated expression.
Address: Your
First Impressions:Hourglass; Glossy black hair that falls to her hips, piercing blue eyes, a voluptuous figure, and a serious, concentrated expression.
Address: Your
She should not enjoy the sight of tears so, but in that moment, she did. Aea did not think herself capable of such monstrosities, but when she finished her song and saw the water gathering like pearls in the Lady’s eyes, her chest filled and her stomach emptied. Aea had done that, she’d put those tears there, and she wished to see more.
Perhaps it was a requirement for all bards to be the most gentle of sadists. To call forth emotion and bring it to the surface of the audience as a tribute. It was humbling. Tears were a physical manifestation of the soul. It was the essence of man fracturing and peeking from behind the shell that housed it. That Lady Rene would allow Aea to see such a thing was a great honor; tears weren’t meant to be shared, that’s why hiding them was writ in the laws of man.
Those tears made Aea feel as if she could stride upon the air, like nothing could pull her down to the earth. She could do anything. Even the memory of the times when she could do nothing paled in comparison to this. Tears welled behind her own eyes, she did not know why. Perhaps it was the strange flutter near her heart, rising into her throat. She’d felt happiness before, but this was something else, something that had no name. Aea quickly blinked away her own impending sniveling and began the process of slicing her thoughts from her to let them float far away.
“You have been blessed, Lady Aea, by the great benefactor Apollo.”
Her thoughts came shooting back into her and Aea’s eyebrows pinched, her eyes widening. Lady. Aea bit her lip under her chalmys and could not speak. There was an overwhelming desire of the most foolish sort: an urge to kiss Lady Rene. Aea couldn’t tell if it was out of gratitude or physical desire, but she could not act upon it in any case. She did not even like the thought of other people’s saliva, why on earth should she want to kiss anyone, and a woman no less? It didn’t matter. Aea kept hold of her wild emotions just enough that she could focus on the words coming from of Lady Rene’s mouth.
“I can only aspire to live up to such worthiness as you have regaled. How do mere mortals achieve immortality, but through art? And you have canonized but a humble servant of Aphrodite with your lustrous poetry. I am eternally grateful.”
Aea couldn’t stop smiling, even as her lip quivered. Gods above, control yourself. She slammed a stone upon her thoughts once more, flattening them like insects, and this time, they did not arise again. She was getting so worked up and it was entirely unnecessary.
Rene smiled, “I hope I did not besmirch your fine work with my playing. Admittedly, it has been many moons since I have taken up a musical instrument. It has been an enjoyable revisit of such times.”
“I thought your playing was wonderful,” Ophelia added “Especially considering the fact that music is not your chosen medium.”
Aea nodded her head fervently. Lady Ophelia was much more eloquent than she, and there was nothing but truth in her words. “Lady Ophelia is right, you did wonderfully. Your note accentuation was lovely and on time. It made the volume of the root note incredibly strong.”
It really was quite impressive, especially if Lady Rene had not had any practice in a very long time. It was like Aea with a bow. It was not her primary weapon, and so she often missed her prey or overdrew, or underdrew, depending. The difference between Rene and herself was that Aea had no excuse for being a mediocre marksmith, and yet Rene had picked everything up just like that. She might have been envious if Lady Rene were not so...herself. Lady Rene was so pure and unmarred that Aea might harm herself before she raised a blade to such a person.
Besides, Aea would much rather steal her kiss than her life. And there she went again, drifting off into inappropriate, vile places. Lady Rene would be absolutely horrified if she could hear Aea’s thoughts at the moment, and so she turned them upon Lady Ophelia instead. Aea wondered if she had ever kissed anybody before and quickly busied herself with collecting the lyres so that she would not look at the older woman’s mouth.
It was easy to banish fascination when one was not looking upon an enigma. Aea could have stayed quiet and allowed her uncle to take over once more, but she didn't. Instead, she kept speaking. She did not know why, only that she had to if only to deflect her slowly mounting trepidation. Of what, she did not know, but incoming and assured disaster whipped her pulse, and it galloped faster for it.
“And Lady Ophelia, your fingers were so nimble! I should like to hear a song from you.” The lyres she cradled were heavy as iron. Fuck. She’d just imposed her demands on a noble. Who was she to even request such a thing, much less demand it? “That is...only if you would like to...one day.”
“It would be a great honour to play for one as talented as you, Miss Aea. Just as it was an honour to play with you. I am of course not as skilled as your wondrous father, but I hope one day to be.”
Aea heard Lady Ophelia’s words, but it was as if none of them truly made sense. She should answer, but she’d forgotten what the Lady said not seconds before. When Lady Ophelia slipped from the cart, Aea’s muscles did not coil or twitch, but her focus tunneled onto the older woman and her thoughts quieted.
“I want you to take this, for the pleasure you have given my friend and I in allowing us to play with you, and for the beautiful words you have spoken about her,” Lady Ophelia said.
Aea did not look at her uncle, but she did blink owlishly at the lady when she felt a coin pressed into her palm. More than that, the brush of the Lady’s fingers against Aea’s palm sent a shock through her entire system. On impulse, she startled, her limbs jerking ever so slightly. It was an odd sensation. Lady Ophelia was not a stranger in the traditional sense. Aea knew her name, had spent enough time around her to be relatively at ease, but she did not know the Lady well enough to call her a familiar party either. Aea wished her to not do that again. It made her skin crawl, which made no sense considering Aea would like nothing more than to touch her.
But the moment was gone in less than a second and away from the forefront of her mind, for the Lady had bent her head just-so to whisper. She was so close already that Aea could smell an alien sweetness upon her skin. If she moved closer, she might be able to smell the subtler notes upon the Lady's flesh.
“If you or your sister are in some kind of trouble, I will help you; seek me out before I leave Colchis, I shall be here for one month. If you are in any danger at all, come to the house of my in-laws and enquire after me, they are hosting me. If you say that I asked for you, they will not turn you away.”
Aea did not react to the Lady’s words. She knew better. A thousand nights of speaking to her cousin of things she dare not utter aloud had readied her for such a thing. The Lady's words sounded so ominous, and it shoved Aea closer to the edge, her feet still upon the cliff of panic, but inches from falling in a chasm of cold bloodlust. Her eyes swept about the area, looking for hulking men with chains and nasty grins. She saw none—she saw no menacing characters at all. Then her eyes landed upon her uncle Gatheron, across the aisle where the foot traffic milled. He was staring at either Aea or Ophelia, and had probably been watching their area the entire time. He certainly looked like he would chop them up with a smile, but Lady Ophelia wouldn’t know that. Everything was fine, Lady Ophelia simply saw Gatheron’s maimed face and assumed him a cut-throat. Aea did not blame her.
Aea stepped away from the edge of the cliff and settled once more into mild panic. The warmth from Lady Ophelia’s body made Aea sweat far harder than any sun’s blaze. She wished the older woman would give her space, and yet when the Lady stepped away, Aea had the desire to pull her back. At least she was not so impulsive as to act upon it.
Aea blinked rapidly at the Lady, only twice, but enough to tell her she understood. Maybe the Lady would not know such signals, maybe she would. Her heart was kind. Too kind. Aea prayed that it never had reason to change. Once Lady Ophelia was standing apart and smiling, Aea’s focus flared outward once more, and that feeling of certain doom was once more upon her.
But then her uncle stepped beside her and squeezed the back of her neck in such a way that she relaxed, for it snapped her from her fretting and reminded her that she was with those she could trust, that she was here, that she was alive.
“You did well, my heart,” Cassero kissed her head and her muscles loosened, her temper swinging quickly from alarm to comfort. He rarely gave affection so freely, but when he did, it was as if a simple hug could banish the entire world of its vileness and usher in a warm paradise where everything was plenty, and misery was crime. Aea was rooted to the ground once more, no longer in her head but among the living.
“You all did marvelously. It truly was a grand song, the notes blending together like a siren’s echo,” Uncle Cassero said.
“You have such a talented daughter, Sir Cassero. I can see why your daughters are your greatest treasures. It was such an honour to play alongside them. And I thank you most humbly for the use of your exquisite lyre. To know that my fingers have touched the instrument of one so talented is truly humbling.”
Aea did not allow herself to absorb the compliment, fearing her gladness might overcome her and turn her into a babbling child. She would review her compliments later...in private. There were so many to remember that the prospect was enough to swallow her, and so she banished that thought too. Instead, she smiled and bowed her head, for she was not being directly addressed.
“My Lady, such an instrument was made to be played by the likes of you, and I can only hope that one day you might have the opportunity to play it again. I thank you and Lady Rene for your continued contribution to the arts, and for your great works outside of it. Great ladies such as you are the artificers of our world. You are the idols young girls aspire to emulate, and it is through your example that we become a kinder and stronger nation that we were the day before. It is often overlooked, but it is our girls who create the future, for they raise the men who will rule tomorrow.”
The meeting was winding to an end. Though Aea had never truly had to say it before, she could feel a goodbye cleaving between them. Her nerves were calming. It was like the feeling she had at camp, or in the forest. The whole time, the festival felt like a battlefield. She’d never been allowed in the vanguard when her family went raiding a few summers past, but she was allowed to attack a rear formation from deep in the trees. She did not know what it felt to be in the heat of thrashing swords and flying limbs, but she knew what it felt to be hunted, she knew the sensation of imminent danger and inescapable anger. It had felt like that today. Even with the laughter chiming through the air and the sun beaming bright, despite the absence of blood on the ground or piss on the wind, it had been exactly like every time Aea wondered if she might die.
And now, it did not. Such an odd thing, fear. Such a strange place this world was, such a mystery to move within it. Aea knew how to speak, how to walk, how to pretend she was unafraid, but she’d just forgotten when she entered the city. She remembered now. Her performance was well-received, her family’s reputation unsullied, and their coffers still filling. She could relax.
“I apologize,” Aea said, her body language as straight and assured as it was in the privacy of the wilderness, “My tongue was apparently too heavy to allow speech. I meant only that I should like to hear your playing if ever I have the good fortune to meet you again, My Lady, and not be so greedy as to impose upon your enjoyment of the festivities today.”
“You need not apologize, my dear,” Ophelia’s voice was gentle and soothing, like the steady rock of a ship on the sea. Safe, warm, and bound for home. Ophelia. No, that was much too familiar—it was, and would always be, Lady Ophelia. “I certainly hope we meet again, for I have enjoyed this encounter very much, and should we, I would be delighted to play either for or with you.”
Aea inclined her head graciously. She would like that, though it was not to be. It surprised her that for a moment in time, she forgot that she was not Aea of Molossia, that Cassero was not her father, and Kaia was not her sister. She would never meet Lady Ophelia again, or at least she hoped she did not for the Lady’s sake. The festival was an outlier, a brief interlude from reality, and tomorrow she would be on the hunt once more. Whoever she crossed paths with beyond this day would be broken from the experience, regardless of whether they died from it or not.
Uncle Cassero bowed. “I thank you most graciously for your consideration this day. Truly, it is one I shall never forget, and I feel light as air knowing that I am kept as a friend in your consideration, Lady Ophelia, and hope that you should accept my friendship and utmost admiration in turn. The rumors, for once, did not lie, and I am glad for it—you truly are worth every esteem the common folk ascribe to you. If ever you should find yourself in Molossia, I will be most glad to receive you and your company at my hearth to refresh and rest if you should pass through the heart of the forest on your way to one of the estates. I extend the same invitation to you, Lady Rene, and pray that should we ever meet again, that it is your work we may view. I wish both of you Great Ladies, and your Houses, many blessings, and your health and happiness shall always be in my prayers to the Gods. By your leave, Lady Ophelia, Lady Rene, I shall excuse myself to attend to our good friends, as I spy a young miss there who would like a song of her very own.”
“That is very kind of you, Master Cassero. Should you and yours ever find yourself being embraced by the bustling ports and beautiful landscapes of Magnestis, please know that you are welcomed at House Nikolaos at any time.”
“Oh, you are most generous!” Lady Ophelia hand pressed to her chest. Aea did not look at it. “I shall gladly call upon you if I ever find myself in Molossia, for it would be such a delight to see you again! This day has brought me such joy. I shall think of you and your sweet daughters often, Good Sir. And should you ever need a place to rest if you ever find yourself in Taengea, please feel free to call upon me. I should be honoured to host you and your charming family. And yes, of course, attend to your audience, and take with you my best wishes for the future.”
Uncle Cassero pressed a hand to his own heart and kept himself bowed as he stepped away, “Until we meet again, great ladies, I wish you safe travels.”
He threw them a lopsided smile that was all warmth and no mischief before turning completely to the adolescent girl who’d been shyly holding up her coin. He bent and spoke to her with the sort of gentleness befit a grandfather, and Aea might have found it endearing if she did not know how well he was fooling the audience. That little girl should be careful of men like him, for those pretty grins hid a broken soul who liked nothing more than to shatter those around him into much smaller pieces.
For today, though, he could be himself at his best, and Aea did not fault him for the lie. After all, she was just as monstrously dishonest. And truthfully, she felt nothing for it. She should feel ashamed, but she did not, even if those she lied to were good. Perhaps because it was necessity and not malice, perhaps because she didn’t know them and would never see them again. Perhaps it was simply because she was as empty of human goodness as a mindless beast. Something to ponder upon later. She could not write—her father forbade literacy between Kaia and Aea—but she could think, and perhaps in this instance, she might produce an answer. What was it to lie, was it wicked, and why?
She held her hand out for her blonde cousin after gathering her bag full of utilities and necessities. Kaia took it and the two of them turned to the ladies. “It was very good to meet you.” Aea smiled a true smile because that was not a lie in the least. It was good. And confusing. And terrifying. And wonderful. And strange. She would never forget it. “It is a small field, perhaps we will meet again before the night is over with. With your permission, my sister and I will take our leave and bid you both enjoy the amusements of the day. If we should not see you again before dusk, I wish you safe travels home, and bid you a very fond farewell. I should hope to see you again someday.”
“Of course, by all means, go and enjoy the festivities. I sincerely hope our paths will cross again, but should they not, I too wish you both a safe journey,” Lady Ophelia said.
“Thank you again for your generosity, Lady Ophelia. Do forgive my earlier delay. I was not chosen to share Apollo’s gift of voice and word like my father and sister," Kaia said quietly.
For all of her skill and beauty, Aea's cousin was decidedly lacking in conversation and exposition. Aea might have suggested she practice if she did not already love Kaia just as she was, and if she did not feel a superiority for having something that Kaia did not.
Ophelia smiled, “Ah, but I believe you are much favoured by Aphrodite. I believe that each person has at least two talents. The key is being patient enough to find them. You have an eye for beauty. Those flowers you gave matched the outfits the patrons were wearing, did you notice? Never did a single flower clash. I was very impressed. You may have been doing that without even knowing. So there, that is one talent, and now you must discover your second. I shall leave that as a challenge for you. Perhaps you may discover it today. I understand that you are to visit the Temple now? I shall bid you adieu then, and hope that Artemis answers your prayers.”
“Indeed, it has been a most cherished experience for me, one I shall never forget. Thank you again for your exaltation. It is surely more than I deserve. Until we meet again….”
Aea waved at the ladies and pulled Kaia along, practically darting away from the entire spectacle. Flower arrangements. She tried not to be happy about Kaia’s perceived skill but failed. She was Lady Aea, and Kaia was good at flower arrangements and looking pretty. Today, Aea had beat Kaia, and she doubted anything could take her joy away. Joy. How strange. Was that what this feeling was called? It must be, for she could not ever remember being so light and full of laughter, so it was not mere happiness. The only thing that could make her happier was a pretty colored peplos, long and pinned at the sides like all of the other women wore—after all, she was Lady Aea, and ladies did not go about with bare thighs and ropes around their waists. With two owls, she was fairly certain she could afford at least a used one.
If not, then she would simply do what she always did and take what she wanted instead. Perhaps she would do it regardless—after all, it was much better to have two owls and a peplos than one owl and one peplos.
She should not enjoy the sight of tears so, but in that moment, she did. Aea did not think herself capable of such monstrosities, but when she finished her song and saw the water gathering like pearls in the Lady’s eyes, her chest filled and her stomach emptied. Aea had done that, she’d put those tears there, and she wished to see more.
Perhaps it was a requirement for all bards to be the most gentle of sadists. To call forth emotion and bring it to the surface of the audience as a tribute. It was humbling. Tears were a physical manifestation of the soul. It was the essence of man fracturing and peeking from behind the shell that housed it. That Lady Rene would allow Aea to see such a thing was a great honor; tears weren’t meant to be shared, that’s why hiding them was writ in the laws of man.
Those tears made Aea feel as if she could stride upon the air, like nothing could pull her down to the earth. She could do anything. Even the memory of the times when she could do nothing paled in comparison to this. Tears welled behind her own eyes, she did not know why. Perhaps it was the strange flutter near her heart, rising into her throat. She’d felt happiness before, but this was something else, something that had no name. Aea quickly blinked away her own impending sniveling and began the process of slicing her thoughts from her to let them float far away.
“You have been blessed, Lady Aea, by the great benefactor Apollo.”
Her thoughts came shooting back into her and Aea’s eyebrows pinched, her eyes widening. Lady. Aea bit her lip under her chalmys and could not speak. There was an overwhelming desire of the most foolish sort: an urge to kiss Lady Rene. Aea couldn’t tell if it was out of gratitude or physical desire, but she could not act upon it in any case. She did not even like the thought of other people’s saliva, why on earth should she want to kiss anyone, and a woman no less? It didn’t matter. Aea kept hold of her wild emotions just enough that she could focus on the words coming from of Lady Rene’s mouth.
“I can only aspire to live up to such worthiness as you have regaled. How do mere mortals achieve immortality, but through art? And you have canonized but a humble servant of Aphrodite with your lustrous poetry. I am eternally grateful.”
Aea couldn’t stop smiling, even as her lip quivered. Gods above, control yourself. She slammed a stone upon her thoughts once more, flattening them like insects, and this time, they did not arise again. She was getting so worked up and it was entirely unnecessary.
Rene smiled, “I hope I did not besmirch your fine work with my playing. Admittedly, it has been many moons since I have taken up a musical instrument. It has been an enjoyable revisit of such times.”
“I thought your playing was wonderful,” Ophelia added “Especially considering the fact that music is not your chosen medium.”
Aea nodded her head fervently. Lady Ophelia was much more eloquent than she, and there was nothing but truth in her words. “Lady Ophelia is right, you did wonderfully. Your note accentuation was lovely and on time. It made the volume of the root note incredibly strong.”
It really was quite impressive, especially if Lady Rene had not had any practice in a very long time. It was like Aea with a bow. It was not her primary weapon, and so she often missed her prey or overdrew, or underdrew, depending. The difference between Rene and herself was that Aea had no excuse for being a mediocre marksmith, and yet Rene had picked everything up just like that. She might have been envious if Lady Rene were not so...herself. Lady Rene was so pure and unmarred that Aea might harm herself before she raised a blade to such a person.
Besides, Aea would much rather steal her kiss than her life. And there she went again, drifting off into inappropriate, vile places. Lady Rene would be absolutely horrified if she could hear Aea’s thoughts at the moment, and so she turned them upon Lady Ophelia instead. Aea wondered if she had ever kissed anybody before and quickly busied herself with collecting the lyres so that she would not look at the older woman’s mouth.
It was easy to banish fascination when one was not looking upon an enigma. Aea could have stayed quiet and allowed her uncle to take over once more, but she didn't. Instead, she kept speaking. She did not know why, only that she had to if only to deflect her slowly mounting trepidation. Of what, she did not know, but incoming and assured disaster whipped her pulse, and it galloped faster for it.
“And Lady Ophelia, your fingers were so nimble! I should like to hear a song from you.” The lyres she cradled were heavy as iron. Fuck. She’d just imposed her demands on a noble. Who was she to even request such a thing, much less demand it? “That is...only if you would like to...one day.”
“It would be a great honour to play for one as talented as you, Miss Aea. Just as it was an honour to play with you. I am of course not as skilled as your wondrous father, but I hope one day to be.”
Aea heard Lady Ophelia’s words, but it was as if none of them truly made sense. She should answer, but she’d forgotten what the Lady said not seconds before. When Lady Ophelia slipped from the cart, Aea’s muscles did not coil or twitch, but her focus tunneled onto the older woman and her thoughts quieted.
“I want you to take this, for the pleasure you have given my friend and I in allowing us to play with you, and for the beautiful words you have spoken about her,” Lady Ophelia said.
Aea did not look at her uncle, but she did blink owlishly at the lady when she felt a coin pressed into her palm. More than that, the brush of the Lady’s fingers against Aea’s palm sent a shock through her entire system. On impulse, she startled, her limbs jerking ever so slightly. It was an odd sensation. Lady Ophelia was not a stranger in the traditional sense. Aea knew her name, had spent enough time around her to be relatively at ease, but she did not know the Lady well enough to call her a familiar party either. Aea wished her to not do that again. It made her skin crawl, which made no sense considering Aea would like nothing more than to touch her.
But the moment was gone in less than a second and away from the forefront of her mind, for the Lady had bent her head just-so to whisper. She was so close already that Aea could smell an alien sweetness upon her skin. If she moved closer, she might be able to smell the subtler notes upon the Lady's flesh.
“If you or your sister are in some kind of trouble, I will help you; seek me out before I leave Colchis, I shall be here for one month. If you are in any danger at all, come to the house of my in-laws and enquire after me, they are hosting me. If you say that I asked for you, they will not turn you away.”
Aea did not react to the Lady’s words. She knew better. A thousand nights of speaking to her cousin of things she dare not utter aloud had readied her for such a thing. The Lady's words sounded so ominous, and it shoved Aea closer to the edge, her feet still upon the cliff of panic, but inches from falling in a chasm of cold bloodlust. Her eyes swept about the area, looking for hulking men with chains and nasty grins. She saw none—she saw no menacing characters at all. Then her eyes landed upon her uncle Gatheron, across the aisle where the foot traffic milled. He was staring at either Aea or Ophelia, and had probably been watching their area the entire time. He certainly looked like he would chop them up with a smile, but Lady Ophelia wouldn’t know that. Everything was fine, Lady Ophelia simply saw Gatheron’s maimed face and assumed him a cut-throat. Aea did not blame her.
Aea stepped away from the edge of the cliff and settled once more into mild panic. The warmth from Lady Ophelia’s body made Aea sweat far harder than any sun’s blaze. She wished the older woman would give her space, and yet when the Lady stepped away, Aea had the desire to pull her back. At least she was not so impulsive as to act upon it.
Aea blinked rapidly at the Lady, only twice, but enough to tell her she understood. Maybe the Lady would not know such signals, maybe she would. Her heart was kind. Too kind. Aea prayed that it never had reason to change. Once Lady Ophelia was standing apart and smiling, Aea’s focus flared outward once more, and that feeling of certain doom was once more upon her.
But then her uncle stepped beside her and squeezed the back of her neck in such a way that she relaxed, for it snapped her from her fretting and reminded her that she was with those she could trust, that she was here, that she was alive.
“You did well, my heart,” Cassero kissed her head and her muscles loosened, her temper swinging quickly from alarm to comfort. He rarely gave affection so freely, but when he did, it was as if a simple hug could banish the entire world of its vileness and usher in a warm paradise where everything was plenty, and misery was crime. Aea was rooted to the ground once more, no longer in her head but among the living.
“You all did marvelously. It truly was a grand song, the notes blending together like a siren’s echo,” Uncle Cassero said.
“You have such a talented daughter, Sir Cassero. I can see why your daughters are your greatest treasures. It was such an honour to play alongside them. And I thank you most humbly for the use of your exquisite lyre. To know that my fingers have touched the instrument of one so talented is truly humbling.”
Aea did not allow herself to absorb the compliment, fearing her gladness might overcome her and turn her into a babbling child. She would review her compliments later...in private. There were so many to remember that the prospect was enough to swallow her, and so she banished that thought too. Instead, she smiled and bowed her head, for she was not being directly addressed.
“My Lady, such an instrument was made to be played by the likes of you, and I can only hope that one day you might have the opportunity to play it again. I thank you and Lady Rene for your continued contribution to the arts, and for your great works outside of it. Great ladies such as you are the artificers of our world. You are the idols young girls aspire to emulate, and it is through your example that we become a kinder and stronger nation that we were the day before. It is often overlooked, but it is our girls who create the future, for they raise the men who will rule tomorrow.”
The meeting was winding to an end. Though Aea had never truly had to say it before, she could feel a goodbye cleaving between them. Her nerves were calming. It was like the feeling she had at camp, or in the forest. The whole time, the festival felt like a battlefield. She’d never been allowed in the vanguard when her family went raiding a few summers past, but she was allowed to attack a rear formation from deep in the trees. She did not know what it felt to be in the heat of thrashing swords and flying limbs, but she knew what it felt to be hunted, she knew the sensation of imminent danger and inescapable anger. It had felt like that today. Even with the laughter chiming through the air and the sun beaming bright, despite the absence of blood on the ground or piss on the wind, it had been exactly like every time Aea wondered if she might die.
And now, it did not. Such an odd thing, fear. Such a strange place this world was, such a mystery to move within it. Aea knew how to speak, how to walk, how to pretend she was unafraid, but she’d just forgotten when she entered the city. She remembered now. Her performance was well-received, her family’s reputation unsullied, and their coffers still filling. She could relax.
“I apologize,” Aea said, her body language as straight and assured as it was in the privacy of the wilderness, “My tongue was apparently too heavy to allow speech. I meant only that I should like to hear your playing if ever I have the good fortune to meet you again, My Lady, and not be so greedy as to impose upon your enjoyment of the festivities today.”
“You need not apologize, my dear,” Ophelia’s voice was gentle and soothing, like the steady rock of a ship on the sea. Safe, warm, and bound for home. Ophelia. No, that was much too familiar—it was, and would always be, Lady Ophelia. “I certainly hope we meet again, for I have enjoyed this encounter very much, and should we, I would be delighted to play either for or with you.”
Aea inclined her head graciously. She would like that, though it was not to be. It surprised her that for a moment in time, she forgot that she was not Aea of Molossia, that Cassero was not her father, and Kaia was not her sister. She would never meet Lady Ophelia again, or at least she hoped she did not for the Lady’s sake. The festival was an outlier, a brief interlude from reality, and tomorrow she would be on the hunt once more. Whoever she crossed paths with beyond this day would be broken from the experience, regardless of whether they died from it or not.
Uncle Cassero bowed. “I thank you most graciously for your consideration this day. Truly, it is one I shall never forget, and I feel light as air knowing that I am kept as a friend in your consideration, Lady Ophelia, and hope that you should accept my friendship and utmost admiration in turn. The rumors, for once, did not lie, and I am glad for it—you truly are worth every esteem the common folk ascribe to you. If ever you should find yourself in Molossia, I will be most glad to receive you and your company at my hearth to refresh and rest if you should pass through the heart of the forest on your way to one of the estates. I extend the same invitation to you, Lady Rene, and pray that should we ever meet again, that it is your work we may view. I wish both of you Great Ladies, and your Houses, many blessings, and your health and happiness shall always be in my prayers to the Gods. By your leave, Lady Ophelia, Lady Rene, I shall excuse myself to attend to our good friends, as I spy a young miss there who would like a song of her very own.”
“That is very kind of you, Master Cassero. Should you and yours ever find yourself being embraced by the bustling ports and beautiful landscapes of Magnestis, please know that you are welcomed at House Nikolaos at any time.”
“Oh, you are most generous!” Lady Ophelia hand pressed to her chest. Aea did not look at it. “I shall gladly call upon you if I ever find myself in Molossia, for it would be such a delight to see you again! This day has brought me such joy. I shall think of you and your sweet daughters often, Good Sir. And should you ever need a place to rest if you ever find yourself in Taengea, please feel free to call upon me. I should be honoured to host you and your charming family. And yes, of course, attend to your audience, and take with you my best wishes for the future.”
Uncle Cassero pressed a hand to his own heart and kept himself bowed as he stepped away, “Until we meet again, great ladies, I wish you safe travels.”
He threw them a lopsided smile that was all warmth and no mischief before turning completely to the adolescent girl who’d been shyly holding up her coin. He bent and spoke to her with the sort of gentleness befit a grandfather, and Aea might have found it endearing if she did not know how well he was fooling the audience. That little girl should be careful of men like him, for those pretty grins hid a broken soul who liked nothing more than to shatter those around him into much smaller pieces.
For today, though, he could be himself at his best, and Aea did not fault him for the lie. After all, she was just as monstrously dishonest. And truthfully, she felt nothing for it. She should feel ashamed, but she did not, even if those she lied to were good. Perhaps because it was necessity and not malice, perhaps because she didn’t know them and would never see them again. Perhaps it was simply because she was as empty of human goodness as a mindless beast. Something to ponder upon later. She could not write—her father forbade literacy between Kaia and Aea—but she could think, and perhaps in this instance, she might produce an answer. What was it to lie, was it wicked, and why?
She held her hand out for her blonde cousin after gathering her bag full of utilities and necessities. Kaia took it and the two of them turned to the ladies. “It was very good to meet you.” Aea smiled a true smile because that was not a lie in the least. It was good. And confusing. And terrifying. And wonderful. And strange. She would never forget it. “It is a small field, perhaps we will meet again before the night is over with. With your permission, my sister and I will take our leave and bid you both enjoy the amusements of the day. If we should not see you again before dusk, I wish you safe travels home, and bid you a very fond farewell. I should hope to see you again someday.”
“Of course, by all means, go and enjoy the festivities. I sincerely hope our paths will cross again, but should they not, I too wish you both a safe journey,” Lady Ophelia said.
“Thank you again for your generosity, Lady Ophelia. Do forgive my earlier delay. I was not chosen to share Apollo’s gift of voice and word like my father and sister," Kaia said quietly.
For all of her skill and beauty, Aea's cousin was decidedly lacking in conversation and exposition. Aea might have suggested she practice if she did not already love Kaia just as she was, and if she did not feel a superiority for having something that Kaia did not.
Ophelia smiled, “Ah, but I believe you are much favoured by Aphrodite. I believe that each person has at least two talents. The key is being patient enough to find them. You have an eye for beauty. Those flowers you gave matched the outfits the patrons were wearing, did you notice? Never did a single flower clash. I was very impressed. You may have been doing that without even knowing. So there, that is one talent, and now you must discover your second. I shall leave that as a challenge for you. Perhaps you may discover it today. I understand that you are to visit the Temple now? I shall bid you adieu then, and hope that Artemis answers your prayers.”
“Indeed, it has been a most cherished experience for me, one I shall never forget. Thank you again for your exaltation. It is surely more than I deserve. Until we meet again….”
Aea waved at the ladies and pulled Kaia along, practically darting away from the entire spectacle. Flower arrangements. She tried not to be happy about Kaia’s perceived skill but failed. She was Lady Aea, and Kaia was good at flower arrangements and looking pretty. Today, Aea had beat Kaia, and she doubted anything could take her joy away. Joy. How strange. Was that what this feeling was called? It must be, for she could not ever remember being so light and full of laughter, so it was not mere happiness. The only thing that could make her happier was a pretty colored peplos, long and pinned at the sides like all of the other women wore—after all, she was Lady Aea, and ladies did not go about with bare thighs and ropes around their waists. With two owls, she was fairly certain she could afford at least a used one.
If not, then she would simply do what she always did and take what she wanted instead. Perhaps she would do it regardless—after all, it was much better to have two owls and a peplos than one owl and one peplos.
