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The day had begun early for Fotios. Yet, the ignorant might have been surprised to know that he rose before the sun.
As Head of the House of Leventi, it might be assumed that Fotios was hardly expected to be awake before noon. That his day would consist of luxury and ease. His family were powerful, his old connections from when he was Master Informer ensured that his knowledge was never second-best. His excessive wealth meant that he would never truly be limited for funds for the duration of his life and that of his children and eventual grandchildren. He was married to a woman that enraptured him body and soul and those who worked in his employ were so terrified of his penalisation that there was never a penny out of place or a trade that was not profitable.
Pure Elysium Field perfection.
And yet, Fotios thought, as he stepped into the open courtyard of his estate, only idiots would think to luxuriate. To sit back upon their laurels and enjoy all that inheritance and birth right had given them.
For one thing, the Leventi trading empire and information network only succeeded because of Fotios' anally retentive attention to detail. His subordinates never cheated him because they knew that if a single drachmae was out of place, he would notice. He would find it. And he would string up the man, woman or child responsible for it. Some said to never mix business with the personal. But, for Fotios, his business was personal. It was entirely personal. It revolved around him and fed back to him like gravity. Fotios was the core of the Leventi world. Whether family and acquaintances recognised it, wanted it or accepted it, it was the simple fact of the matter.
Nature and nurture had combined in Fotios to make him the perfect man to be such an axis to his universe. By nature, he was a workaholic and a perfectionist. His exceptional standards were held first and foremost by himself, making him entirely unforgiving upon those who could not measure up in the same way. He was living proof that mortal men could be flawless in business. Which meant all others would be too. By nurture, Fotios' natural tendency for active interference and high value had been stoked and encouraged by his father. A man bent on seeing Fotios become the perfect heir to the Leventi name at the risk of being nothing at all.
As Fotios stretched out his neck and looked up at the rays of light stretching free beyond the trees at the far southern edge of his property, he took a moment to revel in the amusement of that. Seraphim had been so determined to pummel into his head that he needed to be ruthless, to be perfect, to take rather than to ask... Fotios sometimes wondered if the man realised he had been honing his own killer. Forming a man that would do anything to remove an obstacle in his path; a man who would eventually come to see his sire as just such an obstacle.
Working his jaw, curling his fingers and walking a little to stretch out his legs, Fotios threw the thought away without guilt. He had never regretted his decision to rid the world of the bully that was Seraphim of Leventi. How could he? The reward for such an act was currently lying naked, exhausted and thoroughly sated in stained sheets upstairs. Just what was he supposed to feel sorry about?
His upper lip curling in satisfaction, Fotios headed over towards the stables that were kept near to the main households. He had been up for several hours already, managing correspondence so that his runners would be able to send his notes with first light. And still he was beating most of his stable workers to their place of business that morning. Only the stablemaster was yet on site.
The Leventi homestead in the capital was simply laid out. Positioned on the furthest edge of the Quarter, where green meadows could stretch out and away from the city to the north, two large estates were kept at the front of the land where large iron gates, gilded in gold, kept the affairs of the buildings from prying eyes. One of the buildings was a truly beautiful example of the highest architectural achievements a few hundred years ago, Now covered in climbing ivy and turned into something oozing heritage and natural awe, it was the estate used by Fotios' extended family whenever they attended the capital. Konstanos and Georgios each had their own homes, away from the havoc of the capitol and the senate. But when they were forced to journey to Vasiliadon, they stayed in this ancestral home.
The second home was Fotios's personal estate. Across the courtyard from the old manor and twice as large, it was two storeys high and lavish with columns and grand ambition. Every inch of it was pure marble, every seem laced with golden filigree. It was simple, classy and elegant but clearly the most expensive building in the entire city, barring the royal palace. It was here that Fotios and his wife and children lived. And, if he had his way through recent letters to Konstanos, it would soon become the temporary home of his nephew also. It was a tragedy in need of correction that Konstantinos - the heir of Leventi - had yet to be brought under his direct influence.
"My Lord!"
The call was one of greeting and slight surprise. Not that Fotios was awake at such an hour and attending to his place of work but because it happened to be today and without warning.
"Good morning, Konos." Fotios greeted back.
Unlike most of his servants, Konos did not jump or shiver at Fotios' presence. He did not suddenly shrink into shaking timidity over the Head of the House's presence. Fotios knew that the man had a healthy dose of respect and filial servitude in him but the man had been working for him for so long that Fotios was now as much a part of the scenery as the wood of the stable doors.
"I have come to check on Ursula," he explained.
The stables that stood across from the old manor house were for particular horses. They housed perhaps a dozen steeds maximum and were kept close because of the attention the animals required. Expecting mares would be kept within these stables, or animals that had been brought to the Leventi for strict training or health care. Several miles away, across the green beauty of the Leventi estate, was a large stable complex that houses upwards of a hundred horses at any one time. It was here that the usual training of colts and fillies was undertaken.
Konos was in charge of the specialised stables here in the courtyard and was used to Fotios taking a personal interest in the creatures kept there. He took no offence that his employer was wanting to check upon his work. Ursula was an important animal and the personal pet of Queen Elise of Mikaelidas. She was beloved and elderly and, in Fotios' opinion, needed to be put out to pasture or out of her misery. Yet, he had been entreated with the responsibility of seeing her in the best health possible before returning her to the Queen.
"Of course, my Lord," Konos replied, unbolting the stables. Fotios obviously had a key to every piece of his land but the opening of the stables was part of Konos' morning routine. "Come in, come in. Let us see if she is awake. She has been sleeping better of late, which is a good sign."
Each man knew that it was either a positive symptom of her gaining health and losing stress, or it was a precursor to the long sleep eventually to come. Neither mentioned this secondary possibility.
Taking his time, Fotios revealed his attention-focused self over and again as he assessed the progress of first Ursula and then the other horses kept close to home. Currently, they had seven animals being tended to for everything from late pregnancy to a hoof infection. At least an hour ticked by, the sun finally rising truly and the rest of the stable hands filing in for their working day. None of them spoke to Fotios beyond bowing respectfully at his presence; they hastened to be about their duties. Fotios barely noticed. Neither did he appear to realise when one of his nieces had found her way to the front doors of the stable and was looking at him through the cool darkness of the stalls.
JD
Fotios
JD
Fotios
Awards
First Impressions:Wiry; Sharp gaze, austere and regal features, prominent tendons in his hands.
Address: Your His Lordship
The day had begun early for Fotios. Yet, the ignorant might have been surprised to know that he rose before the sun.
As Head of the House of Leventi, it might be assumed that Fotios was hardly expected to be awake before noon. That his day would consist of luxury and ease. His family were powerful, his old connections from when he was Master Informer ensured that his knowledge was never second-best. His excessive wealth meant that he would never truly be limited for funds for the duration of his life and that of his children and eventual grandchildren. He was married to a woman that enraptured him body and soul and those who worked in his employ were so terrified of his penalisation that there was never a penny out of place or a trade that was not profitable.
Pure Elysium Field perfection.
And yet, Fotios thought, as he stepped into the open courtyard of his estate, only idiots would think to luxuriate. To sit back upon their laurels and enjoy all that inheritance and birth right had given them.
For one thing, the Leventi trading empire and information network only succeeded because of Fotios' anally retentive attention to detail. His subordinates never cheated him because they knew that if a single drachmae was out of place, he would notice. He would find it. And he would string up the man, woman or child responsible for it. Some said to never mix business with the personal. But, for Fotios, his business was personal. It was entirely personal. It revolved around him and fed back to him like gravity. Fotios was the core of the Leventi world. Whether family and acquaintances recognised it, wanted it or accepted it, it was the simple fact of the matter.
Nature and nurture had combined in Fotios to make him the perfect man to be such an axis to his universe. By nature, he was a workaholic and a perfectionist. His exceptional standards were held first and foremost by himself, making him entirely unforgiving upon those who could not measure up in the same way. He was living proof that mortal men could be flawless in business. Which meant all others would be too. By nurture, Fotios' natural tendency for active interference and high value had been stoked and encouraged by his father. A man bent on seeing Fotios become the perfect heir to the Leventi name at the risk of being nothing at all.
As Fotios stretched out his neck and looked up at the rays of light stretching free beyond the trees at the far southern edge of his property, he took a moment to revel in the amusement of that. Seraphim had been so determined to pummel into his head that he needed to be ruthless, to be perfect, to take rather than to ask... Fotios sometimes wondered if the man realised he had been honing his own killer. Forming a man that would do anything to remove an obstacle in his path; a man who would eventually come to see his sire as just such an obstacle.
Working his jaw, curling his fingers and walking a little to stretch out his legs, Fotios threw the thought away without guilt. He had never regretted his decision to rid the world of the bully that was Seraphim of Leventi. How could he? The reward for such an act was currently lying naked, exhausted and thoroughly sated in stained sheets upstairs. Just what was he supposed to feel sorry about?
His upper lip curling in satisfaction, Fotios headed over towards the stables that were kept near to the main households. He had been up for several hours already, managing correspondence so that his runners would be able to send his notes with first light. And still he was beating most of his stable workers to their place of business that morning. Only the stablemaster was yet on site.
The Leventi homestead in the capital was simply laid out. Positioned on the furthest edge of the Quarter, where green meadows could stretch out and away from the city to the north, two large estates were kept at the front of the land where large iron gates, gilded in gold, kept the affairs of the buildings from prying eyes. One of the buildings was a truly beautiful example of the highest architectural achievements a few hundred years ago, Now covered in climbing ivy and turned into something oozing heritage and natural awe, it was the estate used by Fotios' extended family whenever they attended the capital. Konstanos and Georgios each had their own homes, away from the havoc of the capitol and the senate. But when they were forced to journey to Vasiliadon, they stayed in this ancestral home.
The second home was Fotios's personal estate. Across the courtyard from the old manor and twice as large, it was two storeys high and lavish with columns and grand ambition. Every inch of it was pure marble, every seem laced with golden filigree. It was simple, classy and elegant but clearly the most expensive building in the entire city, barring the royal palace. It was here that Fotios and his wife and children lived. And, if he had his way through recent letters to Konstanos, it would soon become the temporary home of his nephew also. It was a tragedy in need of correction that Konstantinos - the heir of Leventi - had yet to be brought under his direct influence.
"My Lord!"
The call was one of greeting and slight surprise. Not that Fotios was awake at such an hour and attending to his place of work but because it happened to be today and without warning.
"Good morning, Konos." Fotios greeted back.
Unlike most of his servants, Konos did not jump or shiver at Fotios' presence. He did not suddenly shrink into shaking timidity over the Head of the House's presence. Fotios knew that the man had a healthy dose of respect and filial servitude in him but the man had been working for him for so long that Fotios was now as much a part of the scenery as the wood of the stable doors.
"I have come to check on Ursula," he explained.
The stables that stood across from the old manor house were for particular horses. They housed perhaps a dozen steeds maximum and were kept close because of the attention the animals required. Expecting mares would be kept within these stables, or animals that had been brought to the Leventi for strict training or health care. Several miles away, across the green beauty of the Leventi estate, was a large stable complex that houses upwards of a hundred horses at any one time. It was here that the usual training of colts and fillies was undertaken.
Konos was in charge of the specialised stables here in the courtyard and was used to Fotios taking a personal interest in the creatures kept there. He took no offence that his employer was wanting to check upon his work. Ursula was an important animal and the personal pet of Queen Elise of Mikaelidas. She was beloved and elderly and, in Fotios' opinion, needed to be put out to pasture or out of her misery. Yet, he had been entreated with the responsibility of seeing her in the best health possible before returning her to the Queen.
"Of course, my Lord," Konos replied, unbolting the stables. Fotios obviously had a key to every piece of his land but the opening of the stables was part of Konos' morning routine. "Come in, come in. Let us see if she is awake. She has been sleeping better of late, which is a good sign."
Each man knew that it was either a positive symptom of her gaining health and losing stress, or it was a precursor to the long sleep eventually to come. Neither mentioned this secondary possibility.
Taking his time, Fotios revealed his attention-focused self over and again as he assessed the progress of first Ursula and then the other horses kept close to home. Currently, they had seven animals being tended to for everything from late pregnancy to a hoof infection. At least an hour ticked by, the sun finally rising truly and the rest of the stable hands filing in for their working day. None of them spoke to Fotios beyond bowing respectfully at his presence; they hastened to be about their duties. Fotios barely noticed. Neither did he appear to realise when one of his nieces had found her way to the front doors of the stable and was looking at him through the cool darkness of the stalls.
The day had begun early for Fotios. Yet, the ignorant might have been surprised to know that he rose before the sun.
As Head of the House of Leventi, it might be assumed that Fotios was hardly expected to be awake before noon. That his day would consist of luxury and ease. His family were powerful, his old connections from when he was Master Informer ensured that his knowledge was never second-best. His excessive wealth meant that he would never truly be limited for funds for the duration of his life and that of his children and eventual grandchildren. He was married to a woman that enraptured him body and soul and those who worked in his employ were so terrified of his penalisation that there was never a penny out of place or a trade that was not profitable.
Pure Elysium Field perfection.
And yet, Fotios thought, as he stepped into the open courtyard of his estate, only idiots would think to luxuriate. To sit back upon their laurels and enjoy all that inheritance and birth right had given them.
For one thing, the Leventi trading empire and information network only succeeded because of Fotios' anally retentive attention to detail. His subordinates never cheated him because they knew that if a single drachmae was out of place, he would notice. He would find it. And he would string up the man, woman or child responsible for it. Some said to never mix business with the personal. But, for Fotios, his business was personal. It was entirely personal. It revolved around him and fed back to him like gravity. Fotios was the core of the Leventi world. Whether family and acquaintances recognised it, wanted it or accepted it, it was the simple fact of the matter.
Nature and nurture had combined in Fotios to make him the perfect man to be such an axis to his universe. By nature, he was a workaholic and a perfectionist. His exceptional standards were held first and foremost by himself, making him entirely unforgiving upon those who could not measure up in the same way. He was living proof that mortal men could be flawless in business. Which meant all others would be too. By nurture, Fotios' natural tendency for active interference and high value had been stoked and encouraged by his father. A man bent on seeing Fotios become the perfect heir to the Leventi name at the risk of being nothing at all.
As Fotios stretched out his neck and looked up at the rays of light stretching free beyond the trees at the far southern edge of his property, he took a moment to revel in the amusement of that. Seraphim had been so determined to pummel into his head that he needed to be ruthless, to be perfect, to take rather than to ask... Fotios sometimes wondered if the man realised he had been honing his own killer. Forming a man that would do anything to remove an obstacle in his path; a man who would eventually come to see his sire as just such an obstacle.
Working his jaw, curling his fingers and walking a little to stretch out his legs, Fotios threw the thought away without guilt. He had never regretted his decision to rid the world of the bully that was Seraphim of Leventi. How could he? The reward for such an act was currently lying naked, exhausted and thoroughly sated in stained sheets upstairs. Just what was he supposed to feel sorry about?
His upper lip curling in satisfaction, Fotios headed over towards the stables that were kept near to the main households. He had been up for several hours already, managing correspondence so that his runners would be able to send his notes with first light. And still he was beating most of his stable workers to their place of business that morning. Only the stablemaster was yet on site.
The Leventi homestead in the capital was simply laid out. Positioned on the furthest edge of the Quarter, where green meadows could stretch out and away from the city to the north, two large estates were kept at the front of the land where large iron gates, gilded in gold, kept the affairs of the buildings from prying eyes. One of the buildings was a truly beautiful example of the highest architectural achievements a few hundred years ago, Now covered in climbing ivy and turned into something oozing heritage and natural awe, it was the estate used by Fotios' extended family whenever they attended the capital. Konstanos and Georgios each had their own homes, away from the havoc of the capitol and the senate. But when they were forced to journey to Vasiliadon, they stayed in this ancestral home.
The second home was Fotios's personal estate. Across the courtyard from the old manor and twice as large, it was two storeys high and lavish with columns and grand ambition. Every inch of it was pure marble, every seem laced with golden filigree. It was simple, classy and elegant but clearly the most expensive building in the entire city, barring the royal palace. It was here that Fotios and his wife and children lived. And, if he had his way through recent letters to Konstanos, it would soon become the temporary home of his nephew also. It was a tragedy in need of correction that Konstantinos - the heir of Leventi - had yet to be brought under his direct influence.
"My Lord!"
The call was one of greeting and slight surprise. Not that Fotios was awake at such an hour and attending to his place of work but because it happened to be today and without warning.
"Good morning, Konos." Fotios greeted back.
Unlike most of his servants, Konos did not jump or shiver at Fotios' presence. He did not suddenly shrink into shaking timidity over the Head of the House's presence. Fotios knew that the man had a healthy dose of respect and filial servitude in him but the man had been working for him for so long that Fotios was now as much a part of the scenery as the wood of the stable doors.
"I have come to check on Ursula," he explained.
The stables that stood across from the old manor house were for particular horses. They housed perhaps a dozen steeds maximum and were kept close because of the attention the animals required. Expecting mares would be kept within these stables, or animals that had been brought to the Leventi for strict training or health care. Several miles away, across the green beauty of the Leventi estate, was a large stable complex that houses upwards of a hundred horses at any one time. It was here that the usual training of colts and fillies was undertaken.
Konos was in charge of the specialised stables here in the courtyard and was used to Fotios taking a personal interest in the creatures kept there. He took no offence that his employer was wanting to check upon his work. Ursula was an important animal and the personal pet of Queen Elise of Mikaelidas. She was beloved and elderly and, in Fotios' opinion, needed to be put out to pasture or out of her misery. Yet, he had been entreated with the responsibility of seeing her in the best health possible before returning her to the Queen.
"Of course, my Lord," Konos replied, unbolting the stables. Fotios obviously had a key to every piece of his land but the opening of the stables was part of Konos' morning routine. "Come in, come in. Let us see if she is awake. She has been sleeping better of late, which is a good sign."
Each man knew that it was either a positive symptom of her gaining health and losing stress, or it was a precursor to the long sleep eventually to come. Neither mentioned this secondary possibility.
Taking his time, Fotios revealed his attention-focused self over and again as he assessed the progress of first Ursula and then the other horses kept close to home. Currently, they had seven animals being tended to for everything from late pregnancy to a hoof infection. At least an hour ticked by, the sun finally rising truly and the rest of the stable hands filing in for their working day. None of them spoke to Fotios beyond bowing respectfully at his presence; they hastened to be about their duties. Fotios barely noticed. Neither did he appear to realise when one of his nieces had found her way to the front doors of the stable and was looking at him through the cool darkness of the stalls.
For the past several weeks, Imma had been restless, unable to find contentment in anything she did. Even painting was not as satisfying as it usually was. A strange longing was stirring inside her a longing for something that she couldn’t define, something that eluded her, something that was just out of her reach. She knew not what this ‘something’ was, only that she yearned for it in a way that she could not explain.
What she did know was that it didn’t have anything to do with her body’s awakening to carnal desire. That was a different feeling entirely and not nearly as compelling as this new sensation. Though she felt it all the time, it was more prevalent when she was overshadowed by her sisters or at a court event where she felt ignored and underappreciated.
It also plagued her on mornings such as this one, when she woke up after a dream that she could not remember. All Imma recalled was that she had been secure in her own self-worth instead of feeling like a poor imitation of her older sisters. Oh, how she wished she could prove to the world that there was more to her than met the eye, both literally and figuratively. But how did she do that? How did one dazzle when one was only a plain little moth in a bevy of beautiful butterflies?
There was nobody she could share her turmoil with. She had tried to broach the subject to her father but he had just smiled, ruffled her hair, and told her not to worry. After her sisters were married, it would be her turn to shine. Perhaps that was true, but would there be any man left who was worthy of her? And did she really want to be defined only by marriage? Absolutely not.
Imma couldn’t even look at her mother without seeing the disappointment in her eyes. Talking to her about her feelings of inadequacy would do nothing but earn her pity. Her sisters would never understand. They already had everything going for them and had no idea what is was like not to be beautiful, charming, and sophisticated. It seemed that she must suppress her anxiety and never speak of it at all.
After a light breakfast on the balcony while watching the gorgeous hues of the sunrise paint the sky, she decided to take a walk to hopefully dispel her inquietude. Her handmaiden dressed her in a pretty lilac peplos, fastened at her shoulders by opal fibulae. A simple belt secured it around her waist, hidden by the apotygma which fell just past her waist. The edges were embroidered with wide pink, blue, and white designs that were repeated at the garment's hem. Imma wore armbands of silver studded with opals and dangling opal earrings. Her hair was left loose, with braids on each side that were entwined with lilac ribbons and pulled to the back and away from her face.
There was no need for a personal guard as long as she stayed on the estate. She could move around freely without a constant escort. Almost instinctively, she headed for the stables between the main manor and the old estate where her family was staying. A Leventi to the core, being around horses always calmed her. Imma had never been inside this particular stable, as it was where equines who needed special care were kept. Perhaps she and the horses could comfort each other.
Reaching the doors, she paused between them. As she inhaled the familiar scent of horses and hay, some of the tension left her body. Blinking her eyes to adjust them to the dimness within, she watched the stable hands going about their duties. One passed her carrying a sack of grain and she returned his smile. Imma was about to step inside when she heard a familiar voice that froze her in her tracks. Uncle Fotios?
Yes, there he was. His tall regal form was unmistakable. In truth, her uncle scared her as much as he fascinated her. He was formidable and intimidating but he was also revered by everyone from the King to the lowliest of slaves. There was a way about him that commanded respect. He controlled his own destiny and molded it to his will. People were drawn to him. They admired him. They obeyed him. They hung on his every word. He was a force to be reckoned with and she both admired him and feared him.
I should leave. He won’t be pleased if I disturb him.
“Good morning, Lady Imma. What brings you here today? I hope nothing is amiss with Tisavros.” The stable boy’s voice echoed through the interior of the stables. He was an attractive young man who had engaged her in conversation before when she visited Vasiliádon. He bowed to her respectfully.
So much for leaving. Uncle Fotios knows I’m here now. Her heart started pounding furiously and she began to shiver even though the sun bathed her in its golden glow, haloing her in light. “Tisavros is fine.”
“Then you came to see Lord Fotios?”
Now what do I do?“Yes, I heard he was here and hoped to speak to him.” About what? I guess I can always ask if I can paint his portrait.
The boy bowed again and then strode outside, probably on an errand of some sort.
Imma took a step into the coolness of the stables. Her knees felt weak and her throat was so tight that she wasn’t sure if she would be able to speak. Briefly closing her eyes and praying to Hera for strength, she walked toward her uncle, her sandals silent upon the well-trodden ground.
What if he tells me he has no time to speak to silly young girls? What if I make a fool of myself and accidentally insult him? What if he tells Father to take me back to Macendia and keep me there? What if, what if, what if ...?
“Good morning, my lord uncle.” At least she had managed a cordial greeting. “Do you have a moment to speak to me? If you’re busy, it can wait.”
Alysanne
Imma
Alysanne
Imma
Awards
First Impressions:slender but still growing and heading toward being top-heavy; large blue-violet eyes; curly white-gold hair; high cheekbones; full lips; often smudged with paint, clay, or soil
Address: Your Her Ladyship
First Impressions:slender but still growing and heading toward being top-heavy; large blue-violet eyes; curly white-gold hair; high cheekbones; full lips; often smudged with paint, clay, or soil
Address: Your Her Ladyship
For the past several weeks, Imma had been restless, unable to find contentment in anything she did. Even painting was not as satisfying as it usually was. A strange longing was stirring inside her a longing for something that she couldn’t define, something that eluded her, something that was just out of her reach. She knew not what this ‘something’ was, only that she yearned for it in a way that she could not explain.
What she did know was that it didn’t have anything to do with her body’s awakening to carnal desire. That was a different feeling entirely and not nearly as compelling as this new sensation. Though she felt it all the time, it was more prevalent when she was overshadowed by her sisters or at a court event where she felt ignored and underappreciated.
It also plagued her on mornings such as this one, when she woke up after a dream that she could not remember. All Imma recalled was that she had been secure in her own self-worth instead of feeling like a poor imitation of her older sisters. Oh, how she wished she could prove to the world that there was more to her than met the eye, both literally and figuratively. But how did she do that? How did one dazzle when one was only a plain little moth in a bevy of beautiful butterflies?
There was nobody she could share her turmoil with. She had tried to broach the subject to her father but he had just smiled, ruffled her hair, and told her not to worry. After her sisters were married, it would be her turn to shine. Perhaps that was true, but would there be any man left who was worthy of her? And did she really want to be defined only by marriage? Absolutely not.
Imma couldn’t even look at her mother without seeing the disappointment in her eyes. Talking to her about her feelings of inadequacy would do nothing but earn her pity. Her sisters would never understand. They already had everything going for them and had no idea what is was like not to be beautiful, charming, and sophisticated. It seemed that she must suppress her anxiety and never speak of it at all.
After a light breakfast on the balcony while watching the gorgeous hues of the sunrise paint the sky, she decided to take a walk to hopefully dispel her inquietude. Her handmaiden dressed her in a pretty lilac peplos, fastened at her shoulders by opal fibulae. A simple belt secured it around her waist, hidden by the apotygma which fell just past her waist. The edges were embroidered with wide pink, blue, and white designs that were repeated at the garment's hem. Imma wore armbands of silver studded with opals and dangling opal earrings. Her hair was left loose, with braids on each side that were entwined with lilac ribbons and pulled to the back and away from her face.
There was no need for a personal guard as long as she stayed on the estate. She could move around freely without a constant escort. Almost instinctively, she headed for the stables between the main manor and the old estate where her family was staying. A Leventi to the core, being around horses always calmed her. Imma had never been inside this particular stable, as it was where equines who needed special care were kept. Perhaps she and the horses could comfort each other.
Reaching the doors, she paused between them. As she inhaled the familiar scent of horses and hay, some of the tension left her body. Blinking her eyes to adjust them to the dimness within, she watched the stable hands going about their duties. One passed her carrying a sack of grain and she returned his smile. Imma was about to step inside when she heard a familiar voice that froze her in her tracks. Uncle Fotios?
Yes, there he was. His tall regal form was unmistakable. In truth, her uncle scared her as much as he fascinated her. He was formidable and intimidating but he was also revered by everyone from the King to the lowliest of slaves. There was a way about him that commanded respect. He controlled his own destiny and molded it to his will. People were drawn to him. They admired him. They obeyed him. They hung on his every word. He was a force to be reckoned with and she both admired him and feared him.
I should leave. He won’t be pleased if I disturb him.
“Good morning, Lady Imma. What brings you here today? I hope nothing is amiss with Tisavros.” The stable boy’s voice echoed through the interior of the stables. He was an attractive young man who had engaged her in conversation before when she visited Vasiliádon. He bowed to her respectfully.
So much for leaving. Uncle Fotios knows I’m here now. Her heart started pounding furiously and she began to shiver even though the sun bathed her in its golden glow, haloing her in light. “Tisavros is fine.”
“Then you came to see Lord Fotios?”
Now what do I do?“Yes, I heard he was here and hoped to speak to him.” About what? I guess I can always ask if I can paint his portrait.
The boy bowed again and then strode outside, probably on an errand of some sort.
Imma took a step into the coolness of the stables. Her knees felt weak and her throat was so tight that she wasn’t sure if she would be able to speak. Briefly closing her eyes and praying to Hera for strength, she walked toward her uncle, her sandals silent upon the well-trodden ground.
What if he tells me he has no time to speak to silly young girls? What if I make a fool of myself and accidentally insult him? What if he tells Father to take me back to Macendia and keep me there? What if, what if, what if ...?
“Good morning, my lord uncle.” At least she had managed a cordial greeting. “Do you have a moment to speak to me? If you’re busy, it can wait.”
For the past several weeks, Imma had been restless, unable to find contentment in anything she did. Even painting was not as satisfying as it usually was. A strange longing was stirring inside her a longing for something that she couldn’t define, something that eluded her, something that was just out of her reach. She knew not what this ‘something’ was, only that she yearned for it in a way that she could not explain.
What she did know was that it didn’t have anything to do with her body’s awakening to carnal desire. That was a different feeling entirely and not nearly as compelling as this new sensation. Though she felt it all the time, it was more prevalent when she was overshadowed by her sisters or at a court event where she felt ignored and underappreciated.
It also plagued her on mornings such as this one, when she woke up after a dream that she could not remember. All Imma recalled was that she had been secure in her own self-worth instead of feeling like a poor imitation of her older sisters. Oh, how she wished she could prove to the world that there was more to her than met the eye, both literally and figuratively. But how did she do that? How did one dazzle when one was only a plain little moth in a bevy of beautiful butterflies?
There was nobody she could share her turmoil with. She had tried to broach the subject to her father but he had just smiled, ruffled her hair, and told her not to worry. After her sisters were married, it would be her turn to shine. Perhaps that was true, but would there be any man left who was worthy of her? And did she really want to be defined only by marriage? Absolutely not.
Imma couldn’t even look at her mother without seeing the disappointment in her eyes. Talking to her about her feelings of inadequacy would do nothing but earn her pity. Her sisters would never understand. They already had everything going for them and had no idea what is was like not to be beautiful, charming, and sophisticated. It seemed that she must suppress her anxiety and never speak of it at all.
After a light breakfast on the balcony while watching the gorgeous hues of the sunrise paint the sky, she decided to take a walk to hopefully dispel her inquietude. Her handmaiden dressed her in a pretty lilac peplos, fastened at her shoulders by opal fibulae. A simple belt secured it around her waist, hidden by the apotygma which fell just past her waist. The edges were embroidered with wide pink, blue, and white designs that were repeated at the garment's hem. Imma wore armbands of silver studded with opals and dangling opal earrings. Her hair was left loose, with braids on each side that were entwined with lilac ribbons and pulled to the back and away from her face.
There was no need for a personal guard as long as she stayed on the estate. She could move around freely without a constant escort. Almost instinctively, she headed for the stables between the main manor and the old estate where her family was staying. A Leventi to the core, being around horses always calmed her. Imma had never been inside this particular stable, as it was where equines who needed special care were kept. Perhaps she and the horses could comfort each other.
Reaching the doors, she paused between them. As she inhaled the familiar scent of horses and hay, some of the tension left her body. Blinking her eyes to adjust them to the dimness within, she watched the stable hands going about their duties. One passed her carrying a sack of grain and she returned his smile. Imma was about to step inside when she heard a familiar voice that froze her in her tracks. Uncle Fotios?
Yes, there he was. His tall regal form was unmistakable. In truth, her uncle scared her as much as he fascinated her. He was formidable and intimidating but he was also revered by everyone from the King to the lowliest of slaves. There was a way about him that commanded respect. He controlled his own destiny and molded it to his will. People were drawn to him. They admired him. They obeyed him. They hung on his every word. He was a force to be reckoned with and she both admired him and feared him.
I should leave. He won’t be pleased if I disturb him.
“Good morning, Lady Imma. What brings you here today? I hope nothing is amiss with Tisavros.” The stable boy’s voice echoed through the interior of the stables. He was an attractive young man who had engaged her in conversation before when she visited Vasiliádon. He bowed to her respectfully.
So much for leaving. Uncle Fotios knows I’m here now. Her heart started pounding furiously and she began to shiver even though the sun bathed her in its golden glow, haloing her in light. “Tisavros is fine.”
“Then you came to see Lord Fotios?”
Now what do I do?“Yes, I heard he was here and hoped to speak to him.” About what? I guess I can always ask if I can paint his portrait.
The boy bowed again and then strode outside, probably on an errand of some sort.
Imma took a step into the coolness of the stables. Her knees felt weak and her throat was so tight that she wasn’t sure if she would be able to speak. Briefly closing her eyes and praying to Hera for strength, she walked toward her uncle, her sandals silent upon the well-trodden ground.
What if he tells me he has no time to speak to silly young girls? What if I make a fool of myself and accidentally insult him? What if he tells Father to take me back to Macendia and keep me there? What if, what if, what if ...?
“Good morning, my lord uncle.” At least she had managed a cordial greeting. “Do you have a moment to speak to me? If you’re busy, it can wait.”
It was rare that Fotios was not in the middle of some urgent affair or otter. He moderated his days with the same ruthless accountability that he kept himself to. Each hour was accounted for, each duty certified to a particular time. Even now, on the off chance of an hour’s reprieve, he had found a way to occupy his time, to make use of his idle moments. So, it was near impossible to catch him in a moment suitable for disturbance.
On the alternative, Fotios was a man who recognized an opportunity. A day’s plan was sacred in most ways but if it kept your nose in books instead of sniffing for the next opportunity, those books would, in themselves dry up. Ergo, Fotios was careful to ascertain the purpose of any interruptions to his day, before he dismissed them from mind.
He did the same with Imma, that morn.
Finally noticing his youngest niece as she drew close, Fotios glanced toward her from the corner of his eye. The majority of his focus remained on the steed across the way, recuperating in his stall. His voice was plain, polite, and mildly interested as he asked…
“What is it you want of me?”
For the timidest of Georgios’ girls to approach him spoke volumes of Imma’s motivation - or the severity of her plight. Fotios was well aware that his reputation in the eyes of delicate females was not one of ease of approachability. And he hated not being aware of every facet and drive for his family’s actions. Just what had prompted the girl to venture thus far…?
JD
Fotios
JD
Fotios
Awards
First Impressions:Wiry; Sharp gaze, austere and regal features, prominent tendons in his hands.
Address: Your His Lordship
It was rare that Fotios was not in the middle of some urgent affair or otter. He moderated his days with the same ruthless accountability that he kept himself to. Each hour was accounted for, each duty certified to a particular time. Even now, on the off chance of an hour’s reprieve, he had found a way to occupy his time, to make use of his idle moments. So, it was near impossible to catch him in a moment suitable for disturbance.
On the alternative, Fotios was a man who recognized an opportunity. A day’s plan was sacred in most ways but if it kept your nose in books instead of sniffing for the next opportunity, those books would, in themselves dry up. Ergo, Fotios was careful to ascertain the purpose of any interruptions to his day, before he dismissed them from mind.
He did the same with Imma, that morn.
Finally noticing his youngest niece as she drew close, Fotios glanced toward her from the corner of his eye. The majority of his focus remained on the steed across the way, recuperating in his stall. His voice was plain, polite, and mildly interested as he asked…
“What is it you want of me?”
For the timidest of Georgios’ girls to approach him spoke volumes of Imma’s motivation - or the severity of her plight. Fotios was well aware that his reputation in the eyes of delicate females was not one of ease of approachability. And he hated not being aware of every facet and drive for his family’s actions. Just what had prompted the girl to venture thus far…?
It was rare that Fotios was not in the middle of some urgent affair or otter. He moderated his days with the same ruthless accountability that he kept himself to. Each hour was accounted for, each duty certified to a particular time. Even now, on the off chance of an hour’s reprieve, he had found a way to occupy his time, to make use of his idle moments. So, it was near impossible to catch him in a moment suitable for disturbance.
On the alternative, Fotios was a man who recognized an opportunity. A day’s plan was sacred in most ways but if it kept your nose in books instead of sniffing for the next opportunity, those books would, in themselves dry up. Ergo, Fotios was careful to ascertain the purpose of any interruptions to his day, before he dismissed them from mind.
He did the same with Imma, that morn.
Finally noticing his youngest niece as she drew close, Fotios glanced toward her from the corner of his eye. The majority of his focus remained on the steed across the way, recuperating in his stall. His voice was plain, polite, and mildly interested as he asked…
“What is it you want of me?”
For the timidest of Georgios’ girls to approach him spoke volumes of Imma’s motivation - or the severity of her plight. Fotios was well aware that his reputation in the eyes of delicate females was not one of ease of approachability. And he hated not being aware of every facet and drive for his family’s actions. Just what had prompted the girl to venture thus far…?
Imma’s heart raced wildly when Uncle Fotios glanced at her from the corner of his eye and politely asked her what she wanted. For a moment, she bristled. Wasn’t she important enough for him to actually look at her when he spoke to her? No, she supposed not. She was the most insignificant member of House Leventi. Even her younger cousin was worth more than she, simply because he was the only boy in the family.
She didn’t want to be inconsequential anymore. She wanted to be like her uncle, someone that others respected and admired, someone who could walk into a room and command the attention of everyone in it. Imma felt that she could learn much from him if she had the courage to ask him for advice, assuming he believed a woman was deserving of it.
Her own father was no help whatsoever. When she told him that she wished her sisters didn’t overshadow her, he assured her that once they were married, it would be her time to shine. Perhaps that was true, but would there be any man left who was worthy of her? And did she really want to be defined by marriage?
No, she wanted to be valued on her own merits , to show the world that she was more than just a poor imitation of her sisters. At first Imma had intended to ask Uncle Fotios if she could paint his portrait. Now … even though her stomach was churning and her legs felt like jelly ... she was determined to broach the subject, even though the idea frightened her. She knew he got up as early as she did. Sometimes she saw him from her window, striding with purpose from one place to another as if he owned the entire universe. How wonderful it would be to be so confident, so impressive, so amazing.
She bit her lip nervously, raising her wide blue eyes to his. “I … I wonder if you can help me with something.” Her voice was soft and timid but it gained strength as she continued to speak. “I want to make something of myself, to be more than just ‘the other Leventi girl.’ I’m tired of being eclipsed by my sisters. I want to be a force to be reckoned with … like you, Uncle Fotios.”
Imma’s gaze did not waver as she looked up at him, hoping that he would realize that she was serious about what she had just revealed.
Alysanne
Imma
Alysanne
Imma
Awards
First Impressions:slender but still growing and heading toward being top-heavy; large blue-violet eyes; curly white-gold hair; high cheekbones; full lips; often smudged with paint, clay, or soil
Address: Your Her Ladyship
First Impressions:slender but still growing and heading toward being top-heavy; large blue-violet eyes; curly white-gold hair; high cheekbones; full lips; often smudged with paint, clay, or soil
Address: Your Her Ladyship
Imma’s heart raced wildly when Uncle Fotios glanced at her from the corner of his eye and politely asked her what she wanted. For a moment, she bristled. Wasn’t she important enough for him to actually look at her when he spoke to her? No, she supposed not. She was the most insignificant member of House Leventi. Even her younger cousin was worth more than she, simply because he was the only boy in the family.
She didn’t want to be inconsequential anymore. She wanted to be like her uncle, someone that others respected and admired, someone who could walk into a room and command the attention of everyone in it. Imma felt that she could learn much from him if she had the courage to ask him for advice, assuming he believed a woman was deserving of it.
Her own father was no help whatsoever. When she told him that she wished her sisters didn’t overshadow her, he assured her that once they were married, it would be her time to shine. Perhaps that was true, but would there be any man left who was worthy of her? And did she really want to be defined by marriage?
No, she wanted to be valued on her own merits , to show the world that she was more than just a poor imitation of her sisters. At first Imma had intended to ask Uncle Fotios if she could paint his portrait. Now … even though her stomach was churning and her legs felt like jelly ... she was determined to broach the subject, even though the idea frightened her. She knew he got up as early as she did. Sometimes she saw him from her window, striding with purpose from one place to another as if he owned the entire universe. How wonderful it would be to be so confident, so impressive, so amazing.
She bit her lip nervously, raising her wide blue eyes to his. “I … I wonder if you can help me with something.” Her voice was soft and timid but it gained strength as she continued to speak. “I want to make something of myself, to be more than just ‘the other Leventi girl.’ I’m tired of being eclipsed by my sisters. I want to be a force to be reckoned with … like you, Uncle Fotios.”
Imma’s gaze did not waver as she looked up at him, hoping that he would realize that she was serious about what she had just revealed.
Imma’s heart raced wildly when Uncle Fotios glanced at her from the corner of his eye and politely asked her what she wanted. For a moment, she bristled. Wasn’t she important enough for him to actually look at her when he spoke to her? No, she supposed not. She was the most insignificant member of House Leventi. Even her younger cousin was worth more than she, simply because he was the only boy in the family.
She didn’t want to be inconsequential anymore. She wanted to be like her uncle, someone that others respected and admired, someone who could walk into a room and command the attention of everyone in it. Imma felt that she could learn much from him if she had the courage to ask him for advice, assuming he believed a woman was deserving of it.
Her own father was no help whatsoever. When she told him that she wished her sisters didn’t overshadow her, he assured her that once they were married, it would be her time to shine. Perhaps that was true, but would there be any man left who was worthy of her? And did she really want to be defined by marriage?
No, she wanted to be valued on her own merits , to show the world that she was more than just a poor imitation of her sisters. At first Imma had intended to ask Uncle Fotios if she could paint his portrait. Now … even though her stomach was churning and her legs felt like jelly ... she was determined to broach the subject, even though the idea frightened her. She knew he got up as early as she did. Sometimes she saw him from her window, striding with purpose from one place to another as if he owned the entire universe. How wonderful it would be to be so confident, so impressive, so amazing.
She bit her lip nervously, raising her wide blue eyes to his. “I … I wonder if you can help me with something.” Her voice was soft and timid but it gained strength as she continued to speak. “I want to make something of myself, to be more than just ‘the other Leventi girl.’ I’m tired of being eclipsed by my sisters. I want to be a force to be reckoned with … like you, Uncle Fotios.”
Imma’s gaze did not waver as she looked up at him, hoping that he would realize that she was serious about what she had just revealed.
It was rare for Fotios to be surprised. In that he would admit. He was a man who planned everything, knew the prompts and motivations of almost all that he interacted with on a regular basis... There was little space for surprise when all that could possibly occur had already formed in his cunning mind.
But that morning, by Imma of all people, he was caught off guard. This, more than anything else, was what prompted him to turn around. Now ignoring the horse, seeing his care handed over to the men he paid for such things, Fotios stood before his youngest niece and considered her with a fresh and open expression he had rarely used with her before. His head was tilted a little to the side, his jaw tight and his eyes shrewd.
Imma of Leventi, Georgios' youngest child, had come into the world with a three-fold curse upon her head. At least, that was how her uncle saw it. Not only was she the youngest child of a series of sisters who, by the privilege of age, had an earlier chance at men than she but she had also inherited her father's compassionate nature; quiet and kindly. Amicable and admirable that might be in a child as it hinted at maturity beyond her years, as a nearly grown woman, it made her... forgettable. Cast to one side as the 'nice one'. Dismissed because she was dismissable.
The third curse that she had inherited had come also in the form of her sisters but, more specifically, in their inability to find mates at a suitable age. By all rights, Imma should have had the Court at her disposal, all of its available men for her consideration, by the time she reached her womanhood. All of her sisters should have been married and removed from the equation. Instead, not a single one of Georgios' girls had seen themselves fit to marry (barring Theodora's recent engagement to Achilleas) and Imma was brought into adulthood with a lid firmly clamped down upon her choices and opportunities. Not to mention a father who encouraged such a lid, intending to be fair to all and marrying his daughters off, more or less, in order.
Fotios had always assumed that the youngest of his offspring was content with such an arrangement; more interested in her paints than she was in matrimony or prestige. He had dismissed her as everyone else had. Now, however, he was forced to confront such a thought as erroneous. Forced to realise that he had, perhaps, been short-sighted.
For it seemed that there was more to little Imma of Leventi than others might have guessed.
His eyes narrowing, Fotios placed his hands on his hips as he assessed the girl with a renewed gaze. She was small. Blonde, fair and round of cheek. Girly and innocent looking. She possessed neither the intelligent and sharp features of her eldest sister Selene, nor Theodora's great beauty. She didn't measure up against the fire in Olympia's eyes - a fire that promised secrets and intrigue - and Nana's obnoxious need to be the centre of attention shoved everyone else to the background. Just what did this little one have to work with? Just what was she proposing...?
"Define, a 'force to be reckonned with'," he told her. Before he committed his time to something, he wanted to know that the path she envisioned for herself was the one slowly forming in his own mind. He wasn't about to waste his precious hours on a girl who simply wanted a bit more attention from Daddy dearest. "What is it exactly that you want? What is your goal?"
JD
Fotios
JD
Fotios
Awards
First Impressions:Wiry; Sharp gaze, austere and regal features, prominent tendons in his hands.
Address: Your His Lordship
It was rare for Fotios to be surprised. In that he would admit. He was a man who planned everything, knew the prompts and motivations of almost all that he interacted with on a regular basis... There was little space for surprise when all that could possibly occur had already formed in his cunning mind.
But that morning, by Imma of all people, he was caught off guard. This, more than anything else, was what prompted him to turn around. Now ignoring the horse, seeing his care handed over to the men he paid for such things, Fotios stood before his youngest niece and considered her with a fresh and open expression he had rarely used with her before. His head was tilted a little to the side, his jaw tight and his eyes shrewd.
Imma of Leventi, Georgios' youngest child, had come into the world with a three-fold curse upon her head. At least, that was how her uncle saw it. Not only was she the youngest child of a series of sisters who, by the privilege of age, had an earlier chance at men than she but she had also inherited her father's compassionate nature; quiet and kindly. Amicable and admirable that might be in a child as it hinted at maturity beyond her years, as a nearly grown woman, it made her... forgettable. Cast to one side as the 'nice one'. Dismissed because she was dismissable.
The third curse that she had inherited had come also in the form of her sisters but, more specifically, in their inability to find mates at a suitable age. By all rights, Imma should have had the Court at her disposal, all of its available men for her consideration, by the time she reached her womanhood. All of her sisters should have been married and removed from the equation. Instead, not a single one of Georgios' girls had seen themselves fit to marry (barring Theodora's recent engagement to Achilleas) and Imma was brought into adulthood with a lid firmly clamped down upon her choices and opportunities. Not to mention a father who encouraged such a lid, intending to be fair to all and marrying his daughters off, more or less, in order.
Fotios had always assumed that the youngest of his offspring was content with such an arrangement; more interested in her paints than she was in matrimony or prestige. He had dismissed her as everyone else had. Now, however, he was forced to confront such a thought as erroneous. Forced to realise that he had, perhaps, been short-sighted.
For it seemed that there was more to little Imma of Leventi than others might have guessed.
His eyes narrowing, Fotios placed his hands on his hips as he assessed the girl with a renewed gaze. She was small. Blonde, fair and round of cheek. Girly and innocent looking. She possessed neither the intelligent and sharp features of her eldest sister Selene, nor Theodora's great beauty. She didn't measure up against the fire in Olympia's eyes - a fire that promised secrets and intrigue - and Nana's obnoxious need to be the centre of attention shoved everyone else to the background. Just what did this little one have to work with? Just what was she proposing...?
"Define, a 'force to be reckonned with'," he told her. Before he committed his time to something, he wanted to know that the path she envisioned for herself was the one slowly forming in his own mind. He wasn't about to waste his precious hours on a girl who simply wanted a bit more attention from Daddy dearest. "What is it exactly that you want? What is your goal?"
It was rare for Fotios to be surprised. In that he would admit. He was a man who planned everything, knew the prompts and motivations of almost all that he interacted with on a regular basis... There was little space for surprise when all that could possibly occur had already formed in his cunning mind.
But that morning, by Imma of all people, he was caught off guard. This, more than anything else, was what prompted him to turn around. Now ignoring the horse, seeing his care handed over to the men he paid for such things, Fotios stood before his youngest niece and considered her with a fresh and open expression he had rarely used with her before. His head was tilted a little to the side, his jaw tight and his eyes shrewd.
Imma of Leventi, Georgios' youngest child, had come into the world with a three-fold curse upon her head. At least, that was how her uncle saw it. Not only was she the youngest child of a series of sisters who, by the privilege of age, had an earlier chance at men than she but she had also inherited her father's compassionate nature; quiet and kindly. Amicable and admirable that might be in a child as it hinted at maturity beyond her years, as a nearly grown woman, it made her... forgettable. Cast to one side as the 'nice one'. Dismissed because she was dismissable.
The third curse that she had inherited had come also in the form of her sisters but, more specifically, in their inability to find mates at a suitable age. By all rights, Imma should have had the Court at her disposal, all of its available men for her consideration, by the time she reached her womanhood. All of her sisters should have been married and removed from the equation. Instead, not a single one of Georgios' girls had seen themselves fit to marry (barring Theodora's recent engagement to Achilleas) and Imma was brought into adulthood with a lid firmly clamped down upon her choices and opportunities. Not to mention a father who encouraged such a lid, intending to be fair to all and marrying his daughters off, more or less, in order.
Fotios had always assumed that the youngest of his offspring was content with such an arrangement; more interested in her paints than she was in matrimony or prestige. He had dismissed her as everyone else had. Now, however, he was forced to confront such a thought as erroneous. Forced to realise that he had, perhaps, been short-sighted.
For it seemed that there was more to little Imma of Leventi than others might have guessed.
His eyes narrowing, Fotios placed his hands on his hips as he assessed the girl with a renewed gaze. She was small. Blonde, fair and round of cheek. Girly and innocent looking. She possessed neither the intelligent and sharp features of her eldest sister Selene, nor Theodora's great beauty. She didn't measure up against the fire in Olympia's eyes - a fire that promised secrets and intrigue - and Nana's obnoxious need to be the centre of attention shoved everyone else to the background. Just what did this little one have to work with? Just what was she proposing...?
"Define, a 'force to be reckonned with'," he told her. Before he committed his time to something, he wanted to know that the path she envisioned for herself was the one slowly forming in his own mind. He wasn't about to waste his precious hours on a girl who simply wanted a bit more attention from Daddy dearest. "What is it exactly that you want? What is your goal?"
Imma had to fight the urge to shrink back when her uncle turned his full attention on her, gazing at her as if he had never really noticed her before. Perhaps, like almost everyone else, he considered her just an extension of her sisters and not an individual with thoughts, feelings, and desires of her own. Though she was terrified, she stood up a little straighter, squared her shoulders, and lifted her chin proudly, knowing that if she backed down, she would lose the chance to learn from him forever. He wasn’t the only person who could help her improve herself, but she instinctively knew that he was the best and she wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass her by.
What, she wondered, did he see when he looked at her? A quiet little mouse who belonged in the background and shouldn’t wish for what she couldn’t have? Or did he sense the potential that was locked inside her and desperately trying to get out? Having been pampered and coddled all her life by her doting father and basically ignored by her disappointed mother, she had o idea how to transform herself into the person she knew herself to be. Imma thought a lot about the things she wished to achieve when she was painting and could even imagine herself dazzling the court in her own unique way and shining as brightly, if not more so, than her sisters. She was simply not experienced enough in the ways of the world to put her plans into action without guidance, which she believed that Uncle Fotios could provide.
If he chose to.
Finally he spoke, asking her what she meant by ‘force to be reckoned with’ and what exactly she wanted to achieve. Imma bit her lip and tilted her head as she contemplated the best way to reply. Would she be able to find the words to express her hopes and dreams? Communicating visually through her art had always been easier for her than speaking. What if she said it all wrong and Uncle Fotios laughed at her and told her she was never meant to shine as brightly as the sun and that she should happy to remain in the shadow of her sisters?
The young blonde took a deep breath and met her uncle’s eyes. “I feel as if my sisters were all made from the same mold, but I was made from one vastly different. I am not just one of five sisters. I am a person in my own right, with my own talents and strengths and I wish to learn how to use them to my advantage.
“Maybe I will never be the most beautiful girl at court, but perhaps I can become the most intriguing. I want to be able to walk into a room and own it, to convince others that I am worthy of their time and consideration. I wish to command respect and admiration and also to be a bit unpredictable and mysterious. When I marry, I do not want to be a pretty accessory on my husband’s arm, but to truly help him move up in the world. I wish to lead instead of follow, to fascinate instead of bore, to succeed instead of fail, to manipulate instead of be manipulated.”
Imma extended one hand (which was surprisingly steady) and held it palm up. “I want to hold the world in the palm of my hand.”
Alysanne
Imma
Alysanne
Imma
Awards
First Impressions:slender but still growing and heading toward being top-heavy; large blue-violet eyes; curly white-gold hair; high cheekbones; full lips; often smudged with paint, clay, or soil
Address: Your Her Ladyship
First Impressions:slender but still growing and heading toward being top-heavy; large blue-violet eyes; curly white-gold hair; high cheekbones; full lips; often smudged with paint, clay, or soil
Address: Your Her Ladyship
Imma had to fight the urge to shrink back when her uncle turned his full attention on her, gazing at her as if he had never really noticed her before. Perhaps, like almost everyone else, he considered her just an extension of her sisters and not an individual with thoughts, feelings, and desires of her own. Though she was terrified, she stood up a little straighter, squared her shoulders, and lifted her chin proudly, knowing that if she backed down, she would lose the chance to learn from him forever. He wasn’t the only person who could help her improve herself, but she instinctively knew that he was the best and she wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass her by.
What, she wondered, did he see when he looked at her? A quiet little mouse who belonged in the background and shouldn’t wish for what she couldn’t have? Or did he sense the potential that was locked inside her and desperately trying to get out? Having been pampered and coddled all her life by her doting father and basically ignored by her disappointed mother, she had o idea how to transform herself into the person she knew herself to be. Imma thought a lot about the things she wished to achieve when she was painting and could even imagine herself dazzling the court in her own unique way and shining as brightly, if not more so, than her sisters. She was simply not experienced enough in the ways of the world to put her plans into action without guidance, which she believed that Uncle Fotios could provide.
If he chose to.
Finally he spoke, asking her what she meant by ‘force to be reckoned with’ and what exactly she wanted to achieve. Imma bit her lip and tilted her head as she contemplated the best way to reply. Would she be able to find the words to express her hopes and dreams? Communicating visually through her art had always been easier for her than speaking. What if she said it all wrong and Uncle Fotios laughed at her and told her she was never meant to shine as brightly as the sun and that she should happy to remain in the shadow of her sisters?
The young blonde took a deep breath and met her uncle’s eyes. “I feel as if my sisters were all made from the same mold, but I was made from one vastly different. I am not just one of five sisters. I am a person in my own right, with my own talents and strengths and I wish to learn how to use them to my advantage.
“Maybe I will never be the most beautiful girl at court, but perhaps I can become the most intriguing. I want to be able to walk into a room and own it, to convince others that I am worthy of their time and consideration. I wish to command respect and admiration and also to be a bit unpredictable and mysterious. When I marry, I do not want to be a pretty accessory on my husband’s arm, but to truly help him move up in the world. I wish to lead instead of follow, to fascinate instead of bore, to succeed instead of fail, to manipulate instead of be manipulated.”
Imma extended one hand (which was surprisingly steady) and held it palm up. “I want to hold the world in the palm of my hand.”
Imma had to fight the urge to shrink back when her uncle turned his full attention on her, gazing at her as if he had never really noticed her before. Perhaps, like almost everyone else, he considered her just an extension of her sisters and not an individual with thoughts, feelings, and desires of her own. Though she was terrified, she stood up a little straighter, squared her shoulders, and lifted her chin proudly, knowing that if she backed down, she would lose the chance to learn from him forever. He wasn’t the only person who could help her improve herself, but she instinctively knew that he was the best and she wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass her by.
What, she wondered, did he see when he looked at her? A quiet little mouse who belonged in the background and shouldn’t wish for what she couldn’t have? Or did he sense the potential that was locked inside her and desperately trying to get out? Having been pampered and coddled all her life by her doting father and basically ignored by her disappointed mother, she had o idea how to transform herself into the person she knew herself to be. Imma thought a lot about the things she wished to achieve when she was painting and could even imagine herself dazzling the court in her own unique way and shining as brightly, if not more so, than her sisters. She was simply not experienced enough in the ways of the world to put her plans into action without guidance, which she believed that Uncle Fotios could provide.
If he chose to.
Finally he spoke, asking her what she meant by ‘force to be reckoned with’ and what exactly she wanted to achieve. Imma bit her lip and tilted her head as she contemplated the best way to reply. Would she be able to find the words to express her hopes and dreams? Communicating visually through her art had always been easier for her than speaking. What if she said it all wrong and Uncle Fotios laughed at her and told her she was never meant to shine as brightly as the sun and that she should happy to remain in the shadow of her sisters?
The young blonde took a deep breath and met her uncle’s eyes. “I feel as if my sisters were all made from the same mold, but I was made from one vastly different. I am not just one of five sisters. I am a person in my own right, with my own talents and strengths and I wish to learn how to use them to my advantage.
“Maybe I will never be the most beautiful girl at court, but perhaps I can become the most intriguing. I want to be able to walk into a room and own it, to convince others that I am worthy of their time and consideration. I wish to command respect and admiration and also to be a bit unpredictable and mysterious. When I marry, I do not want to be a pretty accessory on my husband’s arm, but to truly help him move up in the world. I wish to lead instead of follow, to fascinate instead of bore, to succeed instead of fail, to manipulate instead of be manipulated.”
Imma extended one hand (which was surprisingly steady) and held it palm up. “I want to hold the world in the palm of my hand.”
