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Fotios looked up at the sky as he stepped out into the courtyard of the Leventi property. It had been nearly a whole day since he had seen the sun. True, it was bright enough that one knew when it was day and when night, but the light was cold and grey. Stained the dull shade of white wine. It was barely warm.
His lips snarling into an unsatisfied line of discord, Fotios felt his nose hitch and his brows lower. There was much he could command. Power, money, people... But the weather was not one of them. Only the Gods had such powers. And, apparently, they were set to take pleasure in a torrential turn of climactic fortunes. The air was heavy and damp. The wind was brisk and cool. The clouds overhead - the culprits in masking the normally golden sunlight - were a dense shade of dove grey. Not yet charcoal with rain but certainly starting to gather it. Aeolus was ready for his moment.
Taking a breath of serene acceptance - the begrudging admittance that he was mortal - Fotios' attention was caught by three men, herding a cart of goods toward the main gates.
"Careful with that!" Fotios rarely needed to raise his voice. He had a natural tone that carried. Especially in the early morning when the horses had yet to grow restless in their stalls and the laborers were not yet carting the heavier of their goods. His warning was in time to save the wheel of the cart rolling over the toe of one of his men. "You break any of those offerings and I shall personally see to it that the Gods themselves know who to blame," Fotios warned.
Each set of shoulders seemed to sense under his words and the progression of the cart slowed to a more reasonable pace. They were bound for the Temple of Poseidon. Where they would offer the fruit, gold coins, and barley to the God of the Sea and his fellow water God Aeolus. Anything that might see the immortals turn a sympathetic eye upon the capital and the Leventi lands that extended out to the north of the boundary wall.
On the other hand, only a fool relied on faith and blessings alone. Preparation was the key to all forms of survival. This was why Fotios had been ordering rough sacking and sand from the southern beaches. He would see them laid between the columns of each solar room, the doorways, and low windows. Wooden boards were being brought in and entrenched around the courtyards where only pillars of stone formed their perimeter; not walls. They would be placed like fencing, and then as roofing, to keep the architecture, plants, and fabrics safe from the deluge all had been warned of.
The King's weather watchers were certain of the oncoming storm. The Master of the Sea had even confirmed kindred energy in the waves off the coast. It would be a ravaging downpour. One that would see the ill-organized fall beneath rivers of rain.
Which was why Fotios's anger blazed to a gentle burn when he turned to assess the Old Manor.
Where his own home - the main estate of the Leventi's Head - was being prepared for the approaching wrath of the Gods, the original manor of past generations looked no different than it had a week previous. Whilst smaller than Fotios' newly built home, and now archaic in its design and furnishing, the Old Manor was still valuable. It was a family heirloom. It held the history of the Leventi and their forebears. A history prettily decorated with crawling ivy and blossoming vines.
Used by his brothers and the different branches of the family whenever they journeyed to the capital, Fotios had left the protection of the Old Manor in the hands of Georgios. It was he who was currently occupying the house, along with several of his daughters. His wife, Evelli had remained in their main home in the province of Macendia. The fact that the Old Estate was not their primary home, however, should not have seen Georgios disregard its care. And, given the man's more sentimental and compassionate nature, Fotios was surprised to find little work done on the building to protect it against the elements.
Picking up the pace of his steps, Fotios headed beneath an archway and into the little garden of the old manor house.
"Georgios!" he called out to his brother, glancing through a few of the open windows. Tall and graceful, Fotios' easy steps belied his age as he went in the servants' entrance. The large kitchen, with its triple furnaces, three wide tables, and enough workspace for twelve was empty. Not unusual at this time of day. Especially when only a fragment of the family was staying within its walls. A handful of ladies maids, whom the daughters kept with them more often than not, a steward and a cook were all that was needed to keep the house in order.
"Georgios, where are you?!" Fotios called again. His anger turned his voice deep and sombrely sincere. "You would see the home of our forefathers washed away? Get your hindquarters down here, brother! There are words to be had!"
JD
Fotios
JD
Fotios
Awards
First Impressions:Wiry; Sharp gaze, austere and regal features, prominent tendons in his hands.
Address: Your His Lordship
Fotios looked up at the sky as he stepped out into the courtyard of the Leventi property. It had been nearly a whole day since he had seen the sun. True, it was bright enough that one knew when it was day and when night, but the light was cold and grey. Stained the dull shade of white wine. It was barely warm.
His lips snarling into an unsatisfied line of discord, Fotios felt his nose hitch and his brows lower. There was much he could command. Power, money, people... But the weather was not one of them. Only the Gods had such powers. And, apparently, they were set to take pleasure in a torrential turn of climactic fortunes. The air was heavy and damp. The wind was brisk and cool. The clouds overhead - the culprits in masking the normally golden sunlight - were a dense shade of dove grey. Not yet charcoal with rain but certainly starting to gather it. Aeolus was ready for his moment.
Taking a breath of serene acceptance - the begrudging admittance that he was mortal - Fotios' attention was caught by three men, herding a cart of goods toward the main gates.
"Careful with that!" Fotios rarely needed to raise his voice. He had a natural tone that carried. Especially in the early morning when the horses had yet to grow restless in their stalls and the laborers were not yet carting the heavier of their goods. His warning was in time to save the wheel of the cart rolling over the toe of one of his men. "You break any of those offerings and I shall personally see to it that the Gods themselves know who to blame," Fotios warned.
Each set of shoulders seemed to sense under his words and the progression of the cart slowed to a more reasonable pace. They were bound for the Temple of Poseidon. Where they would offer the fruit, gold coins, and barley to the God of the Sea and his fellow water God Aeolus. Anything that might see the immortals turn a sympathetic eye upon the capital and the Leventi lands that extended out to the north of the boundary wall.
On the other hand, only a fool relied on faith and blessings alone. Preparation was the key to all forms of survival. This was why Fotios had been ordering rough sacking and sand from the southern beaches. He would see them laid between the columns of each solar room, the doorways, and low windows. Wooden boards were being brought in and entrenched around the courtyards where only pillars of stone formed their perimeter; not walls. They would be placed like fencing, and then as roofing, to keep the architecture, plants, and fabrics safe from the deluge all had been warned of.
The King's weather watchers were certain of the oncoming storm. The Master of the Sea had even confirmed kindred energy in the waves off the coast. It would be a ravaging downpour. One that would see the ill-organized fall beneath rivers of rain.
Which was why Fotios's anger blazed to a gentle burn when he turned to assess the Old Manor.
Where his own home - the main estate of the Leventi's Head - was being prepared for the approaching wrath of the Gods, the original manor of past generations looked no different than it had a week previous. Whilst smaller than Fotios' newly built home, and now archaic in its design and furnishing, the Old Manor was still valuable. It was a family heirloom. It held the history of the Leventi and their forebears. A history prettily decorated with crawling ivy and blossoming vines.
Used by his brothers and the different branches of the family whenever they journeyed to the capital, Fotios had left the protection of the Old Manor in the hands of Georgios. It was he who was currently occupying the house, along with several of his daughters. His wife, Evelli had remained in their main home in the province of Macendia. The fact that the Old Estate was not their primary home, however, should not have seen Georgios disregard its care. And, given the man's more sentimental and compassionate nature, Fotios was surprised to find little work done on the building to protect it against the elements.
Picking up the pace of his steps, Fotios headed beneath an archway and into the little garden of the old manor house.
"Georgios!" he called out to his brother, glancing through a few of the open windows. Tall and graceful, Fotios' easy steps belied his age as he went in the servants' entrance. The large kitchen, with its triple furnaces, three wide tables, and enough workspace for twelve was empty. Not unusual at this time of day. Especially when only a fragment of the family was staying within its walls. A handful of ladies maids, whom the daughters kept with them more often than not, a steward and a cook were all that was needed to keep the house in order.
"Georgios, where are you?!" Fotios called again. His anger turned his voice deep and sombrely sincere. "You would see the home of our forefathers washed away? Get your hindquarters down here, brother! There are words to be had!"
Fotios looked up at the sky as he stepped out into the courtyard of the Leventi property. It had been nearly a whole day since he had seen the sun. True, it was bright enough that one knew when it was day and when night, but the light was cold and grey. Stained the dull shade of white wine. It was barely warm.
His lips snarling into an unsatisfied line of discord, Fotios felt his nose hitch and his brows lower. There was much he could command. Power, money, people... But the weather was not one of them. Only the Gods had such powers. And, apparently, they were set to take pleasure in a torrential turn of climactic fortunes. The air was heavy and damp. The wind was brisk and cool. The clouds overhead - the culprits in masking the normally golden sunlight - were a dense shade of dove grey. Not yet charcoal with rain but certainly starting to gather it. Aeolus was ready for his moment.
Taking a breath of serene acceptance - the begrudging admittance that he was mortal - Fotios' attention was caught by three men, herding a cart of goods toward the main gates.
"Careful with that!" Fotios rarely needed to raise his voice. He had a natural tone that carried. Especially in the early morning when the horses had yet to grow restless in their stalls and the laborers were not yet carting the heavier of their goods. His warning was in time to save the wheel of the cart rolling over the toe of one of his men. "You break any of those offerings and I shall personally see to it that the Gods themselves know who to blame," Fotios warned.
Each set of shoulders seemed to sense under his words and the progression of the cart slowed to a more reasonable pace. They were bound for the Temple of Poseidon. Where they would offer the fruit, gold coins, and barley to the God of the Sea and his fellow water God Aeolus. Anything that might see the immortals turn a sympathetic eye upon the capital and the Leventi lands that extended out to the north of the boundary wall.
On the other hand, only a fool relied on faith and blessings alone. Preparation was the key to all forms of survival. This was why Fotios had been ordering rough sacking and sand from the southern beaches. He would see them laid between the columns of each solar room, the doorways, and low windows. Wooden boards were being brought in and entrenched around the courtyards where only pillars of stone formed their perimeter; not walls. They would be placed like fencing, and then as roofing, to keep the architecture, plants, and fabrics safe from the deluge all had been warned of.
The King's weather watchers were certain of the oncoming storm. The Master of the Sea had even confirmed kindred energy in the waves off the coast. It would be a ravaging downpour. One that would see the ill-organized fall beneath rivers of rain.
Which was why Fotios's anger blazed to a gentle burn when he turned to assess the Old Manor.
Where his own home - the main estate of the Leventi's Head - was being prepared for the approaching wrath of the Gods, the original manor of past generations looked no different than it had a week previous. Whilst smaller than Fotios' newly built home, and now archaic in its design and furnishing, the Old Manor was still valuable. It was a family heirloom. It held the history of the Leventi and their forebears. A history prettily decorated with crawling ivy and blossoming vines.
Used by his brothers and the different branches of the family whenever they journeyed to the capital, Fotios had left the protection of the Old Manor in the hands of Georgios. It was he who was currently occupying the house, along with several of his daughters. His wife, Evelli had remained in their main home in the province of Macendia. The fact that the Old Estate was not their primary home, however, should not have seen Georgios disregard its care. And, given the man's more sentimental and compassionate nature, Fotios was surprised to find little work done on the building to protect it against the elements.
Picking up the pace of his steps, Fotios headed beneath an archway and into the little garden of the old manor house.
"Georgios!" he called out to his brother, glancing through a few of the open windows. Tall and graceful, Fotios' easy steps belied his age as he went in the servants' entrance. The large kitchen, with its triple furnaces, three wide tables, and enough workspace for twelve was empty. Not unusual at this time of day. Especially when only a fragment of the family was staying within its walls. A handful of ladies maids, whom the daughters kept with them more often than not, a steward and a cook were all that was needed to keep the house in order.
"Georgios, where are you?!" Fotios called again. His anger turned his voice deep and sombrely sincere. "You would see the home of our forefathers washed away? Get your hindquarters down here, brother! There are words to be had!"
The Old Estate was far from Olympia's preferred home. She was fonder by far of the house in Macendia, but there was little she could do about going where her parents instructed. Besides, her father normally asked so little of her, and despite herself Olympia often wanted to impress him because of it.
Or perhaps it was just to get away from her mother's talks of marriage. Either way, Olympia was at the Old Estate now, and she could hardly flee to Macendia without helping prepare the old place for the continuing bad weather. Olympia's heart seemed to skip a beat at the idea of it being ruined. It was beautiful, after all.
After seeing Father off to the temple of Poseidon with many of his own servants, Olympia was doing her best to fix any perceived weak points in the building.
"You! Put that over there," Olympia commanded one of the slaves that hadn't gone with the others to make a proper sacrifice. While Father was away, she was quite pleased to be in charge over more than just her own ladies maids.
As one of the older daughters of her branch, she was quite used to taking command of the housestaff, especially if Nana was involved. Her naive younger sister was probably fussing over her hair or sandals in one of the other rooms, but Olympia didn't care. She thought it would've been for the better that Nana stayed home with their mother and other sisters.
She turned her head and pursed her lips at the sound of her uncle yelling for her father, sounding much more severe than usual. To Olympia, that was certainly saying something.
Knowing that her uncle would only grow more angry as time went on, in comparison with her father who was a much more kind and loving man, Olympia told the servants to continue as they were doing and went down to greet him and partially to assuage his anger, if such a thing could be done.
"Uncle!" she called out, waiting for recognition to cross his face when he realized he was not bellowing anywhere his brother could hear him. There was no idiotic little girl here, only Olympia, firm in the face of the danger she feared the house may face if things were done improperly.
"Father has gone down with some of the servants to make sacrifices. He'll return with more supplies to strengthen the Estate on his way back." she explained first her father's absence, and then when he would be back, in case this was a man's matter that she should simply ignore. "He left me in charge."
She was stiff and a bit rigid in order to seem more in charge of things, though usually an excellent conversationalist. Were anyone to argue that she did not deserve the command she currently held, she would certainly give them the tongue-lashing they deserved.
So many were concerned with her house skills, worrying that her beauty was the only good quality she had. She would prove that it wasn't, that she had skills. Here she was, putting them into practice! Admittedly, it was at quite an accelerated pace, but the Old Estate needed to be strengthened, and if Olympia could do it, she would.
Of course, now that her uncle Fotios was here, he would probably want to take charge himself, as head of the family. That or berate Olympia's father for leaving an important place to a woman in its time of need.
Olympia wished her father would learn to delegate, but he had insisted on fetching only the best materials. In his way, Olympia supposed her father made sense, even though she wished he was here to deal with his brother instead of her, though she had relished her form of command, no matter how brief it was.
"Can I help you with anything, Uncle?" Olympia asked, attempting to be helpful. The situation called for it, after all. A house was supposed to stand together after all, and though Olympia might not be physically strong, she could certainly help wherever she was needed.
Luna-Lee
Olympia
Luna-Lee
Olympia
Awards
First Impressions:Solid; Bright eyes, strong nose and jawline, aesthetically pleasing body shape
Address: Your Her Ladyship
The Old Estate was far from Olympia's preferred home. She was fonder by far of the house in Macendia, but there was little she could do about going where her parents instructed. Besides, her father normally asked so little of her, and despite herself Olympia often wanted to impress him because of it.
Or perhaps it was just to get away from her mother's talks of marriage. Either way, Olympia was at the Old Estate now, and she could hardly flee to Macendia without helping prepare the old place for the continuing bad weather. Olympia's heart seemed to skip a beat at the idea of it being ruined. It was beautiful, after all.
After seeing Father off to the temple of Poseidon with many of his own servants, Olympia was doing her best to fix any perceived weak points in the building.
"You! Put that over there," Olympia commanded one of the slaves that hadn't gone with the others to make a proper sacrifice. While Father was away, she was quite pleased to be in charge over more than just her own ladies maids.
As one of the older daughters of her branch, she was quite used to taking command of the housestaff, especially if Nana was involved. Her naive younger sister was probably fussing over her hair or sandals in one of the other rooms, but Olympia didn't care. She thought it would've been for the better that Nana stayed home with their mother and other sisters.
She turned her head and pursed her lips at the sound of her uncle yelling for her father, sounding much more severe than usual. To Olympia, that was certainly saying something.
Knowing that her uncle would only grow more angry as time went on, in comparison with her father who was a much more kind and loving man, Olympia told the servants to continue as they were doing and went down to greet him and partially to assuage his anger, if such a thing could be done.
"Uncle!" she called out, waiting for recognition to cross his face when he realized he was not bellowing anywhere his brother could hear him. There was no idiotic little girl here, only Olympia, firm in the face of the danger she feared the house may face if things were done improperly.
"Father has gone down with some of the servants to make sacrifices. He'll return with more supplies to strengthen the Estate on his way back." she explained first her father's absence, and then when he would be back, in case this was a man's matter that she should simply ignore. "He left me in charge."
She was stiff and a bit rigid in order to seem more in charge of things, though usually an excellent conversationalist. Were anyone to argue that she did not deserve the command she currently held, she would certainly give them the tongue-lashing they deserved.
So many were concerned with her house skills, worrying that her beauty was the only good quality she had. She would prove that it wasn't, that she had skills. Here she was, putting them into practice! Admittedly, it was at quite an accelerated pace, but the Old Estate needed to be strengthened, and if Olympia could do it, she would.
Of course, now that her uncle Fotios was here, he would probably want to take charge himself, as head of the family. That or berate Olympia's father for leaving an important place to a woman in its time of need.
Olympia wished her father would learn to delegate, but he had insisted on fetching only the best materials. In his way, Olympia supposed her father made sense, even though she wished he was here to deal with his brother instead of her, though she had relished her form of command, no matter how brief it was.
"Can I help you with anything, Uncle?" Olympia asked, attempting to be helpful. The situation called for it, after all. A house was supposed to stand together after all, and though Olympia might not be physically strong, she could certainly help wherever she was needed.
The Old Estate was far from Olympia's preferred home. She was fonder by far of the house in Macendia, but there was little she could do about going where her parents instructed. Besides, her father normally asked so little of her, and despite herself Olympia often wanted to impress him because of it.
Or perhaps it was just to get away from her mother's talks of marriage. Either way, Olympia was at the Old Estate now, and she could hardly flee to Macendia without helping prepare the old place for the continuing bad weather. Olympia's heart seemed to skip a beat at the idea of it being ruined. It was beautiful, after all.
After seeing Father off to the temple of Poseidon with many of his own servants, Olympia was doing her best to fix any perceived weak points in the building.
"You! Put that over there," Olympia commanded one of the slaves that hadn't gone with the others to make a proper sacrifice. While Father was away, she was quite pleased to be in charge over more than just her own ladies maids.
As one of the older daughters of her branch, she was quite used to taking command of the housestaff, especially if Nana was involved. Her naive younger sister was probably fussing over her hair or sandals in one of the other rooms, but Olympia didn't care. She thought it would've been for the better that Nana stayed home with their mother and other sisters.
She turned her head and pursed her lips at the sound of her uncle yelling for her father, sounding much more severe than usual. To Olympia, that was certainly saying something.
Knowing that her uncle would only grow more angry as time went on, in comparison with her father who was a much more kind and loving man, Olympia told the servants to continue as they were doing and went down to greet him and partially to assuage his anger, if such a thing could be done.
"Uncle!" she called out, waiting for recognition to cross his face when he realized he was not bellowing anywhere his brother could hear him. There was no idiotic little girl here, only Olympia, firm in the face of the danger she feared the house may face if things were done improperly.
"Father has gone down with some of the servants to make sacrifices. He'll return with more supplies to strengthen the Estate on his way back." she explained first her father's absence, and then when he would be back, in case this was a man's matter that she should simply ignore. "He left me in charge."
She was stiff and a bit rigid in order to seem more in charge of things, though usually an excellent conversationalist. Were anyone to argue that she did not deserve the command she currently held, she would certainly give them the tongue-lashing they deserved.
So many were concerned with her house skills, worrying that her beauty was the only good quality she had. She would prove that it wasn't, that she had skills. Here she was, putting them into practice! Admittedly, it was at quite an accelerated pace, but the Old Estate needed to be strengthened, and if Olympia could do it, she would.
Of course, now that her uncle Fotios was here, he would probably want to take charge himself, as head of the family. That or berate Olympia's father for leaving an important place to a woman in its time of need.
Olympia wished her father would learn to delegate, but he had insisted on fetching only the best materials. In his way, Olympia supposed her father made sense, even though she wished he was here to deal with his brother instead of her, though she had relished her form of command, no matter how brief it was.
"Can I help you with anything, Uncle?" Olympia asked, attempting to be helpful. The situation called for it, after all. A house was supposed to stand together after all, and though Olympia might not be physically strong, she could certainly help wherever she was needed.
Fotios' volume decreased when he spotted one of Georgios' offspring, hurrying down a set of stairs and along the corridor towards him. She was gowned as any lady of the Leventi should be: prettily, expensively. But there was a purpose to her stride that kicked the skirts a little too energetically and gave the appearance that she cared more for her speed than she did the safety of her curled hair. Olympia.
Of Georgios' daughters, there were only a few facets of each's personality that Fotios could stand. And none when it came to Nana. He admired the always graceful Selene, who ne'er let a broken heart, broken nail or any other kind of hindrance affect the smoothness with which she flew. Then there was Theodora, with eyes too large for her own belly and an insatiable love for her own passions and wants. Fotios could not exactly deny her that mentality as he had it within himself but he wished she was a little smarter in its execution. Imma had recently come to him with the request to break beyond her position as the quiet, fifth-born which he could not help but approve of and Olympia... Well, there was an element of Olympia that made her significantly less annoying than any of her siblings. Fotios had a sneaking suspicion that it was called backbone. Most of her kin was severely lacking in it.
"Olympia..." Fotios greeted simply as she approached him. Her explanation of her father's absence had him exhaling. Trust his sentimental brother to do the faith-emphasising work. Despite the fact that servants were just as capable of tending to the temple yet not at running themselves at home. Then again, the man had placed his daughter in charge, no-doubt thinking she was a suitable substitute for a ruling patriarch. Again, Fotios was hardly surprised. The man always did put more stock in his children and wife than any man should.
"Fine," Fotios accepted, at her reassurance of his soon return and her offer of assistance in his place. "Then I shall ask you what I intended for him. What are the gardens and front doors not already barred for the coming storm? I sent servants in the night to warn your father of the impending weather. I expected this estate to be boarded and bagged by now."
Unable to see through stone - though some might have rumoured him to do so, given his way of knowing everyone's secrets - Fotios knew nothing of the efforts Olympia had been making up the stairs and around the corner - only what he had seen coming into the estate. He glanced at the walls that still held tapestries and the vases of flowers still on display. Both should be stored away below ground or in a rooftop storage space, in order to protect them from rain that did manage to escape its restraints. Protection at all entry points was only the first step and the clouds overhead were at least a dozen ahead of the mortals who scurried upon the earth in their wake. Fotios would not see the Leventi estates - either of them - reduced to an on-land shipwreck because Georgios had too much faith in the feminine fruit of his damn loins.
JD
Fotios
JD
Fotios
Awards
First Impressions:Wiry; Sharp gaze, austere and regal features, prominent tendons in his hands.
Address: Your His Lordship
Fotios' volume decreased when he spotted one of Georgios' offspring, hurrying down a set of stairs and along the corridor towards him. She was gowned as any lady of the Leventi should be: prettily, expensively. But there was a purpose to her stride that kicked the skirts a little too energetically and gave the appearance that she cared more for her speed than she did the safety of her curled hair. Olympia.
Of Georgios' daughters, there were only a few facets of each's personality that Fotios could stand. And none when it came to Nana. He admired the always graceful Selene, who ne'er let a broken heart, broken nail or any other kind of hindrance affect the smoothness with which she flew. Then there was Theodora, with eyes too large for her own belly and an insatiable love for her own passions and wants. Fotios could not exactly deny her that mentality as he had it within himself but he wished she was a little smarter in its execution. Imma had recently come to him with the request to break beyond her position as the quiet, fifth-born which he could not help but approve of and Olympia... Well, there was an element of Olympia that made her significantly less annoying than any of her siblings. Fotios had a sneaking suspicion that it was called backbone. Most of her kin was severely lacking in it.
"Olympia..." Fotios greeted simply as she approached him. Her explanation of her father's absence had him exhaling. Trust his sentimental brother to do the faith-emphasising work. Despite the fact that servants were just as capable of tending to the temple yet not at running themselves at home. Then again, the man had placed his daughter in charge, no-doubt thinking she was a suitable substitute for a ruling patriarch. Again, Fotios was hardly surprised. The man always did put more stock in his children and wife than any man should.
"Fine," Fotios accepted, at her reassurance of his soon return and her offer of assistance in his place. "Then I shall ask you what I intended for him. What are the gardens and front doors not already barred for the coming storm? I sent servants in the night to warn your father of the impending weather. I expected this estate to be boarded and bagged by now."
Unable to see through stone - though some might have rumoured him to do so, given his way of knowing everyone's secrets - Fotios knew nothing of the efforts Olympia had been making up the stairs and around the corner - only what he had seen coming into the estate. He glanced at the walls that still held tapestries and the vases of flowers still on display. Both should be stored away below ground or in a rooftop storage space, in order to protect them from rain that did manage to escape its restraints. Protection at all entry points was only the first step and the clouds overhead were at least a dozen ahead of the mortals who scurried upon the earth in their wake. Fotios would not see the Leventi estates - either of them - reduced to an on-land shipwreck because Georgios had too much faith in the feminine fruit of his damn loins.
Fotios' volume decreased when he spotted one of Georgios' offspring, hurrying down a set of stairs and along the corridor towards him. She was gowned as any lady of the Leventi should be: prettily, expensively. But there was a purpose to her stride that kicked the skirts a little too energetically and gave the appearance that she cared more for her speed than she did the safety of her curled hair. Olympia.
Of Georgios' daughters, there were only a few facets of each's personality that Fotios could stand. And none when it came to Nana. He admired the always graceful Selene, who ne'er let a broken heart, broken nail or any other kind of hindrance affect the smoothness with which she flew. Then there was Theodora, with eyes too large for her own belly and an insatiable love for her own passions and wants. Fotios could not exactly deny her that mentality as he had it within himself but he wished she was a little smarter in its execution. Imma had recently come to him with the request to break beyond her position as the quiet, fifth-born which he could not help but approve of and Olympia... Well, there was an element of Olympia that made her significantly less annoying than any of her siblings. Fotios had a sneaking suspicion that it was called backbone. Most of her kin was severely lacking in it.
"Olympia..." Fotios greeted simply as she approached him. Her explanation of her father's absence had him exhaling. Trust his sentimental brother to do the faith-emphasising work. Despite the fact that servants were just as capable of tending to the temple yet not at running themselves at home. Then again, the man had placed his daughter in charge, no-doubt thinking she was a suitable substitute for a ruling patriarch. Again, Fotios was hardly surprised. The man always did put more stock in his children and wife than any man should.
"Fine," Fotios accepted, at her reassurance of his soon return and her offer of assistance in his place. "Then I shall ask you what I intended for him. What are the gardens and front doors not already barred for the coming storm? I sent servants in the night to warn your father of the impending weather. I expected this estate to be boarded and bagged by now."
Unable to see through stone - though some might have rumoured him to do so, given his way of knowing everyone's secrets - Fotios knew nothing of the efforts Olympia had been making up the stairs and around the corner - only what he had seen coming into the estate. He glanced at the walls that still held tapestries and the vases of flowers still on display. Both should be stored away below ground or in a rooftop storage space, in order to protect them from rain that did manage to escape its restraints. Protection at all entry points was only the first step and the clouds overhead were at least a dozen ahead of the mortals who scurried upon the earth in their wake. Fotios would not see the Leventi estates - either of them - reduced to an on-land shipwreck because Georgios had too much faith in the feminine fruit of his damn loins.
Uncle Fotios was, as Olympia had often seen him, displeased. Of course, this was nothing new to her, but she decided as always that it was best to not get under his skin too much. He could hardly be expected to treat Olympia as her own father did, with a kindness and trust that many would've said were akin to spoiling her with much more lavish gifts than deserved.
"The inside of the house is being tended to first, Uncle," Olympia said, attempting not to clench her teeth or fists in frustration. Regardless of what was going on elsewhere, she was almost certain she had that part of the house under control. It wasn't like she wanted something bad to happen to the estate. She was doing her best, given the situation. "I could start sending some men to focus more on the outside as well, but I was hoping to leave the boarding until Father returned with the other servants."
Olympia felt a bit nervous about the whole situation. It wasn't quite fair that they had so little notice of the gods' wrath, but given the chance, she was much happier to have the opportunity to prepare for the storm. Even the smallest amount of time meant a great deal.
She clicked her tongue and called over a servant who was helping the others gather valuables to a safer place, "You heard my uncle," she said, subconsciously tilting her head toward the man in case the servant was dull enough to be unaware of the presence of the Head of the House Leventi. "Gather some men, and get to it!"
It was almost like telling Nana when to hurry up so that they could attend an event on time. Olympia considered telling her uncle of her sister's presence, but doubted it made too much of a difference. Olympia was almost certain that Nana was where she had been hours ago: looking at herself in a mirror, or perhaps trying on new gowns.
Olympia almost envied Nana the ignorance she had of what was going on. If her sister was scared in any way, she didn't show it. Foolish frivolity aside, Olympia envied the way that Nana let little faze or distract her from her own beauty.
"Is everything alright in your own home, Uncle?" Olympia inquired, though she was well aware that it was much more likely that her uncle Fotios had already fixed almost everything at his own home before seeking out Father. Still, curiosity was almost overwhelming. She did care for her family, regardless of what anyone seemed to think.
She drew her own outfit closer. It was cooler than she'd expected, but she could hardly let that keep her from doing her best at the task assigned to her. She itched to get back to what she was doing before, when she'd felt in her element. Perhaps her uncle would excuse her and go yell at Nana or track down Father to scold him for daring to leave her in charge of anything.
Luna-Lee
Olympia
Luna-Lee
Olympia
Awards
First Impressions:Solid; Bright eyes, strong nose and jawline, aesthetically pleasing body shape
Address: Your Her Ladyship
Uncle Fotios was, as Olympia had often seen him, displeased. Of course, this was nothing new to her, but she decided as always that it was best to not get under his skin too much. He could hardly be expected to treat Olympia as her own father did, with a kindness and trust that many would've said were akin to spoiling her with much more lavish gifts than deserved.
"The inside of the house is being tended to first, Uncle," Olympia said, attempting not to clench her teeth or fists in frustration. Regardless of what was going on elsewhere, she was almost certain she had that part of the house under control. It wasn't like she wanted something bad to happen to the estate. She was doing her best, given the situation. "I could start sending some men to focus more on the outside as well, but I was hoping to leave the boarding until Father returned with the other servants."
Olympia felt a bit nervous about the whole situation. It wasn't quite fair that they had so little notice of the gods' wrath, but given the chance, she was much happier to have the opportunity to prepare for the storm. Even the smallest amount of time meant a great deal.
She clicked her tongue and called over a servant who was helping the others gather valuables to a safer place, "You heard my uncle," she said, subconsciously tilting her head toward the man in case the servant was dull enough to be unaware of the presence of the Head of the House Leventi. "Gather some men, and get to it!"
It was almost like telling Nana when to hurry up so that they could attend an event on time. Olympia considered telling her uncle of her sister's presence, but doubted it made too much of a difference. Olympia was almost certain that Nana was where she had been hours ago: looking at herself in a mirror, or perhaps trying on new gowns.
Olympia almost envied Nana the ignorance she had of what was going on. If her sister was scared in any way, she didn't show it. Foolish frivolity aside, Olympia envied the way that Nana let little faze or distract her from her own beauty.
"Is everything alright in your own home, Uncle?" Olympia inquired, though she was well aware that it was much more likely that her uncle Fotios had already fixed almost everything at his own home before seeking out Father. Still, curiosity was almost overwhelming. She did care for her family, regardless of what anyone seemed to think.
She drew her own outfit closer. It was cooler than she'd expected, but she could hardly let that keep her from doing her best at the task assigned to her. She itched to get back to what she was doing before, when she'd felt in her element. Perhaps her uncle would excuse her and go yell at Nana or track down Father to scold him for daring to leave her in charge of anything.
Uncle Fotios was, as Olympia had often seen him, displeased. Of course, this was nothing new to her, but she decided as always that it was best to not get under his skin too much. He could hardly be expected to treat Olympia as her own father did, with a kindness and trust that many would've said were akin to spoiling her with much more lavish gifts than deserved.
"The inside of the house is being tended to first, Uncle," Olympia said, attempting not to clench her teeth or fists in frustration. Regardless of what was going on elsewhere, she was almost certain she had that part of the house under control. It wasn't like she wanted something bad to happen to the estate. She was doing her best, given the situation. "I could start sending some men to focus more on the outside as well, but I was hoping to leave the boarding until Father returned with the other servants."
Olympia felt a bit nervous about the whole situation. It wasn't quite fair that they had so little notice of the gods' wrath, but given the chance, she was much happier to have the opportunity to prepare for the storm. Even the smallest amount of time meant a great deal.
She clicked her tongue and called over a servant who was helping the others gather valuables to a safer place, "You heard my uncle," she said, subconsciously tilting her head toward the man in case the servant was dull enough to be unaware of the presence of the Head of the House Leventi. "Gather some men, and get to it!"
It was almost like telling Nana when to hurry up so that they could attend an event on time. Olympia considered telling her uncle of her sister's presence, but doubted it made too much of a difference. Olympia was almost certain that Nana was where she had been hours ago: looking at herself in a mirror, or perhaps trying on new gowns.
Olympia almost envied Nana the ignorance she had of what was going on. If her sister was scared in any way, she didn't show it. Foolish frivolity aside, Olympia envied the way that Nana let little faze or distract her from her own beauty.
"Is everything alright in your own home, Uncle?" Olympia inquired, though she was well aware that it was much more likely that her uncle Fotios had already fixed almost everything at his own home before seeking out Father. Still, curiosity was almost overwhelming. She did care for her family, regardless of what anyone seemed to think.
She drew her own outfit closer. It was cooler than she'd expected, but she could hardly let that keep her from doing her best at the task assigned to her. She itched to get back to what she was doing before, when she'd felt in her element. Perhaps her uncle would excuse her and go yell at Nana or track down Father to scold him for daring to leave her in charge of anything.
Fotios’ lips thinned and his eyes narrowed as Olympia described her efforts thus far on the inside of the house. Such preparations were important but should have been dealt with secondarily. He forced himself to acknowledge that Olympia was perhaps not to know this. As a woman, she spent most of her time and concerns inside, used to managing household servants but less so the labourers who were the predominant working hand for the external territories of the estates. It would be her natural instinct to take control first of what she already knew.
Still, her father would have known better had he been here. The sentimental sop. It might appease the Gods slightly more to deliver the offerings by hand but Fotios clear out more faith in practicality than such a minuscule increase in favour. Georgios had always been more faithful, more superstitious and optimistic.
Fotios attempted not to roll his eyes.
The least he could say if his brother, however, was a trait he had passed to Olympia; the ability to accept when he was wrong. The girl called to a servant quickly, insisting that the outer preparations against the storm become the focus of their attention. Whether it was their lack of certainty in obeying a daughter over a patriarch or simple nervousness in the presence of the Head of House, Fotios didn’t know. But their feet were hesitant as they started down the corridor.
“Move at that speed and we shall all drown.” Fotios snarled as they inched past him. “You were given an order. You wish to continue serving the Leventi, you’ll obey it. Now!”
Again, Fotios did not shout. But a cold I’ve had entered his voice. One that shocked and chilled his servants into faster steps, hurried glances and murmured promises of acquiescence.
Glancing back at his niece, who was pulling her thin gown closer against her skin, Fotios did, in fact, roll his eyes this time. For his own part, he wore a long tunic, sleeveless and fastened over each shoulder. The colour was a dull grey but the fabric was impeccable and obviously expensive. About his shoulders, he wore a himation dyed violet and pinned with a silver brooch bearing the Leventi crest. It was a favoured himation of his and was easily recognised by nearly all of his staff upon the Leventi grounds.
Fotios unpinned it, swept it from his shoulders and deposited it unceremoniously upon Olympia so that she was forced to catch it or let the garment fall to the ground.
“Wear that,” he instructed. “Perhaps you will see more lightness of foot in the slaves. Warn them that, should they move at less than the optimal speed you’ll send them to me.” Few would need more encouragement than that. Fotios doubted any would be surprised by the severity of any punishment he administered. Right now, the circumstances granted him the perfect opportunity… any servant that failed to see the Leventi property secured in time would be left outside of it, due to face the storm in little more than their skin.
JD
Fotios
JD
Fotios
Awards
First Impressions:Wiry; Sharp gaze, austere and regal features, prominent tendons in his hands.
Address: Your His Lordship
Fotios’ lips thinned and his eyes narrowed as Olympia described her efforts thus far on the inside of the house. Such preparations were important but should have been dealt with secondarily. He forced himself to acknowledge that Olympia was perhaps not to know this. As a woman, she spent most of her time and concerns inside, used to managing household servants but less so the labourers who were the predominant working hand for the external territories of the estates. It would be her natural instinct to take control first of what she already knew.
Still, her father would have known better had he been here. The sentimental sop. It might appease the Gods slightly more to deliver the offerings by hand but Fotios clear out more faith in practicality than such a minuscule increase in favour. Georgios had always been more faithful, more superstitious and optimistic.
Fotios attempted not to roll his eyes.
The least he could say if his brother, however, was a trait he had passed to Olympia; the ability to accept when he was wrong. The girl called to a servant quickly, insisting that the outer preparations against the storm become the focus of their attention. Whether it was their lack of certainty in obeying a daughter over a patriarch or simple nervousness in the presence of the Head of House, Fotios didn’t know. But their feet were hesitant as they started down the corridor.
“Move at that speed and we shall all drown.” Fotios snarled as they inched past him. “You were given an order. You wish to continue serving the Leventi, you’ll obey it. Now!”
Again, Fotios did not shout. But a cold I’ve had entered his voice. One that shocked and chilled his servants into faster steps, hurried glances and murmured promises of acquiescence.
Glancing back at his niece, who was pulling her thin gown closer against her skin, Fotios did, in fact, roll his eyes this time. For his own part, he wore a long tunic, sleeveless and fastened over each shoulder. The colour was a dull grey but the fabric was impeccable and obviously expensive. About his shoulders, he wore a himation dyed violet and pinned with a silver brooch bearing the Leventi crest. It was a favoured himation of his and was easily recognised by nearly all of his staff upon the Leventi grounds.
Fotios unpinned it, swept it from his shoulders and deposited it unceremoniously upon Olympia so that she was forced to catch it or let the garment fall to the ground.
“Wear that,” he instructed. “Perhaps you will see more lightness of foot in the slaves. Warn them that, should they move at less than the optimal speed you’ll send them to me.” Few would need more encouragement than that. Fotios doubted any would be surprised by the severity of any punishment he administered. Right now, the circumstances granted him the perfect opportunity… any servant that failed to see the Leventi property secured in time would be left outside of it, due to face the storm in little more than their skin.
Fotios’ lips thinned and his eyes narrowed as Olympia described her efforts thus far on the inside of the house. Such preparations were important but should have been dealt with secondarily. He forced himself to acknowledge that Olympia was perhaps not to know this. As a woman, she spent most of her time and concerns inside, used to managing household servants but less so the labourers who were the predominant working hand for the external territories of the estates. It would be her natural instinct to take control first of what she already knew.
Still, her father would have known better had he been here. The sentimental sop. It might appease the Gods slightly more to deliver the offerings by hand but Fotios clear out more faith in practicality than such a minuscule increase in favour. Georgios had always been more faithful, more superstitious and optimistic.
Fotios attempted not to roll his eyes.
The least he could say if his brother, however, was a trait he had passed to Olympia; the ability to accept when he was wrong. The girl called to a servant quickly, insisting that the outer preparations against the storm become the focus of their attention. Whether it was their lack of certainty in obeying a daughter over a patriarch or simple nervousness in the presence of the Head of House, Fotios didn’t know. But their feet were hesitant as they started down the corridor.
“Move at that speed and we shall all drown.” Fotios snarled as they inched past him. “You were given an order. You wish to continue serving the Leventi, you’ll obey it. Now!”
Again, Fotios did not shout. But a cold I’ve had entered his voice. One that shocked and chilled his servants into faster steps, hurried glances and murmured promises of acquiescence.
Glancing back at his niece, who was pulling her thin gown closer against her skin, Fotios did, in fact, roll his eyes this time. For his own part, he wore a long tunic, sleeveless and fastened over each shoulder. The colour was a dull grey but the fabric was impeccable and obviously expensive. About his shoulders, he wore a himation dyed violet and pinned with a silver brooch bearing the Leventi crest. It was a favoured himation of his and was easily recognised by nearly all of his staff upon the Leventi grounds.
Fotios unpinned it, swept it from his shoulders and deposited it unceremoniously upon Olympia so that she was forced to catch it or let the garment fall to the ground.
“Wear that,” he instructed. “Perhaps you will see more lightness of foot in the slaves. Warn them that, should they move at less than the optimal speed you’ll send them to me.” Few would need more encouragement than that. Fotios doubted any would be surprised by the severity of any punishment he administered. Right now, the circumstances granted him the perfect opportunity… any servant that failed to see the Leventi property secured in time would be left outside of it, due to face the storm in little more than their skin.
Olympia did not startle at the sudden sound of her uncle's commands to the servants, a practiced skill. What did surprise her was her uncle tossing the himation at her. She reacted quickly, though as her athletic skills were somewhat lacking, she very nearly dropped it. Her brow furrowed as she listened to Fotios' next instructions, but she put it on regardless.
It did not escape her notice that her uncle had refused to answer the question she'd asked earlier, and she was trying to hold back her disappointment and frustration at how he had taken over. For just a little bit, it had been rather nice to be in charge, and she was Perhaps it was just as well, since he clearly had more experience than she did. Even her family's own servants listened to Uncle Fotios more than they listened to her.
Was it solely because he was of his experience, though? Sometimes Olympia wondered how differently her life could have been if she was simply born with a certain different appendage. For one thing, her lover would probably be less of a secret. Or at the very least a little more palatable to her family.
Perhaps people would listen to her as she deserved instead of staring at her face as though it was the only good part of her. She quickly amended that thought by noting that at times, the staring was not only confined to her face. But this line of thinking was so...not Nana, but similar. Was she going to let vanity stop her from taking action? Hardly. She was never the type to be focused on such things until she was certain that they would truly matter in the end, though at times she wished she had Nana's careless attitude.
"Yes, uncle." Though she had spent a second to consider her words, the answer was almost instantaneous. If she was not fast of foot, at least she was fast of thought, which was more than was typically expected of her.
She glared at the servants, once again attempting her more regal posture, though she doubted it was necessary once they had noticed she was no longer in charge of the house.
Olympia took a step in the direction of servants she had seen earlier, and when she found a pair of them being rather careless with a tapestry, she found it only too easy to take her frustrations out on them.
"Do you even see what you are working with? Be quick, yes, but do not be careless! Damage at your hands is not preferable to damage from the storm." The orders were in a tone louder than Olympia typically spoke with, though in truth she had no real feelings about this tapestry over the one next to it. Despite herself, she wished that her uncle would see and not think so poorly of her, a feeling she tried to shove away as soon as she realized it existed. Though her uncle's opinions were obviously important due to his position, Olympia still wanted very much to be her own person.
Luna-Lee
Olympia
Luna-Lee
Olympia
Awards
First Impressions:Solid; Bright eyes, strong nose and jawline, aesthetically pleasing body shape
Address: Your Her Ladyship
Olympia did not startle at the sudden sound of her uncle's commands to the servants, a practiced skill. What did surprise her was her uncle tossing the himation at her. She reacted quickly, though as her athletic skills were somewhat lacking, she very nearly dropped it. Her brow furrowed as she listened to Fotios' next instructions, but she put it on regardless.
It did not escape her notice that her uncle had refused to answer the question she'd asked earlier, and she was trying to hold back her disappointment and frustration at how he had taken over. For just a little bit, it had been rather nice to be in charge, and she was Perhaps it was just as well, since he clearly had more experience than she did. Even her family's own servants listened to Uncle Fotios more than they listened to her.
Was it solely because he was of his experience, though? Sometimes Olympia wondered how differently her life could have been if she was simply born with a certain different appendage. For one thing, her lover would probably be less of a secret. Or at the very least a little more palatable to her family.
Perhaps people would listen to her as she deserved instead of staring at her face as though it was the only good part of her. She quickly amended that thought by noting that at times, the staring was not only confined to her face. But this line of thinking was so...not Nana, but similar. Was she going to let vanity stop her from taking action? Hardly. She was never the type to be focused on such things until she was certain that they would truly matter in the end, though at times she wished she had Nana's careless attitude.
"Yes, uncle." Though she had spent a second to consider her words, the answer was almost instantaneous. If she was not fast of foot, at least she was fast of thought, which was more than was typically expected of her.
She glared at the servants, once again attempting her more regal posture, though she doubted it was necessary once they had noticed she was no longer in charge of the house.
Olympia took a step in the direction of servants she had seen earlier, and when she found a pair of them being rather careless with a tapestry, she found it only too easy to take her frustrations out on them.
"Do you even see what you are working with? Be quick, yes, but do not be careless! Damage at your hands is not preferable to damage from the storm." The orders were in a tone louder than Olympia typically spoke with, though in truth she had no real feelings about this tapestry over the one next to it. Despite herself, she wished that her uncle would see and not think so poorly of her, a feeling she tried to shove away as soon as she realized it existed. Though her uncle's opinions were obviously important due to his position, Olympia still wanted very much to be her own person.
Olympia did not startle at the sudden sound of her uncle's commands to the servants, a practiced skill. What did surprise her was her uncle tossing the himation at her. She reacted quickly, though as her athletic skills were somewhat lacking, she very nearly dropped it. Her brow furrowed as she listened to Fotios' next instructions, but she put it on regardless.
It did not escape her notice that her uncle had refused to answer the question she'd asked earlier, and she was trying to hold back her disappointment and frustration at how he had taken over. For just a little bit, it had been rather nice to be in charge, and she was Perhaps it was just as well, since he clearly had more experience than she did. Even her family's own servants listened to Uncle Fotios more than they listened to her.
Was it solely because he was of his experience, though? Sometimes Olympia wondered how differently her life could have been if she was simply born with a certain different appendage. For one thing, her lover would probably be less of a secret. Or at the very least a little more palatable to her family.
Perhaps people would listen to her as she deserved instead of staring at her face as though it was the only good part of her. She quickly amended that thought by noting that at times, the staring was not only confined to her face. But this line of thinking was so...not Nana, but similar. Was she going to let vanity stop her from taking action? Hardly. She was never the type to be focused on such things until she was certain that they would truly matter in the end, though at times she wished she had Nana's careless attitude.
"Yes, uncle." Though she had spent a second to consider her words, the answer was almost instantaneous. If she was not fast of foot, at least she was fast of thought, which was more than was typically expected of her.
She glared at the servants, once again attempting her more regal posture, though she doubted it was necessary once they had noticed she was no longer in charge of the house.
Olympia took a step in the direction of servants she had seen earlier, and when she found a pair of them being rather careless with a tapestry, she found it only too easy to take her frustrations out on them.
"Do you even see what you are working with? Be quick, yes, but do not be careless! Damage at your hands is not preferable to damage from the storm." The orders were in a tone louder than Olympia typically spoke with, though in truth she had no real feelings about this tapestry over the one next to it. Despite herself, she wished that her uncle would see and not think so poorly of her, a feeling she tried to shove away as soon as she realized it existed. Though her uncle's opinions were obviously important due to his position, Olympia still wanted very much to be her own person.
