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By the name and sponsorship of Irakles of Mikaelidas, an aid and rescue tent has been set up in the front court of the Mikaelidas manorhouse. Upon entering the private property through a set of wide and impressive gates, the front courtyard, with mosaic floors and beautiful potted plans has been emptied and a sheet tent of fabric stretched across the wings of the manor. The courtyard has been entirely turned into a cool and shady place for the injured to congregate. Healers and physicians have been summoned from around the city, requesting their services in the name of the Prince and the Crown, while supplies have arrived in the droves through the House of Leventi. A scribe's desk has even been set up for people to go and ask regarding the names of the dead to see if loved ones or friends names appear on the list. This desk is to be manned day and night to aid those who cannot read, and the healers and volunteers are requested to give as much time as they are able. Come one, come all and be healed... in the name of Prince Irakles.
JD
Staff Team
JD
Staff Team
This post was created by our staff team.
Please contact us with your queries and questions.
By the name and sponsorship of Irakles of Mikaelidas, an aid and rescue tent has been set up in the front court of the Mikaelidas manorhouse. Upon entering the private property through a set of wide and impressive gates, the front courtyard, with mosaic floors and beautiful potted plans has been emptied and a sheet tent of fabric stretched across the wings of the manor. The courtyard has been entirely turned into a cool and shady place for the injured to congregate. Healers and physicians have been summoned from around the city, requesting their services in the name of the Prince and the Crown, while supplies have arrived in the droves through the House of Leventi. A scribe's desk has even been set up for people to go and ask regarding the names of the dead to see if loved ones or friends names appear on the list. This desk is to be manned day and night to aid those who cannot read, and the healers and volunteers are requested to give as much time as they are able. Come one, come all and be healed... in the name of Prince Irakles.
Dead Or Alive Event - Taengea
By the name and sponsorship of Irakles of Mikaelidas, an aid and rescue tent has been set up in the front court of the Mikaelidas manorhouse. Upon entering the private property through a set of wide and impressive gates, the front courtyard, with mosaic floors and beautiful potted plans has been emptied and a sheet tent of fabric stretched across the wings of the manor. The courtyard has been entirely turned into a cool and shady place for the injured to congregate. Healers and physicians have been summoned from around the city, requesting their services in the name of the Prince and the Crown, while supplies have arrived in the droves through the House of Leventi. A scribe's desk has even been set up for people to go and ask regarding the names of the dead to see if loved ones or friends names appear on the list. This desk is to be manned day and night to aid those who cannot read, and the healers and volunteers are requested to give as much time as they are able. Come one, come all and be healed... in the name of Prince Irakles.
The capital seemed so closed in compared to the open countryside Evie preferred. Even when the smell of smoke and death didn’t linger, the city smelled less… crisp. This wasn’t her element and she couldn’t help the feeling of awkwardness that swept over her as she stood in front of the wide, impressive gates of the Mikaelidas manorhouse. There were too many people. Those big, dark eyes of hers swept over the scene in front of her and her teeth captured her bottom lip. She could just leave the basket filled to the brim with jars of the honey and herb salve for the injured. She could… but she didn’t.
Stepping forward, through the open gates of the Mikaelidas manor house she made her way towards the tent, or more exactly to the scribe’s desk. Bryony, her slave walked quietly behind her with two more baskets of the salve. Evie set her basket down next to the scribe's desk and Bryony followed suit. The scribe was busy, but she offered an easy smile, grabbing one of the jars of salve she took a deep breath and looked for the best place to start.
Fake it till you make it, Evie! Fake it till you make. Straightening her back, she marched forward and began helping the best she could. After an hour or so, Evie had seemed to find her groove and her confidence. She helped people to the scribe's desk, cleaned a few wounds, and applied the salve. That little voice in her head was cheering. She surprised herself but she wasn’t half bad at this. Those she was helping didn’t care one wit’s end who she was, no, they were simply thankful for the help. What had turned into just delivering the slaves turned into something she could handle… some more time had passed before she decided to send Bryony back to the Leventi household to let them know where she was and what she was doing. It’d probably surprise her father, but at least she was keeping herself busy. It was an undoubted boon of having a daughter almost grown.
Finding some quiet time, she picked up an orange off a basket she passed and escaped the activity for a few moments as she leaned against the side of the Mikaelidas’ home as she peeled her orange gradually and broke it apart only to shove the citrusy fruit into her mouth wedge by wedge. This wasn’t how she’d imagined she’d first really experience a bit of freedom in the city. At home, her freedom was found riding in the countryside whizzing by. She was lost in thought deeper than she’d meant to be as a fleshy wedge of orange squirted through her orange juice saturated fingers and took a dive, taking advantage of the small gap between her slumped shoulders and the fabric of the collar of her chiton. Oh gods!
Her brown eyes came alert and she jumped forward clutching her bust. Why did things like this always happen to her? Fishing a hand down the collar of her fitted chiton, she tried to grasp the orange but it was easier in theory, being that it was a slippery little devil. It seemed the more she tried to twist to retrieve it the more it seemed to slip farther from her grasp. A low growl slipped from her as she managed to snag the orange wedge, fishing it out of cleavage. At least, it had happened in a nice quiet moment away from the activity. But this… This was exactly why she would have rathered being back in the countryside with the horses.
JD
Staff Team
JD
Staff Team
This post was created by our staff team.
Please contact us with your queries and questions.
The capital seemed so closed in compared to the open countryside Evie preferred. Even when the smell of smoke and death didn’t linger, the city smelled less… crisp. This wasn’t her element and she couldn’t help the feeling of awkwardness that swept over her as she stood in front of the wide, impressive gates of the Mikaelidas manorhouse. There were too many people. Those big, dark eyes of hers swept over the scene in front of her and her teeth captured her bottom lip. She could just leave the basket filled to the brim with jars of the honey and herb salve for the injured. She could… but she didn’t.
Stepping forward, through the open gates of the Mikaelidas manor house she made her way towards the tent, or more exactly to the scribe’s desk. Bryony, her slave walked quietly behind her with two more baskets of the salve. Evie set her basket down next to the scribe's desk and Bryony followed suit. The scribe was busy, but she offered an easy smile, grabbing one of the jars of salve she took a deep breath and looked for the best place to start.
Fake it till you make it, Evie! Fake it till you make. Straightening her back, she marched forward and began helping the best she could. After an hour or so, Evie had seemed to find her groove and her confidence. She helped people to the scribe's desk, cleaned a few wounds, and applied the salve. That little voice in her head was cheering. She surprised herself but she wasn’t half bad at this. Those she was helping didn’t care one wit’s end who she was, no, they were simply thankful for the help. What had turned into just delivering the slaves turned into something she could handle… some more time had passed before she decided to send Bryony back to the Leventi household to let them know where she was and what she was doing. It’d probably surprise her father, but at least she was keeping herself busy. It was an undoubted boon of having a daughter almost grown.
Finding some quiet time, she picked up an orange off a basket she passed and escaped the activity for a few moments as she leaned against the side of the Mikaelidas’ home as she peeled her orange gradually and broke it apart only to shove the citrusy fruit into her mouth wedge by wedge. This wasn’t how she’d imagined she’d first really experience a bit of freedom in the city. At home, her freedom was found riding in the countryside whizzing by. She was lost in thought deeper than she’d meant to be as a fleshy wedge of orange squirted through her orange juice saturated fingers and took a dive, taking advantage of the small gap between her slumped shoulders and the fabric of the collar of her chiton. Oh gods!
Her brown eyes came alert and she jumped forward clutching her bust. Why did things like this always happen to her? Fishing a hand down the collar of her fitted chiton, she tried to grasp the orange but it was easier in theory, being that it was a slippery little devil. It seemed the more she tried to twist to retrieve it the more it seemed to slip farther from her grasp. A low growl slipped from her as she managed to snag the orange wedge, fishing it out of cleavage. At least, it had happened in a nice quiet moment away from the activity. But this… This was exactly why she would have rathered being back in the countryside with the horses.
The capital seemed so closed in compared to the open countryside Evie preferred. Even when the smell of smoke and death didn’t linger, the city smelled less… crisp. This wasn’t her element and she couldn’t help the feeling of awkwardness that swept over her as she stood in front of the wide, impressive gates of the Mikaelidas manorhouse. There were too many people. Those big, dark eyes of hers swept over the scene in front of her and her teeth captured her bottom lip. She could just leave the basket filled to the brim with jars of the honey and herb salve for the injured. She could… but she didn’t.
Stepping forward, through the open gates of the Mikaelidas manor house she made her way towards the tent, or more exactly to the scribe’s desk. Bryony, her slave walked quietly behind her with two more baskets of the salve. Evie set her basket down next to the scribe's desk and Bryony followed suit. The scribe was busy, but she offered an easy smile, grabbing one of the jars of salve she took a deep breath and looked for the best place to start.
Fake it till you make it, Evie! Fake it till you make. Straightening her back, she marched forward and began helping the best she could. After an hour or so, Evie had seemed to find her groove and her confidence. She helped people to the scribe's desk, cleaned a few wounds, and applied the salve. That little voice in her head was cheering. She surprised herself but she wasn’t half bad at this. Those she was helping didn’t care one wit’s end who she was, no, they were simply thankful for the help. What had turned into just delivering the slaves turned into something she could handle… some more time had passed before she decided to send Bryony back to the Leventi household to let them know where she was and what she was doing. It’d probably surprise her father, but at least she was keeping herself busy. It was an undoubted boon of having a daughter almost grown.
Finding some quiet time, she picked up an orange off a basket she passed and escaped the activity for a few moments as she leaned against the side of the Mikaelidas’ home as she peeled her orange gradually and broke it apart only to shove the citrusy fruit into her mouth wedge by wedge. This wasn’t how she’d imagined she’d first really experience a bit of freedom in the city. At home, her freedom was found riding in the countryside whizzing by. She was lost in thought deeper than she’d meant to be as a fleshy wedge of orange squirted through her orange juice saturated fingers and took a dive, taking advantage of the small gap between her slumped shoulders and the fabric of the collar of her chiton. Oh gods!
Her brown eyes came alert and she jumped forward clutching her bust. Why did things like this always happen to her? Fishing a hand down the collar of her fitted chiton, she tried to grasp the orange but it was easier in theory, being that it was a slippery little devil. It seemed the more she tried to twist to retrieve it the more it seemed to slip farther from her grasp. A low growl slipped from her as she managed to snag the orange wedge, fishing it out of cleavage. At least, it had happened in a nice quiet moment away from the activity. But this… This was exactly why she would have rathered being back in the countryside with the horses.
No one could have predicted it and therefore no one could have prepared for it. The terrors on the night of the horrid event caused a ripple of confusion and horror in Taengea. What was supposed to be a time for celebration and merriment on the third day of the Festival of Dionysus transformed into a time of bloodshed. The loss of the late King Zenon was perhaps the most shocking of the night’s happenings. The hidden identities of the assailants only fueled the uproar that followed: who were they to blame for their pain and injuries, anger and heartbreak.
Nothing could be done for the latter aspect—not when so little information was known about it—but where it was impossible to heal the wounds of the heart, wounds of the body could be tended to. Word spread across the city, and the request of the services of healers and physicians were sent out immediately thanks to the goodwill and coin of Irakles of Mikaelidas. There was to be a tent set up where those who were injured, perhaps those who could not afford it otherwise, could receive medical care and inquire upon the potential mortality of a loved one.
Helena had been enthralled by the prospect. Though she was put in charge of the care of Lady Olympia as her personal midwife, a woman who had been witness on the night of the event herself, she had subjected her to bed rest. Should she require additional care in Helena’s absence, Helena was confident of the abilities of the palace physicians. Of course, she found them to be too coarse and detached to provide her Lady with the emotional support she needed during her entrance into motherhood. Nevertheless, they were well trained in their craft and some of the most capable individuals in the kingdom. Helena could rest assured.
Upon receiving the request, Helena jumped at the chance to do something rather than sit idly by. Where there was a need, Helena could not simply ignore it, and the opportunity allowed her to act on her anxieties. At least if she were occupied and keeping her hands busy she wouldn’t have to be alone with her thoughts, and stew in a slew of unanswered questions. Being busy meant that she could focus on the task at hand. Though it was a very small part she played in the grander scheme of things, she could satisfy her own need to provide some sort of assistance.
She arrived at the frontcourt of the Mikaelidas manorhouse bright and early. Her heart ached when she saw that there were people already there awaiting medical attention as tents and tables were still being set up. Crates of medical supplies were being moved to and fro from their transport to the tent, laborers filling the area and working to ensure everything was in order.
Other healers and physicians began to trickle in, some of which Helena knew and others she did not. She was not surprised to note that her own husband was not in attendance, as his aged state left him decrepit. At the age of seventy, Paion’s mobility had been restricted. It was difficult for him to move about their humble home, let alone travel to the manorhouse where he would remain on his feet day and night.
Paion’s own health was slowly deteriorating. His decision to take on a wife had nothing to do with a desire for companionship; he simply came to an understanding that he could no longer run his affairs on his own. Helena frequently thought of him while she stayed at the palace tending to Olympia. She hoped he was really doing as well as he had written in his letter.
By late morning the safehouse was fully operational, but it was far from peaceful. The healers and physicians needed to tend to their patients, all the while directing volunteers and answering the numerous questions that were being thrown their way. Helena’s head began to pound as she ordered a particularly incompetent volunteer to bring her the correct tools for the third time. Her patient was a young woman with a severely burned arm. From her shoulder to her forearm was an ugly, blistered expanse of skin, and though it was primarily unseemly rouge in colour there were parts that were blackened and charred.
“I know it hurts,” Helena attempted to comfort her patient as she blubbered and sobbed, “but you must stay still. I need to drain the fluid from your blister by making a small hole, and then we can apply a salve and bandage you.” Helena looked about the tent. Hopefully, there was someone more competent than that volunteer that could assist her.
JD
Staff Team
JD
Staff Team
This post was created by our staff team.
Please contact us with your queries and questions.
No one could have predicted it and therefore no one could have prepared for it. The terrors on the night of the horrid event caused a ripple of confusion and horror in Taengea. What was supposed to be a time for celebration and merriment on the third day of the Festival of Dionysus transformed into a time of bloodshed. The loss of the late King Zenon was perhaps the most shocking of the night’s happenings. The hidden identities of the assailants only fueled the uproar that followed: who were they to blame for their pain and injuries, anger and heartbreak.
Nothing could be done for the latter aspect—not when so little information was known about it—but where it was impossible to heal the wounds of the heart, wounds of the body could be tended to. Word spread across the city, and the request of the services of healers and physicians were sent out immediately thanks to the goodwill and coin of Irakles of Mikaelidas. There was to be a tent set up where those who were injured, perhaps those who could not afford it otherwise, could receive medical care and inquire upon the potential mortality of a loved one.
Helena had been enthralled by the prospect. Though she was put in charge of the care of Lady Olympia as her personal midwife, a woman who had been witness on the night of the event herself, she had subjected her to bed rest. Should she require additional care in Helena’s absence, Helena was confident of the abilities of the palace physicians. Of course, she found them to be too coarse and detached to provide her Lady with the emotional support she needed during her entrance into motherhood. Nevertheless, they were well trained in their craft and some of the most capable individuals in the kingdom. Helena could rest assured.
Upon receiving the request, Helena jumped at the chance to do something rather than sit idly by. Where there was a need, Helena could not simply ignore it, and the opportunity allowed her to act on her anxieties. At least if she were occupied and keeping her hands busy she wouldn’t have to be alone with her thoughts, and stew in a slew of unanswered questions. Being busy meant that she could focus on the task at hand. Though it was a very small part she played in the grander scheme of things, she could satisfy her own need to provide some sort of assistance.
She arrived at the frontcourt of the Mikaelidas manorhouse bright and early. Her heart ached when she saw that there were people already there awaiting medical attention as tents and tables were still being set up. Crates of medical supplies were being moved to and fro from their transport to the tent, laborers filling the area and working to ensure everything was in order.
Other healers and physicians began to trickle in, some of which Helena knew and others she did not. She was not surprised to note that her own husband was not in attendance, as his aged state left him decrepit. At the age of seventy, Paion’s mobility had been restricted. It was difficult for him to move about their humble home, let alone travel to the manorhouse where he would remain on his feet day and night.
Paion’s own health was slowly deteriorating. His decision to take on a wife had nothing to do with a desire for companionship; he simply came to an understanding that he could no longer run his affairs on his own. Helena frequently thought of him while she stayed at the palace tending to Olympia. She hoped he was really doing as well as he had written in his letter.
By late morning the safehouse was fully operational, but it was far from peaceful. The healers and physicians needed to tend to their patients, all the while directing volunteers and answering the numerous questions that were being thrown their way. Helena’s head began to pound as she ordered a particularly incompetent volunteer to bring her the correct tools for the third time. Her patient was a young woman with a severely burned arm. From her shoulder to her forearm was an ugly, blistered expanse of skin, and though it was primarily unseemly rouge in colour there were parts that were blackened and charred.
“I know it hurts,” Helena attempted to comfort her patient as she blubbered and sobbed, “but you must stay still. I need to drain the fluid from your blister by making a small hole, and then we can apply a salve and bandage you.” Helena looked about the tent. Hopefully, there was someone more competent than that volunteer that could assist her.
No one could have predicted it and therefore no one could have prepared for it. The terrors on the night of the horrid event caused a ripple of confusion and horror in Taengea. What was supposed to be a time for celebration and merriment on the third day of the Festival of Dionysus transformed into a time of bloodshed. The loss of the late King Zenon was perhaps the most shocking of the night’s happenings. The hidden identities of the assailants only fueled the uproar that followed: who were they to blame for their pain and injuries, anger and heartbreak.
Nothing could be done for the latter aspect—not when so little information was known about it—but where it was impossible to heal the wounds of the heart, wounds of the body could be tended to. Word spread across the city, and the request of the services of healers and physicians were sent out immediately thanks to the goodwill and coin of Irakles of Mikaelidas. There was to be a tent set up where those who were injured, perhaps those who could not afford it otherwise, could receive medical care and inquire upon the potential mortality of a loved one.
Helena had been enthralled by the prospect. Though she was put in charge of the care of Lady Olympia as her personal midwife, a woman who had been witness on the night of the event herself, she had subjected her to bed rest. Should she require additional care in Helena’s absence, Helena was confident of the abilities of the palace physicians. Of course, she found them to be too coarse and detached to provide her Lady with the emotional support she needed during her entrance into motherhood. Nevertheless, they were well trained in their craft and some of the most capable individuals in the kingdom. Helena could rest assured.
Upon receiving the request, Helena jumped at the chance to do something rather than sit idly by. Where there was a need, Helena could not simply ignore it, and the opportunity allowed her to act on her anxieties. At least if she were occupied and keeping her hands busy she wouldn’t have to be alone with her thoughts, and stew in a slew of unanswered questions. Being busy meant that she could focus on the task at hand. Though it was a very small part she played in the grander scheme of things, she could satisfy her own need to provide some sort of assistance.
She arrived at the frontcourt of the Mikaelidas manorhouse bright and early. Her heart ached when she saw that there were people already there awaiting medical attention as tents and tables were still being set up. Crates of medical supplies were being moved to and fro from their transport to the tent, laborers filling the area and working to ensure everything was in order.
Other healers and physicians began to trickle in, some of which Helena knew and others she did not. She was not surprised to note that her own husband was not in attendance, as his aged state left him decrepit. At the age of seventy, Paion’s mobility had been restricted. It was difficult for him to move about their humble home, let alone travel to the manorhouse where he would remain on his feet day and night.
Paion’s own health was slowly deteriorating. His decision to take on a wife had nothing to do with a desire for companionship; he simply came to an understanding that he could no longer run his affairs on his own. Helena frequently thought of him while she stayed at the palace tending to Olympia. She hoped he was really doing as well as he had written in his letter.
By late morning the safehouse was fully operational, but it was far from peaceful. The healers and physicians needed to tend to their patients, all the while directing volunteers and answering the numerous questions that were being thrown their way. Helena’s head began to pound as she ordered a particularly incompetent volunteer to bring her the correct tools for the third time. Her patient was a young woman with a severely burned arm. From her shoulder to her forearm was an ugly, blistered expanse of skin, and though it was primarily unseemly rouge in colour there were parts that were blackened and charred.
“I know it hurts,” Helena attempted to comfort her patient as she blubbered and sobbed, “but you must stay still. I need to drain the fluid from your blister by making a small hole, and then we can apply a salve and bandage you.” Helena looked about the tent. Hopefully, there was someone more competent than that volunteer that could assist her.
With the chaos and terror that still bled through the streets just days after the terror attack at the circus, whatever available healers and medical assistance in the city of Vasiliadon were all tied up, busy with helping the injured and helpless. Where the capital of Taengea should be boisterous, happy and perpetual in an easygoing mode, it was now acrid with smoke and the lingering metallic smell of blood and terror that permeated the area. The kingdom was a mess, and Irakles was not happy.
He took great pride in the capability of his beloved Taengea, his pride and joy. Perhaps there was a reason why he never came to love his wife, and could only say he lusted greatly after Meena, as much as he stayed loyal to his mistress. Irakles was, above all else, practically married to his kingdom and country, and everyone else is considered a mistress. He wanted nothing more then the best, and this... this was certainly not.
But Irakles convinced himself that his actions were for the greater good - that in the long run, he'll be able to get Taengea to its glory.
For now, he just had to fix things. So within days, the second prince had ordered the set up of a tent and for the gates to the private property of his family to be opened to the public. What better way to show support then to offer it to the masses? The royal family in the palace was in no position to do it now, neither were any of them in the right mind, so Irakles had informed his sister in law that he will take care of matters. The decorated general of the Taengean army had informed all healers to congregate there, whereby the Mikaelidas family would provide as much aid and medication as they could.
Having left the opening of the gates to his servants and slaves, Irakles only now exited the main halls of his residence. Cladded in black chiton and regular slippers, he looked the part of a mourning brother as he meandered through the crowd, showing concern and directing the people to where they could seek the help they need. With his crown on his head, it was no question who he was, the prince who had directed all of this. As such, he also had to gently deal with the profuse thankful greetinsg he got, to which Irakles merely smiled and acknowledged as he moved among the crowd of people.
Nearing the entrance of his home, a small frown marred his forehead when he spied a small figure at the entrance of the courtyard, and out of habit, started making his way there to see who it was. The suspicion in his heart only eased when he recognized the coloring, and somewhat the features of the girl. Quickly, Irakles sifted through his memory, and as he approached, cleared his throat so as to announce his presence. "Lady Evangelina... is there something I could assist you with?" he murmured, keeping a respectful distance as he noticed the stain down the younger woman's chest. "I can send you to one of my daughters, they would have a chiton you could loan for now, if you'd like."
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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With the chaos and terror that still bled through the streets just days after the terror attack at the circus, whatever available healers and medical assistance in the city of Vasiliadon were all tied up, busy with helping the injured and helpless. Where the capital of Taengea should be boisterous, happy and perpetual in an easygoing mode, it was now acrid with smoke and the lingering metallic smell of blood and terror that permeated the area. The kingdom was a mess, and Irakles was not happy.
He took great pride in the capability of his beloved Taengea, his pride and joy. Perhaps there was a reason why he never came to love his wife, and could only say he lusted greatly after Meena, as much as he stayed loyal to his mistress. Irakles was, above all else, practically married to his kingdom and country, and everyone else is considered a mistress. He wanted nothing more then the best, and this... this was certainly not.
But Irakles convinced himself that his actions were for the greater good - that in the long run, he'll be able to get Taengea to its glory.
For now, he just had to fix things. So within days, the second prince had ordered the set up of a tent and for the gates to the private property of his family to be opened to the public. What better way to show support then to offer it to the masses? The royal family in the palace was in no position to do it now, neither were any of them in the right mind, so Irakles had informed his sister in law that he will take care of matters. The decorated general of the Taengean army had informed all healers to congregate there, whereby the Mikaelidas family would provide as much aid and medication as they could.
Having left the opening of the gates to his servants and slaves, Irakles only now exited the main halls of his residence. Cladded in black chiton and regular slippers, he looked the part of a mourning brother as he meandered through the crowd, showing concern and directing the people to where they could seek the help they need. With his crown on his head, it was no question who he was, the prince who had directed all of this. As such, he also had to gently deal with the profuse thankful greetinsg he got, to which Irakles merely smiled and acknowledged as he moved among the crowd of people.
Nearing the entrance of his home, a small frown marred his forehead when he spied a small figure at the entrance of the courtyard, and out of habit, started making his way there to see who it was. The suspicion in his heart only eased when he recognized the coloring, and somewhat the features of the girl. Quickly, Irakles sifted through his memory, and as he approached, cleared his throat so as to announce his presence. "Lady Evangelina... is there something I could assist you with?" he murmured, keeping a respectful distance as he noticed the stain down the younger woman's chest. "I can send you to one of my daughters, they would have a chiton you could loan for now, if you'd like."
With the chaos and terror that still bled through the streets just days after the terror attack at the circus, whatever available healers and medical assistance in the city of Vasiliadon were all tied up, busy with helping the injured and helpless. Where the capital of Taengea should be boisterous, happy and perpetual in an easygoing mode, it was now acrid with smoke and the lingering metallic smell of blood and terror that permeated the area. The kingdom was a mess, and Irakles was not happy.
He took great pride in the capability of his beloved Taengea, his pride and joy. Perhaps there was a reason why he never came to love his wife, and could only say he lusted greatly after Meena, as much as he stayed loyal to his mistress. Irakles was, above all else, practically married to his kingdom and country, and everyone else is considered a mistress. He wanted nothing more then the best, and this... this was certainly not.
But Irakles convinced himself that his actions were for the greater good - that in the long run, he'll be able to get Taengea to its glory.
For now, he just had to fix things. So within days, the second prince had ordered the set up of a tent and for the gates to the private property of his family to be opened to the public. What better way to show support then to offer it to the masses? The royal family in the palace was in no position to do it now, neither were any of them in the right mind, so Irakles had informed his sister in law that he will take care of matters. The decorated general of the Taengean army had informed all healers to congregate there, whereby the Mikaelidas family would provide as much aid and medication as they could.
Having left the opening of the gates to his servants and slaves, Irakles only now exited the main halls of his residence. Cladded in black chiton and regular slippers, he looked the part of a mourning brother as he meandered through the crowd, showing concern and directing the people to where they could seek the help they need. With his crown on his head, it was no question who he was, the prince who had directed all of this. As such, he also had to gently deal with the profuse thankful greetinsg he got, to which Irakles merely smiled and acknowledged as he moved among the crowd of people.
Nearing the entrance of his home, a small frown marred his forehead when he spied a small figure at the entrance of the courtyard, and out of habit, started making his way there to see who it was. The suspicion in his heart only eased when he recognized the coloring, and somewhat the features of the girl. Quickly, Irakles sifted through his memory, and as he approached, cleared his throat so as to announce his presence. "Lady Evangelina... is there something I could assist you with?" he murmured, keeping a respectful distance as he noticed the stain down the younger woman's chest. "I can send you to one of my daughters, they would have a chiton you could loan for now, if you'd like."
She relished the small victory against the orange wedge for a moment. That was all she was allowed before her hopes of being the only witness was shattered. Someone cleared their throat, cutting through the quiet she’d found. What was left of the orange in her hand dropped and her head shot up as she all but jumped out of her own skin.
Evie silently cursed the gods. Out of everyone it could have been, leave it to a Mikaelidas, and not even one of the younger ones closer to her own age that she might have simply brushed off the incident with a laugh but...His Highness, Irakles of Mikaelidas. The man who’d organized all of this. Would it be too much to ask for the Gods to simply have the ground swallow her whole at this very moment with a giant sinkhole? She really didn’t ask for much.
‘Lady Evangelina... is there something I could assist you with?’
Her big, dark, doe eyes blinked in confusion then amusement. Assist her with what? That almost made her laugh. He had to have her confused with another Leventi. Maybe his eyesight was failing him? That had to be it. She ignored the question, as she tossed him a smile full of fake confidence. In a sharp, jerky movement Evie snatched the orange from the ground and held it up. “I… um… slippery little fellow.” It wasn’t the coy, perfectly planned comment she wished she could have come up with, but it was the only reply that had made it out of her lips. It was better for her to stop while she was ahead.
Still waiting for the ground to swallow me up here… Any time… any time now…
Following his gaze down to the stain on her bust, she felt the steady rise of her blush and knew her cheeks were on fire. It was bad enough to lose one’s orange down one’s bust but for said orange to leave a wet spot too... She was mortified. It was taking everything in her power not to dart past him and make a run for it. Sucking in a long breath before letting it out. You can handle this. Gods, you can control a large, beasty stallion with nothing more than your hips and legs. One man… even one as intimidating at Irakles had better not going to send you running for cover.
At almost a foot shorter, Evie wasn’t exactly sure how exposed she was, so when in doubt and with her luck… assume the worst. Shifting uncomfortably, she crossed her arms trying to conceal as much of the wet spot on the thin fabric as she could. Clearing her throat, she found her confidence and spoke. “You are too kind, your highness. If it’s not too great of an inconvenience that…” Her voice wavered for a moment. “Um…” She stood a little straighter, grasping onto her confidence firmly again. “That might be best.”
Perhaps if she’d had the grace of her cousins or at the very least their busts she might have strutted about like a little banty rooster. But at that exact moment, her hair had started unraveling twig by twig… with each person she’d aided earlier, and then again with her little game of ‘Find the Orange.’ The urge to reach up and attempt to tuck her rebellious, wayward strands back into place was curbed only by the fact that she was sure if her hands moved… she might just find herself in a more mortifying incident then she’d ever imagined. Granted, she’d stopped stuffing cloths under her cleavage a few years ago but that hardly awarded her Aphrodite’s bust. So there would be none of that strutting around, not from her, and not today. The sooner she could put this behind her the happier she was going to be.
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She relished the small victory against the orange wedge for a moment. That was all she was allowed before her hopes of being the only witness was shattered. Someone cleared their throat, cutting through the quiet she’d found. What was left of the orange in her hand dropped and her head shot up as she all but jumped out of her own skin.
Evie silently cursed the gods. Out of everyone it could have been, leave it to a Mikaelidas, and not even one of the younger ones closer to her own age that she might have simply brushed off the incident with a laugh but...His Highness, Irakles of Mikaelidas. The man who’d organized all of this. Would it be too much to ask for the Gods to simply have the ground swallow her whole at this very moment with a giant sinkhole? She really didn’t ask for much.
‘Lady Evangelina... is there something I could assist you with?’
Her big, dark, doe eyes blinked in confusion then amusement. Assist her with what? That almost made her laugh. He had to have her confused with another Leventi. Maybe his eyesight was failing him? That had to be it. She ignored the question, as she tossed him a smile full of fake confidence. In a sharp, jerky movement Evie snatched the orange from the ground and held it up. “I… um… slippery little fellow.” It wasn’t the coy, perfectly planned comment she wished she could have come up with, but it was the only reply that had made it out of her lips. It was better for her to stop while she was ahead.
Still waiting for the ground to swallow me up here… Any time… any time now…
Following his gaze down to the stain on her bust, she felt the steady rise of her blush and knew her cheeks were on fire. It was bad enough to lose one’s orange down one’s bust but for said orange to leave a wet spot too... She was mortified. It was taking everything in her power not to dart past him and make a run for it. Sucking in a long breath before letting it out. You can handle this. Gods, you can control a large, beasty stallion with nothing more than your hips and legs. One man… even one as intimidating at Irakles had better not going to send you running for cover.
At almost a foot shorter, Evie wasn’t exactly sure how exposed she was, so when in doubt and with her luck… assume the worst. Shifting uncomfortably, she crossed her arms trying to conceal as much of the wet spot on the thin fabric as she could. Clearing her throat, she found her confidence and spoke. “You are too kind, your highness. If it’s not too great of an inconvenience that…” Her voice wavered for a moment. “Um…” She stood a little straighter, grasping onto her confidence firmly again. “That might be best.”
Perhaps if she’d had the grace of her cousins or at the very least their busts she might have strutted about like a little banty rooster. But at that exact moment, her hair had started unraveling twig by twig… with each person she’d aided earlier, and then again with her little game of ‘Find the Orange.’ The urge to reach up and attempt to tuck her rebellious, wayward strands back into place was curbed only by the fact that she was sure if her hands moved… she might just find herself in a more mortifying incident then she’d ever imagined. Granted, she’d stopped stuffing cloths under her cleavage a few years ago but that hardly awarded her Aphrodite’s bust. So there would be none of that strutting around, not from her, and not today. The sooner she could put this behind her the happier she was going to be.
She relished the small victory against the orange wedge for a moment. That was all she was allowed before her hopes of being the only witness was shattered. Someone cleared their throat, cutting through the quiet she’d found. What was left of the orange in her hand dropped and her head shot up as she all but jumped out of her own skin.
Evie silently cursed the gods. Out of everyone it could have been, leave it to a Mikaelidas, and not even one of the younger ones closer to her own age that she might have simply brushed off the incident with a laugh but...His Highness, Irakles of Mikaelidas. The man who’d organized all of this. Would it be too much to ask for the Gods to simply have the ground swallow her whole at this very moment with a giant sinkhole? She really didn’t ask for much.
‘Lady Evangelina... is there something I could assist you with?’
Her big, dark, doe eyes blinked in confusion then amusement. Assist her with what? That almost made her laugh. He had to have her confused with another Leventi. Maybe his eyesight was failing him? That had to be it. She ignored the question, as she tossed him a smile full of fake confidence. In a sharp, jerky movement Evie snatched the orange from the ground and held it up. “I… um… slippery little fellow.” It wasn’t the coy, perfectly planned comment she wished she could have come up with, but it was the only reply that had made it out of her lips. It was better for her to stop while she was ahead.
Still waiting for the ground to swallow me up here… Any time… any time now…
Following his gaze down to the stain on her bust, she felt the steady rise of her blush and knew her cheeks were on fire. It was bad enough to lose one’s orange down one’s bust but for said orange to leave a wet spot too... She was mortified. It was taking everything in her power not to dart past him and make a run for it. Sucking in a long breath before letting it out. You can handle this. Gods, you can control a large, beasty stallion with nothing more than your hips and legs. One man… even one as intimidating at Irakles had better not going to send you running for cover.
At almost a foot shorter, Evie wasn’t exactly sure how exposed she was, so when in doubt and with her luck… assume the worst. Shifting uncomfortably, she crossed her arms trying to conceal as much of the wet spot on the thin fabric as she could. Clearing her throat, she found her confidence and spoke. “You are too kind, your highness. If it’s not too great of an inconvenience that…” Her voice wavered for a moment. “Um…” She stood a little straighter, grasping onto her confidence firmly again. “That might be best.”
Perhaps if she’d had the grace of her cousins or at the very least their busts she might have strutted about like a little banty rooster. But at that exact moment, her hair had started unraveling twig by twig… with each person she’d aided earlier, and then again with her little game of ‘Find the Orange.’ The urge to reach up and attempt to tuck her rebellious, wayward strands back into place was curbed only by the fact that she was sure if her hands moved… she might just find herself in a more mortifying incident then she’d ever imagined. Granted, she’d stopped stuffing cloths under her cleavage a few years ago but that hardly awarded her Aphrodite’s bust. So there would be none of that strutting around, not from her, and not today. The sooner she could put this behind her the happier she was going to be.
Fotios could not help but smile internally. Not externally - for that would be inappropriate when there were people on all sides of him severely injured or traumatized. One had to keep up the appearance of caring at events such as this, of course. But inside... inside he was practically preening - as he always did when a plan came together.
All of those who were currently helping with the efforts in the Mikaelidas front court - the owners of the tent, for example, or the donators of the tables and chairs... they had all been approached by Fotios weeks ago in order to book their services for the dining event the Lady Evelli had wanted to hold in his homes on the second night of the Festival. And wouldn't you know it, Fotios - the man with the photographic memory - had forgotten to cancel the order, ensuring that a dozen wooden tables, thirty wooden chairs and the poles, material, netting, drapes, bed sheets and linens were all kept in his spare storage hall on the Leventi grounds... how convenient.
As such, he had momentarily mentioned to the Prince Irakles of how many people he thought might have been injured in the circus crisis and how it was such a shame that they now had a prince who was so self-focused that he would never think to tend to the care and medical aid of his people...
Twenty-four hours later and Irakles had been complaining that no traders in the city were available to provide him with the supplies he would need for a medical event to be set up at the Mikaelidas manor house. Fotios had been so moved by the prince's generosity and charitable thinking he had just had to insist that the man use the surplus of supplies he had in storage.
Ergo... the event had come into being.
As head of the Leventi house, it was his responsibility, of course, to ensure that the manner in which the medical aid was administered to the people was appropriate and successful and so he had turned up a few hours after the Mikaelidas gates had been opened.
Approaching a beautiful woman with jet black hair and a fine touch that his eyes noticed with interest, Fotios stepped forward to offer the woman the implement she was reaching for in order to treat a patient's nasty blister.
"Here..." He commented as he handed it over with a soft smile.
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Fotios could not help but smile internally. Not externally - for that would be inappropriate when there were people on all sides of him severely injured or traumatized. One had to keep up the appearance of caring at events such as this, of course. But inside... inside he was practically preening - as he always did when a plan came together.
All of those who were currently helping with the efforts in the Mikaelidas front court - the owners of the tent, for example, or the donators of the tables and chairs... they had all been approached by Fotios weeks ago in order to book their services for the dining event the Lady Evelli had wanted to hold in his homes on the second night of the Festival. And wouldn't you know it, Fotios - the man with the photographic memory - had forgotten to cancel the order, ensuring that a dozen wooden tables, thirty wooden chairs and the poles, material, netting, drapes, bed sheets and linens were all kept in his spare storage hall on the Leventi grounds... how convenient.
As such, he had momentarily mentioned to the Prince Irakles of how many people he thought might have been injured in the circus crisis and how it was such a shame that they now had a prince who was so self-focused that he would never think to tend to the care and medical aid of his people...
Twenty-four hours later and Irakles had been complaining that no traders in the city were available to provide him with the supplies he would need for a medical event to be set up at the Mikaelidas manor house. Fotios had been so moved by the prince's generosity and charitable thinking he had just had to insist that the man use the surplus of supplies he had in storage.
Ergo... the event had come into being.
As head of the Leventi house, it was his responsibility, of course, to ensure that the manner in which the medical aid was administered to the people was appropriate and successful and so he had turned up a few hours after the Mikaelidas gates had been opened.
Approaching a beautiful woman with jet black hair and a fine touch that his eyes noticed with interest, Fotios stepped forward to offer the woman the implement she was reaching for in order to treat a patient's nasty blister.
"Here..." He commented as he handed it over with a soft smile.
Fotios could not help but smile internally. Not externally - for that would be inappropriate when there were people on all sides of him severely injured or traumatized. One had to keep up the appearance of caring at events such as this, of course. But inside... inside he was practically preening - as he always did when a plan came together.
All of those who were currently helping with the efforts in the Mikaelidas front court - the owners of the tent, for example, or the donators of the tables and chairs... they had all been approached by Fotios weeks ago in order to book their services for the dining event the Lady Evelli had wanted to hold in his homes on the second night of the Festival. And wouldn't you know it, Fotios - the man with the photographic memory - had forgotten to cancel the order, ensuring that a dozen wooden tables, thirty wooden chairs and the poles, material, netting, drapes, bed sheets and linens were all kept in his spare storage hall on the Leventi grounds... how convenient.
As such, he had momentarily mentioned to the Prince Irakles of how many people he thought might have been injured in the circus crisis and how it was such a shame that they now had a prince who was so self-focused that he would never think to tend to the care and medical aid of his people...
Twenty-four hours later and Irakles had been complaining that no traders in the city were available to provide him with the supplies he would need for a medical event to be set up at the Mikaelidas manor house. Fotios had been so moved by the prince's generosity and charitable thinking he had just had to insist that the man use the surplus of supplies he had in storage.
Ergo... the event had come into being.
As head of the Leventi house, it was his responsibility, of course, to ensure that the manner in which the medical aid was administered to the people was appropriate and successful and so he had turned up a few hours after the Mikaelidas gates had been opened.
Approaching a beautiful woman with jet black hair and a fine touch that his eyes noticed with interest, Fotios stepped forward to offer the woman the implement she was reaching for in order to treat a patient's nasty blister.
"Here..." He commented as he handed it over with a soft smile.
Fear was a powerful motivator. Sara saw that every time anyone trembled in the presence of her father and now, the entire kingdom suffered under the weight of it. Though she had not been present when tragedy had struck the circus during the festival but a cloud of smoke had risen far into the sky and watched breathlessly while her mother took stock of the household. Where exactly was everyone? Were they safe? Achilleas had been in the competition and with that realization, Sara knew fear. Wasn't Emilios there as well? Were her brothers safe?
The young lady had risen at dawn and dressed in the black chiton for mourning. Boots on and Pistos properly fed there had been a hurried manner in which she saw to braiding and pinning her hair back at the nape of her neck. This was not the time for any jewels or fancy belts that her mother so enjoyed. Instead, Sara was outside assisting the servants and slaves, the laborers and healers, physicians and volunteers. Everyone who had come to their home seeking aid.
Much of her time was spent finding seating for the wounded and making sure to sort them correctly with the different tents. Demure and meek she gave small smiles to those seeking help for their burns and injuries. Sara did her best to take their minds off of the pain by asking arbitrary questions. Sometimes it was whole families she needed to escort.
Sometime later Sara had lost herself in the work. She had noticed the bandages getting low and had joined several other volunteers in helping to lay them out. It was mindless stuff but it occupied her hands and that was what was important.
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This post was created by our staff team.
Please contact us with your queries and questions.
Fear was a powerful motivator. Sara saw that every time anyone trembled in the presence of her father and now, the entire kingdom suffered under the weight of it. Though she had not been present when tragedy had struck the circus during the festival but a cloud of smoke had risen far into the sky and watched breathlessly while her mother took stock of the household. Where exactly was everyone? Were they safe? Achilleas had been in the competition and with that realization, Sara knew fear. Wasn't Emilios there as well? Were her brothers safe?
The young lady had risen at dawn and dressed in the black chiton for mourning. Boots on and Pistos properly fed there had been a hurried manner in which she saw to braiding and pinning her hair back at the nape of her neck. This was not the time for any jewels or fancy belts that her mother so enjoyed. Instead, Sara was outside assisting the servants and slaves, the laborers and healers, physicians and volunteers. Everyone who had come to their home seeking aid.
Much of her time was spent finding seating for the wounded and making sure to sort them correctly with the different tents. Demure and meek she gave small smiles to those seeking help for their burns and injuries. Sara did her best to take their minds off of the pain by asking arbitrary questions. Sometimes it was whole families she needed to escort.
Sometime later Sara had lost herself in the work. She had noticed the bandages getting low and had joined several other volunteers in helping to lay them out. It was mindless stuff but it occupied her hands and that was what was important.
Fear was a powerful motivator. Sara saw that every time anyone trembled in the presence of her father and now, the entire kingdom suffered under the weight of it. Though she had not been present when tragedy had struck the circus during the festival but a cloud of smoke had risen far into the sky and watched breathlessly while her mother took stock of the household. Where exactly was everyone? Were they safe? Achilleas had been in the competition and with that realization, Sara knew fear. Wasn't Emilios there as well? Were her brothers safe?
The young lady had risen at dawn and dressed in the black chiton for mourning. Boots on and Pistos properly fed there had been a hurried manner in which she saw to braiding and pinning her hair back at the nape of her neck. This was not the time for any jewels or fancy belts that her mother so enjoyed. Instead, Sara was outside assisting the servants and slaves, the laborers and healers, physicians and volunteers. Everyone who had come to their home seeking aid.
Much of her time was spent finding seating for the wounded and making sure to sort them correctly with the different tents. Demure and meek she gave small smiles to those seeking help for their burns and injuries. Sara did her best to take their minds off of the pain by asking arbitrary questions. Sometimes it was whole families she needed to escort.
Sometime later Sara had lost herself in the work. She had noticed the bandages getting low and had joined several other volunteers in helping to lay them out. It was mindless stuff but it occupied her hands and that was what was important.
He knew of course, who she was. It was his business both as head of the royal family house as well as a prince in Taengea, to assure himself of every person within the noble families. He did his best, but the Lady Evangelina was one of the lesser known ones, so Irakles had limited knowledge of her - not as much as he had of Fotios's nieces, of which he had great plans for, of course. A kindly smile that he often portrayed for the public appeared on his features at her little comment, noting the orange she had snatched.
Straightening up, he was quick to brush away her thank with a shake of his head and a soft chuckle. "Tis no inconvenience at all. I'm sure my daughters would be happy to assist you." he murmured. Sara and Tasia were both known to be his children, albeit not legitimate and not registered in the house registry, it was an open secret that Irakles had booted his own wife out of the house and now had his mistress and daughters under them. Still, in his presence, he doubted anyone would dare slight the girls, legitimate or not.
Making a motion for the Lady Evangelina to come with him, Irakles led her back on to the courtyard grounds, his eyes briefly ghosting over a few acquaintances who had arrived, before they finally sought out whom they were searching for. The dark head of his youngest in the aid tent, where she was busying herself with laying out bandages - as he had suspected. Unlike her sister, Sara was more down to earth, willing to work. Perhaps that was part of why he had a special fondness for her, even if it was a fondness no one ever knew of, something that would be a detriment to her if it ever got out. Irakles treated her with the same offhand manner he gave anyone else, and it was clear as he approached the tent.
Waving away people that had bowed in respect at his approach, Irakles's gruff and brisk tone was quick to address his daughter. "Sara, please escort the Lady Evangelina to your quarters, and provide her with a new chiton of yours to wear." It his regular tone that expected people to obey, his face a stony one facing her, but melted into one of warmth when he turned to Evangelina and gave a small, courteous bow."My daughter will see to your needs, my lady. I shall take my leave for now. Do ask for me if any other assistance is necessary."
Taking two steps away, Irakles trusted his daughter enough to leave, his eyes roaming again around the area to seek out anything else that would require his interference or assistance amongst the throngs of people flooding his courtyard.
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He knew of course, who she was. It was his business both as head of the royal family house as well as a prince in Taengea, to assure himself of every person within the noble families. He did his best, but the Lady Evangelina was one of the lesser known ones, so Irakles had limited knowledge of her - not as much as he had of Fotios's nieces, of which he had great plans for, of course. A kindly smile that he often portrayed for the public appeared on his features at her little comment, noting the orange she had snatched.
Straightening up, he was quick to brush away her thank with a shake of his head and a soft chuckle. "Tis no inconvenience at all. I'm sure my daughters would be happy to assist you." he murmured. Sara and Tasia were both known to be his children, albeit not legitimate and not registered in the house registry, it was an open secret that Irakles had booted his own wife out of the house and now had his mistress and daughters under them. Still, in his presence, he doubted anyone would dare slight the girls, legitimate or not.
Making a motion for the Lady Evangelina to come with him, Irakles led her back on to the courtyard grounds, his eyes briefly ghosting over a few acquaintances who had arrived, before they finally sought out whom they were searching for. The dark head of his youngest in the aid tent, where she was busying herself with laying out bandages - as he had suspected. Unlike her sister, Sara was more down to earth, willing to work. Perhaps that was part of why he had a special fondness for her, even if it was a fondness no one ever knew of, something that would be a detriment to her if it ever got out. Irakles treated her with the same offhand manner he gave anyone else, and it was clear as he approached the tent.
Waving away people that had bowed in respect at his approach, Irakles's gruff and brisk tone was quick to address his daughter. "Sara, please escort the Lady Evangelina to your quarters, and provide her with a new chiton of yours to wear." It his regular tone that expected people to obey, his face a stony one facing her, but melted into one of warmth when he turned to Evangelina and gave a small, courteous bow."My daughter will see to your needs, my lady. I shall take my leave for now. Do ask for me if any other assistance is necessary."
Taking two steps away, Irakles trusted his daughter enough to leave, his eyes roaming again around the area to seek out anything else that would require his interference or assistance amongst the throngs of people flooding his courtyard.
He knew of course, who she was. It was his business both as head of the royal family house as well as a prince in Taengea, to assure himself of every person within the noble families. He did his best, but the Lady Evangelina was one of the lesser known ones, so Irakles had limited knowledge of her - not as much as he had of Fotios's nieces, of which he had great plans for, of course. A kindly smile that he often portrayed for the public appeared on his features at her little comment, noting the orange she had snatched.
Straightening up, he was quick to brush away her thank with a shake of his head and a soft chuckle. "Tis no inconvenience at all. I'm sure my daughters would be happy to assist you." he murmured. Sara and Tasia were both known to be his children, albeit not legitimate and not registered in the house registry, it was an open secret that Irakles had booted his own wife out of the house and now had his mistress and daughters under them. Still, in his presence, he doubted anyone would dare slight the girls, legitimate or not.
Making a motion for the Lady Evangelina to come with him, Irakles led her back on to the courtyard grounds, his eyes briefly ghosting over a few acquaintances who had arrived, before they finally sought out whom they were searching for. The dark head of his youngest in the aid tent, where she was busying herself with laying out bandages - as he had suspected. Unlike her sister, Sara was more down to earth, willing to work. Perhaps that was part of why he had a special fondness for her, even if it was a fondness no one ever knew of, something that would be a detriment to her if it ever got out. Irakles treated her with the same offhand manner he gave anyone else, and it was clear as he approached the tent.
Waving away people that had bowed in respect at his approach, Irakles's gruff and brisk tone was quick to address his daughter. "Sara, please escort the Lady Evangelina to your quarters, and provide her with a new chiton of yours to wear." It his regular tone that expected people to obey, his face a stony one facing her, but melted into one of warmth when he turned to Evangelina and gave a small, courteous bow."My daughter will see to your needs, my lady. I shall take my leave for now. Do ask for me if any other assistance is necessary."
Taking two steps away, Irakles trusted his daughter enough to leave, his eyes roaming again around the area to seek out anything else that would require his interference or assistance amongst the throngs of people flooding his courtyard.
There it was. That perfect, kindly, all-knowing smile. Oh, she knew that smile. She hated to tell him this but he didn’t have the corner market on it. She’d seen it so much she could identify it by the cloying softness. He might have been able to identify her but knowing her was an entirely different matter. Whether it was one of these singular traits or the combination of her age, gender, and accident-proneness but people were so quick to peg her. It was just a little patronizing. Sugar and salt looked identical when sprinkled on a dish.
Her lips returned the same sweet, all-knowing smile and she cast her dark eyes demurely down as he brushed away her sincere ‘thank you’.
‘Tis no inconvenience at all. I’m sure my daughters would be happy to assist you.’
She had no qualms with his daughters, despite what other faults she had… Evie refused to blame people for the circumstances they were born into and the faults of their parents. It wasn’t as if his daughters had chosen to be illegitimate. It was what the person did with the circumstances they had that mattered to this Leventi girl. Kingdoms and names rose and fell as often as the leaves changed. Wasn’t all of this a perfect example of how things could shift?
He made a motion for her to follow and follow she did. A little bit of relief shot through her as his gaze shifted off of her. Refusing to be left in his dust, the pint-sized, brunette had to take two steps to everyone that Irakles long legs made even at a slower pace. Catching sight of her uncle, she groaned inwardly and slowed just enough that she could hide just a little behind Irakles’ bulkier frame. Unfortunately, Irakles stopped and Evie had to twist to the side of him to keep from running into him. She looked at the girl a few years younger than her. Her thick dark hair and blue eyes were quite lovely and she had a sweet look about her. A softness in her eyes that Evie instantly liked - did the girl know she brought out a protective side in people?
‘Sara, please escort the Lady Evangelina to your quarters, and provide her with a new chiton of yours to wear.’
Evangelina’s dark eyes darted from the girl to glance back up at Irakles. She wasn’t going to point it out to him but there was going to be a… um… slight problem with this. Maybe his daughter would have something to pin the heam up with. The hackles that had raised earlier at feeling a bit patronized quickly lowered and fought the urge to giggle as she answered him cheerfully.
“Again thank you, Your Highness. You’ve been my hero today.”
Waiting till he had taken a couple of steps, she offered the inches taller girl a warm smile and added to her. “Please tell me you also have some pins too…” And the giggle softly slipped out.
JD
Staff Team
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This post was created by our staff team.
Please contact us with your queries and questions.
There it was. That perfect, kindly, all-knowing smile. Oh, she knew that smile. She hated to tell him this but he didn’t have the corner market on it. She’d seen it so much she could identify it by the cloying softness. He might have been able to identify her but knowing her was an entirely different matter. Whether it was one of these singular traits or the combination of her age, gender, and accident-proneness but people were so quick to peg her. It was just a little patronizing. Sugar and salt looked identical when sprinkled on a dish.
Her lips returned the same sweet, all-knowing smile and she cast her dark eyes demurely down as he brushed away her sincere ‘thank you’.
‘Tis no inconvenience at all. I’m sure my daughters would be happy to assist you.’
She had no qualms with his daughters, despite what other faults she had… Evie refused to blame people for the circumstances they were born into and the faults of their parents. It wasn’t as if his daughters had chosen to be illegitimate. It was what the person did with the circumstances they had that mattered to this Leventi girl. Kingdoms and names rose and fell as often as the leaves changed. Wasn’t all of this a perfect example of how things could shift?
He made a motion for her to follow and follow she did. A little bit of relief shot through her as his gaze shifted off of her. Refusing to be left in his dust, the pint-sized, brunette had to take two steps to everyone that Irakles long legs made even at a slower pace. Catching sight of her uncle, she groaned inwardly and slowed just enough that she could hide just a little behind Irakles’ bulkier frame. Unfortunately, Irakles stopped and Evie had to twist to the side of him to keep from running into him. She looked at the girl a few years younger than her. Her thick dark hair and blue eyes were quite lovely and she had a sweet look about her. A softness in her eyes that Evie instantly liked - did the girl know she brought out a protective side in people?
‘Sara, please escort the Lady Evangelina to your quarters, and provide her with a new chiton of yours to wear.’
Evangelina’s dark eyes darted from the girl to glance back up at Irakles. She wasn’t going to point it out to him but there was going to be a… um… slight problem with this. Maybe his daughter would have something to pin the heam up with. The hackles that had raised earlier at feeling a bit patronized quickly lowered and fought the urge to giggle as she answered him cheerfully.
“Again thank you, Your Highness. You’ve been my hero today.”
Waiting till he had taken a couple of steps, she offered the inches taller girl a warm smile and added to her. “Please tell me you also have some pins too…” And the giggle softly slipped out.
There it was. That perfect, kindly, all-knowing smile. Oh, she knew that smile. She hated to tell him this but he didn’t have the corner market on it. She’d seen it so much she could identify it by the cloying softness. He might have been able to identify her but knowing her was an entirely different matter. Whether it was one of these singular traits or the combination of her age, gender, and accident-proneness but people were so quick to peg her. It was just a little patronizing. Sugar and salt looked identical when sprinkled on a dish.
Her lips returned the same sweet, all-knowing smile and she cast her dark eyes demurely down as he brushed away her sincere ‘thank you’.
‘Tis no inconvenience at all. I’m sure my daughters would be happy to assist you.’
She had no qualms with his daughters, despite what other faults she had… Evie refused to blame people for the circumstances they were born into and the faults of their parents. It wasn’t as if his daughters had chosen to be illegitimate. It was what the person did with the circumstances they had that mattered to this Leventi girl. Kingdoms and names rose and fell as often as the leaves changed. Wasn’t all of this a perfect example of how things could shift?
He made a motion for her to follow and follow she did. A little bit of relief shot through her as his gaze shifted off of her. Refusing to be left in his dust, the pint-sized, brunette had to take two steps to everyone that Irakles long legs made even at a slower pace. Catching sight of her uncle, she groaned inwardly and slowed just enough that she could hide just a little behind Irakles’ bulkier frame. Unfortunately, Irakles stopped and Evie had to twist to the side of him to keep from running into him. She looked at the girl a few years younger than her. Her thick dark hair and blue eyes were quite lovely and she had a sweet look about her. A softness in her eyes that Evie instantly liked - did the girl know she brought out a protective side in people?
‘Sara, please escort the Lady Evangelina to your quarters, and provide her with a new chiton of yours to wear.’
Evangelina’s dark eyes darted from the girl to glance back up at Irakles. She wasn’t going to point it out to him but there was going to be a… um… slight problem with this. Maybe his daughter would have something to pin the heam up with. The hackles that had raised earlier at feeling a bit patronized quickly lowered and fought the urge to giggle as she answered him cheerfully.
“Again thank you, Your Highness. You’ve been my hero today.”
Waiting till he had taken a couple of steps, she offered the inches taller girl a warm smile and added to her. “Please tell me you also have some pins too…” And the giggle softly slipped out.
The man had appeared suddenly, pulling Helena’s attention from the otherwise chaotic environment to the small, pointed object that was held between his fingertips. Her gaze trailed upward, following the expanse of his arm until finally coming to rest upon the soft smile which graced his features. His was a face that she was unfamiliar with, having not seen him before. Oddly enough, from his fine dress Helena could deduct that he was not a labourer or physician, nor did he look akin to any of the other well-intentioned volunteers who were littered about the tent. Still, in a time such as this one, Helena felt blind to identity, simply grateful for the aid she was receiving.
She responded to his smile with a thankful smile of her own, reaching up to take the implement from his hand, “Exactly what I had needed. Thank you.”
Helena turned to her patient once again whose weeping did not cease, but at the very least it seemed hysteria no longer possessed her. The healer took the young woman’s hand into hers, in part to provide comfort but the arm was to remain steady as Helena worked. She placed a bowl beneath the patient’s arm to catch the biological waste. However, these things were hardly ever tidy.
She peered over her shoulder at the man, her eyes flitting to and fro between him and her patient. “Are you here to volunteer?” She asks him while lowering the implement against the worst of the blistering. It was unnaturally swollen, but this meant that all she required was a small incision to break through the thin layer of skin. “I should hope you have a strong stomach.”
It was all the warning she would give before piercing the bloated sack of flesh. As she predicted, the fluids rushed to the opening. Helena became victim to the unfortunate splash of puss and blood which followed, the fluid bespattering her clothing, but simply waited as the watery substance continued to drain from the wound and into the bowl. When the worst of it was over, Helena used a damp cloth to clean the area surrounding the mess. She would need to work fast, noting that her patient’s face turned a ghostly pale.
“Will you hand me that gauze and vessel of salve?” She requested, head motioning to the items she desired. Helena looked him up and down. He may have looked to be a member of the upper class, but competent nonetheless. “Have you ever bandaged an arm?”
JD
Staff Team
JD
Staff Team
This post was created by our staff team.
Please contact us with your queries and questions.
The man had appeared suddenly, pulling Helena’s attention from the otherwise chaotic environment to the small, pointed object that was held between his fingertips. Her gaze trailed upward, following the expanse of his arm until finally coming to rest upon the soft smile which graced his features. His was a face that she was unfamiliar with, having not seen him before. Oddly enough, from his fine dress Helena could deduct that he was not a labourer or physician, nor did he look akin to any of the other well-intentioned volunteers who were littered about the tent. Still, in a time such as this one, Helena felt blind to identity, simply grateful for the aid she was receiving.
She responded to his smile with a thankful smile of her own, reaching up to take the implement from his hand, “Exactly what I had needed. Thank you.”
Helena turned to her patient once again whose weeping did not cease, but at the very least it seemed hysteria no longer possessed her. The healer took the young woman’s hand into hers, in part to provide comfort but the arm was to remain steady as Helena worked. She placed a bowl beneath the patient’s arm to catch the biological waste. However, these things were hardly ever tidy.
She peered over her shoulder at the man, her eyes flitting to and fro between him and her patient. “Are you here to volunteer?” She asks him while lowering the implement against the worst of the blistering. It was unnaturally swollen, but this meant that all she required was a small incision to break through the thin layer of skin. “I should hope you have a strong stomach.”
It was all the warning she would give before piercing the bloated sack of flesh. As she predicted, the fluids rushed to the opening. Helena became victim to the unfortunate splash of puss and blood which followed, the fluid bespattering her clothing, but simply waited as the watery substance continued to drain from the wound and into the bowl. When the worst of it was over, Helena used a damp cloth to clean the area surrounding the mess. She would need to work fast, noting that her patient’s face turned a ghostly pale.
“Will you hand me that gauze and vessel of salve?” She requested, head motioning to the items she desired. Helena looked him up and down. He may have looked to be a member of the upper class, but competent nonetheless. “Have you ever bandaged an arm?”
The man had appeared suddenly, pulling Helena’s attention from the otherwise chaotic environment to the small, pointed object that was held between his fingertips. Her gaze trailed upward, following the expanse of his arm until finally coming to rest upon the soft smile which graced his features. His was a face that she was unfamiliar with, having not seen him before. Oddly enough, from his fine dress Helena could deduct that he was not a labourer or physician, nor did he look akin to any of the other well-intentioned volunteers who were littered about the tent. Still, in a time such as this one, Helena felt blind to identity, simply grateful for the aid she was receiving.
She responded to his smile with a thankful smile of her own, reaching up to take the implement from his hand, “Exactly what I had needed. Thank you.”
Helena turned to her patient once again whose weeping did not cease, but at the very least it seemed hysteria no longer possessed her. The healer took the young woman’s hand into hers, in part to provide comfort but the arm was to remain steady as Helena worked. She placed a bowl beneath the patient’s arm to catch the biological waste. However, these things were hardly ever tidy.
She peered over her shoulder at the man, her eyes flitting to and fro between him and her patient. “Are you here to volunteer?” She asks him while lowering the implement against the worst of the blistering. It was unnaturally swollen, but this meant that all she required was a small incision to break through the thin layer of skin. “I should hope you have a strong stomach.”
It was all the warning she would give before piercing the bloated sack of flesh. As she predicted, the fluids rushed to the opening. Helena became victim to the unfortunate splash of puss and blood which followed, the fluid bespattering her clothing, but simply waited as the watery substance continued to drain from the wound and into the bowl. When the worst of it was over, Helena used a damp cloth to clean the area surrounding the mess. She would need to work fast, noting that her patient’s face turned a ghostly pale.
“Will you hand me that gauze and vessel of salve?” She requested, head motioning to the items she desired. Helena looked him up and down. He may have looked to be a member of the upper class, but competent nonetheless. “Have you ever bandaged an arm?”
Fotios smiled kindly as the woman took from him the utensil she required for the poor woman she was attending to. He watched momentarily as she handled herself carefully and with competence, ensuring the woman's arm was held just right and that the blistering that needed to be rectified hovered above a bowl she carefully placed beneath.
As Head of the Leventi household, Fotios had never been encouraged to study medicine or any other knowledge pertaining to that of a physician. He had, however, a photographic memory and an insatiable desire to learn as much as you could - about everything - which was what made him so good at his job when he had been appointed as Master Informer. Now, he used his skills in the Senate and through his wife in the Court, but either way, the desire was still prevalent and poignant in his life. Books had become his answer and his salvation, allowing him to immerse himself in new information on an almost constant basis.
And many of those books had been dedicated to science, to anatomy and to the human body at large.
Besides that, he would have had to be a fool not to realize what was about to happen when the woman impaled her patient's arm with the implement he had handed her. Anyone knew what happened when you burst a water skin that was too full.
And so, he was careful to step out of the range of fire when the action was administered.
The female physician was less lucky and was splattered slightly with a foul-smelling pus that had been released upon her ministrations. To the woman's credit, she did nothing for her own appearance until she had corrected and adjusted the woman's arm, dealing with her patient before herself.
After she had found a moment to dab at her own clothing, she then requested gauze and salve from him.
Unused to being requested for anything Fotios, reacted simply and follow her instructions, producing the items that she needed. When she asked him if he had ever bandaged an arm before and if he was here to volunteer, he could only smile slightly - almost to himself - for it was clear she had no idea who he was.
He decided to keep it that way.
"I thought it my duty to be present and offer whatever aid I could to help the cause..." He told her, every word that left his mouth true to a fault. "I was not at the circus when the fire was started and the attacks were made... I wanted to at least do my part now..."
Stepping forward, perhaps a little too close into the physician’s personal space, Fotios only did so in order to take hold of the patient's arm, while the other woman worked the salve he had passed to her into her skin.
"Allow me..." He told her with a calm, confident and quite tone about him, as she finished her application of the tonic and took up the wrap of gauze. Taking hold of the woman's arm with his long fingers and slim hands, Fotios was careful to avoid the painful skin and then took the roll of gauze he was handed by the physician.
As she held the end of the fabric in place, ready to have the other end meet it at the end of his ministrations, Fotios carefully wrapped the sheeting around the woman's arm.
"This will sting but it will be over quickly." He tried to comfort her, as he worked.
With the actions of a physician - as in, he was merciless to the woman's whimpers of discomfort, knowing that a tighter and faster-applied bandage would work better for her in the long run - Fotios wrapped and tightened as quickly and efficiently as he could. His attention to detail and his fastidious accuracy in what he was doing, ensured that the bandage was carefully woven around the limb.
As he worked his way back up her arm in order to make the end he held meet that which the physician still pinned in place, he allowed his fingertips to linger over the smoothness of her hand as he passed the fabric back to her. He then smiled shyly and took a step back to allow her space to tie off the bandage.
As she finished her work, Fotios was genuine in his compliments...
"Your hands seem far too delicate for the work they do Madam Physician..." he told her, a smile in his words. "And yet they complete their work better than any man I have witnessed attending to the task..."
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Fotios smiled kindly as the woman took from him the utensil she required for the poor woman she was attending to. He watched momentarily as she handled herself carefully and with competence, ensuring the woman's arm was held just right and that the blistering that needed to be rectified hovered above a bowl she carefully placed beneath.
As Head of the Leventi household, Fotios had never been encouraged to study medicine or any other knowledge pertaining to that of a physician. He had, however, a photographic memory and an insatiable desire to learn as much as you could - about everything - which was what made him so good at his job when he had been appointed as Master Informer. Now, he used his skills in the Senate and through his wife in the Court, but either way, the desire was still prevalent and poignant in his life. Books had become his answer and his salvation, allowing him to immerse himself in new information on an almost constant basis.
And many of those books had been dedicated to science, to anatomy and to the human body at large.
Besides that, he would have had to be a fool not to realize what was about to happen when the woman impaled her patient's arm with the implement he had handed her. Anyone knew what happened when you burst a water skin that was too full.
And so, he was careful to step out of the range of fire when the action was administered.
The female physician was less lucky and was splattered slightly with a foul-smelling pus that had been released upon her ministrations. To the woman's credit, she did nothing for her own appearance until she had corrected and adjusted the woman's arm, dealing with her patient before herself.
After she had found a moment to dab at her own clothing, she then requested gauze and salve from him.
Unused to being requested for anything Fotios, reacted simply and follow her instructions, producing the items that she needed. When she asked him if he had ever bandaged an arm before and if he was here to volunteer, he could only smile slightly - almost to himself - for it was clear she had no idea who he was.
He decided to keep it that way.
"I thought it my duty to be present and offer whatever aid I could to help the cause..." He told her, every word that left his mouth true to a fault. "I was not at the circus when the fire was started and the attacks were made... I wanted to at least do my part now..."
Stepping forward, perhaps a little too close into the physician’s personal space, Fotios only did so in order to take hold of the patient's arm, while the other woman worked the salve he had passed to her into her skin.
"Allow me..." He told her with a calm, confident and quite tone about him, as she finished her application of the tonic and took up the wrap of gauze. Taking hold of the woman's arm with his long fingers and slim hands, Fotios was careful to avoid the painful skin and then took the roll of gauze he was handed by the physician.
As she held the end of the fabric in place, ready to have the other end meet it at the end of his ministrations, Fotios carefully wrapped the sheeting around the woman's arm.
"This will sting but it will be over quickly." He tried to comfort her, as he worked.
With the actions of a physician - as in, he was merciless to the woman's whimpers of discomfort, knowing that a tighter and faster-applied bandage would work better for her in the long run - Fotios wrapped and tightened as quickly and efficiently as he could. His attention to detail and his fastidious accuracy in what he was doing, ensured that the bandage was carefully woven around the limb.
As he worked his way back up her arm in order to make the end he held meet that which the physician still pinned in place, he allowed his fingertips to linger over the smoothness of her hand as he passed the fabric back to her. He then smiled shyly and took a step back to allow her space to tie off the bandage.
As she finished her work, Fotios was genuine in his compliments...
"Your hands seem far too delicate for the work they do Madam Physician..." he told her, a smile in his words. "And yet they complete their work better than any man I have witnessed attending to the task..."
Fotios smiled kindly as the woman took from him the utensil she required for the poor woman she was attending to. He watched momentarily as she handled herself carefully and with competence, ensuring the woman's arm was held just right and that the blistering that needed to be rectified hovered above a bowl she carefully placed beneath.
As Head of the Leventi household, Fotios had never been encouraged to study medicine or any other knowledge pertaining to that of a physician. He had, however, a photographic memory and an insatiable desire to learn as much as you could - about everything - which was what made him so good at his job when he had been appointed as Master Informer. Now, he used his skills in the Senate and through his wife in the Court, but either way, the desire was still prevalent and poignant in his life. Books had become his answer and his salvation, allowing him to immerse himself in new information on an almost constant basis.
And many of those books had been dedicated to science, to anatomy and to the human body at large.
Besides that, he would have had to be a fool not to realize what was about to happen when the woman impaled her patient's arm with the implement he had handed her. Anyone knew what happened when you burst a water skin that was too full.
And so, he was careful to step out of the range of fire when the action was administered.
The female physician was less lucky and was splattered slightly with a foul-smelling pus that had been released upon her ministrations. To the woman's credit, she did nothing for her own appearance until she had corrected and adjusted the woman's arm, dealing with her patient before herself.
After she had found a moment to dab at her own clothing, she then requested gauze and salve from him.
Unused to being requested for anything Fotios, reacted simply and follow her instructions, producing the items that she needed. When she asked him if he had ever bandaged an arm before and if he was here to volunteer, he could only smile slightly - almost to himself - for it was clear she had no idea who he was.
He decided to keep it that way.
"I thought it my duty to be present and offer whatever aid I could to help the cause..." He told her, every word that left his mouth true to a fault. "I was not at the circus when the fire was started and the attacks were made... I wanted to at least do my part now..."
Stepping forward, perhaps a little too close into the physician’s personal space, Fotios only did so in order to take hold of the patient's arm, while the other woman worked the salve he had passed to her into her skin.
"Allow me..." He told her with a calm, confident and quite tone about him, as she finished her application of the tonic and took up the wrap of gauze. Taking hold of the woman's arm with his long fingers and slim hands, Fotios was careful to avoid the painful skin and then took the roll of gauze he was handed by the physician.
As she held the end of the fabric in place, ready to have the other end meet it at the end of his ministrations, Fotios carefully wrapped the sheeting around the woman's arm.
"This will sting but it will be over quickly." He tried to comfort her, as he worked.
With the actions of a physician - as in, he was merciless to the woman's whimpers of discomfort, knowing that a tighter and faster-applied bandage would work better for her in the long run - Fotios wrapped and tightened as quickly and efficiently as he could. His attention to detail and his fastidious accuracy in what he was doing, ensured that the bandage was carefully woven around the limb.
As he worked his way back up her arm in order to make the end he held meet that which the physician still pinned in place, he allowed his fingertips to linger over the smoothness of her hand as he passed the fabric back to her. He then smiled shyly and took a step back to allow her space to tie off the bandage.
As she finished her work, Fotios was genuine in his compliments...
"Your hands seem far too delicate for the work they do Madam Physician..." he told her, a smile in his words. "And yet they complete their work better than any man I have witnessed attending to the task..."
The movement of her hands was mostly by muscle memory after a time spent doing the work. Sara was busy wondering what might have happened to her family if things had turned out differently a few nights prior. What if Achilleas had been injured? Emilios? Her father? Such grim thoughts were unusual for her as she tended to stick to trying to see the positive in any situation.
Then the periphery motion of others bowing and shifting around her caught Sara's attention and she blinked away the reverie of dismay to find her father moving towards her with a lady in tow. Sara wasn't immediately sure of her as Irakles' physique dwarfed the other woman but she found it to be a vaguely familiar face. As she was not permitted into Court without an escort Sara found it difficult to place everyone's faces or at least recognize them at once.
"Your Majesty." Sara said as her father drew near with features attentive and interested in what he had to say even if he delivered his orders as if she were a servant. Sara didn't mind and gave him a smile in return to acknowledge his command, blue eyes moving to the young lady he was referring to and she inclined her head. "My Lady." The young woman said and straightened. With her gaze moving over the other's chiton she spotted the offending stain immediately. When the Lady moved closer to her Sara finished sorting the bandage in her grasp and then grinned at the comment about pins.
"Of course, My Lady. Please follow me." She said, and stepped out of the way of those working in the tent before leading her towards the house proper.
Sara cast a sidelong look at the shorter woman. Evangelina was beautiful and the younger lady found herself wanting to touch her hair with it's interesting colors. The impulse wasn't entirely strange to her but still she resisted, fingers clasping in front of her as she walked and smiled at familiar faces in the halls on their way towards her quarters. "It's just here." Came a soft murmur and then she stepped around a corner and opened the door to her chambers. Pistos, her guardian mastiff lifted his head at her entrance and looked from Sara to the interloper but a quick read of Sara's relaxed body language meant the large dog was lowering his head back down to rest and letting out a sigh of disinterest.
"So dramatic." Sara muttered and smiled at the animal before stepping to her wardrobe and beginning to pull out the mourning garments she had been given. There was one in here that she'd worn a few years ago when she was several inches shorter. "I think I have something closer to the right length back here." She said and dug through the fine fabric in a gentle manner.
For her part, Evangelina would find Sara's room tidy for the most part. There were sketches piled high, bowls with paints, an easel with a half-finished sunset or sunrise. Several other finished paintings leaned against a far wall on display. A marketplace scene, a detailed depiction of a ship in port, and of course the lovely Pistos who was dozing in a meadow. Though there was an area that her mother Meena had demanded be reserved for the jewels her father paid for it was not prominent and on display but instead on a table surrounded by the paintings. It was clear where her interest and passion lay to anyone who glimpsed her private quarters. Along with the jewels was a small section for preferred perfumes and bathing oils.
"Here!" Sara exclaimed, the sound muffled by the fabrics around her and she stepped back, moving towards where Evangelina stood and unfolding the chiton. "I think we will still need pins but fewer of them, at least." She said, holding the thing up so she could see. "If My Lady approves?"
JD
Staff Team
JD
Staff Team
This post was created by our staff team.
Please contact us with your queries and questions.
The movement of her hands was mostly by muscle memory after a time spent doing the work. Sara was busy wondering what might have happened to her family if things had turned out differently a few nights prior. What if Achilleas had been injured? Emilios? Her father? Such grim thoughts were unusual for her as she tended to stick to trying to see the positive in any situation.
Then the periphery motion of others bowing and shifting around her caught Sara's attention and she blinked away the reverie of dismay to find her father moving towards her with a lady in tow. Sara wasn't immediately sure of her as Irakles' physique dwarfed the other woman but she found it to be a vaguely familiar face. As she was not permitted into Court without an escort Sara found it difficult to place everyone's faces or at least recognize them at once.
"Your Majesty." Sara said as her father drew near with features attentive and interested in what he had to say even if he delivered his orders as if she were a servant. Sara didn't mind and gave him a smile in return to acknowledge his command, blue eyes moving to the young lady he was referring to and she inclined her head. "My Lady." The young woman said and straightened. With her gaze moving over the other's chiton she spotted the offending stain immediately. When the Lady moved closer to her Sara finished sorting the bandage in her grasp and then grinned at the comment about pins.
"Of course, My Lady. Please follow me." She said, and stepped out of the way of those working in the tent before leading her towards the house proper.
Sara cast a sidelong look at the shorter woman. Evangelina was beautiful and the younger lady found herself wanting to touch her hair with it's interesting colors. The impulse wasn't entirely strange to her but still she resisted, fingers clasping in front of her as she walked and smiled at familiar faces in the halls on their way towards her quarters. "It's just here." Came a soft murmur and then she stepped around a corner and opened the door to her chambers. Pistos, her guardian mastiff lifted his head at her entrance and looked from Sara to the interloper but a quick read of Sara's relaxed body language meant the large dog was lowering his head back down to rest and letting out a sigh of disinterest.
"So dramatic." Sara muttered and smiled at the animal before stepping to her wardrobe and beginning to pull out the mourning garments she had been given. There was one in here that she'd worn a few years ago when she was several inches shorter. "I think I have something closer to the right length back here." She said and dug through the fine fabric in a gentle manner.
For her part, Evangelina would find Sara's room tidy for the most part. There were sketches piled high, bowls with paints, an easel with a half-finished sunset or sunrise. Several other finished paintings leaned against a far wall on display. A marketplace scene, a detailed depiction of a ship in port, and of course the lovely Pistos who was dozing in a meadow. Though there was an area that her mother Meena had demanded be reserved for the jewels her father paid for it was not prominent and on display but instead on a table surrounded by the paintings. It was clear where her interest and passion lay to anyone who glimpsed her private quarters. Along with the jewels was a small section for preferred perfumes and bathing oils.
"Here!" Sara exclaimed, the sound muffled by the fabrics around her and she stepped back, moving towards where Evangelina stood and unfolding the chiton. "I think we will still need pins but fewer of them, at least." She said, holding the thing up so she could see. "If My Lady approves?"
The movement of her hands was mostly by muscle memory after a time spent doing the work. Sara was busy wondering what might have happened to her family if things had turned out differently a few nights prior. What if Achilleas had been injured? Emilios? Her father? Such grim thoughts were unusual for her as she tended to stick to trying to see the positive in any situation.
Then the periphery motion of others bowing and shifting around her caught Sara's attention and she blinked away the reverie of dismay to find her father moving towards her with a lady in tow. Sara wasn't immediately sure of her as Irakles' physique dwarfed the other woman but she found it to be a vaguely familiar face. As she was not permitted into Court without an escort Sara found it difficult to place everyone's faces or at least recognize them at once.
"Your Majesty." Sara said as her father drew near with features attentive and interested in what he had to say even if he delivered his orders as if she were a servant. Sara didn't mind and gave him a smile in return to acknowledge his command, blue eyes moving to the young lady he was referring to and she inclined her head. "My Lady." The young woman said and straightened. With her gaze moving over the other's chiton she spotted the offending stain immediately. When the Lady moved closer to her Sara finished sorting the bandage in her grasp and then grinned at the comment about pins.
"Of course, My Lady. Please follow me." She said, and stepped out of the way of those working in the tent before leading her towards the house proper.
Sara cast a sidelong look at the shorter woman. Evangelina was beautiful and the younger lady found herself wanting to touch her hair with it's interesting colors. The impulse wasn't entirely strange to her but still she resisted, fingers clasping in front of her as she walked and smiled at familiar faces in the halls on their way towards her quarters. "It's just here." Came a soft murmur and then she stepped around a corner and opened the door to her chambers. Pistos, her guardian mastiff lifted his head at her entrance and looked from Sara to the interloper but a quick read of Sara's relaxed body language meant the large dog was lowering his head back down to rest and letting out a sigh of disinterest.
"So dramatic." Sara muttered and smiled at the animal before stepping to her wardrobe and beginning to pull out the mourning garments she had been given. There was one in here that she'd worn a few years ago when she was several inches shorter. "I think I have something closer to the right length back here." She said and dug through the fine fabric in a gentle manner.
For her part, Evangelina would find Sara's room tidy for the most part. There were sketches piled high, bowls with paints, an easel with a half-finished sunset or sunrise. Several other finished paintings leaned against a far wall on display. A marketplace scene, a detailed depiction of a ship in port, and of course the lovely Pistos who was dozing in a meadow. Though there was an area that her mother Meena had demanded be reserved for the jewels her father paid for it was not prominent and on display but instead on a table surrounded by the paintings. It was clear where her interest and passion lay to anyone who glimpsed her private quarters. Along with the jewels was a small section for preferred perfumes and bathing oils.
"Here!" Sara exclaimed, the sound muffled by the fabrics around her and she stepped back, moving towards where Evangelina stood and unfolding the chiton. "I think we will still need pins but fewer of them, at least." She said, holding the thing up so she could see. "If My Lady approves?"
The soft formality with which the young woman addressed her father only accentuated the gruffness of his earlier words to his daughter. How did His Highness manage to keep such a distance? Why did His Highness keep such a cold distance? Maybe that was a better question. Curiosity was often the fatal flaw of the miniature Leventi. It was a bit of an obsession to know why things were done the way they were done. What made up a person’s motivations and actions? Motivations, actions, reactions… they were all entwined. The mystery of it all produced an insatiable curiosity.
She watched quietly as Sara finished sorting the bandage and smiled. She’s too sweet for court, Evie thought before returning the smile and followed Lady Sara. One arm covering her bust and the other lifting her dark chiton to pull it out of the way. Maneuvering around those working in the tent. She cast one last glance her uncle. He looked quite engaged in his conversation. Good. Bringing her gaze back to Sara, she caught the sidelong look and she offered an acknowledging smile. Evie had to catch herself from saying that this wasn’t a common occurrence but the truth was… things like this happened to her quite frequently.
“It’s just here.”
They had worked their way through the various halls that led to Lady Sara’s chambers. Stepping around the corner, Evie dropped her hand away from her bust and glanced down at the damage she’d done. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been, it wouldn’t stain so that was a win in Evie’s books. Looking up she came to a halt at the giant mastiff staring at her.
“So dramatic.”
The muttered words brought a grin to Evie’s mouth. As the dog dropped it head back to the floor and Sara stepped around, Evie knelt down and offered her hand to the dog. One of these days, that was how she was probably going to die. Petting something she shouldn’t. It couldn’t be helped. If it was possible Evie’s approval rating of Sara had risen quite a bit higher from the dog’s approval of his master.
“My gods! Who is this beasty?!” Evie laughed. “Say it’s your right to be dramatic… right?” Her words had dropped an octave as she spoke to the dog. “We are interrupting a very crucial nap! Guard dogs need their naps. Sleepiness isn’t productive to guarding, is it?” If horses weren’t readily available for Evie she was certain that she’d have a pack full of dogs following at her heels wherever she went. Finishing up, talking to the dog she cooed to him about what a good boy he was and rose up to step around him, leaving him to rest in peace. Dogs like horses couldn't lie.
Rising back to her feet, she took in her first real glance of the room. The tidiness was something she was sure Byrony longed for from Evie. The disorder seemed to lie in the sketches piled high and bowls of paint set. Biting her lip, she glanced down at a passing pile of sketches and wished she’d been more artistically gifted. Evie could sing prettily enough but she’d never been able to play an instrument or sketch the world. Wouldn’t it be nice to be able to paint a world you wished you saw?
Unlike some ladies, Evie bypassed the small section of jewels without even glancing at them. They held little interest to her too. Moving over towards the paintings she paused in front of the ship in port and tilted her head as she took in the details.
“I am so envious of you. These are stunning and the level of detail is quite spectacular.” She called out as Sara shuffled through fabrics, seeming to look for something in particular. Reaching out she touched it the painting, “Makes me want to just sail away and see what the rest of the world is like.”
“Here!”
Evie’s attention came back to the here and now and smiled warmly as she stepped over to stand near Sara as she unfolded the chiton. “The fewer pins the better. It’s lovely and really, thank you for your kindness. I’ll make sure it’s returned you as soon as possible.” Her fingers began to untie the cord of her chiton unabashedly, glancing over to Sara she offered another thankful smile and turned away as she pulled the garment over her head. For someone with no more experience than she had, Evie wasn’t that inhibited by her body.
“Well, I’ve deduced that you like dogs and that you are artistic, and… you notice details.” Evie still shielding as much of herself as she could and still reach out to take the clean chiton and grinned cheekily. “If you tell me you like horses too then I am afraid you have a new friend whether you want one or not.”
JD
Staff Team
JD
Staff Team
This post was created by our staff team.
Please contact us with your queries and questions.
The soft formality with which the young woman addressed her father only accentuated the gruffness of his earlier words to his daughter. How did His Highness manage to keep such a distance? Why did His Highness keep such a cold distance? Maybe that was a better question. Curiosity was often the fatal flaw of the miniature Leventi. It was a bit of an obsession to know why things were done the way they were done. What made up a person’s motivations and actions? Motivations, actions, reactions… they were all entwined. The mystery of it all produced an insatiable curiosity.
She watched quietly as Sara finished sorting the bandage and smiled. She’s too sweet for court, Evie thought before returning the smile and followed Lady Sara. One arm covering her bust and the other lifting her dark chiton to pull it out of the way. Maneuvering around those working in the tent. She cast one last glance her uncle. He looked quite engaged in his conversation. Good. Bringing her gaze back to Sara, she caught the sidelong look and she offered an acknowledging smile. Evie had to catch herself from saying that this wasn’t a common occurrence but the truth was… things like this happened to her quite frequently.
“It’s just here.”
They had worked their way through the various halls that led to Lady Sara’s chambers. Stepping around the corner, Evie dropped her hand away from her bust and glanced down at the damage she’d done. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been, it wouldn’t stain so that was a win in Evie’s books. Looking up she came to a halt at the giant mastiff staring at her.
“So dramatic.”
The muttered words brought a grin to Evie’s mouth. As the dog dropped it head back to the floor and Sara stepped around, Evie knelt down and offered her hand to the dog. One of these days, that was how she was probably going to die. Petting something she shouldn’t. It couldn’t be helped. If it was possible Evie’s approval rating of Sara had risen quite a bit higher from the dog’s approval of his master.
“My gods! Who is this beasty?!” Evie laughed. “Say it’s your right to be dramatic… right?” Her words had dropped an octave as she spoke to the dog. “We are interrupting a very crucial nap! Guard dogs need their naps. Sleepiness isn’t productive to guarding, is it?” If horses weren’t readily available for Evie she was certain that she’d have a pack full of dogs following at her heels wherever she went. Finishing up, talking to the dog she cooed to him about what a good boy he was and rose up to step around him, leaving him to rest in peace. Dogs like horses couldn't lie.
Rising back to her feet, she took in her first real glance of the room. The tidiness was something she was sure Byrony longed for from Evie. The disorder seemed to lie in the sketches piled high and bowls of paint set. Biting her lip, she glanced down at a passing pile of sketches and wished she’d been more artistically gifted. Evie could sing prettily enough but she’d never been able to play an instrument or sketch the world. Wouldn’t it be nice to be able to paint a world you wished you saw?
Unlike some ladies, Evie bypassed the small section of jewels without even glancing at them. They held little interest to her too. Moving over towards the paintings she paused in front of the ship in port and tilted her head as she took in the details.
“I am so envious of you. These are stunning and the level of detail is quite spectacular.” She called out as Sara shuffled through fabrics, seeming to look for something in particular. Reaching out she touched it the painting, “Makes me want to just sail away and see what the rest of the world is like.”
“Here!”
Evie’s attention came back to the here and now and smiled warmly as she stepped over to stand near Sara as she unfolded the chiton. “The fewer pins the better. It’s lovely and really, thank you for your kindness. I’ll make sure it’s returned you as soon as possible.” Her fingers began to untie the cord of her chiton unabashedly, glancing over to Sara she offered another thankful smile and turned away as she pulled the garment over her head. For someone with no more experience than she had, Evie wasn’t that inhibited by her body.
“Well, I’ve deduced that you like dogs and that you are artistic, and… you notice details.” Evie still shielding as much of herself as she could and still reach out to take the clean chiton and grinned cheekily. “If you tell me you like horses too then I am afraid you have a new friend whether you want one or not.”
The soft formality with which the young woman addressed her father only accentuated the gruffness of his earlier words to his daughter. How did His Highness manage to keep such a distance? Why did His Highness keep such a cold distance? Maybe that was a better question. Curiosity was often the fatal flaw of the miniature Leventi. It was a bit of an obsession to know why things were done the way they were done. What made up a person’s motivations and actions? Motivations, actions, reactions… they were all entwined. The mystery of it all produced an insatiable curiosity.
She watched quietly as Sara finished sorting the bandage and smiled. She’s too sweet for court, Evie thought before returning the smile and followed Lady Sara. One arm covering her bust and the other lifting her dark chiton to pull it out of the way. Maneuvering around those working in the tent. She cast one last glance her uncle. He looked quite engaged in his conversation. Good. Bringing her gaze back to Sara, she caught the sidelong look and she offered an acknowledging smile. Evie had to catch herself from saying that this wasn’t a common occurrence but the truth was… things like this happened to her quite frequently.
“It’s just here.”
They had worked their way through the various halls that led to Lady Sara’s chambers. Stepping around the corner, Evie dropped her hand away from her bust and glanced down at the damage she’d done. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been, it wouldn’t stain so that was a win in Evie’s books. Looking up she came to a halt at the giant mastiff staring at her.
“So dramatic.”
The muttered words brought a grin to Evie’s mouth. As the dog dropped it head back to the floor and Sara stepped around, Evie knelt down and offered her hand to the dog. One of these days, that was how she was probably going to die. Petting something she shouldn’t. It couldn’t be helped. If it was possible Evie’s approval rating of Sara had risen quite a bit higher from the dog’s approval of his master.
“My gods! Who is this beasty?!” Evie laughed. “Say it’s your right to be dramatic… right?” Her words had dropped an octave as she spoke to the dog. “We are interrupting a very crucial nap! Guard dogs need their naps. Sleepiness isn’t productive to guarding, is it?” If horses weren’t readily available for Evie she was certain that she’d have a pack full of dogs following at her heels wherever she went. Finishing up, talking to the dog she cooed to him about what a good boy he was and rose up to step around him, leaving him to rest in peace. Dogs like horses couldn't lie.
Rising back to her feet, she took in her first real glance of the room. The tidiness was something she was sure Byrony longed for from Evie. The disorder seemed to lie in the sketches piled high and bowls of paint set. Biting her lip, she glanced down at a passing pile of sketches and wished she’d been more artistically gifted. Evie could sing prettily enough but she’d never been able to play an instrument or sketch the world. Wouldn’t it be nice to be able to paint a world you wished you saw?
Unlike some ladies, Evie bypassed the small section of jewels without even glancing at them. They held little interest to her too. Moving over towards the paintings she paused in front of the ship in port and tilted her head as she took in the details.
“I am so envious of you. These are stunning and the level of detail is quite spectacular.” She called out as Sara shuffled through fabrics, seeming to look for something in particular. Reaching out she touched it the painting, “Makes me want to just sail away and see what the rest of the world is like.”
“Here!”
Evie’s attention came back to the here and now and smiled warmly as she stepped over to stand near Sara as she unfolded the chiton. “The fewer pins the better. It’s lovely and really, thank you for your kindness. I’ll make sure it’s returned you as soon as possible.” Her fingers began to untie the cord of her chiton unabashedly, glancing over to Sara she offered another thankful smile and turned away as she pulled the garment over her head. For someone with no more experience than she had, Evie wasn’t that inhibited by her body.
“Well, I’ve deduced that you like dogs and that you are artistic, and… you notice details.” Evie still shielding as much of herself as she could and still reach out to take the clean chiton and grinned cheekily. “If you tell me you like horses too then I am afraid you have a new friend whether you want one or not.”
Despite the way her father treated her in public - not doting and not attentive but not neglecting either - Sara always felt a fondness for him that she'd never spoken about with anyone. Meena, her mother, was always so disappointed in her. Harping on her about being more deceitful or mastering the finer points of political intrigue. Sara did her best to please her parents and knew she fell short of their expectations. Wasn't that the fate of most children, though?
The young woman hadn't second guessed leaving Pistos and the Lady Evangelina to get to know one another. The mastiff was trained well and could sense her discomfort around certain people. The warning usually started with a direct stare and raising his tail. Then a growl, then a little show of his teeth, and so on and so forth. It was a process. None of which Pistos displayed at the Lady. Instead he yawned rather pointedly when she mentioned a nap and allowed her to pet him. Regal and benevolent, he was.
"Thank you, my Lady." Sara said while shuffling the shorter chiton in her hands. "The classes are quite rigorous but my teachers always recommend practice outside of the scholeio. To be honest those words are what I rely on to escape to the market or the port or hillside. It's an easy explanation, you see." Sara said and grinned. It wasn't a lie and the Gods knew that she struggled with lying something desperate. Her feelings were always written all over her face. Another thing her mother found disappointing. Soon enough she'd half turned and averted her gaze to allow the shorter woman the benefit of some privacy.
"Horses! I love them. I wish I spent more time with them but my mother.." Sara trailed a little and shook her head once. Meena had drawn the line at Pistos. Horses were for travel only and otherwise were mindless beasts. Secretly Sara spent the time that Meena was in Court to sneak down to the stables and interact with the horses but admitting that to the Lady Evangelina seemed silly. "Do you spend much time with them, my Lady?"
Sara turned away once the other woman had taken the chiton entirely from her hands and moved back to her wardrobe to fetch some of the pins she'd mentioned. Perhaps a belt as well.. Sara frowned a bit at the thought wondering what she might have available. It wasn't often she ruffled around in here and her mother insisted on replacing or renewing the stuff as often as possible to keep in fashion. A ridiculous notion really when she preferred the type of practical clothing that she did. Soon enough she turned holding a few in her hands and moved over towards the other young woman, holding them up and giving her a smile. With only a momentary pause for consideration Sara moved to place the pins so that the fabric fell in a flattering way - and did not drag on the ground behind Evangelina.
"I believe I have a belt somewhere, my Lady, should you require it." Sara said while finishing up.
JD
Staff Team
JD
Staff Team
This post was created by our staff team.
Please contact us with your queries and questions.
Despite the way her father treated her in public - not doting and not attentive but not neglecting either - Sara always felt a fondness for him that she'd never spoken about with anyone. Meena, her mother, was always so disappointed in her. Harping on her about being more deceitful or mastering the finer points of political intrigue. Sara did her best to please her parents and knew she fell short of their expectations. Wasn't that the fate of most children, though?
The young woman hadn't second guessed leaving Pistos and the Lady Evangelina to get to know one another. The mastiff was trained well and could sense her discomfort around certain people. The warning usually started with a direct stare and raising his tail. Then a growl, then a little show of his teeth, and so on and so forth. It was a process. None of which Pistos displayed at the Lady. Instead he yawned rather pointedly when she mentioned a nap and allowed her to pet him. Regal and benevolent, he was.
"Thank you, my Lady." Sara said while shuffling the shorter chiton in her hands. "The classes are quite rigorous but my teachers always recommend practice outside of the scholeio. To be honest those words are what I rely on to escape to the market or the port or hillside. It's an easy explanation, you see." Sara said and grinned. It wasn't a lie and the Gods knew that she struggled with lying something desperate. Her feelings were always written all over her face. Another thing her mother found disappointing. Soon enough she'd half turned and averted her gaze to allow the shorter woman the benefit of some privacy.
"Horses! I love them. I wish I spent more time with them but my mother.." Sara trailed a little and shook her head once. Meena had drawn the line at Pistos. Horses were for travel only and otherwise were mindless beasts. Secretly Sara spent the time that Meena was in Court to sneak down to the stables and interact with the horses but admitting that to the Lady Evangelina seemed silly. "Do you spend much time with them, my Lady?"
Sara turned away once the other woman had taken the chiton entirely from her hands and moved back to her wardrobe to fetch some of the pins she'd mentioned. Perhaps a belt as well.. Sara frowned a bit at the thought wondering what she might have available. It wasn't often she ruffled around in here and her mother insisted on replacing or renewing the stuff as often as possible to keep in fashion. A ridiculous notion really when she preferred the type of practical clothing that she did. Soon enough she turned holding a few in her hands and moved over towards the other young woman, holding them up and giving her a smile. With only a momentary pause for consideration Sara moved to place the pins so that the fabric fell in a flattering way - and did not drag on the ground behind Evangelina.
"I believe I have a belt somewhere, my Lady, should you require it." Sara said while finishing up.
Despite the way her father treated her in public - not doting and not attentive but not neglecting either - Sara always felt a fondness for him that she'd never spoken about with anyone. Meena, her mother, was always so disappointed in her. Harping on her about being more deceitful or mastering the finer points of political intrigue. Sara did her best to please her parents and knew she fell short of their expectations. Wasn't that the fate of most children, though?
The young woman hadn't second guessed leaving Pistos and the Lady Evangelina to get to know one another. The mastiff was trained well and could sense her discomfort around certain people. The warning usually started with a direct stare and raising his tail. Then a growl, then a little show of his teeth, and so on and so forth. It was a process. None of which Pistos displayed at the Lady. Instead he yawned rather pointedly when she mentioned a nap and allowed her to pet him. Regal and benevolent, he was.
"Thank you, my Lady." Sara said while shuffling the shorter chiton in her hands. "The classes are quite rigorous but my teachers always recommend practice outside of the scholeio. To be honest those words are what I rely on to escape to the market or the port or hillside. It's an easy explanation, you see." Sara said and grinned. It wasn't a lie and the Gods knew that she struggled with lying something desperate. Her feelings were always written all over her face. Another thing her mother found disappointing. Soon enough she'd half turned and averted her gaze to allow the shorter woman the benefit of some privacy.
"Horses! I love them. I wish I spent more time with them but my mother.." Sara trailed a little and shook her head once. Meena had drawn the line at Pistos. Horses were for travel only and otherwise were mindless beasts. Secretly Sara spent the time that Meena was in Court to sneak down to the stables and interact with the horses but admitting that to the Lady Evangelina seemed silly. "Do you spend much time with them, my Lady?"
Sara turned away once the other woman had taken the chiton entirely from her hands and moved back to her wardrobe to fetch some of the pins she'd mentioned. Perhaps a belt as well.. Sara frowned a bit at the thought wondering what she might have available. It wasn't often she ruffled around in here and her mother insisted on replacing or renewing the stuff as often as possible to keep in fashion. A ridiculous notion really when she preferred the type of practical clothing that she did. Soon enough she turned holding a few in her hands and moved over towards the other young woman, holding them up and giving her a smile. With only a momentary pause for consideration Sara moved to place the pins so that the fabric fell in a flattering way - and did not drag on the ground behind Evangelina.
"I believe I have a belt somewhere, my Lady, should you require it." Sara said while finishing up.
Disappointment was an old and intimate friend of Evangelina’s. Her own parents hid it well but the constant reminder of what was expected of her lingered everywhere, taunting and reminding Evie of her flaws and failures. It wasn’t just one big flaw or fatal failure, but simply a thousand tiny, indistinguishable ones. It’d made her a bit of an expert at keeping a perfect little smile on her face even when the world was crumbling at her feet. What else was she supposed to do? Sob? She wasn’t even entirely sure if she knew how deep the knife of disappointment was buried in her. Those moments of familiar darkness and melancholy dripping out like water from a fist tightening around it.
It was a boon on her part, for every time she was knocked down for one reason or another she picked herself back up. Dusted herself off. And flung herself headfirst into the middle of whatever had knocked her down to begin with. She had the mental fortitude of an ox and the self-preservation of a street rat. After all, she was a Leventi, and the worthy shall inherit, no?
‘Thank you, my Lady.’
Compliments didn’t fall from her lips that often and only falsely when she was cornered and left with no other options before her. The workings in her mind began to turn as she considered if Sara would do a commission of Altair for her. Altair was only beautiful in his imperfections but something told her that Sara could depict that beauty in her paintings.
‘The classes are quite rigorous but my teachers always recommend practice outside of the scholeio. To be honest those words are what I rely on to escape to the market or the port or hillside. It’s an easy explanation, you see.’
Evie blinked a couple of times then a throaty laugh escaped.
“A devious mind lurks behind pretty eyes…” She returned with a wide grin of approval on her lips. It didn’t surprise her that the girl in front of her manipulated situations to aid in her own desires. If it was possible the girl rose a few more pegs in Evie’s mind. Cloying sweetness was irksome - sweetness needed just a hint of salt to be fully appreciated.
Evie slipped the chiton onto her lean-muscled, softly petite frame. The chiton wasn’t an exact fit but probably the closest they were going to find in sizes between them. It wasn’t quite as fitted as her previous one and it was just a little long but those were things that could be remedied. Nimble fingers worked on fastening the clasps of the chiton and their conversation steered to horses. The wide grin softened in understanding as she spoke of her mother, Sara didn’t have to explain. She knew how many people felt about the creatures but they simply did not know what she did. The ideology that they were mindless beasts for travel or sport was the ideology of fools.
‘Do you spend much time with them, my Lady?’
The question drew her back and she smiled again. “Yes, my family would say I am a bit obsessed… but they are my paint brushes… or maybe clay. They are my clay.” Finishing clasping the clasps as Sara dug back through her wardrobe. Evie let her eyes wander to the wardrobe noting it had been updated to recent fashions and colors. Noting that the girl’s jewelry collection occupied a small, tucked away area it left her to think maybe the clothes were another manipulation of Meena’s rather than Sara’s. Dropping her dark eyes to the chiton, she ran her hands over the fabric feigning interest in straighten it. She wasn’t extremely familiar with Meena, but if what she was learning from and about Sara said anything she doubted she’d care much for that… that… that woman. That thought was followed by an inner indignant sniff. The woman sounded like trouble.
Sara popped back up in front of her with pins in her hand jolting Evie from her thoughts about Meena. She returned the smile with one of her own and reached for the pins except that Sara was already moving and placing them. Evie giggled then as Sara occupied herself catching the fabric in a flattering position. Evie didn’t bother with that on most days. Maybe it was the artist coming out in Sara. She thought artists saw things differently than most people did, differently then she did. They saw colors and lines, shadows and aura that most did not. They could create where there was nothing. Evie wished she was an artist. She wanted to create beautiful things…
When the last pin went in, Evie was looking down at the chiton in surprise. She wasn’t sure what to say, so she just stared down at the chiton. Eat your heart out Aphrodite! I’ve got a bust too! Who knew?! She was going to have to remember to start pinning things in place. The look of surprise transformed into glee. “I don’t know how you did that but you are the Queen of Pins. I am not sure I need a belt, but I completely relinquish control to you. Should we add a belt?”
Sara and Evangelina went back and forth for a few more minutes on whether they should or shouldn’t add a belt. Finally, they opted for no. In short, Evie wanted to keep things simple… in reality, she hoped she could keep up with the dress long enough to see it returned to Sara and preferred not to have to keep up with a belt as well. She paused, checking herself in the mirror again and still couldn’t remember quite believe that there were curves, albeit soft ones, to her form. When had she gotten them? And for Aphrodite’s sake, why hadn’t she shown them off?
She thanked Prince Irakles’ daughter for the umpteenth time. Maybe, when things calmed down a friendship would bloom between them. She said her farewell to Pistos and returned to the courtyard the same way she’d come. This time there wasn’t any avoiding being seen, no shadow to hide behind.
Grasping the black fabric, she picked her him up just a bit to free her steps up as she walked onward. She’d grab some more of the honey and herb balm she’d brought and pick up where she’d left off. Maybe her uncle Fotios hadn’t seen her? Then again… he didn’t miss much.
JD
Staff Team
JD
Staff Team
This post was created by our staff team.
Please contact us with your queries and questions.
Disappointment was an old and intimate friend of Evangelina’s. Her own parents hid it well but the constant reminder of what was expected of her lingered everywhere, taunting and reminding Evie of her flaws and failures. It wasn’t just one big flaw or fatal failure, but simply a thousand tiny, indistinguishable ones. It’d made her a bit of an expert at keeping a perfect little smile on her face even when the world was crumbling at her feet. What else was she supposed to do? Sob? She wasn’t even entirely sure if she knew how deep the knife of disappointment was buried in her. Those moments of familiar darkness and melancholy dripping out like water from a fist tightening around it.
It was a boon on her part, for every time she was knocked down for one reason or another she picked herself back up. Dusted herself off. And flung herself headfirst into the middle of whatever had knocked her down to begin with. She had the mental fortitude of an ox and the self-preservation of a street rat. After all, she was a Leventi, and the worthy shall inherit, no?
‘Thank you, my Lady.’
Compliments didn’t fall from her lips that often and only falsely when she was cornered and left with no other options before her. The workings in her mind began to turn as she considered if Sara would do a commission of Altair for her. Altair was only beautiful in his imperfections but something told her that Sara could depict that beauty in her paintings.
‘The classes are quite rigorous but my teachers always recommend practice outside of the scholeio. To be honest those words are what I rely on to escape to the market or the port or hillside. It’s an easy explanation, you see.’
Evie blinked a couple of times then a throaty laugh escaped.
“A devious mind lurks behind pretty eyes…” She returned with a wide grin of approval on her lips. It didn’t surprise her that the girl in front of her manipulated situations to aid in her own desires. If it was possible the girl rose a few more pegs in Evie’s mind. Cloying sweetness was irksome - sweetness needed just a hint of salt to be fully appreciated.
Evie slipped the chiton onto her lean-muscled, softly petite frame. The chiton wasn’t an exact fit but probably the closest they were going to find in sizes between them. It wasn’t quite as fitted as her previous one and it was just a little long but those were things that could be remedied. Nimble fingers worked on fastening the clasps of the chiton and their conversation steered to horses. The wide grin softened in understanding as she spoke of her mother, Sara didn’t have to explain. She knew how many people felt about the creatures but they simply did not know what she did. The ideology that they were mindless beasts for travel or sport was the ideology of fools.
‘Do you spend much time with them, my Lady?’
The question drew her back and she smiled again. “Yes, my family would say I am a bit obsessed… but they are my paint brushes… or maybe clay. They are my clay.” Finishing clasping the clasps as Sara dug back through her wardrobe. Evie let her eyes wander to the wardrobe noting it had been updated to recent fashions and colors. Noting that the girl’s jewelry collection occupied a small, tucked away area it left her to think maybe the clothes were another manipulation of Meena’s rather than Sara’s. Dropping her dark eyes to the chiton, she ran her hands over the fabric feigning interest in straighten it. She wasn’t extremely familiar with Meena, but if what she was learning from and about Sara said anything she doubted she’d care much for that… that… that woman. That thought was followed by an inner indignant sniff. The woman sounded like trouble.
Sara popped back up in front of her with pins in her hand jolting Evie from her thoughts about Meena. She returned the smile with one of her own and reached for the pins except that Sara was already moving and placing them. Evie giggled then as Sara occupied herself catching the fabric in a flattering position. Evie didn’t bother with that on most days. Maybe it was the artist coming out in Sara. She thought artists saw things differently than most people did, differently then she did. They saw colors and lines, shadows and aura that most did not. They could create where there was nothing. Evie wished she was an artist. She wanted to create beautiful things…
When the last pin went in, Evie was looking down at the chiton in surprise. She wasn’t sure what to say, so she just stared down at the chiton. Eat your heart out Aphrodite! I’ve got a bust too! Who knew?! She was going to have to remember to start pinning things in place. The look of surprise transformed into glee. “I don’t know how you did that but you are the Queen of Pins. I am not sure I need a belt, but I completely relinquish control to you. Should we add a belt?”
Sara and Evangelina went back and forth for a few more minutes on whether they should or shouldn’t add a belt. Finally, they opted for no. In short, Evie wanted to keep things simple… in reality, she hoped she could keep up with the dress long enough to see it returned to Sara and preferred not to have to keep up with a belt as well. She paused, checking herself in the mirror again and still couldn’t remember quite believe that there were curves, albeit soft ones, to her form. When had she gotten them? And for Aphrodite’s sake, why hadn’t she shown them off?
She thanked Prince Irakles’ daughter for the umpteenth time. Maybe, when things calmed down a friendship would bloom between them. She said her farewell to Pistos and returned to the courtyard the same way she’d come. This time there wasn’t any avoiding being seen, no shadow to hide behind.
Grasping the black fabric, she picked her him up just a bit to free her steps up as she walked onward. She’d grab some more of the honey and herb balm she’d brought and pick up where she’d left off. Maybe her uncle Fotios hadn’t seen her? Then again… he didn’t miss much.
Disappointment was an old and intimate friend of Evangelina’s. Her own parents hid it well but the constant reminder of what was expected of her lingered everywhere, taunting and reminding Evie of her flaws and failures. It wasn’t just one big flaw or fatal failure, but simply a thousand tiny, indistinguishable ones. It’d made her a bit of an expert at keeping a perfect little smile on her face even when the world was crumbling at her feet. What else was she supposed to do? Sob? She wasn’t even entirely sure if she knew how deep the knife of disappointment was buried in her. Those moments of familiar darkness and melancholy dripping out like water from a fist tightening around it.
It was a boon on her part, for every time she was knocked down for one reason or another she picked herself back up. Dusted herself off. And flung herself headfirst into the middle of whatever had knocked her down to begin with. She had the mental fortitude of an ox and the self-preservation of a street rat. After all, she was a Leventi, and the worthy shall inherit, no?
‘Thank you, my Lady.’
Compliments didn’t fall from her lips that often and only falsely when she was cornered and left with no other options before her. The workings in her mind began to turn as she considered if Sara would do a commission of Altair for her. Altair was only beautiful in his imperfections but something told her that Sara could depict that beauty in her paintings.
‘The classes are quite rigorous but my teachers always recommend practice outside of the scholeio. To be honest those words are what I rely on to escape to the market or the port or hillside. It’s an easy explanation, you see.’
Evie blinked a couple of times then a throaty laugh escaped.
“A devious mind lurks behind pretty eyes…” She returned with a wide grin of approval on her lips. It didn’t surprise her that the girl in front of her manipulated situations to aid in her own desires. If it was possible the girl rose a few more pegs in Evie’s mind. Cloying sweetness was irksome - sweetness needed just a hint of salt to be fully appreciated.
Evie slipped the chiton onto her lean-muscled, softly petite frame. The chiton wasn’t an exact fit but probably the closest they were going to find in sizes between them. It wasn’t quite as fitted as her previous one and it was just a little long but those were things that could be remedied. Nimble fingers worked on fastening the clasps of the chiton and their conversation steered to horses. The wide grin softened in understanding as she spoke of her mother, Sara didn’t have to explain. She knew how many people felt about the creatures but they simply did not know what she did. The ideology that they were mindless beasts for travel or sport was the ideology of fools.
‘Do you spend much time with them, my Lady?’
The question drew her back and she smiled again. “Yes, my family would say I am a bit obsessed… but they are my paint brushes… or maybe clay. They are my clay.” Finishing clasping the clasps as Sara dug back through her wardrobe. Evie let her eyes wander to the wardrobe noting it had been updated to recent fashions and colors. Noting that the girl’s jewelry collection occupied a small, tucked away area it left her to think maybe the clothes were another manipulation of Meena’s rather than Sara’s. Dropping her dark eyes to the chiton, she ran her hands over the fabric feigning interest in straighten it. She wasn’t extremely familiar with Meena, but if what she was learning from and about Sara said anything she doubted she’d care much for that… that… that woman. That thought was followed by an inner indignant sniff. The woman sounded like trouble.
Sara popped back up in front of her with pins in her hand jolting Evie from her thoughts about Meena. She returned the smile with one of her own and reached for the pins except that Sara was already moving and placing them. Evie giggled then as Sara occupied herself catching the fabric in a flattering position. Evie didn’t bother with that on most days. Maybe it was the artist coming out in Sara. She thought artists saw things differently than most people did, differently then she did. They saw colors and lines, shadows and aura that most did not. They could create where there was nothing. Evie wished she was an artist. She wanted to create beautiful things…
When the last pin went in, Evie was looking down at the chiton in surprise. She wasn’t sure what to say, so she just stared down at the chiton. Eat your heart out Aphrodite! I’ve got a bust too! Who knew?! She was going to have to remember to start pinning things in place. The look of surprise transformed into glee. “I don’t know how you did that but you are the Queen of Pins. I am not sure I need a belt, but I completely relinquish control to you. Should we add a belt?”
Sara and Evangelina went back and forth for a few more minutes on whether they should or shouldn’t add a belt. Finally, they opted for no. In short, Evie wanted to keep things simple… in reality, she hoped she could keep up with the dress long enough to see it returned to Sara and preferred not to have to keep up with a belt as well. She paused, checking herself in the mirror again and still couldn’t remember quite believe that there were curves, albeit soft ones, to her form. When had she gotten them? And for Aphrodite’s sake, why hadn’t she shown them off?
She thanked Prince Irakles’ daughter for the umpteenth time. Maybe, when things calmed down a friendship would bloom between them. She said her farewell to Pistos and returned to the courtyard the same way she’d come. This time there wasn’t any avoiding being seen, no shadow to hide behind.
Grasping the black fabric, she picked her him up just a bit to free her steps up as she walked onward. She’d grab some more of the honey and herb balm she’d brought and pick up where she’d left off. Maybe her uncle Fotios hadn’t seen her? Then again… he didn’t miss much.
