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Somewhere around twice a week, Rafail just had to take a day off from his excessively busy schedule to go shopping. It was similar in nature to his many hunting trips, only he preferred to go at this alone, unburdened by the tedious opinions or gossip of his usual companions. They were hardly worth anything anyhow, idiotic yes-men that followed him around for the boost in power and nothing more, not that he at all objected. Useless they may have been but there was an enjoyment in having plenty so eager to tend to each of his whims in exchange for the slightest amount of recognition (it seemed shocking to him that anyone would ever be so desperate to please that they act so absurdly obsequious). But they were a nuisance to have around when Rafail wanted nothing more than some time to himself, and he had made it clear that if any of them bothered him that day - if they even dared think it was appropriate to speak to him whilst he was walking down the streets - they would be very quickly removed from his inner circle. He did not appreciate having any of his very specific rules broken.
For the most part, the man opted to have his clothes ordered to home, a merchant visiting the Marikas mansion every so often to take his measurements and return whenever his outfits were ready. It prevented him from having to visit the horrid place that was the public marketplace and associate with nobles that bore not a single drop of desirable blood and the peasantry who were, well, everywhere. Awfully crowding the place. And yet today he had opted to visit the shops himself, bringing with him a great number of drachmae because, if there was one thing that was certain, it was that Rafail of Marikas had very expensive taste. He had already visited a few stores and bought himself a few treats, not to mention one or two little trinkets to seduce some of the more easily bought ladies of the court and, as ever, a gorgeous new silk gown for his sister, all helpfully carried for him by the faithful Barnabas. You could never expect Rafail to be carrying his own purchases, after all.
The fifth store of the afternoon sold all manner of darling items which Rafail ignored, for the most part, his attention instead focussing on one very particular item (although he would be turning back to look at their perfumes later, he was running dangerously low in his supply of rose and he hardly wished to be caught out smelling anything other than delightful). There was a pair of sandals he had spotted, extravagant and gold-plated and just to his tastes, and he knew that they would be his in the next hour. Pushing past the only other customer he saw there, unconcerned whether or not it was their turn, Rafail turned to the attendant there, the expression on his face surprisingly apathetic for someone so commonly irritable. "I want those. I am not bothered by the price. Fetch them." Now...what else in here did he feel he absolutely required?
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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Somewhere around twice a week, Rafail just had to take a day off from his excessively busy schedule to go shopping. It was similar in nature to his many hunting trips, only he preferred to go at this alone, unburdened by the tedious opinions or gossip of his usual companions. They were hardly worth anything anyhow, idiotic yes-men that followed him around for the boost in power and nothing more, not that he at all objected. Useless they may have been but there was an enjoyment in having plenty so eager to tend to each of his whims in exchange for the slightest amount of recognition (it seemed shocking to him that anyone would ever be so desperate to please that they act so absurdly obsequious). But they were a nuisance to have around when Rafail wanted nothing more than some time to himself, and he had made it clear that if any of them bothered him that day - if they even dared think it was appropriate to speak to him whilst he was walking down the streets - they would be very quickly removed from his inner circle. He did not appreciate having any of his very specific rules broken.
For the most part, the man opted to have his clothes ordered to home, a merchant visiting the Marikas mansion every so often to take his measurements and return whenever his outfits were ready. It prevented him from having to visit the horrid place that was the public marketplace and associate with nobles that bore not a single drop of desirable blood and the peasantry who were, well, everywhere. Awfully crowding the place. And yet today he had opted to visit the shops himself, bringing with him a great number of drachmae because, if there was one thing that was certain, it was that Rafail of Marikas had very expensive taste. He had already visited a few stores and bought himself a few treats, not to mention one or two little trinkets to seduce some of the more easily bought ladies of the court and, as ever, a gorgeous new silk gown for his sister, all helpfully carried for him by the faithful Barnabas. You could never expect Rafail to be carrying his own purchases, after all.
The fifth store of the afternoon sold all manner of darling items which Rafail ignored, for the most part, his attention instead focussing on one very particular item (although he would be turning back to look at their perfumes later, he was running dangerously low in his supply of rose and he hardly wished to be caught out smelling anything other than delightful). There was a pair of sandals he had spotted, extravagant and gold-plated and just to his tastes, and he knew that they would be his in the next hour. Pushing past the only other customer he saw there, unconcerned whether or not it was their turn, Rafail turned to the attendant there, the expression on his face surprisingly apathetic for someone so commonly irritable. "I want those. I am not bothered by the price. Fetch them." Now...what else in here did he feel he absolutely required?
Somewhere around twice a week, Rafail just had to take a day off from his excessively busy schedule to go shopping. It was similar in nature to his many hunting trips, only he preferred to go at this alone, unburdened by the tedious opinions or gossip of his usual companions. They were hardly worth anything anyhow, idiotic yes-men that followed him around for the boost in power and nothing more, not that he at all objected. Useless they may have been but there was an enjoyment in having plenty so eager to tend to each of his whims in exchange for the slightest amount of recognition (it seemed shocking to him that anyone would ever be so desperate to please that they act so absurdly obsequious). But they were a nuisance to have around when Rafail wanted nothing more than some time to himself, and he had made it clear that if any of them bothered him that day - if they even dared think it was appropriate to speak to him whilst he was walking down the streets - they would be very quickly removed from his inner circle. He did not appreciate having any of his very specific rules broken.
For the most part, the man opted to have his clothes ordered to home, a merchant visiting the Marikas mansion every so often to take his measurements and return whenever his outfits were ready. It prevented him from having to visit the horrid place that was the public marketplace and associate with nobles that bore not a single drop of desirable blood and the peasantry who were, well, everywhere. Awfully crowding the place. And yet today he had opted to visit the shops himself, bringing with him a great number of drachmae because, if there was one thing that was certain, it was that Rafail of Marikas had very expensive taste. He had already visited a few stores and bought himself a few treats, not to mention one or two little trinkets to seduce some of the more easily bought ladies of the court and, as ever, a gorgeous new silk gown for his sister, all helpfully carried for him by the faithful Barnabas. You could never expect Rafail to be carrying his own purchases, after all.
The fifth store of the afternoon sold all manner of darling items which Rafail ignored, for the most part, his attention instead focussing on one very particular item (although he would be turning back to look at their perfumes later, he was running dangerously low in his supply of rose and he hardly wished to be caught out smelling anything other than delightful). There was a pair of sandals he had spotted, extravagant and gold-plated and just to his tastes, and he knew that they would be his in the next hour. Pushing past the only other customer he saw there, unconcerned whether or not it was their turn, Rafail turned to the attendant there, the expression on his face surprisingly apathetic for someone so commonly irritable. "I want those. I am not bothered by the price. Fetch them." Now...what else in here did he feel he absolutely required?
Staying on brand with the rest of her ventures, Danae tended to do her investments into physical businesses as anonymously as she could. Normally this was done by the way of a long-winded missive singing the praises of the shop and the promise of more finely lined pockets from only “The House of Stravos.” It honestly surprised her how quickly many of these shopkeepers jumped at the opportunity to have the support of the house without ever knowing exactly which family member sent the letter. They trusted the missive’s words and the family seal that Danae had “borrowed” from her father’s desk more than once. Quite foolish on their part if you asked Danae, but at least it showed that her family’s name had a certain power among the people and to be favored by them was something so coveted that merchants were willing blindly trust a letter in exchange of a promise that only meant to serve the youngest daughter.
After all, why would she bother with these merchants if there wasn’t a way for her to make a quick drachma in the process?
Her methods of making money off of these clueless fools tended to follow two paths. The first was simple enough, find a fledgling business and offer them a loan with a sizable interest attached. With her careful records, this guaranteed that there was some sort of cash flow coming into Danae’s coffers, but with that being said, she wasn’t overly fond of this approach. It took a while to get to the point where the girl would be making a profit and once these inexperienced merchants realized what was happening, they were not as likely to be on board with dealing with her again. That wasn’t exactly the best long-term plan for financial success. So, that’s why she preferred the second method she used with businesses; asking for a significant stake in the business in exchange for her family’s support. It was usually somewhere along the lines of ten to twenty percent, depending on much Danae could reasonably get away with, and it left everyone mostly happy in the end as the businesses she chose for this endeavor were normally well established and eager to boast that they were a favored shop of the Stravos family. Danae had steady profits rolling in at almost no cost to her and the shopkeepers got a decent bit of exposure.
It was just a win-win all around, wasn’t it?
But the best part of this plan? Danae was able to go visit these businesses and be treated like the queen she knew she was meant to be. After all, what shopkeeper who was of sound mind would risk angering the daughter or the sister of a high profile investor? (They always believed it was either Keikelius or Elias giving the support.) She could go in there and check on the state of her investments without them knowing that the young girl they were speaking to was really the one who allowed them to use the Stravos name.
It was absolutely thrilling to the sixteen-year-old.
This was why she was in the small store that afternoon, she was secretly checking in on her investments. After informing the shopkeeper as to who she was, the man went out of his way to ensure that the young noblewoman was pleased with what they had to offer, Truthfully, she wasn’t too dreadfully excited. Their wares were vanity products such as perfumes, clothes, jewelry, and other such things Danae wasn’t drawn too like others in her position. However, she had an act to keep up and she pretended to be gleeful in regards to whatever he recommended. It wasn’t too hard truthfully, the high price tags that accompanied everything brought her a bit of joy knowing that she would get to pocket some of it in the end. Very clearly this was a business she had a vested interest in keeping pleasant relations with.
It was now nearing towards the end of her visit and the topic of conversation had moved away from wares to the basics of how the business was faring. The questions she asked were mind-numbingly simple, such as how sales had been recently, but she couldn't ask anything too in-depth or lest she’d blow her cover. At least they gave a little insight into how things really were. In her hand was a small bottle of perfume, lavender, a personal favorite of hers. It wouldn’t be right if she left empty-handed and besides she would easily get the money she spent back in no time.
Things were going to end on a pleasant note, but then he walked in, just to muck things up like he always did.
Danae didn’t realize that it was Rafail at first, not when she ignored the opening door. Nor did she realize that it was him who had roughly pushed her aside, probably not recognizing his cousin who was dressed more plainly and in muted colors for a more easy-going day on the town. But she did know that voice which seemed to echo in her ears and made her blood instantly boil.
How dare he.
Stupid Marikas.
He had pushed her again and for what? A stupid pair of bloody shoes?
This would not be tolerated. Not a chance in hell.
Instead of turning his attention to the rude intruder, the attendant had momentarily focused on Danae, ensuring that she hadn’t been hurt. “Thank you, I’m fine.” She muttered in response, her voice probably calling Rafail’s attention to her for the first time since he stepped into the shop. Although she wished she could stay calm and composed like she knew she should’ve, Danae couldn’t help, but angrily glare at her rude cousin. Serves him right that he made a big fuss and still didn’t get all the attention.
As her pride was now wounded, she personally would not tolerate Rafail having his way. So, knowing that he wanted that ridiculous pair of gold-plated shoes, Danae turned back to the man and said, completely ignoring the Marikas’s presence, “I’ve had a change of heart. My brother would love those shoes over there,” She said as she pointed to the same pair Rafail wanted, making sure to emphasize the mention of Elias in order to manipulate the shopkeeper into getting Danae what she wanted.
Understanding both what Danae was saying between her words and the consequences of saying no, the shopkeeper quickly nodded as he fetched the shoes for her. As he was doing this, Danae reached into a small coin purse and fished out a few Drachmas, not caring for the price. She figured that the overpayment would be more than enough for the shopkeeper’s troubles. The exchange happened quickly, right in front of Rafail.
“Thank you” She said before turning back to her cousin and pretended to notice him for the first time, “Oh cousin dear!” She warmly greeted in an obviously forced tone. It was likely that the mocking nickname Danae used for Emilia went right over his head, but gave her a smug sense of satisfaction knowing that it would be just as bothersome to him that she refused to use his name or title. They both could remember the conversation from that day on the Senate steps, fueling the hostile environment as their insults had been left unresolved that day.
“Did you want these? My apologies,” She continued, turning her attention to the gold plated shoes, “Elias will love them. They really are fit for a king, wouldn’t you say?” She let the final jab settle in. It had to be a sore spot for the lord, knowing that this annoying younger cousin was closer to the crown than he was. True she couldn’t inherit it, but her children would be ahead of him one day as her brother would be the king.
There was nothing like reminding your enemy of their lower social standing, was there?
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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Staying on brand with the rest of her ventures, Danae tended to do her investments into physical businesses as anonymously as she could. Normally this was done by the way of a long-winded missive singing the praises of the shop and the promise of more finely lined pockets from only “The House of Stravos.” It honestly surprised her how quickly many of these shopkeepers jumped at the opportunity to have the support of the house without ever knowing exactly which family member sent the letter. They trusted the missive’s words and the family seal that Danae had “borrowed” from her father’s desk more than once. Quite foolish on their part if you asked Danae, but at least it showed that her family’s name had a certain power among the people and to be favored by them was something so coveted that merchants were willing blindly trust a letter in exchange of a promise that only meant to serve the youngest daughter.
After all, why would she bother with these merchants if there wasn’t a way for her to make a quick drachma in the process?
Her methods of making money off of these clueless fools tended to follow two paths. The first was simple enough, find a fledgling business and offer them a loan with a sizable interest attached. With her careful records, this guaranteed that there was some sort of cash flow coming into Danae’s coffers, but with that being said, she wasn’t overly fond of this approach. It took a while to get to the point where the girl would be making a profit and once these inexperienced merchants realized what was happening, they were not as likely to be on board with dealing with her again. That wasn’t exactly the best long-term plan for financial success. So, that’s why she preferred the second method she used with businesses; asking for a significant stake in the business in exchange for her family’s support. It was usually somewhere along the lines of ten to twenty percent, depending on much Danae could reasonably get away with, and it left everyone mostly happy in the end as the businesses she chose for this endeavor were normally well established and eager to boast that they were a favored shop of the Stravos family. Danae had steady profits rolling in at almost no cost to her and the shopkeepers got a decent bit of exposure.
It was just a win-win all around, wasn’t it?
But the best part of this plan? Danae was able to go visit these businesses and be treated like the queen she knew she was meant to be. After all, what shopkeeper who was of sound mind would risk angering the daughter or the sister of a high profile investor? (They always believed it was either Keikelius or Elias giving the support.) She could go in there and check on the state of her investments without them knowing that the young girl they were speaking to was really the one who allowed them to use the Stravos name.
It was absolutely thrilling to the sixteen-year-old.
This was why she was in the small store that afternoon, she was secretly checking in on her investments. After informing the shopkeeper as to who she was, the man went out of his way to ensure that the young noblewoman was pleased with what they had to offer, Truthfully, she wasn’t too dreadfully excited. Their wares were vanity products such as perfumes, clothes, jewelry, and other such things Danae wasn’t drawn too like others in her position. However, she had an act to keep up and she pretended to be gleeful in regards to whatever he recommended. It wasn’t too hard truthfully, the high price tags that accompanied everything brought her a bit of joy knowing that she would get to pocket some of it in the end. Very clearly this was a business she had a vested interest in keeping pleasant relations with.
It was now nearing towards the end of her visit and the topic of conversation had moved away from wares to the basics of how the business was faring. The questions she asked were mind-numbingly simple, such as how sales had been recently, but she couldn't ask anything too in-depth or lest she’d blow her cover. At least they gave a little insight into how things really were. In her hand was a small bottle of perfume, lavender, a personal favorite of hers. It wouldn’t be right if she left empty-handed and besides she would easily get the money she spent back in no time.
Things were going to end on a pleasant note, but then he walked in, just to muck things up like he always did.
Danae didn’t realize that it was Rafail at first, not when she ignored the opening door. Nor did she realize that it was him who had roughly pushed her aside, probably not recognizing his cousin who was dressed more plainly and in muted colors for a more easy-going day on the town. But she did know that voice which seemed to echo in her ears and made her blood instantly boil.
How dare he.
Stupid Marikas.
He had pushed her again and for what? A stupid pair of bloody shoes?
This would not be tolerated. Not a chance in hell.
Instead of turning his attention to the rude intruder, the attendant had momentarily focused on Danae, ensuring that she hadn’t been hurt. “Thank you, I’m fine.” She muttered in response, her voice probably calling Rafail’s attention to her for the first time since he stepped into the shop. Although she wished she could stay calm and composed like she knew she should’ve, Danae couldn’t help, but angrily glare at her rude cousin. Serves him right that he made a big fuss and still didn’t get all the attention.
As her pride was now wounded, she personally would not tolerate Rafail having his way. So, knowing that he wanted that ridiculous pair of gold-plated shoes, Danae turned back to the man and said, completely ignoring the Marikas’s presence, “I’ve had a change of heart. My brother would love those shoes over there,” She said as she pointed to the same pair Rafail wanted, making sure to emphasize the mention of Elias in order to manipulate the shopkeeper into getting Danae what she wanted.
Understanding both what Danae was saying between her words and the consequences of saying no, the shopkeeper quickly nodded as he fetched the shoes for her. As he was doing this, Danae reached into a small coin purse and fished out a few Drachmas, not caring for the price. She figured that the overpayment would be more than enough for the shopkeeper’s troubles. The exchange happened quickly, right in front of Rafail.
“Thank you” She said before turning back to her cousin and pretended to notice him for the first time, “Oh cousin dear!” She warmly greeted in an obviously forced tone. It was likely that the mocking nickname Danae used for Emilia went right over his head, but gave her a smug sense of satisfaction knowing that it would be just as bothersome to him that she refused to use his name or title. They both could remember the conversation from that day on the Senate steps, fueling the hostile environment as their insults had been left unresolved that day.
“Did you want these? My apologies,” She continued, turning her attention to the gold plated shoes, “Elias will love them. They really are fit for a king, wouldn’t you say?” She let the final jab settle in. It had to be a sore spot for the lord, knowing that this annoying younger cousin was closer to the crown than he was. True she couldn’t inherit it, but her children would be ahead of him one day as her brother would be the king.
There was nothing like reminding your enemy of their lower social standing, was there?
Staying on brand with the rest of her ventures, Danae tended to do her investments into physical businesses as anonymously as she could. Normally this was done by the way of a long-winded missive singing the praises of the shop and the promise of more finely lined pockets from only “The House of Stravos.” It honestly surprised her how quickly many of these shopkeepers jumped at the opportunity to have the support of the house without ever knowing exactly which family member sent the letter. They trusted the missive’s words and the family seal that Danae had “borrowed” from her father’s desk more than once. Quite foolish on their part if you asked Danae, but at least it showed that her family’s name had a certain power among the people and to be favored by them was something so coveted that merchants were willing blindly trust a letter in exchange of a promise that only meant to serve the youngest daughter.
After all, why would she bother with these merchants if there wasn’t a way for her to make a quick drachma in the process?
Her methods of making money off of these clueless fools tended to follow two paths. The first was simple enough, find a fledgling business and offer them a loan with a sizable interest attached. With her careful records, this guaranteed that there was some sort of cash flow coming into Danae’s coffers, but with that being said, she wasn’t overly fond of this approach. It took a while to get to the point where the girl would be making a profit and once these inexperienced merchants realized what was happening, they were not as likely to be on board with dealing with her again. That wasn’t exactly the best long-term plan for financial success. So, that’s why she preferred the second method she used with businesses; asking for a significant stake in the business in exchange for her family’s support. It was usually somewhere along the lines of ten to twenty percent, depending on much Danae could reasonably get away with, and it left everyone mostly happy in the end as the businesses she chose for this endeavor were normally well established and eager to boast that they were a favored shop of the Stravos family. Danae had steady profits rolling in at almost no cost to her and the shopkeepers got a decent bit of exposure.
It was just a win-win all around, wasn’t it?
But the best part of this plan? Danae was able to go visit these businesses and be treated like the queen she knew she was meant to be. After all, what shopkeeper who was of sound mind would risk angering the daughter or the sister of a high profile investor? (They always believed it was either Keikelius or Elias giving the support.) She could go in there and check on the state of her investments without them knowing that the young girl they were speaking to was really the one who allowed them to use the Stravos name.
It was absolutely thrilling to the sixteen-year-old.
This was why she was in the small store that afternoon, she was secretly checking in on her investments. After informing the shopkeeper as to who she was, the man went out of his way to ensure that the young noblewoman was pleased with what they had to offer, Truthfully, she wasn’t too dreadfully excited. Their wares were vanity products such as perfumes, clothes, jewelry, and other such things Danae wasn’t drawn too like others in her position. However, she had an act to keep up and she pretended to be gleeful in regards to whatever he recommended. It wasn’t too hard truthfully, the high price tags that accompanied everything brought her a bit of joy knowing that she would get to pocket some of it in the end. Very clearly this was a business she had a vested interest in keeping pleasant relations with.
It was now nearing towards the end of her visit and the topic of conversation had moved away from wares to the basics of how the business was faring. The questions she asked were mind-numbingly simple, such as how sales had been recently, but she couldn't ask anything too in-depth or lest she’d blow her cover. At least they gave a little insight into how things really were. In her hand was a small bottle of perfume, lavender, a personal favorite of hers. It wouldn’t be right if she left empty-handed and besides she would easily get the money she spent back in no time.
Things were going to end on a pleasant note, but then he walked in, just to muck things up like he always did.
Danae didn’t realize that it was Rafail at first, not when she ignored the opening door. Nor did she realize that it was him who had roughly pushed her aside, probably not recognizing his cousin who was dressed more plainly and in muted colors for a more easy-going day on the town. But she did know that voice which seemed to echo in her ears and made her blood instantly boil.
How dare he.
Stupid Marikas.
He had pushed her again and for what? A stupid pair of bloody shoes?
This would not be tolerated. Not a chance in hell.
Instead of turning his attention to the rude intruder, the attendant had momentarily focused on Danae, ensuring that she hadn’t been hurt. “Thank you, I’m fine.” She muttered in response, her voice probably calling Rafail’s attention to her for the first time since he stepped into the shop. Although she wished she could stay calm and composed like she knew she should’ve, Danae couldn’t help, but angrily glare at her rude cousin. Serves him right that he made a big fuss and still didn’t get all the attention.
As her pride was now wounded, she personally would not tolerate Rafail having his way. So, knowing that he wanted that ridiculous pair of gold-plated shoes, Danae turned back to the man and said, completely ignoring the Marikas’s presence, “I’ve had a change of heart. My brother would love those shoes over there,” She said as she pointed to the same pair Rafail wanted, making sure to emphasize the mention of Elias in order to manipulate the shopkeeper into getting Danae what she wanted.
Understanding both what Danae was saying between her words and the consequences of saying no, the shopkeeper quickly nodded as he fetched the shoes for her. As he was doing this, Danae reached into a small coin purse and fished out a few Drachmas, not caring for the price. She figured that the overpayment would be more than enough for the shopkeeper’s troubles. The exchange happened quickly, right in front of Rafail.
“Thank you” She said before turning back to her cousin and pretended to notice him for the first time, “Oh cousin dear!” She warmly greeted in an obviously forced tone. It was likely that the mocking nickname Danae used for Emilia went right over his head, but gave her a smug sense of satisfaction knowing that it would be just as bothersome to him that she refused to use his name or title. They both could remember the conversation from that day on the Senate steps, fueling the hostile environment as their insults had been left unresolved that day.
“Did you want these? My apologies,” She continued, turning her attention to the gold plated shoes, “Elias will love them. They really are fit for a king, wouldn’t you say?” She let the final jab settle in. It had to be a sore spot for the lord, knowing that this annoying younger cousin was closer to the crown than he was. True she couldn’t inherit it, but her children would be ahead of him one day as her brother would be the king.
There was nothing like reminding your enemy of their lower social standing, was there?
Rafail did not need this shit today.
Somewhere around twice a week, he needed a day off from his incredibly busy schedule to go shopping. Similar in nature to his many hunting trips, yes, but not precisely so. He preferred to go at this alone not because he hated the idiots who claimed to be his friends in exchange for the slightest shot at power or prestige, but because shopping was a relaxing pastime which allowed him to forget all the troubles and woes of his life and allowed him to clear his head. It was an opportunity to be in complete control of everything himself and authority was something which he craved daily. It was something he needed to survive and something which he did not have ahold of all too often.
One might think that absurd.
One might think any Marikas must have full control over his or her life. One might think that it came with the name and the family history. With such a rich and extensive legacy, after all, one might never expect any member of the House of Marikas to feel out of control.
Try as he might make it seem to seem otherwise, Rafail of Marikas did not have much control.
Sure, there were situations when the young lord might have appeared in full control of every one of his actions. There were certain things he could oversee to ensure they worked definitely in his favour. 'Women' was one of his favourites. He knew what women liked, and he could have them follow him to bed as he willed it. Women, you couldn't deny he liked. Deucalion and Barnabas he liked because Deucalion and Barnabas were his. They were his beads to play with and move however he might have desired, and he liked that. Since the ages of twelve and sixteen respectively, they'd followed his every whim, and there was a particular relish in that which few outsides of noble birth would ever truly understand. His appearance: that was a final one, and perhaps the factor of his life that he had the most control over. So long as he maintained his refined and noble features and projected a shining example of what Marikas could afford, he was more or less permitted to do as he wished. And, of course, it helped that Rafail tended to dress to the nines. He preferred darker colours that brought out the blonde in his hair - that so desirable shade which drew the women and court attention to him even more efficiently - and the bright blue in his eyes, and he preferred silks and golds and all the other precious jewels and metals that his brother regarded as feminine fancies, and all that without getting started on his extensive beauty regimes each day. He controlled the details of his outward appearance, but the underlying features were dictated as carefully as anything else of consequence.
But when one really looked over Rafail’s life, there was plenty he did not really control.
His reputation, a key example. While he most certainly had the capability to manipulate it to his will, the final product was never wholly his. Of course, he adored everyone knowing just how many women he slept with (he felt even more strongly when the numbers were exaggerated to his benefit), but there were downsides to the rumours as well. Certain people claimed that all his dalliances had led the man to develop some unsavoury conditions and yet others who claimed he had fathered any number of bastard children. Neither of these was a particularly useful allegation. Neither one gave him much sense of accomplishment and neither one could be easily refuted. All he could keep tabs on was how the whispers spread and who spread them. Servants' chatter was easily quelled, but the words of other nobles was far harder, and Rafail, carefree and proud of his infamy as he might seem, was always concerned that some ill-timed rumour by a powerful enough voice would be enough to destroy everything he had worked so hard to maintain.
His future too, that was entirely out of his control. Whilst Rafail liked to believe himself free to do whatever he willed whenever he willed and, for the most part, did, there was always a spark of doubt in the back of his mind that reminded him that, ultimately, it would be either his father or brother deciding how he lived his final life. At some point, and likely soon, Panos would sit him down and tell him that he was now twenty-eight and, having failed to seduce two princesses through no fault of his own, it was time that he be married off, and all arranged through an array of politics and social expectations. Pavlos would sit him down and tell him that he was now twenty-eight and it was time to take a more significant interest in the political manoeuvring the family was so well known for. And Rafail would find himself forced into some marriage he didn’t desire with someone he didn’t care for and forced into...what? A military position organised by his brother? He had served his time, and he had loathed it, comfortable as they may have put effort into making him feel. He did not have his future under his thumb, and that was not how he liked things.
As for his province - as for the beautiful and quaint and boring town of Thesnia - that was a joke. He might have had a seat on the Senate and the title of baron, but those were both a front for the other Marikas men to extend their reach across Athenia. They made the decisions, and Rafail did little more than parroting them for the people to hear. That wasn’t to say he didn’t have a few thoughts of his own: Thesnia certainly experienced some of Rafail’s personal changes, but they were rarely as widely appreciated as those of his sibling or father. His determination to open a new brothel there had been met with stony criticism from Pavlos, who claimed he would not have done something so childish when he had held the position but, with the mild boost it had given the economy as younger visitors stayed longer in the province now, none could say anything much. Aside from the few whims of his that made it through their glass barrier, Rafail had almost no say over the patch of land which was his.
Shopping gave Rafail control.
It seemed such a ludicrous idea but ‘twas the truth. Shopping allowed Rafail to make every choice himself, whether it was which stall and merchant he went to or the colours and material of his new garments. He could purchase for himself any number of items to fill his dressing room that he might only wear a few times, or once, or never at all, and such judgements were entirely under his jurisdiction. And, as he rarely went anywhere without the constant accompaniment of Deucalion and Barnabas, there was always the bonus of being able to command them as desired, not to mention they were still useful for every task that he deemed too tedious or undesirable. They were indeed the greatest gifts Rafail had ever received.
Hunting was never like this. There were too many variables constantly able to change, and there was too much need to adapt to fit into whichever environment one found oneself in. With any number of companions a possibility and any number of animals present spooked by any number of external factors, there was just too much at risk. Entertaining an activity, it might have been but did not provide what he craved.
However, as planned and perfect as most shopping trips might have been, there were a few things that could never be anticipated. Usually, these were such basic things: a run-in with an old mistress, the weather being inconvenient in some way, his brother catching him and demanding his immediate return to the Marikas estate to do some 'proper' and tedious task...nothing major. Today, however, it appeared Rafail would truly be tested in his patience.
Danae.
It was true that Rafail had not paid her much attention when he had first stormed into the store but, admittedly, that would have been the case for anyone. The man was not a fan of noticing many outside of his circle of interest, and that circle did not extend much further than himself and, every so often, whichever women he currently favoured. She was unlikely to ever be one of them. Nonetheless, he would still have expected her to show him a certain level of respect if solely due to the gender he’d had the sheer luck of being born into. When she did not - and when the attendant himself dared to ignore him, such a well-born and clearly high paying customer - there was a moment of silence as Rafail found himself in pure shock at the mere suggestion that he would be completely disregarded in favour of a woman, and his expression soured further as the girl spoke, stealing for herself the sandals for which he had already made his intentions to purchase obvious. Taking them for one of his closest friends, as though to spite him further.
The next time he saw his male cousin, he would be sure to let him know just how insolent he found Danae’s behaviour.
Oh, and that mocking tone. Always with that mocking tone. Rafail knew precisely what Danae was doing, and he did not appreciate it. If ever there was a woman who needed to learn her place, it was her and, had he been - gods forbid - the man in her life, he would have ensured she learned it. If ever there was anyone in need of controlling, it was her. She was such a nuisance, and it seemed she went out of her way to find the most ridiculous and effective manners of getting on his nerves in any given situation. If she wanted to take his shoes from him then so be it, but Rafail would not be allowing her to walk away from this conversation with the upper hand. Especially not after their previous discussion in the Senate.
”Evidently,” he responded to her first comment, the scowl not leaving his face as he turned to face the shop attendant once more, removing a few further drachmae and making it startlingly clear that he was paying more than the other customer in the store. ”I have my own contacts but if you would be a dear and make me my own pair of those sandals? I’ll need them in the next few days...” Rafail waved Deucalion over a moment, glancing him over thoughtfully. As far as he recalled, the pair of them bore the same size feet, a fact which mildly irritated Rafail whenever he found himself wondering just how much the slave was getting out of this job. ”He will direct you as to how exactly I want them. I don’t want any errors or I’ll have you closed, mm, Stravos protected or not.”
He offered the man a condescending sort of smirk, mouth twitching up and to the right as he spun to look directly at his cousin, a hand resting on his waist. If she wanted to play this game of hers and act a child, then he was more than capable of playing along, and he could not help but feel an intense sense of pride as he uttered his next words to her.
”See, Kings, Danae, prefer their clothes custom created. We can't settle for the same wares as the common folk.” Rafail scoffed, an even wittier comment entering his mind and he added with similar disdain: "As the sons of kings, we Marikas understand that, though I can understand why it might seem complicated for a Stravos. After all, you're only bound for glory. We already have it."
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Rafail did not need this shit today.
Somewhere around twice a week, he needed a day off from his incredibly busy schedule to go shopping. Similar in nature to his many hunting trips, yes, but not precisely so. He preferred to go at this alone not because he hated the idiots who claimed to be his friends in exchange for the slightest shot at power or prestige, but because shopping was a relaxing pastime which allowed him to forget all the troubles and woes of his life and allowed him to clear his head. It was an opportunity to be in complete control of everything himself and authority was something which he craved daily. It was something he needed to survive and something which he did not have ahold of all too often.
One might think that absurd.
One might think any Marikas must have full control over his or her life. One might think that it came with the name and the family history. With such a rich and extensive legacy, after all, one might never expect any member of the House of Marikas to feel out of control.
Try as he might make it seem to seem otherwise, Rafail of Marikas did not have much control.
Sure, there were situations when the young lord might have appeared in full control of every one of his actions. There were certain things he could oversee to ensure they worked definitely in his favour. 'Women' was one of his favourites. He knew what women liked, and he could have them follow him to bed as he willed it. Women, you couldn't deny he liked. Deucalion and Barnabas he liked because Deucalion and Barnabas were his. They were his beads to play with and move however he might have desired, and he liked that. Since the ages of twelve and sixteen respectively, they'd followed his every whim, and there was a particular relish in that which few outsides of noble birth would ever truly understand. His appearance: that was a final one, and perhaps the factor of his life that he had the most control over. So long as he maintained his refined and noble features and projected a shining example of what Marikas could afford, he was more or less permitted to do as he wished. And, of course, it helped that Rafail tended to dress to the nines. He preferred darker colours that brought out the blonde in his hair - that so desirable shade which drew the women and court attention to him even more efficiently - and the bright blue in his eyes, and he preferred silks and golds and all the other precious jewels and metals that his brother regarded as feminine fancies, and all that without getting started on his extensive beauty regimes each day. He controlled the details of his outward appearance, but the underlying features were dictated as carefully as anything else of consequence.
But when one really looked over Rafail’s life, there was plenty he did not really control.
His reputation, a key example. While he most certainly had the capability to manipulate it to his will, the final product was never wholly his. Of course, he adored everyone knowing just how many women he slept with (he felt even more strongly when the numbers were exaggerated to his benefit), but there were downsides to the rumours as well. Certain people claimed that all his dalliances had led the man to develop some unsavoury conditions and yet others who claimed he had fathered any number of bastard children. Neither of these was a particularly useful allegation. Neither one gave him much sense of accomplishment and neither one could be easily refuted. All he could keep tabs on was how the whispers spread and who spread them. Servants' chatter was easily quelled, but the words of other nobles was far harder, and Rafail, carefree and proud of his infamy as he might seem, was always concerned that some ill-timed rumour by a powerful enough voice would be enough to destroy everything he had worked so hard to maintain.
His future too, that was entirely out of his control. Whilst Rafail liked to believe himself free to do whatever he willed whenever he willed and, for the most part, did, there was always a spark of doubt in the back of his mind that reminded him that, ultimately, it would be either his father or brother deciding how he lived his final life. At some point, and likely soon, Panos would sit him down and tell him that he was now twenty-eight and, having failed to seduce two princesses through no fault of his own, it was time that he be married off, and all arranged through an array of politics and social expectations. Pavlos would sit him down and tell him that he was now twenty-eight and it was time to take a more significant interest in the political manoeuvring the family was so well known for. And Rafail would find himself forced into some marriage he didn’t desire with someone he didn’t care for and forced into...what? A military position organised by his brother? He had served his time, and he had loathed it, comfortable as they may have put effort into making him feel. He did not have his future under his thumb, and that was not how he liked things.
As for his province - as for the beautiful and quaint and boring town of Thesnia - that was a joke. He might have had a seat on the Senate and the title of baron, but those were both a front for the other Marikas men to extend their reach across Athenia. They made the decisions, and Rafail did little more than parroting them for the people to hear. That wasn’t to say he didn’t have a few thoughts of his own: Thesnia certainly experienced some of Rafail’s personal changes, but they were rarely as widely appreciated as those of his sibling or father. His determination to open a new brothel there had been met with stony criticism from Pavlos, who claimed he would not have done something so childish when he had held the position but, with the mild boost it had given the economy as younger visitors stayed longer in the province now, none could say anything much. Aside from the few whims of his that made it through their glass barrier, Rafail had almost no say over the patch of land which was his.
Shopping gave Rafail control.
It seemed such a ludicrous idea but ‘twas the truth. Shopping allowed Rafail to make every choice himself, whether it was which stall and merchant he went to or the colours and material of his new garments. He could purchase for himself any number of items to fill his dressing room that he might only wear a few times, or once, or never at all, and such judgements were entirely under his jurisdiction. And, as he rarely went anywhere without the constant accompaniment of Deucalion and Barnabas, there was always the bonus of being able to command them as desired, not to mention they were still useful for every task that he deemed too tedious or undesirable. They were indeed the greatest gifts Rafail had ever received.
Hunting was never like this. There were too many variables constantly able to change, and there was too much need to adapt to fit into whichever environment one found oneself in. With any number of companions a possibility and any number of animals present spooked by any number of external factors, there was just too much at risk. Entertaining an activity, it might have been but did not provide what he craved.
However, as planned and perfect as most shopping trips might have been, there were a few things that could never be anticipated. Usually, these were such basic things: a run-in with an old mistress, the weather being inconvenient in some way, his brother catching him and demanding his immediate return to the Marikas estate to do some 'proper' and tedious task...nothing major. Today, however, it appeared Rafail would truly be tested in his patience.
Danae.
It was true that Rafail had not paid her much attention when he had first stormed into the store but, admittedly, that would have been the case for anyone. The man was not a fan of noticing many outside of his circle of interest, and that circle did not extend much further than himself and, every so often, whichever women he currently favoured. She was unlikely to ever be one of them. Nonetheless, he would still have expected her to show him a certain level of respect if solely due to the gender he’d had the sheer luck of being born into. When she did not - and when the attendant himself dared to ignore him, such a well-born and clearly high paying customer - there was a moment of silence as Rafail found himself in pure shock at the mere suggestion that he would be completely disregarded in favour of a woman, and his expression soured further as the girl spoke, stealing for herself the sandals for which he had already made his intentions to purchase obvious. Taking them for one of his closest friends, as though to spite him further.
The next time he saw his male cousin, he would be sure to let him know just how insolent he found Danae’s behaviour.
Oh, and that mocking tone. Always with that mocking tone. Rafail knew precisely what Danae was doing, and he did not appreciate it. If ever there was a woman who needed to learn her place, it was her and, had he been - gods forbid - the man in her life, he would have ensured she learned it. If ever there was anyone in need of controlling, it was her. She was such a nuisance, and it seemed she went out of her way to find the most ridiculous and effective manners of getting on his nerves in any given situation. If she wanted to take his shoes from him then so be it, but Rafail would not be allowing her to walk away from this conversation with the upper hand. Especially not after their previous discussion in the Senate.
”Evidently,” he responded to her first comment, the scowl not leaving his face as he turned to face the shop attendant once more, removing a few further drachmae and making it startlingly clear that he was paying more than the other customer in the store. ”I have my own contacts but if you would be a dear and make me my own pair of those sandals? I’ll need them in the next few days...” Rafail waved Deucalion over a moment, glancing him over thoughtfully. As far as he recalled, the pair of them bore the same size feet, a fact which mildly irritated Rafail whenever he found himself wondering just how much the slave was getting out of this job. ”He will direct you as to how exactly I want them. I don’t want any errors or I’ll have you closed, mm, Stravos protected or not.”
He offered the man a condescending sort of smirk, mouth twitching up and to the right as he spun to look directly at his cousin, a hand resting on his waist. If she wanted to play this game of hers and act a child, then he was more than capable of playing along, and he could not help but feel an intense sense of pride as he uttered his next words to her.
”See, Kings, Danae, prefer their clothes custom created. We can't settle for the same wares as the common folk.” Rafail scoffed, an even wittier comment entering his mind and he added with similar disdain: "As the sons of kings, we Marikas understand that, though I can understand why it might seem complicated for a Stravos. After all, you're only bound for glory. We already have it."
Rafail did not need this shit today.
Somewhere around twice a week, he needed a day off from his incredibly busy schedule to go shopping. Similar in nature to his many hunting trips, yes, but not precisely so. He preferred to go at this alone not because he hated the idiots who claimed to be his friends in exchange for the slightest shot at power or prestige, but because shopping was a relaxing pastime which allowed him to forget all the troubles and woes of his life and allowed him to clear his head. It was an opportunity to be in complete control of everything himself and authority was something which he craved daily. It was something he needed to survive and something which he did not have ahold of all too often.
One might think that absurd.
One might think any Marikas must have full control over his or her life. One might think that it came with the name and the family history. With such a rich and extensive legacy, after all, one might never expect any member of the House of Marikas to feel out of control.
Try as he might make it seem to seem otherwise, Rafail of Marikas did not have much control.
Sure, there were situations when the young lord might have appeared in full control of every one of his actions. There were certain things he could oversee to ensure they worked definitely in his favour. 'Women' was one of his favourites. He knew what women liked, and he could have them follow him to bed as he willed it. Women, you couldn't deny he liked. Deucalion and Barnabas he liked because Deucalion and Barnabas were his. They were his beads to play with and move however he might have desired, and he liked that. Since the ages of twelve and sixteen respectively, they'd followed his every whim, and there was a particular relish in that which few outsides of noble birth would ever truly understand. His appearance: that was a final one, and perhaps the factor of his life that he had the most control over. So long as he maintained his refined and noble features and projected a shining example of what Marikas could afford, he was more or less permitted to do as he wished. And, of course, it helped that Rafail tended to dress to the nines. He preferred darker colours that brought out the blonde in his hair - that so desirable shade which drew the women and court attention to him even more efficiently - and the bright blue in his eyes, and he preferred silks and golds and all the other precious jewels and metals that his brother regarded as feminine fancies, and all that without getting started on his extensive beauty regimes each day. He controlled the details of his outward appearance, but the underlying features were dictated as carefully as anything else of consequence.
But when one really looked over Rafail’s life, there was plenty he did not really control.
His reputation, a key example. While he most certainly had the capability to manipulate it to his will, the final product was never wholly his. Of course, he adored everyone knowing just how many women he slept with (he felt even more strongly when the numbers were exaggerated to his benefit), but there were downsides to the rumours as well. Certain people claimed that all his dalliances had led the man to develop some unsavoury conditions and yet others who claimed he had fathered any number of bastard children. Neither of these was a particularly useful allegation. Neither one gave him much sense of accomplishment and neither one could be easily refuted. All he could keep tabs on was how the whispers spread and who spread them. Servants' chatter was easily quelled, but the words of other nobles was far harder, and Rafail, carefree and proud of his infamy as he might seem, was always concerned that some ill-timed rumour by a powerful enough voice would be enough to destroy everything he had worked so hard to maintain.
His future too, that was entirely out of his control. Whilst Rafail liked to believe himself free to do whatever he willed whenever he willed and, for the most part, did, there was always a spark of doubt in the back of his mind that reminded him that, ultimately, it would be either his father or brother deciding how he lived his final life. At some point, and likely soon, Panos would sit him down and tell him that he was now twenty-eight and, having failed to seduce two princesses through no fault of his own, it was time that he be married off, and all arranged through an array of politics and social expectations. Pavlos would sit him down and tell him that he was now twenty-eight and it was time to take a more significant interest in the political manoeuvring the family was so well known for. And Rafail would find himself forced into some marriage he didn’t desire with someone he didn’t care for and forced into...what? A military position organised by his brother? He had served his time, and he had loathed it, comfortable as they may have put effort into making him feel. He did not have his future under his thumb, and that was not how he liked things.
As for his province - as for the beautiful and quaint and boring town of Thesnia - that was a joke. He might have had a seat on the Senate and the title of baron, but those were both a front for the other Marikas men to extend their reach across Athenia. They made the decisions, and Rafail did little more than parroting them for the people to hear. That wasn’t to say he didn’t have a few thoughts of his own: Thesnia certainly experienced some of Rafail’s personal changes, but they were rarely as widely appreciated as those of his sibling or father. His determination to open a new brothel there had been met with stony criticism from Pavlos, who claimed he would not have done something so childish when he had held the position but, with the mild boost it had given the economy as younger visitors stayed longer in the province now, none could say anything much. Aside from the few whims of his that made it through their glass barrier, Rafail had almost no say over the patch of land which was his.
Shopping gave Rafail control.
It seemed such a ludicrous idea but ‘twas the truth. Shopping allowed Rafail to make every choice himself, whether it was which stall and merchant he went to or the colours and material of his new garments. He could purchase for himself any number of items to fill his dressing room that he might only wear a few times, or once, or never at all, and such judgements were entirely under his jurisdiction. And, as he rarely went anywhere without the constant accompaniment of Deucalion and Barnabas, there was always the bonus of being able to command them as desired, not to mention they were still useful for every task that he deemed too tedious or undesirable. They were indeed the greatest gifts Rafail had ever received.
Hunting was never like this. There were too many variables constantly able to change, and there was too much need to adapt to fit into whichever environment one found oneself in. With any number of companions a possibility and any number of animals present spooked by any number of external factors, there was just too much at risk. Entertaining an activity, it might have been but did not provide what he craved.
However, as planned and perfect as most shopping trips might have been, there were a few things that could never be anticipated. Usually, these were such basic things: a run-in with an old mistress, the weather being inconvenient in some way, his brother catching him and demanding his immediate return to the Marikas estate to do some 'proper' and tedious task...nothing major. Today, however, it appeared Rafail would truly be tested in his patience.
Danae.
It was true that Rafail had not paid her much attention when he had first stormed into the store but, admittedly, that would have been the case for anyone. The man was not a fan of noticing many outside of his circle of interest, and that circle did not extend much further than himself and, every so often, whichever women he currently favoured. She was unlikely to ever be one of them. Nonetheless, he would still have expected her to show him a certain level of respect if solely due to the gender he’d had the sheer luck of being born into. When she did not - and when the attendant himself dared to ignore him, such a well-born and clearly high paying customer - there was a moment of silence as Rafail found himself in pure shock at the mere suggestion that he would be completely disregarded in favour of a woman, and his expression soured further as the girl spoke, stealing for herself the sandals for which he had already made his intentions to purchase obvious. Taking them for one of his closest friends, as though to spite him further.
The next time he saw his male cousin, he would be sure to let him know just how insolent he found Danae’s behaviour.
Oh, and that mocking tone. Always with that mocking tone. Rafail knew precisely what Danae was doing, and he did not appreciate it. If ever there was a woman who needed to learn her place, it was her and, had he been - gods forbid - the man in her life, he would have ensured she learned it. If ever there was anyone in need of controlling, it was her. She was such a nuisance, and it seemed she went out of her way to find the most ridiculous and effective manners of getting on his nerves in any given situation. If she wanted to take his shoes from him then so be it, but Rafail would not be allowing her to walk away from this conversation with the upper hand. Especially not after their previous discussion in the Senate.
”Evidently,” he responded to her first comment, the scowl not leaving his face as he turned to face the shop attendant once more, removing a few further drachmae and making it startlingly clear that he was paying more than the other customer in the store. ”I have my own contacts but if you would be a dear and make me my own pair of those sandals? I’ll need them in the next few days...” Rafail waved Deucalion over a moment, glancing him over thoughtfully. As far as he recalled, the pair of them bore the same size feet, a fact which mildly irritated Rafail whenever he found himself wondering just how much the slave was getting out of this job. ”He will direct you as to how exactly I want them. I don’t want any errors or I’ll have you closed, mm, Stravos protected or not.”
He offered the man a condescending sort of smirk, mouth twitching up and to the right as he spun to look directly at his cousin, a hand resting on his waist. If she wanted to play this game of hers and act a child, then he was more than capable of playing along, and he could not help but feel an intense sense of pride as he uttered his next words to her.
”See, Kings, Danae, prefer their clothes custom created. We can't settle for the same wares as the common folk.” Rafail scoffed, an even wittier comment entering his mind and he added with similar disdain: "As the sons of kings, we Marikas understand that, though I can understand why it might seem complicated for a Stravos. After all, you're only bound for glory. We already have it."
Danae glared at her cousin as a silent war between them began over who would be the victor over a pair of shoes of all things. It was so utterly ridiculous, but the Stravos girl had no intent on letting her cousin get the upper hand. Not when he was so utterly despicable that the mere notion of letting him win anything brought forth a sickening feeling in her stomach. She was not backing down and neither would he, knowing how he was.
This was a rather easy assumption to make given that the simple truth of the matter was that the pair of them were far more alike than they would ever care to admit.
Danae was simply unaware of the fact that her own struggle to establish some sort of personal control within her own life was mirrored in the enemy before her as well. Even if there was some inkling of this notion in her mind, she wouldn’t really be bothered to give it much thought anyway. Not when Rafail’s past interactions with her had made it plainly clear that the Marikas boy was only worthy of the attention she gave to a dead rat in the streets.
In her mind, he was vile and unpleasant in every sense of the word. Every time they had crossed paths, Rafail had yet to fail in making a big show of the power he seemed to think he held over her as a man and as a Marikas. Little did he know that this only strengthened her own resolve to tear him down as well. After all, she was not about to stand idly by as her house and her person was insulted by a boy who wanted to convince the world that he was a man. Perhaps he might be taken more seriously if he put as much effort into establishing himself as a leader as he did in attempting to charm the noblewomen of Athenia into his bed!
This distaste that Danae held for Raf’s reputation was not an unfamiliar concept to both of them and it was the main reason as to why Danae could never take him seriously whenever he started on some show of the might of the house he did nothing to contribute to.
Danae knew that another one of these displays had started when Raf ordered his men around demanding a custom pair of shows to be made in the same fashion. She couldn’t suppress an eyeroll at the sheer patheticness of it all. It seemed absolutely ridiculous to her that he would make a fuss over having the exact same pair of shoes as Elias, especially as her brother would be the first to wear them, Thus by the time this other pair was made that Raf was just so desperate to have were finished… everyone would rightly believe that he was copying a style set forth by his cousin. The whole city would see that a Marikas was following the lead of a Stravos.
Wasn’t this the opposite of what Raf wanted?
However, Danae didn’t say anything in regards to this as she had no reason to save Raf from looking like a fool. Instead, all she gave was a small shake of her head and the slightest hint of a grin, the only clues he would ever get to the amused disbelief that Danae was watching him with. This level of restraint was hard for her to muster, but she kept it in check only by reminding herself that his own reaction to her realization would be far more rewarding than any quip she could toss at him.
She could not, however, have the same level of restraint with that last comment. “Ah, yes, another one of your empty threats I see. ” She immediately scoffed back at him even though the comment was not for her. That familiar sense of anger began to bubble up within her, only further intensified by Rafail’s threat against this business that was under her protection. In truth, that alone made it a personal attack against Danae even though she was the only one in the room who knew the truth of the dealings between the shopkeeper and her family.
Realizing that maybe it wasn’t a good idea to become strangely protective of a business she should really have no interest in beyond the wares, Danae forced herself to pause for a moment and breathe, cooling the anger within her long enough to allow her to hide her dealings from the arrogant worm in front of her. Once she had managed to reclaim her own wits, she turned to the shopkeeper and said to him with as much nonchalance as she could muster, “Do not worry about the claims he is making. My dearest cousin is but a pebble in comparison to the might of my father.” She paused for a moment, letting the insult sink into Raf’s mind before she continued in a tone that made it clear that her words were just as much of a threat as his own had been just a moment ago, “In fact, I’m sure you will receive an apology soon for such remarks if he has anything to say about it. Your craftsmanship is of an undeniable quality that is not easily found elsewhere, that is a reputation that cannot be ignored.” Danae’s implication hung heavily in the air. The shopkeepers' dedication to his craft and his sheer skill would be enough to ensure that he would be protected from whatever petty rumors Rafail would attempt to start against him. Rafail, on the other hand, could not boast of the same qualities or similar infallible reputation.
If Rafail dared to follow through on his words, he would lose in the end. Not when he was picking a fight with the Stravos family of all people.
She openly rolled her eyes at the notion of Rafail being a king, unable to hide her contempt any longer. “But you are not the sons of kings anymore, are you?” Her retort was simple, but surely it would cut deep. After all, who would like to be reminded of their family’s fall from power? “It such a shame that you seem to be stuck in the past, cousin, and to think, I never took you for the sort to put your own power in the hands of history.” She paused for a moment to give the other nobleman a small shrug. With a small nod of her head at her own retainer, a large bodyguard who her father insisted accompany her during all of her excursions outside of the safety of the inner circle, who moved forward to pay for the products that Danae had selected. She watched him carefully, ensuring that he counted out the proper amount of coins before continuing, “Though then again, who am I to judge the glories of yesterday to those that can be found tomorrow by those who dare to seek them?”
With a smug grin on her face as she was convinced that her final insult would leave quite a sour mark on the Marikas lad, Danae waited for her bodyguard to gather her things before leaving him with his final parting words, “As pleasant as your company is cousin, I have other things that I need to attend to. I cannot keep my father waiting, after all.” This sly comment was meant to reinforce her earlier promise that it would not be a measly shopkeeper Raf would be fighting against if he tried to make good on his threat. Though, it might also sting a little bit to Raf as Keikelius’s tendency to let all of his children sit in on the older man’s meetings were not unknown to the whole of Athenia. She may not have known the struggle that Raf was going through to establish himself outside of the long shadow his elder brother cast, but surely the reminder that his own worst enemy was favored in the eyes of her own father would not be a welcomed one.
Just like that, she turned her back on him and walked out the door, fully intent to beat Raf to the punch and put the needed pieces into place for Raf to embarrass himself if he meant to follow through with his actions today. All the while, she couldn’t hide the large grin on her face as she considered this encounter a win in her book.
Surely, it would only be the first of many.
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Danae glared at her cousin as a silent war between them began over who would be the victor over a pair of shoes of all things. It was so utterly ridiculous, but the Stravos girl had no intent on letting her cousin get the upper hand. Not when he was so utterly despicable that the mere notion of letting him win anything brought forth a sickening feeling in her stomach. She was not backing down and neither would he, knowing how he was.
This was a rather easy assumption to make given that the simple truth of the matter was that the pair of them were far more alike than they would ever care to admit.
Danae was simply unaware of the fact that her own struggle to establish some sort of personal control within her own life was mirrored in the enemy before her as well. Even if there was some inkling of this notion in her mind, she wouldn’t really be bothered to give it much thought anyway. Not when Rafail’s past interactions with her had made it plainly clear that the Marikas boy was only worthy of the attention she gave to a dead rat in the streets.
In her mind, he was vile and unpleasant in every sense of the word. Every time they had crossed paths, Rafail had yet to fail in making a big show of the power he seemed to think he held over her as a man and as a Marikas. Little did he know that this only strengthened her own resolve to tear him down as well. After all, she was not about to stand idly by as her house and her person was insulted by a boy who wanted to convince the world that he was a man. Perhaps he might be taken more seriously if he put as much effort into establishing himself as a leader as he did in attempting to charm the noblewomen of Athenia into his bed!
This distaste that Danae held for Raf’s reputation was not an unfamiliar concept to both of them and it was the main reason as to why Danae could never take him seriously whenever he started on some show of the might of the house he did nothing to contribute to.
Danae knew that another one of these displays had started when Raf ordered his men around demanding a custom pair of shows to be made in the same fashion. She couldn’t suppress an eyeroll at the sheer patheticness of it all. It seemed absolutely ridiculous to her that he would make a fuss over having the exact same pair of shoes as Elias, especially as her brother would be the first to wear them, Thus by the time this other pair was made that Raf was just so desperate to have were finished… everyone would rightly believe that he was copying a style set forth by his cousin. The whole city would see that a Marikas was following the lead of a Stravos.
Wasn’t this the opposite of what Raf wanted?
However, Danae didn’t say anything in regards to this as she had no reason to save Raf from looking like a fool. Instead, all she gave was a small shake of her head and the slightest hint of a grin, the only clues he would ever get to the amused disbelief that Danae was watching him with. This level of restraint was hard for her to muster, but she kept it in check only by reminding herself that his own reaction to her realization would be far more rewarding than any quip she could toss at him.
She could not, however, have the same level of restraint with that last comment. “Ah, yes, another one of your empty threats I see. ” She immediately scoffed back at him even though the comment was not for her. That familiar sense of anger began to bubble up within her, only further intensified by Rafail’s threat against this business that was under her protection. In truth, that alone made it a personal attack against Danae even though she was the only one in the room who knew the truth of the dealings between the shopkeeper and her family.
Realizing that maybe it wasn’t a good idea to become strangely protective of a business she should really have no interest in beyond the wares, Danae forced herself to pause for a moment and breathe, cooling the anger within her long enough to allow her to hide her dealings from the arrogant worm in front of her. Once she had managed to reclaim her own wits, she turned to the shopkeeper and said to him with as much nonchalance as she could muster, “Do not worry about the claims he is making. My dearest cousin is but a pebble in comparison to the might of my father.” She paused for a moment, letting the insult sink into Raf’s mind before she continued in a tone that made it clear that her words were just as much of a threat as his own had been just a moment ago, “In fact, I’m sure you will receive an apology soon for such remarks if he has anything to say about it. Your craftsmanship is of an undeniable quality that is not easily found elsewhere, that is a reputation that cannot be ignored.” Danae’s implication hung heavily in the air. The shopkeepers' dedication to his craft and his sheer skill would be enough to ensure that he would be protected from whatever petty rumors Rafail would attempt to start against him. Rafail, on the other hand, could not boast of the same qualities or similar infallible reputation.
If Rafail dared to follow through on his words, he would lose in the end. Not when he was picking a fight with the Stravos family of all people.
She openly rolled her eyes at the notion of Rafail being a king, unable to hide her contempt any longer. “But you are not the sons of kings anymore, are you?” Her retort was simple, but surely it would cut deep. After all, who would like to be reminded of their family’s fall from power? “It such a shame that you seem to be stuck in the past, cousin, and to think, I never took you for the sort to put your own power in the hands of history.” She paused for a moment to give the other nobleman a small shrug. With a small nod of her head at her own retainer, a large bodyguard who her father insisted accompany her during all of her excursions outside of the safety of the inner circle, who moved forward to pay for the products that Danae had selected. She watched him carefully, ensuring that he counted out the proper amount of coins before continuing, “Though then again, who am I to judge the glories of yesterday to those that can be found tomorrow by those who dare to seek them?”
With a smug grin on her face as she was convinced that her final insult would leave quite a sour mark on the Marikas lad, Danae waited for her bodyguard to gather her things before leaving him with his final parting words, “As pleasant as your company is cousin, I have other things that I need to attend to. I cannot keep my father waiting, after all.” This sly comment was meant to reinforce her earlier promise that it would not be a measly shopkeeper Raf would be fighting against if he tried to make good on his threat. Though, it might also sting a little bit to Raf as Keikelius’s tendency to let all of his children sit in on the older man’s meetings were not unknown to the whole of Athenia. She may not have known the struggle that Raf was going through to establish himself outside of the long shadow his elder brother cast, but surely the reminder that his own worst enemy was favored in the eyes of her own father would not be a welcomed one.
Just like that, she turned her back on him and walked out the door, fully intent to beat Raf to the punch and put the needed pieces into place for Raf to embarrass himself if he meant to follow through with his actions today. All the while, she couldn’t hide the large grin on her face as she considered this encounter a win in her book.
Surely, it would only be the first of many.
Danae glared at her cousin as a silent war between them began over who would be the victor over a pair of shoes of all things. It was so utterly ridiculous, but the Stravos girl had no intent on letting her cousin get the upper hand. Not when he was so utterly despicable that the mere notion of letting him win anything brought forth a sickening feeling in her stomach. She was not backing down and neither would he, knowing how he was.
This was a rather easy assumption to make given that the simple truth of the matter was that the pair of them were far more alike than they would ever care to admit.
Danae was simply unaware of the fact that her own struggle to establish some sort of personal control within her own life was mirrored in the enemy before her as well. Even if there was some inkling of this notion in her mind, she wouldn’t really be bothered to give it much thought anyway. Not when Rafail’s past interactions with her had made it plainly clear that the Marikas boy was only worthy of the attention she gave to a dead rat in the streets.
In her mind, he was vile and unpleasant in every sense of the word. Every time they had crossed paths, Rafail had yet to fail in making a big show of the power he seemed to think he held over her as a man and as a Marikas. Little did he know that this only strengthened her own resolve to tear him down as well. After all, she was not about to stand idly by as her house and her person was insulted by a boy who wanted to convince the world that he was a man. Perhaps he might be taken more seriously if he put as much effort into establishing himself as a leader as he did in attempting to charm the noblewomen of Athenia into his bed!
This distaste that Danae held for Raf’s reputation was not an unfamiliar concept to both of them and it was the main reason as to why Danae could never take him seriously whenever he started on some show of the might of the house he did nothing to contribute to.
Danae knew that another one of these displays had started when Raf ordered his men around demanding a custom pair of shows to be made in the same fashion. She couldn’t suppress an eyeroll at the sheer patheticness of it all. It seemed absolutely ridiculous to her that he would make a fuss over having the exact same pair of shoes as Elias, especially as her brother would be the first to wear them, Thus by the time this other pair was made that Raf was just so desperate to have were finished… everyone would rightly believe that he was copying a style set forth by his cousin. The whole city would see that a Marikas was following the lead of a Stravos.
Wasn’t this the opposite of what Raf wanted?
However, Danae didn’t say anything in regards to this as she had no reason to save Raf from looking like a fool. Instead, all she gave was a small shake of her head and the slightest hint of a grin, the only clues he would ever get to the amused disbelief that Danae was watching him with. This level of restraint was hard for her to muster, but she kept it in check only by reminding herself that his own reaction to her realization would be far more rewarding than any quip she could toss at him.
She could not, however, have the same level of restraint with that last comment. “Ah, yes, another one of your empty threats I see. ” She immediately scoffed back at him even though the comment was not for her. That familiar sense of anger began to bubble up within her, only further intensified by Rafail’s threat against this business that was under her protection. In truth, that alone made it a personal attack against Danae even though she was the only one in the room who knew the truth of the dealings between the shopkeeper and her family.
Realizing that maybe it wasn’t a good idea to become strangely protective of a business she should really have no interest in beyond the wares, Danae forced herself to pause for a moment and breathe, cooling the anger within her long enough to allow her to hide her dealings from the arrogant worm in front of her. Once she had managed to reclaim her own wits, she turned to the shopkeeper and said to him with as much nonchalance as she could muster, “Do not worry about the claims he is making. My dearest cousin is but a pebble in comparison to the might of my father.” She paused for a moment, letting the insult sink into Raf’s mind before she continued in a tone that made it clear that her words were just as much of a threat as his own had been just a moment ago, “In fact, I’m sure you will receive an apology soon for such remarks if he has anything to say about it. Your craftsmanship is of an undeniable quality that is not easily found elsewhere, that is a reputation that cannot be ignored.” Danae’s implication hung heavily in the air. The shopkeepers' dedication to his craft and his sheer skill would be enough to ensure that he would be protected from whatever petty rumors Rafail would attempt to start against him. Rafail, on the other hand, could not boast of the same qualities or similar infallible reputation.
If Rafail dared to follow through on his words, he would lose in the end. Not when he was picking a fight with the Stravos family of all people.
She openly rolled her eyes at the notion of Rafail being a king, unable to hide her contempt any longer. “But you are not the sons of kings anymore, are you?” Her retort was simple, but surely it would cut deep. After all, who would like to be reminded of their family’s fall from power? “It such a shame that you seem to be stuck in the past, cousin, and to think, I never took you for the sort to put your own power in the hands of history.” She paused for a moment to give the other nobleman a small shrug. With a small nod of her head at her own retainer, a large bodyguard who her father insisted accompany her during all of her excursions outside of the safety of the inner circle, who moved forward to pay for the products that Danae had selected. She watched him carefully, ensuring that he counted out the proper amount of coins before continuing, “Though then again, who am I to judge the glories of yesterday to those that can be found tomorrow by those who dare to seek them?”
With a smug grin on her face as she was convinced that her final insult would leave quite a sour mark on the Marikas lad, Danae waited for her bodyguard to gather her things before leaving him with his final parting words, “As pleasant as your company is cousin, I have other things that I need to attend to. I cannot keep my father waiting, after all.” This sly comment was meant to reinforce her earlier promise that it would not be a measly shopkeeper Raf would be fighting against if he tried to make good on his threat. Though, it might also sting a little bit to Raf as Keikelius’s tendency to let all of his children sit in on the older man’s meetings were not unknown to the whole of Athenia. She may not have known the struggle that Raf was going through to establish himself outside of the long shadow his elder brother cast, but surely the reminder that his own worst enemy was favored in the eyes of her own father would not be a welcomed one.
Just like that, she turned her back on him and walked out the door, fully intent to beat Raf to the punch and put the needed pieces into place for Raf to embarrass himself if he meant to follow through with his actions today. All the while, she couldn’t hide the large grin on her face as she considered this encounter a win in her book.
Surely, it would only be the first of many.
Often, Rafail found himself wondering who had permitted his cousin to grow into the woman she had (although 'woman' was perhaps an overstatement for a little girl who only acted like an adult). If she had been a Marikas, he could not imagine Papa would have allowed her to grow into a girl with such absurd ideas of business, and, had Mama still been alive, she would have taught the girl to grow into the perfect model of a young lady. Rafail could only hope that, someday, she would find a husband who would guide her into becoming a far less horrific individual, and who could keep her under the lock-and-key she deserved.
"It is not an empty threat," he rejected, thoroughly appalled that she would even consider his words did not have might. So far as the middle Marikas child was concerned, every word he stated carried more weight than anything she could think up, and the shopkeeper had every right to be worried for his career prospects. When she began to speak with the man as if he were not in the room, making such dreadfully insulting comments, his hands dropped to his hips, and he planted himself in the most commanding position he could, although it was not that far from his typical stance. The comparison to Uncle Keikelius was not even an accurate one! Danae would have done well to remember that Rafail, in fact, stood closer to the throne than her father (even if his male cousin stood before them both). "Your reputation may well be an outstanding one, but if I find fault in what I have requested, then even the power of some Stravos family apology shall not protect you." It was likely untrue. Papa was not the sort who would allow Rafail to run around destroying businesses because he was mildly displeased in their products, no matter how much the Marikas liked to pretend.
In truth, Rafail had never been the son of a king. The words of the motto were ones he enjoyed flaunting, for they overflowed with the power for which he longed, but he had never truly experienced the influence which they promised. He stood in defiant anger, hands never moving from where he had placed them on his waistline, although the knuckles seemed to turn white as his frustrated grip tightened. What was so wrong with being stuck in the past? It was far less ridiculous than the notion of having one's mind perpetually lost in the fantasy of a future which would never come? Danae's family was less deserving of the throne than his own, not to mention she was a woman, and it was only in the frivolous dreams of silly girls that she would ever hold the position of power she clearly coveted.
"History is written by the victors, Danae. My family's legacy, therefore, can only be contributed to our endless past triumphs. Do remind me of your tale when you find it." He spoke with a sourness that hinted to just how much her words had affected him, a lilting tone to his voice that threatened he was on the verge of snapping, though he did not wish to show it in front of his least favoured cousin. Rafail's less-than-close relationship with his father was not something he wanted to air in public. "I do not care for whatever affairs you have awaiting you at home. The matters of women are none of my concern."
Rafail made no movement to bid his cousin a further farewell, turning on his heel to face the merchant instead and entirely ignore Danae as she moved for the door. The man would be aware of the details of the unexpected shoe order by now, and he did not want to waste any further effort on talking to the man about his request. Certain people simply did not exist for menial conversation. "As I said, I shall have the shoes collected in a few days, and I would prefer not to be disappointed. Do remember that we Marikas's are worth the very best, and it is an honour to create something for one of us." He waved his arm towards him in a vague act of farewell, then gestured for his pair of attendants to follow him out of the store, undeterred from continuing the day's plans despite his cousin's interruption.
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Often, Rafail found himself wondering who had permitted his cousin to grow into the woman she had (although 'woman' was perhaps an overstatement for a little girl who only acted like an adult). If she had been a Marikas, he could not imagine Papa would have allowed her to grow into a girl with such absurd ideas of business, and, had Mama still been alive, she would have taught the girl to grow into the perfect model of a young lady. Rafail could only hope that, someday, she would find a husband who would guide her into becoming a far less horrific individual, and who could keep her under the lock-and-key she deserved.
"It is not an empty threat," he rejected, thoroughly appalled that she would even consider his words did not have might. So far as the middle Marikas child was concerned, every word he stated carried more weight than anything she could think up, and the shopkeeper had every right to be worried for his career prospects. When she began to speak with the man as if he were not in the room, making such dreadfully insulting comments, his hands dropped to his hips, and he planted himself in the most commanding position he could, although it was not that far from his typical stance. The comparison to Uncle Keikelius was not even an accurate one! Danae would have done well to remember that Rafail, in fact, stood closer to the throne than her father (even if his male cousin stood before them both). "Your reputation may well be an outstanding one, but if I find fault in what I have requested, then even the power of some Stravos family apology shall not protect you." It was likely untrue. Papa was not the sort who would allow Rafail to run around destroying businesses because he was mildly displeased in their products, no matter how much the Marikas liked to pretend.
In truth, Rafail had never been the son of a king. The words of the motto were ones he enjoyed flaunting, for they overflowed with the power for which he longed, but he had never truly experienced the influence which they promised. He stood in defiant anger, hands never moving from where he had placed them on his waistline, although the knuckles seemed to turn white as his frustrated grip tightened. What was so wrong with being stuck in the past? It was far less ridiculous than the notion of having one's mind perpetually lost in the fantasy of a future which would never come? Danae's family was less deserving of the throne than his own, not to mention she was a woman, and it was only in the frivolous dreams of silly girls that she would ever hold the position of power she clearly coveted.
"History is written by the victors, Danae. My family's legacy, therefore, can only be contributed to our endless past triumphs. Do remind me of your tale when you find it." He spoke with a sourness that hinted to just how much her words had affected him, a lilting tone to his voice that threatened he was on the verge of snapping, though he did not wish to show it in front of his least favoured cousin. Rafail's less-than-close relationship with his father was not something he wanted to air in public. "I do not care for whatever affairs you have awaiting you at home. The matters of women are none of my concern."
Rafail made no movement to bid his cousin a further farewell, turning on his heel to face the merchant instead and entirely ignore Danae as she moved for the door. The man would be aware of the details of the unexpected shoe order by now, and he did not want to waste any further effort on talking to the man about his request. Certain people simply did not exist for menial conversation. "As I said, I shall have the shoes collected in a few days, and I would prefer not to be disappointed. Do remember that we Marikas's are worth the very best, and it is an honour to create something for one of us." He waved his arm towards him in a vague act of farewell, then gestured for his pair of attendants to follow him out of the store, undeterred from continuing the day's plans despite his cousin's interruption.
Often, Rafail found himself wondering who had permitted his cousin to grow into the woman she had (although 'woman' was perhaps an overstatement for a little girl who only acted like an adult). If she had been a Marikas, he could not imagine Papa would have allowed her to grow into a girl with such absurd ideas of business, and, had Mama still been alive, she would have taught the girl to grow into the perfect model of a young lady. Rafail could only hope that, someday, she would find a husband who would guide her into becoming a far less horrific individual, and who could keep her under the lock-and-key she deserved.
"It is not an empty threat," he rejected, thoroughly appalled that she would even consider his words did not have might. So far as the middle Marikas child was concerned, every word he stated carried more weight than anything she could think up, and the shopkeeper had every right to be worried for his career prospects. When she began to speak with the man as if he were not in the room, making such dreadfully insulting comments, his hands dropped to his hips, and he planted himself in the most commanding position he could, although it was not that far from his typical stance. The comparison to Uncle Keikelius was not even an accurate one! Danae would have done well to remember that Rafail, in fact, stood closer to the throne than her father (even if his male cousin stood before them both). "Your reputation may well be an outstanding one, but if I find fault in what I have requested, then even the power of some Stravos family apology shall not protect you." It was likely untrue. Papa was not the sort who would allow Rafail to run around destroying businesses because he was mildly displeased in their products, no matter how much the Marikas liked to pretend.
In truth, Rafail had never been the son of a king. The words of the motto were ones he enjoyed flaunting, for they overflowed with the power for which he longed, but he had never truly experienced the influence which they promised. He stood in defiant anger, hands never moving from where he had placed them on his waistline, although the knuckles seemed to turn white as his frustrated grip tightened. What was so wrong with being stuck in the past? It was far less ridiculous than the notion of having one's mind perpetually lost in the fantasy of a future which would never come? Danae's family was less deserving of the throne than his own, not to mention she was a woman, and it was only in the frivolous dreams of silly girls that she would ever hold the position of power she clearly coveted.
"History is written by the victors, Danae. My family's legacy, therefore, can only be contributed to our endless past triumphs. Do remind me of your tale when you find it." He spoke with a sourness that hinted to just how much her words had affected him, a lilting tone to his voice that threatened he was on the verge of snapping, though he did not wish to show it in front of his least favoured cousin. Rafail's less-than-close relationship with his father was not something he wanted to air in public. "I do not care for whatever affairs you have awaiting you at home. The matters of women are none of my concern."
Rafail made no movement to bid his cousin a further farewell, turning on his heel to face the merchant instead and entirely ignore Danae as she moved for the door. The man would be aware of the details of the unexpected shoe order by now, and he did not want to waste any further effort on talking to the man about his request. Certain people simply did not exist for menial conversation. "As I said, I shall have the shoes collected in a few days, and I would prefer not to be disappointed. Do remember that we Marikas's are worth the very best, and it is an honour to create something for one of us." He waved his arm towards him in a vague act of farewell, then gestured for his pair of attendants to follow him out of the store, undeterred from continuing the day's plans despite his cousin's interruption.