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Persephone had been looking forward to returning home to the Palati after a long day of royal duties when her thoughts were disturbed by the abrupt and short-lived shaking of her carriage. Frowning, puzzled by the sudden stop when she knew for a fact that they were not back at the palace yet and that her driver was far more skilled at bring a vehicle to a smoother stop than that, Persephone had been unsurprised when the door to her carriage had been opened and the foot-soldier on the other side had explained the sensation, his features arranged apologetically.
"Your Royal Highness, apologies for the delay but one of the horses has slipped a shoe. We've sent for a new animal and should be headed forwards shortly."
"Where exactly are we Lieutenant Horas?" She asked the man, causing a warm colour to bloom over his cheeks as he realised that she recalled his name. Once over his initial blushes, he quickly answered her question describing a street only a few yards from a central square in the Inner Circle that operated as a small market place, a more exclusive venue than that of the Agora, for the merchants who sought a more expensive clientele.
Standing up and forcing the man before her to offer a hand for her descent from the carriage Persephone gave her instructions quickly.
"Pull the carriage into that side alley." She told them with the point of her finger. "It won't block other transport there. And arrange an escort. I'll be at the fountain square."
With two guards instantly appearing behind her, as if cleaved from the air itself, Persephone headed immediately for the open courtyard she could spy down the street. The burbling sound of the fountain and the bright sparkles of light where sunshine hit the expelled torrents made her smile a little and Persephone headed to distract and entertain herself with the wares of the exclusive market while the new animal was retrieved and the carriage in working order once more.
She noted the way he merchants and traders stood a little straighter at her approach and was amused that her appearance was hardly subtle. Gowned in a peplos of startling yellow - a colour few of Grecian origin would consider wearing but one that showed off the tan of her skin and the dark, almost black, of her hair, her maids had woven stands of gold and anemone into her hair that morning, a length of chiffon silk in the same bright yellow tied around her head, fastened at the nape of her neck, and allowed the hand down her back to the ground. One her wrists were dozens of finely spun gold bangles and her feet were glad in black leather sandals, the straps too thin to appear practical.
And yet they had remained so.
Persephone had been on her feet all day, moving from royal house to suppliers, from suppliers to council member. Her last stop had been to the mason expert in charge of the Xanthos Champion's statue and its progress. Not that she liked the idea of granting the man such a thing after the Feast of Sinners - she pushed the thought of that far into the back of her mind.
Instead, she bent low to inspect a fine hand mirror with silver and gold gilding wrapped and twisted into a beautiful floral pattern over its back face.
Perhaps she would return later to purchase the item. Instead, for now, she complimented the trader on the fine piece and moved on to assess the other wears, heedless of the gazes that were fixed on her bright presence. If there were any danger her guards would assess such a thing and handle it. It was more than their life's worth to do their duty, after all...
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Persephone had been looking forward to returning home to the Palati after a long day of royal duties when her thoughts were disturbed by the abrupt and short-lived shaking of her carriage. Frowning, puzzled by the sudden stop when she knew for a fact that they were not back at the palace yet and that her driver was far more skilled at bring a vehicle to a smoother stop than that, Persephone had been unsurprised when the door to her carriage had been opened and the foot-soldier on the other side had explained the sensation, his features arranged apologetically.
"Your Royal Highness, apologies for the delay but one of the horses has slipped a shoe. We've sent for a new animal and should be headed forwards shortly."
"Where exactly are we Lieutenant Horas?" She asked the man, causing a warm colour to bloom over his cheeks as he realised that she recalled his name. Once over his initial blushes, he quickly answered her question describing a street only a few yards from a central square in the Inner Circle that operated as a small market place, a more exclusive venue than that of the Agora, for the merchants who sought a more expensive clientele.
Standing up and forcing the man before her to offer a hand for her descent from the carriage Persephone gave her instructions quickly.
"Pull the carriage into that side alley." She told them with the point of her finger. "It won't block other transport there. And arrange an escort. I'll be at the fountain square."
With two guards instantly appearing behind her, as if cleaved from the air itself, Persephone headed immediately for the open courtyard she could spy down the street. The burbling sound of the fountain and the bright sparkles of light where sunshine hit the expelled torrents made her smile a little and Persephone headed to distract and entertain herself with the wares of the exclusive market while the new animal was retrieved and the carriage in working order once more.
She noted the way he merchants and traders stood a little straighter at her approach and was amused that her appearance was hardly subtle. Gowned in a peplos of startling yellow - a colour few of Grecian origin would consider wearing but one that showed off the tan of her skin and the dark, almost black, of her hair, her maids had woven stands of gold and anemone into her hair that morning, a length of chiffon silk in the same bright yellow tied around her head, fastened at the nape of her neck, and allowed the hand down her back to the ground. One her wrists were dozens of finely spun gold bangles and her feet were glad in black leather sandals, the straps too thin to appear practical.
And yet they had remained so.
Persephone had been on her feet all day, moving from royal house to suppliers, from suppliers to council member. Her last stop had been to the mason expert in charge of the Xanthos Champion's statue and its progress. Not that she liked the idea of granting the man such a thing after the Feast of Sinners - she pushed the thought of that far into the back of her mind.
Instead, she bent low to inspect a fine hand mirror with silver and gold gilding wrapped and twisted into a beautiful floral pattern over its back face.
Perhaps she would return later to purchase the item. Instead, for now, she complimented the trader on the fine piece and moved on to assess the other wears, heedless of the gazes that were fixed on her bright presence. If there were any danger her guards would assess such a thing and handle it. It was more than their life's worth to do their duty, after all...
Persephone had been looking forward to returning home to the Palati after a long day of royal duties when her thoughts were disturbed by the abrupt and short-lived shaking of her carriage. Frowning, puzzled by the sudden stop when she knew for a fact that they were not back at the palace yet and that her driver was far more skilled at bring a vehicle to a smoother stop than that, Persephone had been unsurprised when the door to her carriage had been opened and the foot-soldier on the other side had explained the sensation, his features arranged apologetically.
"Your Royal Highness, apologies for the delay but one of the horses has slipped a shoe. We've sent for a new animal and should be headed forwards shortly."
"Where exactly are we Lieutenant Horas?" She asked the man, causing a warm colour to bloom over his cheeks as he realised that she recalled his name. Once over his initial blushes, he quickly answered her question describing a street only a few yards from a central square in the Inner Circle that operated as a small market place, a more exclusive venue than that of the Agora, for the merchants who sought a more expensive clientele.
Standing up and forcing the man before her to offer a hand for her descent from the carriage Persephone gave her instructions quickly.
"Pull the carriage into that side alley." She told them with the point of her finger. "It won't block other transport there. And arrange an escort. I'll be at the fountain square."
With two guards instantly appearing behind her, as if cleaved from the air itself, Persephone headed immediately for the open courtyard she could spy down the street. The burbling sound of the fountain and the bright sparkles of light where sunshine hit the expelled torrents made her smile a little and Persephone headed to distract and entertain herself with the wares of the exclusive market while the new animal was retrieved and the carriage in working order once more.
She noted the way he merchants and traders stood a little straighter at her approach and was amused that her appearance was hardly subtle. Gowned in a peplos of startling yellow - a colour few of Grecian origin would consider wearing but one that showed off the tan of her skin and the dark, almost black, of her hair, her maids had woven stands of gold and anemone into her hair that morning, a length of chiffon silk in the same bright yellow tied around her head, fastened at the nape of her neck, and allowed the hand down her back to the ground. One her wrists were dozens of finely spun gold bangles and her feet were glad in black leather sandals, the straps too thin to appear practical.
And yet they had remained so.
Persephone had been on her feet all day, moving from royal house to suppliers, from suppliers to council member. Her last stop had been to the mason expert in charge of the Xanthos Champion's statue and its progress. Not that she liked the idea of granting the man such a thing after the Feast of Sinners - she pushed the thought of that far into the back of her mind.
Instead, she bent low to inspect a fine hand mirror with silver and gold gilding wrapped and twisted into a beautiful floral pattern over its back face.
Perhaps she would return later to purchase the item. Instead, for now, she complimented the trader on the fine piece and moved on to assess the other wears, heedless of the gazes that were fixed on her bright presence. If there were any danger her guards would assess such a thing and handle it. It was more than their life's worth to do their duty, after all...
There was a bit of a curious event ahead, and it brought him a great deal of amusement to witness it take place. The fortune of their arrival was unbelievable, as they came across Persephone's own misfortune. It was exactly the sort of thing that told him fate was on his side, here. He could offer her kindness even in the shadow of her ignominy that so quickly approached.
As their own carriage approached behind hers, he witnessed as she did not merely stand by the side of the road, and held some regret at the slight shifting of fortune. This would require more finesse than he had hoped, and he sighed deeply as he had them stop their own passage, and disembark sharply from the carriage himself and move after her. Like her, he was flanked by guards, these wearing more ... pedestrian attire matching the resplendent worth of a house guard instead of a more royal one, but yet still they commanded respect amongst these streets as he gave pursuit. A pursuit that was level, and steady, but it was nonetheless just that: a mission. He was caught by the notion of tormenting her, of twisting this knife, and so he followed into the marketplace after his beloved cousin.
She looked stunning, of course; that was one of the values she held, of what little she had. A gorgeous woman, she was stately, and looked well suited for regal wear, and he opined that she would still seem regal even when her family line lay displaced by his own. His eyes trailed her with careful admiration, allowing those thoughs to aid the warmth he wished to have flood his gaze, for this was to be a pleasant effort he made. After all; why could he not be kind to his enemy? It would not serve him too well to be arrogant and cruel, he could afford her some magnamity.
As he saw the distance she had given her guards, he gave his own similar leave, so that his approach to her would be seen as ... relatively safe, enough so as to not demand intercession. That said, he remained more than half a foot taller than the woman he neared, and bristling with a well-honed musculature that made it all too evident that should he wish to be, he could prove a great threat to her. Or, if pressed, to likely even some of these guards, but the man who imagined himself Achilles and Adonis reborn under Apollo's favor, instead came to her as a friend. Or some... shadow of one, at the least. The mirror caught his reflection as he saw her own in the same, stepping into a shadow that he cast over her careful examination of that ware.
A single hand rested upon her bared shoulder, just to alert her to his presence, which was picked out in rich golds of his own prestigious chiton worn so proudly, with a scarlet chlamys to match for his house's colors. While a more common attire usually, his was carefully fashioned, so that its militaristic appearance was far more a fashion choice representing his own pride in his military proficiency. The sigil of Stravos was pinned as its brooch that fastened it to his right shoulder, and he was all pleasant smiles and warm gaze as she finally noted her rival's appearance in this market beside her.
"I saw what happened to you, and thought I would come to offer aid. Are you well, sweet Persephone?" he asked, his voice sounding entirely authentic as his gleaming golden eyes appraised the lovely younger woman who was finding cause to enjoy the diversion made necessary by the breaking down of that carriage. And he was here to unfortunately bring ruin to what joy she was able to find here. Unfortunately for her, at least.
He still found great fortune in this moment.
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There was a bit of a curious event ahead, and it brought him a great deal of amusement to witness it take place. The fortune of their arrival was unbelievable, as they came across Persephone's own misfortune. It was exactly the sort of thing that told him fate was on his side, here. He could offer her kindness even in the shadow of her ignominy that so quickly approached.
As their own carriage approached behind hers, he witnessed as she did not merely stand by the side of the road, and held some regret at the slight shifting of fortune. This would require more finesse than he had hoped, and he sighed deeply as he had them stop their own passage, and disembark sharply from the carriage himself and move after her. Like her, he was flanked by guards, these wearing more ... pedestrian attire matching the resplendent worth of a house guard instead of a more royal one, but yet still they commanded respect amongst these streets as he gave pursuit. A pursuit that was level, and steady, but it was nonetheless just that: a mission. He was caught by the notion of tormenting her, of twisting this knife, and so he followed into the marketplace after his beloved cousin.
She looked stunning, of course; that was one of the values she held, of what little she had. A gorgeous woman, she was stately, and looked well suited for regal wear, and he opined that she would still seem regal even when her family line lay displaced by his own. His eyes trailed her with careful admiration, allowing those thoughs to aid the warmth he wished to have flood his gaze, for this was to be a pleasant effort he made. After all; why could he not be kind to his enemy? It would not serve him too well to be arrogant and cruel, he could afford her some magnamity.
As he saw the distance she had given her guards, he gave his own similar leave, so that his approach to her would be seen as ... relatively safe, enough so as to not demand intercession. That said, he remained more than half a foot taller than the woman he neared, and bristling with a well-honed musculature that made it all too evident that should he wish to be, he could prove a great threat to her. Or, if pressed, to likely even some of these guards, but the man who imagined himself Achilles and Adonis reborn under Apollo's favor, instead came to her as a friend. Or some... shadow of one, at the least. The mirror caught his reflection as he saw her own in the same, stepping into a shadow that he cast over her careful examination of that ware.
A single hand rested upon her bared shoulder, just to alert her to his presence, which was picked out in rich golds of his own prestigious chiton worn so proudly, with a scarlet chlamys to match for his house's colors. While a more common attire usually, his was carefully fashioned, so that its militaristic appearance was far more a fashion choice representing his own pride in his military proficiency. The sigil of Stravos was pinned as its brooch that fastened it to his right shoulder, and he was all pleasant smiles and warm gaze as she finally noted her rival's appearance in this market beside her.
"I saw what happened to you, and thought I would come to offer aid. Are you well, sweet Persephone?" he asked, his voice sounding entirely authentic as his gleaming golden eyes appraised the lovely younger woman who was finding cause to enjoy the diversion made necessary by the breaking down of that carriage. And he was here to unfortunately bring ruin to what joy she was able to find here. Unfortunately for her, at least.
He still found great fortune in this moment.
There was a bit of a curious event ahead, and it brought him a great deal of amusement to witness it take place. The fortune of their arrival was unbelievable, as they came across Persephone's own misfortune. It was exactly the sort of thing that told him fate was on his side, here. He could offer her kindness even in the shadow of her ignominy that so quickly approached.
As their own carriage approached behind hers, he witnessed as she did not merely stand by the side of the road, and held some regret at the slight shifting of fortune. This would require more finesse than he had hoped, and he sighed deeply as he had them stop their own passage, and disembark sharply from the carriage himself and move after her. Like her, he was flanked by guards, these wearing more ... pedestrian attire matching the resplendent worth of a house guard instead of a more royal one, but yet still they commanded respect amongst these streets as he gave pursuit. A pursuit that was level, and steady, but it was nonetheless just that: a mission. He was caught by the notion of tormenting her, of twisting this knife, and so he followed into the marketplace after his beloved cousin.
She looked stunning, of course; that was one of the values she held, of what little she had. A gorgeous woman, she was stately, and looked well suited for regal wear, and he opined that she would still seem regal even when her family line lay displaced by his own. His eyes trailed her with careful admiration, allowing those thoughs to aid the warmth he wished to have flood his gaze, for this was to be a pleasant effort he made. After all; why could he not be kind to his enemy? It would not serve him too well to be arrogant and cruel, he could afford her some magnamity.
As he saw the distance she had given her guards, he gave his own similar leave, so that his approach to her would be seen as ... relatively safe, enough so as to not demand intercession. That said, he remained more than half a foot taller than the woman he neared, and bristling with a well-honed musculature that made it all too evident that should he wish to be, he could prove a great threat to her. Or, if pressed, to likely even some of these guards, but the man who imagined himself Achilles and Adonis reborn under Apollo's favor, instead came to her as a friend. Or some... shadow of one, at the least. The mirror caught his reflection as he saw her own in the same, stepping into a shadow that he cast over her careful examination of that ware.
A single hand rested upon her bared shoulder, just to alert her to his presence, which was picked out in rich golds of his own prestigious chiton worn so proudly, with a scarlet chlamys to match for his house's colors. While a more common attire usually, his was carefully fashioned, so that its militaristic appearance was far more a fashion choice representing his own pride in his military proficiency. The sigil of Stravos was pinned as its brooch that fastened it to his right shoulder, and he was all pleasant smiles and warm gaze as she finally noted her rival's appearance in this market beside her.
"I saw what happened to you, and thought I would come to offer aid. Are you well, sweet Persephone?" he asked, his voice sounding entirely authentic as his gleaming golden eyes appraised the lovely younger woman who was finding cause to enjoy the diversion made necessary by the breaking down of that carriage. And he was here to unfortunately bring ruin to what joy she was able to find here. Unfortunately for her, at least.
He still found great fortune in this moment.
The hand that brushed her shoulder would have made her jump, had Persephone not caught the figure and shape of an approacher in the reflective glass he had held but a moment. As her guards had left the shadowed figure into the sphere of her personal space, she knew the man to be no threat or of a rank or class that would demand he be treated as such. So, when the hand that touched her skin was removed and her posture turned to face he who spoke to her, Persephone was little surprised to see Elias of Stravos standing before her.
Whilst there were come within the Athenian Senate and Court who considered Lord Keikelius' only son to be of little use; all god given looks and empty charisma, Persephone had grown up with the boy for several years before he was taken more securely under his father's wing. She had never considered him to be neither unintelligent nor useless. Selfish, possible; self-centred, definitely... But never stupid.
So, when he happened to present himself - as if from thing air - at a moment where her position in her day (on a practical level) was hampered, she felt only a sense of resignation and the desire to roll her eyes that of course Elias would be there to witness such a moment. The man was a ferret. Able to sniff out weakness in his enemies simply to exploit them for his own gain. Like the man, Persephone did not. Underestimate him? She did even less.
When her cousin spoke, it was in a tone of friendly aid and casual conversation. His face was pleasant, his stature unthreatening and he spoke with endearment and light inflection.
Had she been anyone else - a lower class citizen, a member of the nobility beneath her current station - she might have believed the man. But Persephone had grown up with the same tutors and social etiquette instructors as Elias. She knew how to make her posture relaxed, her eyes bright, her smile easy and nonchalant. And she knew how easy it was, after years and years of practice, to take on the atmosphere and presence of someone perfectly relaxed and friendly, whilst simultaneously hating them down to their core.
She had no doubts that any friend overtures (towards her in particular) from Elias were pure fallacy.
She smiled calmly and politely.
"Perfectly, Lord Elias." She responded to him with a light humour to her voice that she had perfected over the years dealing with the man's father in financial transaction allegations. She chose to use his title while herself was conspicuously missing from his own discourse. "A new animal will be brought from the palace momentarily and, in the meantime, fate has afforded me the chance of visiting such stalls this day, and enjoy the weather." She smiled at the owner of the stall she stood by as she spoke and the elderly man seemed to blush and ruddy red and hastened a shallow bow uncertainly. "While I am grateful in your magnanimity, such opportunities require little aid, don't you think, cousin?"
Continuing to walk around the square courtyard, offering little indication on whether she cared for him to follow her or not, Persephone continued to appraise the pieces at each stall. She kept the Stravos lord in her peripheral at all times but this was less to do with his good looks - for he stood out in such a public place as ostentatiously as she did, with his gold and crimson plumage - and everything to do with her lack of trust in the man and whatever tricks he might play to show her up in public...
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The hand that brushed her shoulder would have made her jump, had Persephone not caught the figure and shape of an approacher in the reflective glass he had held but a moment. As her guards had left the shadowed figure into the sphere of her personal space, she knew the man to be no threat or of a rank or class that would demand he be treated as such. So, when the hand that touched her skin was removed and her posture turned to face he who spoke to her, Persephone was little surprised to see Elias of Stravos standing before her.
Whilst there were come within the Athenian Senate and Court who considered Lord Keikelius' only son to be of little use; all god given looks and empty charisma, Persephone had grown up with the boy for several years before he was taken more securely under his father's wing. She had never considered him to be neither unintelligent nor useless. Selfish, possible; self-centred, definitely... But never stupid.
So, when he happened to present himself - as if from thing air - at a moment where her position in her day (on a practical level) was hampered, she felt only a sense of resignation and the desire to roll her eyes that of course Elias would be there to witness such a moment. The man was a ferret. Able to sniff out weakness in his enemies simply to exploit them for his own gain. Like the man, Persephone did not. Underestimate him? She did even less.
When her cousin spoke, it was in a tone of friendly aid and casual conversation. His face was pleasant, his stature unthreatening and he spoke with endearment and light inflection.
Had she been anyone else - a lower class citizen, a member of the nobility beneath her current station - she might have believed the man. But Persephone had grown up with the same tutors and social etiquette instructors as Elias. She knew how to make her posture relaxed, her eyes bright, her smile easy and nonchalant. And she knew how easy it was, after years and years of practice, to take on the atmosphere and presence of someone perfectly relaxed and friendly, whilst simultaneously hating them down to their core.
She had no doubts that any friend overtures (towards her in particular) from Elias were pure fallacy.
She smiled calmly and politely.
"Perfectly, Lord Elias." She responded to him with a light humour to her voice that she had perfected over the years dealing with the man's father in financial transaction allegations. She chose to use his title while herself was conspicuously missing from his own discourse. "A new animal will be brought from the palace momentarily and, in the meantime, fate has afforded me the chance of visiting such stalls this day, and enjoy the weather." She smiled at the owner of the stall she stood by as she spoke and the elderly man seemed to blush and ruddy red and hastened a shallow bow uncertainly. "While I am grateful in your magnanimity, such opportunities require little aid, don't you think, cousin?"
Continuing to walk around the square courtyard, offering little indication on whether she cared for him to follow her or not, Persephone continued to appraise the pieces at each stall. She kept the Stravos lord in her peripheral at all times but this was less to do with his good looks - for he stood out in such a public place as ostentatiously as she did, with his gold and crimson plumage - and everything to do with her lack of trust in the man and whatever tricks he might play to show her up in public...
The hand that brushed her shoulder would have made her jump, had Persephone not caught the figure and shape of an approacher in the reflective glass he had held but a moment. As her guards had left the shadowed figure into the sphere of her personal space, she knew the man to be no threat or of a rank or class that would demand he be treated as such. So, when the hand that touched her skin was removed and her posture turned to face he who spoke to her, Persephone was little surprised to see Elias of Stravos standing before her.
Whilst there were come within the Athenian Senate and Court who considered Lord Keikelius' only son to be of little use; all god given looks and empty charisma, Persephone had grown up with the boy for several years before he was taken more securely under his father's wing. She had never considered him to be neither unintelligent nor useless. Selfish, possible; self-centred, definitely... But never stupid.
So, when he happened to present himself - as if from thing air - at a moment where her position in her day (on a practical level) was hampered, she felt only a sense of resignation and the desire to roll her eyes that of course Elias would be there to witness such a moment. The man was a ferret. Able to sniff out weakness in his enemies simply to exploit them for his own gain. Like the man, Persephone did not. Underestimate him? She did even less.
When her cousin spoke, it was in a tone of friendly aid and casual conversation. His face was pleasant, his stature unthreatening and he spoke with endearment and light inflection.
Had she been anyone else - a lower class citizen, a member of the nobility beneath her current station - she might have believed the man. But Persephone had grown up with the same tutors and social etiquette instructors as Elias. She knew how to make her posture relaxed, her eyes bright, her smile easy and nonchalant. And she knew how easy it was, after years and years of practice, to take on the atmosphere and presence of someone perfectly relaxed and friendly, whilst simultaneously hating them down to their core.
She had no doubts that any friend overtures (towards her in particular) from Elias were pure fallacy.
She smiled calmly and politely.
"Perfectly, Lord Elias." She responded to him with a light humour to her voice that she had perfected over the years dealing with the man's father in financial transaction allegations. She chose to use his title while herself was conspicuously missing from his own discourse. "A new animal will be brought from the palace momentarily and, in the meantime, fate has afforded me the chance of visiting such stalls this day, and enjoy the weather." She smiled at the owner of the stall she stood by as she spoke and the elderly man seemed to blush and ruddy red and hastened a shallow bow uncertainly. "While I am grateful in your magnanimity, such opportunities require little aid, don't you think, cousin?"
Continuing to walk around the square courtyard, offering little indication on whether she cared for him to follow her or not, Persephone continued to appraise the pieces at each stall. She kept the Stravos lord in her peripheral at all times but this was less to do with his good looks - for he stood out in such a public place as ostentatiously as she did, with his gold and crimson plumage - and everything to do with her lack of trust in the man and whatever tricks he might play to show her up in public...
He breathed a sigh of welcome and easy relief as she assured him she was perfectly well. ”That warms me to hear,” he assured her, reaching his hand out presumptuously to rest upon her shoulder, such a firm and sincere look of ease painting that sharp smile. She put a barrier between them by way of his title; he accepted it, but made no effort to distance himself in turn. No, he wished very much to bring bonds of family and the imagination of their closeness instead of building walls against her instead.
She began her tour again of this courtyard, and he followed closely, without pause or hesitation. As if he was providing her the escort she so direly needed, arms behind his back, and posture proud as he stood at her side and looked upon these shops. They were blessed today to have their audience.
”I cannot imagine leaving you to this imposition; the beast comes now, but then there will be so much time spent seeing it fitted for its reins, and the entire process could set you back for your day by hours yet, your Highness,” he appended the slightly less ostentatious offer for her own name, accepting some level of professional titling that she might deserve. He did not want to flower her in that etiquette of address; he far preferred to think of her as Persephone.
After-all, a King rarely needs to bow to their lessers.
Extending a hand to his beloved cousin, he made it clear his offer, imparting upon her every ounce of his gentlemanly courtesy to make it all too difficult for her to refuse it. ”Allow me the honor of assuring the Princess finds her way home. The thought of you left here waiting for all of this, when I know I could grant you comfort and safety, is a burden I could not bear,” he swore to her, his voice heavy with guilt and respect for all that she presented to this realm.
In all truth, he merely wanted her alone with him, for a moment of staring into the eyes of the woman who was inarguably his enemy at this moment. And it gave him a sweet satisfaction to have her in his debt.
And of that debt, if her eyes stopped long, he would stride forward to assure he purchased her that gift - with excess considerably drenching the lucky merchant in wealth. One could never show too much kindness, after-all, not to their enemy.
Persephone of Xanthos ,
JD
Staff Team
JD
Staff Team
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He breathed a sigh of welcome and easy relief as she assured him she was perfectly well. ”That warms me to hear,” he assured her, reaching his hand out presumptuously to rest upon her shoulder, such a firm and sincere look of ease painting that sharp smile. She put a barrier between them by way of his title; he accepted it, but made no effort to distance himself in turn. No, he wished very much to bring bonds of family and the imagination of their closeness instead of building walls against her instead.
She began her tour again of this courtyard, and he followed closely, without pause or hesitation. As if he was providing her the escort she so direly needed, arms behind his back, and posture proud as he stood at her side and looked upon these shops. They were blessed today to have their audience.
”I cannot imagine leaving you to this imposition; the beast comes now, but then there will be so much time spent seeing it fitted for its reins, and the entire process could set you back for your day by hours yet, your Highness,” he appended the slightly less ostentatious offer for her own name, accepting some level of professional titling that she might deserve. He did not want to flower her in that etiquette of address; he far preferred to think of her as Persephone.
After-all, a King rarely needs to bow to their lessers.
Extending a hand to his beloved cousin, he made it clear his offer, imparting upon her every ounce of his gentlemanly courtesy to make it all too difficult for her to refuse it. ”Allow me the honor of assuring the Princess finds her way home. The thought of you left here waiting for all of this, when I know I could grant you comfort and safety, is a burden I could not bear,” he swore to her, his voice heavy with guilt and respect for all that she presented to this realm.
In all truth, he merely wanted her alone with him, for a moment of staring into the eyes of the woman who was inarguably his enemy at this moment. And it gave him a sweet satisfaction to have her in his debt.
And of that debt, if her eyes stopped long, he would stride forward to assure he purchased her that gift - with excess considerably drenching the lucky merchant in wealth. One could never show too much kindness, after-all, not to their enemy.
Persephone of Xanthos ,
He breathed a sigh of welcome and easy relief as she assured him she was perfectly well. ”That warms me to hear,” he assured her, reaching his hand out presumptuously to rest upon her shoulder, such a firm and sincere look of ease painting that sharp smile. She put a barrier between them by way of his title; he accepted it, but made no effort to distance himself in turn. No, he wished very much to bring bonds of family and the imagination of their closeness instead of building walls against her instead.
She began her tour again of this courtyard, and he followed closely, without pause or hesitation. As if he was providing her the escort she so direly needed, arms behind his back, and posture proud as he stood at her side and looked upon these shops. They were blessed today to have their audience.
”I cannot imagine leaving you to this imposition; the beast comes now, but then there will be so much time spent seeing it fitted for its reins, and the entire process could set you back for your day by hours yet, your Highness,” he appended the slightly less ostentatious offer for her own name, accepting some level of professional titling that she might deserve. He did not want to flower her in that etiquette of address; he far preferred to think of her as Persephone.
After-all, a King rarely needs to bow to their lessers.
Extending a hand to his beloved cousin, he made it clear his offer, imparting upon her every ounce of his gentlemanly courtesy to make it all too difficult for her to refuse it. ”Allow me the honor of assuring the Princess finds her way home. The thought of you left here waiting for all of this, when I know I could grant you comfort and safety, is a burden I could not bear,” he swore to her, his voice heavy with guilt and respect for all that she presented to this realm.
In all truth, he merely wanted her alone with him, for a moment of staring into the eyes of the woman who was inarguably his enemy at this moment. And it gave him a sweet satisfaction to have her in his debt.
And of that debt, if her eyes stopped long, he would stride forward to assure he purchased her that gift - with excess considerably drenching the lucky merchant in wealth. One could never show too much kindness, after-all, not to their enemy.
Persephone of Xanthos ,
Persephone felt her teeth clench and was thankful that the scarf wrapped around her head and temples would hide the twitch in her jaw just in front of her ear. It was always a dead giveaway when she was annoyed. Elias was playing his games again. Offering her aid might have seemed gentlemanly in the moment to all who observed but what the objective gazes of the people would not register - perhaps ever - was the information such a gesture embedded in the subconscious of each person to witness the interaction: that Princess Persephone needed help. And that Elias of Stravos was the rescuer who provided that aid.
The idea rankled.
But there was a little she could do upon the situation. As frustrating as it was, it was far less embarrassing to have her cousin escort her back home than it would have been for her to walk, on foot, the rest of the way through the city. With guards in tow the enter effect would have been ridiculous. As such, she had little option but to acquiesce.
Raising a chin up and away from a small jewel box she had been inspecting, Persephone offered a polite smile that only Elias would notice lacked warmth.
"Well, we could not have your mind so taxed, Lord Elias." She told him, with all the dignity she could hold. "So, you leave me with little option but to accept your offer. You are most gracious."
In so saying, Persephone extended her elbow, bare arm offered to him and as the waves of bright yellow silks radiated to the ground, looping from shoulder to wrist. It was clear by her behaviour that she was offering herself to be escorted. That at least, she could try to imply was under her own instruction and order. And Elias would suffer far too great a hit to his reputation in Court gossip if he was to refuse the gentlemanly act of escorting her to his carriage personally...
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Persephone felt her teeth clench and was thankful that the scarf wrapped around her head and temples would hide the twitch in her jaw just in front of her ear. It was always a dead giveaway when she was annoyed. Elias was playing his games again. Offering her aid might have seemed gentlemanly in the moment to all who observed but what the objective gazes of the people would not register - perhaps ever - was the information such a gesture embedded in the subconscious of each person to witness the interaction: that Princess Persephone needed help. And that Elias of Stravos was the rescuer who provided that aid.
The idea rankled.
But there was a little she could do upon the situation. As frustrating as it was, it was far less embarrassing to have her cousin escort her back home than it would have been for her to walk, on foot, the rest of the way through the city. With guards in tow the enter effect would have been ridiculous. As such, she had little option but to acquiesce.
Raising a chin up and away from a small jewel box she had been inspecting, Persephone offered a polite smile that only Elias would notice lacked warmth.
"Well, we could not have your mind so taxed, Lord Elias." She told him, with all the dignity she could hold. "So, you leave me with little option but to accept your offer. You are most gracious."
In so saying, Persephone extended her elbow, bare arm offered to him and as the waves of bright yellow silks radiated to the ground, looping from shoulder to wrist. It was clear by her behaviour that she was offering herself to be escorted. That at least, she could try to imply was under her own instruction and order. And Elias would suffer far too great a hit to his reputation in Court gossip if he was to refuse the gentlemanly act of escorting her to his carriage personally...
Persephone felt her teeth clench and was thankful that the scarf wrapped around her head and temples would hide the twitch in her jaw just in front of her ear. It was always a dead giveaway when she was annoyed. Elias was playing his games again. Offering her aid might have seemed gentlemanly in the moment to all who observed but what the objective gazes of the people would not register - perhaps ever - was the information such a gesture embedded in the subconscious of each person to witness the interaction: that Princess Persephone needed help. And that Elias of Stravos was the rescuer who provided that aid.
The idea rankled.
But there was a little she could do upon the situation. As frustrating as it was, it was far less embarrassing to have her cousin escort her back home than it would have been for her to walk, on foot, the rest of the way through the city. With guards in tow the enter effect would have been ridiculous. As such, she had little option but to acquiesce.
Raising a chin up and away from a small jewel box she had been inspecting, Persephone offered a polite smile that only Elias would notice lacked warmth.
"Well, we could not have your mind so taxed, Lord Elias." She told him, with all the dignity she could hold. "So, you leave me with little option but to accept your offer. You are most gracious."
In so saying, Persephone extended her elbow, bare arm offered to him and as the waves of bright yellow silks radiated to the ground, looping from shoulder to wrist. It was clear by her behaviour that she was offering herself to be escorted. That at least, she could try to imply was under her own instruction and order. And Elias would suffer far too great a hit to his reputation in Court gossip if he was to refuse the gentlemanly act of escorting her to his carriage personally...
