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[aurnia]

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outfit . mask . Yarrow . deer beebim

After reaching the castle, Anastasia and Wilhelmina had gone their separate ways to prepare for the ball that night. Ana, admittedly, with a bit of prodding from Connor. Now she stood on a balcony overlooking the Imperium Renata, wondering of it, and of her place in the selection. Her country was not a very social one, partly by choice and partly by location, and many only knew of its existence and vast landscape- and if nothing else its powerful military. Anastasia was a bit of an outsider here, and the atmosphere of the place only added to her feeling of such. The warm air that seemed to carry music with it wherever you went, was a bit different than her home. Of course her people were happy, but the winds of Korovasha brought with them quiet peace and warmth. Her home was much less trusting in some ways, having experienced more war and hardship over its long existence.

"я могу быть королевой?" (am i fit to be a queen?) she muttered aloud to the empty room, and the wide-open sky- her handmaidens long gone since she already was dressed for the ball.

Shaking away her thoughts, she turned to the mirror that stood against the wall, admiring the fine craftsmanship of the dress she wore; she had brought this one with her from her home, but it had been much less... dazzling before. When she had arrived at the palace, she had insisted that the seamstress who had sown her lovely shawl from the city be brought in to add a bit of Renatian flair to the dress before the ball. It had been a rather last-minute request, and had caused a few maids and officers to be a bit harried, but the seamstress had made quick work of the dress' collar, and Ana couldn't help but think that it made the dress look wondrous.

Steeling her features, she looked herself in the eye and straightened her posture.

"You would not be here now, if you were unworthy," Ana stated, her tone cool and firm. Nodding and letting out a long, calming breath, Ana finally headed for the door, securing her mask in place with a neat bow behind her head.

Connor was at her arm in a moment, obviously having been waiting for her outside of the door. Anastasia took her guard's arm and allowed herself to be led to the front of what she imagined would be the full line of candidates within moments.

"Ты выглядишь прекрасно," (you look beautiful) Connor said, turning to Ana. He did always have a way of knowing when she was nervous or upset,"как настоящая королева." (like a true queen.)

"Спасибо, мой друг," (thank you, my friend) the printsessa replied, giving his hands a soft squeeze before letting go.

Anastasia attempted to project the same confidence Connor had in her to her posture, so that perhaps she would have the same confidence.

"Presenting her Imperial Highness, the Impertorskaya Printsessa Anastasia of Korovasha," The Herald Messenger called from the other side of the doors before her.

With her head held high, the printsessa strode forward and into the ballroom, glad to see that many of the faces below her gazed on her with smiles, wondering but not unkind. Relaxing her posture, she made her way down onto the floor and sat waiting for the rest of the selected to be announced. When Wilhelmina's turn came, Anastasia was sure to clap a little more fervently and smile a bit brighter, knowing the princess was not normally one for large social events- a factor she imagined in how they got along so well. Eventually, everyone had been called- including the king- and the party began. Connor had since given Ana a bit of space to roam, though she knew that if she were to glance behind her at any given time he would be there somewhere, watching over her. She let her eyes wander through the crowd, and couldn't help but be curious about one man in particular; the Norrejyland Ice Prince. His skin had even been painted a striking blue, and she could admit the posture about him did give her a bit of a chill to think about; but she would ignore it.

She hadn't paid much mind to the man he was speaking with as she approached, though she nodded in greeting before she spoke," The Ice Prince, Eirik of Norrejyland, Godaften. I couldn't help but notice your dress, it is such an interesting thing, to have painted your skin for the occasion."
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[deer]

APOLLO, FIRST SON OF KING CAESAR

His intense gaze never softened as he scanned the ballroom. It was lavish, filled with different artifacts displayed to show a variety of culture and wealth. But, the male could only wonder what exactly was hidden beneath Imperium Renata's beauty. Stuffy, sophisticated, and utterly boring this charade of a ball, Apollo continued to sip his drink, trying to find something that would keep him entertained enough to be good - well, as good as he can be. Exactly what did she expect him to do? Fraternise with these damned royals and bow his head to them? No. He wouldn't bow or bend the knee to anyone (out of his own free will). Apollo's reluctance was not out of pride, but rather, in his eyes, he didn't see anyone fit to his King nor did he find himself wanting respect those that were surrounding him. Respect is to be earned. Apollo knew next to nothing about these candidates and did they believe themselves good enough to be King of Kings? Bullshit. He wouldn't bat an eye at any of them, unless, well . . . if they were aesthetically pleasing to look at, one can't help but look. Apollo wouldn't deny it.

However, before Apollo could continue his treacherous thoughts, Apollo took a good look at the candidate next to him when he heard an answer at his side. Furrowing his brows as he gauge the male's appearance, seeing as the man was an inch or two taller than he. It took all of Apollo's cold, hard might to not raise a questionable gaze and blurt out whatever was on his mind when he observed want attire this. . . potential candidate adorned. It didn't come as much of a shock to him to think that the candidate, High Jarl Erik, actually heard his small musing to himself, but rather that he agreed with his opinion of the ball. The High Jarl looked as if he was an embodiment of winter, ice itself. Apollo never had the luxury of exploring too far off the shores of Helanaiscna, despite having his own sails. But, regardless, seeing the mask made of ice and the two daggers on the High Jarl's holsters, Apollo clicked his tongue wondering if it was just for show or the blades were truly sharpened. It would be a shame if something were to happen at the ball.

Regardless, the corners of Apollo's curved into a small smirk. Clearing his throat, Apollo continued looking straight ahead as the idea of any formalities went over his head. "Real world, you say? Pray tell, what is your perspective of what has come of the world. It sounds much more. . . how day you say, a better engaging topic than the air of monotonous frills displayed since the start of this dull masquerade." However, it seemed he misspoke too soon as another was coming into their company. Although the woman whom he remembered as the first candidate introduced, didn't take note of him, though it hadn't offended him, Apollo couldn't help but smirk into his glass cup as he finished the contents of his drink.

It would be an interesting turn-out and conversation. Apollo had to wonder if the candidates even knew each other. Were they all on good terms? Bad terms? The gossip was endless. Apollo hadn't kept up with courtly affairs such as drama, but he couldn't help but remember the soft whispers in the Palace when he first arrived. The maids were faceless in his mind but it seemed it was a favorite pastime no matter the kingdom or person. But, as the woman engaged herself in conversation of admiring the High Jarl's attire, Apollo took this moment, staying in the background, to observe the nature of this printessa. Elegant as the next, perhaps, though if he remembered correctly the printessa was from Korovasha. Was it the home of the bears or was it the wolves? Whichever, Apollo found himself amused at seeing the difference in the hues of the candidates attires - one wearing a much more warm, royal deep blue that contrasted to a pale, stoic ice blue. But, compared to him with them, he blended in with the crowd, not really one to take note of with the original white and black three piece attire and a mask that covered a portion of the left side of his face.

But, Apollo had to agree with her statement. It was an interesting choice to paint one's fare skin. Apollo would never had taken that route. Although the male had shown disgust of such frivolity, he made a statement in his appearance. Apollo couldn't put his hand on it but decided not to dwell on idle thoughts and chatter. Deciding to put himself in conversation, Apollo wondered how this printessa would act. Would she be haughty? Cold? Demure? The possibilities were endless, but he could already take from a first glance, the woman may be hard to get through. Although he loved a challenge and he had to admit she was a beauty in his eyes, Apollo wasn't in the mood for games. "And what of you, printessa, " Apollo cleared his throat, bringing a small attention towards himself as he turned his posture in their direction - half on them and half towards the crowd. "What do you think of this lovely, evening?" He finished, making no indication he would be bowing his head towards the both of them anytime soon.

location: the ballroom near the liquor table | scenario: "in the masses" | with: printessa anastasia and high jarl dirk | mentions: his handmaiden | tags:

DAEINA MORISSETTE , THE ROMA TRAVELLER

As Daeina made her way inside the Palace, humming to herself without a care in the world, the young woman grinned nonchalantly. With a skip to her step, Daeina slowly trailed her hand down her bag and gripped an object. Grasping the object in her hand as she felt the texture of the coin, Daeina carefully held it in her palm, raising it up to her eyes. Not seeing anyone in the vicinity, Daeina gently took the piwafwi and inquisitively looked upon the coin trying to read the transcription on the item. Never leave your guard down for a moment. Daeina thought to herself. She was right and if she didn't know any better, the male who helped her was indeed a native from the motherland. Something inside her coiled as she bit her lips. However, hearing footsteps behind her, Daeina quickly dropped the coin back in her bag before spinning around, only to be greeted by a mad woman. Grinning sheepishly, Daeina prepared herself for the long night to come as she waited for the scolding of a lifetime.

Sighing to herself, Daeina looked upon the horizon as she waited patiently for the ball to begin. Her sisters were getting ready for their big performance tonight and Daeina could only just sit near the open window with her hand extended as a breeze passed through. She had been condemned to stay inside for the remainder of the festivities and could only be seen in public when it was time to perform for King Caesar. Daeina couldn't remember much of her audience with King Caesar aside from the fact that he had been amused about what occurred outside his Palace. But, regardless, the smell of perfume filtered through the air and the quarters the Morissettes were given as the loud voices of her sisters disrupted her thoughts. Daeina didn't have the energy to join in the traditional attire "ceremony". It was good luck for each and every one of the Morissettes to place on the bejeweled headpiece atop of their heads as a symbol of unity and trust.

But, feeling outcasted as she was given a silent treatment from her mother, Daeina bit her lips not sure whether she should stay in tonight and hold down the fort or perform with them. To make matters worse, Daeina couldn't find the piwafi anywhere. Where had that coin gone? Shaking her head, Daeina leaned back away from the window as she patted the pillow cushion she was seated on that had book right next to her. Furrowing her brows as she tilted her head to the side to flip the pages of the book, Daeina let out another long, exasperated sigh, pouting. Would he be here? Did he know it was missing? Regardless, Daeina wanted to pull her hair out for being so bored. The fireworks display showed on the first night intrigued her the most and it only made her wonder if she would ever have the opportunity to light her own fireworks one day as well. They seemed so beautiful yet unattainable. The second day was uneventful to Daeina though she tried to talk to the different servants in the Palace. Some of them gave her a good laugh while others avoided her like the plague. Quite cliquey the lot of them.

"Daeina, will you stop your moping and come join us? Mother's lifted the ban." One of her sisters called out towards her, motioning Daeina to dress.

Blinking back her surprise, Daeina's heart skipped a beat though she reigned in her excitement, her stubbornness getting the best of her. Folding her arms, Daeina shook her head, "Has she? Then why don't she come and tell me herself." Daeina said bitterly, clearly acting like a child who's throwing a tantrum.

A soft laugh echoed as her Second Sister called out towards her, "Sister, you know how Mother is. The both of you are a lot alike. The show's starting soon and we want to dance with you, not without you. It's tradition." Second Sister calmly stated, taking Daeina's attire in her hand as she knelt beside the bull-like woman.

It was hard to resist Second Sister's want, especially when she was always the one that diffused the bombs that were going to tick off any minute within the Morissettes. Second Sister was the glue whenever mother wasn't around.

Sighing, Daeina couldn't help but display a smile, nodding. "Okay, fine. But, don't look at me like that." She finished before sticking her tongue out at her Second Sister, running off towards her other sisters who were quick to help her get ready.

As the candidates were formally introduced and King Caesar made his speech, Daeina took a deep breath in and out as she shook off her nerves. She and her sisters were all holding their hands together, waiting for their cue to go out and perform for their audience. Small words of encouragements passed through the sisters lips and soon Bixenta Bakarne appeared, making sure her girls were in tip-top shape with all of their bangled jewelries and presentation. Without further ado, the cue was passed and the girls made their way to their "stage" as an area cleared in front of the thrones where King Caesar and his respective family members sat.

The lights dimmed lowly in the front of the ballroom as the girls appeared in their two piece costume. Some had feathers in their hair while others kept a bejeweled headpiece on their head. Although their face was not covered by silk, their bodies were dazzled in bangles and gold. Music ensued and the dance began. Whispers spreaded around of the Morissettes belly dance and sword dance. Some awed while some looked upon them in judgement, clearly showing their disdain for the women's half "naked" bodies that were displayed and not covered.

Regardless, Daeina's body moved in fluid motion, as if she was bending in the wind, graceful as a swan, and dainty as a doe. As the tempo of the music picked up, so did Daeina's movements, flowing to the rhythms little by little. The young dancer smiled wickedly as she allowed the music to take over her frame as her warm, mocha brown eyes gaze and penetrated into the eyes of those who dared to get mesmerised by her. Her bangles clinked with every step she took as her bare-foot glided across the floor. Her eyes searched around the crowd, seeing who would fall victim to her gaze and would join her in a dance before the music ended and the ball continued on after their performance.

location: performing for the King Caesar and his guest | scenario: "look closer, come closer, feel it" | mentions: franz , ibrahim, ozymandis | tags:

 

[Jordan Brinkman]

Sjoni Basara and Ozymandias Basara

While the future is fast coming for you, it always flinches first, and settles in as the gentle present. This now. This us, we can cope with that.​

| Location: Masquerade | Mentions: Daeina | Tags: deer

• Sjoni Basara
• Ozymandias Basara

• 
  
  
  
  Sjoni wasn’t used to being alone, left to his own devices. He had summoned Oz to at least get ready with him. It would stop him from looking like the mess he felt like. With a brisk knock at the door, the older brother knew he was no longer alone. Sjoni stands quickly when he sees how pale his brother looks. Nothing had been completely normal between them but Sjoni tries his best to take care of one of the few remaining Basaras.
  
  “Al- Ozymandias. Are you feeling alright? You look pale.” He offers, genuine concern in his voice. “Are the wrappings too tight or... ?”
  
  
  “Brother. Fret not for me, the eyes of the Empire and our nation are on you tonight. If there is something wrong with me, then we will discover it later.” Oz says, coldness filling his tone. This hurts Sjoni, a little more than he figured it should but with what’s happened… He would have thought that it would have brought them closer together. Had he been wrong? No, no he had done what was right then and even now he knows he did what needed to be done. “Are you going to appear as an Arch Patron?”
  
  “I was hoping so but... would it be too much?” The younger brother rolls his eyes. An absurd fear. I knew it. The elder sighs and looks to Oz. “Piwafwi out or not?”
  
  “Out. You are a noble and if there are any Cyprisians here then they will see a brave noble. Otherwise, I would see it as a weakness.” Oz offers, looking to the ceiling as he thinks. He reaches a hand into the pocket of his pants and tenses, minutely but tensing all the same. “It’s gone, but surely I can find it before the Masquerade.” He offers, trying to reassure his already nervous brother. It doesn’t work but that isn’t something either brother needed to know. “Not that it matters in this moment. Get dressed, and I’ll help you.” This is the first time Oz has spoken with sincerity in a long time.
  
  ----
  
  The Masquerade was a large affair, and despite his best efforts, the long-legged noble was petrified. Masks of all sorts were shown - some of fine metals and jewels that made even the highly ranked man feel inferior. Oz was inside waiting and soon everyone in the Empire would know what kind of candidate was sent from the isolationist nation in the heart of the Mediterranean. The hall’s beauty and colors stunned his eyes while the buzzing of conversation and music drowned out his thoughts, well all except the crippling doubt about him living to the end of all this. That was loud and deafeningly clear. He represented a nation that was shrouded in misinformation and rumor and this was his one and only chance to make a solid impression for the heart of his nation. The sound of his name rang out through the din, clear as day. The man in the owl mask almost seemed to cringe. The Raven was revealed by the entire title of his homelands.
  
  “Now presenting His Royal Arch Patron Sjoni Basara, Θάνατος Raven King of Örümcek ağı, Patron of First House Basara, First Son of Arch Matron Asianne Intisar Jumanah-Basara.” The title was heavy and absurdly long. Sjoni felt its weight come crashing down onto his slender shoulders. He was going to die here and he knew it.
  
  Once he was left to his own devices, he chose to go get a drink. The lightweight clothes were stifling and his ego was destroyed. With a title like that, how did it fit onto a piwafwi of all things. He runs tentative fingers over the face, noting the placement of each ruby, sapphire and amethyst alike. Each one’s placement opened up his past and his future by merely existing in just the right place. They wouldn’t tell him a thing, while they told the world everything.
  
  This is what binds me. So open and clear. I can only wonder if everyone else can feel their own bindings.
  
  Mask
  
• 
  
  
  
  Ozymandias was usually level headed and dealt with the various pains he felt with ease. Today, everything was sore so he bit the bullet and wraps his whole torso before he left to meet with Sjoni. Everything has to be perfect, he wouldn’t have the layers to hide any imperfections. He runs a hand over the wrappings before tugging on the grey-green shirt. He would get ready on his own before the Masquerade.
  
  Oz rushes to get to his brother’s room, though that was one of many poor decisions he would deal with today. He is in pain by the time he gets to the room. He keeps his head down as he knocks on Sjoni’s door. There was no way for him to get away with all this fully, but he knew he just had to keep his brother’s worries off of him for the afternoon. As the door opens before him, a look of concern crosses over the older brother’s face.
  
  “Al- Ozymandias. Are you feeling alright? You look pale.” He offers, an unknown tone in his voice. Might that be a small sample of… Sincerity? “Are the wrappings too tight or... ?” Sjoni’s hand gently runs down Oz’s torso, making the younger brother a little nervous. He had to lie, or at least lure him away from worrying about him right now.
  
  “Brother. Fret not for me, the eyes of the Empire and our nation are on you tonight. If there is something wrong with me, then we will discover it later.” Oz presses, pulling away from both touch and personal aspects. Sjoni was on display tonight. One whiff of weakness, any good assassin will swoop down on them and off them before the night is through. That was to be Oz’s job and even now he needed to keep Sjoni off that trail as well. So much guidance falls on his shoulders in this moment. “Are you going to appear as an Arch Patron?” Guide his eyes away from me.
  
  “I was hoping so but... would it be too much?” Sjoni was worrying about all the wrong things now. Shit. No, you need to look like the best possible candidate. Full Arch Patron! This ends up coming out as an eye roll, damaging the older brother’s ego. “Piwafwi out or not?”
  
  “Out. You are a noble and if there are any Cyprisians here then they will see a brave noble. Otherwise, I would see it as a weakness.” Just enough honesty to drag Sjoni back to the path Oz had laid out for him. His gaze eases up toward the ceiling as he plans for what to come next. He still had his piwa - As he reaches into his pocket he notices something that makes his blood run cold. Where is it? Sjoni seems to have noticed his nerves. “It’s gone, but surely I can find it before the Masquerade.” Focus Sjoni. Don’t worry about me. I need you to live through part of this. “Not that it matters in this moment. Get dressed, and I’ll help you.” He offers this, allowing a little bit of sincerity to creep into his tone. Just enough to fool him, Oz. Just. Enough.
  
  ----
  
  The Masquerade was soon upon them and Oz knew that he needed to blend in, at least to the best of his ability. He had the element of surprise until someone was able to connect him to Cyprus but even worse if they linked him to his brother. The ballroom was bright and colorful, filled with art and artifacts. He would be exploring that once Sjoni has entered into the ballroom. He begins to cringe when his brother didn’t take the opportunity to shorten his title. Fyrah… save this boy from himself. Please. He prays vaguely from behind his owl mask, staring up at the Raven as he enters the Masquerade.
  
  “Now presenting His Royal Arch Patron Sjoni Basara, Θάνατος Raven King of Örümcek ağı, Patron of First House Basara, First Son of Arch Matron Asianne Intisar Jumanah-Basara.” The title is long and honestly too much. Sjoni needed to know better that the whole thing doesn’t matter to the rest of the world. Not that he would listen to me if I told him. The moment of embarrassment, though, left him to be free for the rest of the night, allowing him to explore as he saw fit. Maybe he could find his angel from the Markets here?
  
  Deciding that it wouldn’t be in his best interest to seek her out, he slips off to the side, studying the artifacts of the other nations. As he goes, he finds one mention of his homeland - a tapestry of Fyrah seducing Fate. Designed with their silk and an interesting take on their legends but it was the only piece here. Why this? Why here and why such an ancient piece. Our artisans have more skill now than they did then? Was this how they see our women? I… I don’t believe this to be accurate. But what do I really know?
  
  No… I know better.
  
  
  Mask
  

 

[Archon]

Spoiler: Sun Lei

"We're late, Emperor." Shen joked with an apt smirk, eyes fixated upon the sprawling jewel of the Greek Empire, the self-proclaimed Imperium Renata, King of Kings. A glint of mischief inflamed within Sun's eye, lips perched into an unapologetic smirk. "Of course we are, Shen." Sun proclaimed with striking clarity, confirming the Royal Tiandi's suspicion that such an arrival was intended. "The King of Kings can flaunt his authority to the fools who scrape their knees and break their backs just to lick his... primitive boots."

Shen raised an eyebrow, arms folded lightly. "Primitive, your serene all-enigmatic majesty?" When the God-Emperor responded with an even wider grin, Shen felt the overwhelming urge to commit treason then and there, it was death to strike the Emperor. "Primitive, Shen. These westerners don't have a taste for real fashion, now we know how to make boots." He replied with a magnanimous boom, starring on, eyes directed to the palace, embracing the winds caress as the horses briskly traversed the Imperium Plaza, the bustle of the square erupting into a cascade of subtle whispers and gasps as the God-Emperor of the Han - coated head-to-toe in ceremonial armour - passed their very eyes. "When did the acclaimed Dragon of Jiang become such a connoisseur of fashion?" Shen questioned humorously, matching Sun's ethereal ability to ignore the presence of the congregation of smallfolk.

With a cast aside glance to the plaza, the Hanian ruler took a moment to stretch, feeling the cage of metal restrict much of his movement. He glanced back to Shen, "You wound me, Tiandi. Would you not say my current attire is fashion worthy of a King... of Kings? King of Kings... What is a King of Kings again, remind me." The Tiandi Captain kept his gaze forward, steadfast, aimed to the ever-nearing Palace. "An Emperor." With a deep and uncertain inhale, the Dragon of Jiang faced the sky and squeezed his eyes tightly, breathing out in a steady and relaxing motion, 'Guide me, father. Give me strength to endure this pit of viper'. "Ah yes, an Emperor. Who am I, Shen?"

A long pause, Shen had acted as Sun's shield, sword and armour for the better part of a decade and a half, he considered the man his dearest friend and would gladly sacrifice his life in his honour, but Sun was a strong man. Resolute, unwavering, fearless. Never in his long years of service had he seen the God-Emperor, wielder of The Jade Emperor's divine will, crumble so surely. His discomfort and nerves were bleeding through his skin, and not even the famous Immortal Armour could hide the scars of politics. Reaching over, Shen placed a comforting hand on the pauldron atop his Liege. "You are our Emperor, Sun. The God-Emperor of the entire Han, the most powerful and most mighty ruler of our time."

A weak smile, and a glazed look to the Palace. "No... but thank you, I don't know what I'd do without you here. I'm better suited for governing and the battlefield than politics and diplomacy. I'm outflanked and surrounded." The doors of the palace loomed menacingly before them, Imperium Guards as stone-faced as statues, unwavering in their facade despite the retinue before them. "Your men are here with you. Now, put the helmet on, no longer are you Sun Lei, the ruler of Han, become the Dragon of Jiang, martial master and warrior of legend. The ball has waited long enough."

An unsteady breath followed the command, Sun dismounted the mount and hesitantly placed the full-helm on, face forged in the image of a dragon, it was an unconventional attendance of a masquerade ball, wreathed in steel, but he was a General first and foremost, to succeed in the political scene he needed to play to his strengths.

The huge doors burst open as the armored warrior stepped across the thin threshold that separated the Ball from the outside world, a scribe beside the door immediately took notice and stood with expert etiquette before readying a deep exhale. Shen, helmeted in the guise of a serpent, stood proudly and powerfully before the God-Emperor. "The Dragon of Jiang!" Sun offered a thankful nod, happy to avoid the monotonous droning of the Imperium caller. He offered no attention or notice to the rest of the ball, his nerves were already on fire, dreary and lightheaded, with Shen in-tow, the God-Emperor of Han marched to the most isolated corner available, to get his bearings, to steel his confidence against the ballroom war to come.

 

[Yarrow]

Eirik the Norrejyic Ice Prince

deer Archon aurnia

Eirik was waiting on an answer from Apollo when they were joined by Princess Ana of Korovasha. The Printessa was wearing a dark blue dress with a very detailed collar. Eirik could see the work that has been done to make this dress. At least princess Anastasia was a real princess. The other man who was standing next to him was just a son of the King, and illegitimate son of the King of Kings. Eirik had always felt better then people who were lower at the social ladder then himself. This was before his heart turned into ice, but it became even worse after the heartbreak. In the back of his mind he knew that the girl who broke his heart would also be here, somewhere behind these masks. He looked around and didn’t notice her, but he noticed someone else. A traitor. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he recognized one of the sons of the councilmember of his father that had tried to steal the throne from them. Eirik had found out the plot and his father had the whole family exiled. It was only logical that they went here, since Imperium Renate was known for hosting refugees, and thus exiles.
The Printessa had greeted him in his own language, Norrejylic. He decided that would show his respect by greeting her in also her own language “Dobryy vecher, Printsessa Anastasia. It’s a Norrejyic tradition to paint the skin of the High Jarl’s family when there are official businesses to attend. It shows the high status of the family, since no other noble families are allowed to paint their skin..” This was a perfect example of Eirik’s pride, poaching about the wealthy status of his family back in Norrejyland and showing that also here, since no one else had shown up yet with a painted skin. “..I can see that there was put work in your dress, Printessa, our colors are matching” Eirik knew that blue was one of the most expensive colors there was in the Kingdom, so when you have a dress made out of blue it shows your status.
Now Eirik had responded to the Printessa he could talk again to the man, who was longer rank, next to him. Eirik looked down at Apollo, “Well, for starters there are uprisings in many countries from which I have heard so far. People are questioning the need of a King of Kings, especially during the changing ceremony every 40 years. Also, Imperium Renate is a place filled with scum. People who are exiled in their own country for a very good reason are given asylum here and can continue with their live inside the save borders of Imperium Renate..” In the corner of his eyes he noticed the familiar face again, now his was sure, the man needed to remove his mask so he could drink. Eirik recognized the scar he had given the man when Eirik arrested him. Eirik’s had slipped to his two knives at his belt “.. for example, the man in black with the feather mask who is drinking now right next to the pillar and the girl who is clearly from one of the more southern countries, tried to take the throne from my family. Because of that we arrested him and I gave him that scar on his cheek. Hårold had always been one of my good friends since we grew up together but his actions made him a traitor.” You could hear the disgust for Hårold in the voice of Eirik and the pride of giving him the scar on the cheek.
Then suddenly the doors burst open and a man in full armor stepped trough the doors. Eirik grabbed is dagger and held it loosely to his side. Someone announced the name of the man and the man went in the opposite direction of where the three people were standing. When he turned his head around to look at Hårold again he noticed the man was gone “For søren, I lost him"

 

[deer]

The actions of the High Jarl did not phase Apollo but he was not pleased all the same. If it were any other time, perhaps when he was a child and the moment he was told that he would never be King, he would have lashed out, made a scene. But, not this time. His temper remained cool and in check; he'd have to tell Petra of his good deed . Apollo was already used to such display of action and power by the Empress herself and perhaps he should praise such pea-cockiness that allowed him to easily ignore the mannerism. Regardless of how others saw him, Apollo was confident in himself, never allowing others to have control and power over how he saw himself. But, the gaze of where the Jarl's eyes wandered didn't go unnoticed in his eyes while his hand seemed to reach for a dagger. Apollo paid slight attention to the new arrival and he could only smirk at the display of arrogance and lateness of one of the candidates. One upping the King of Kings, is he?

“I would not do that if I were you. So many eyes among the crowd.” He spoke slowly and lowly as his head was turned to the side, looking in the direction now of his estranged family, if he can call it such. “If I knew any better, it is brought to my attention that candidates could not weild such object, regardless sharp or blunt. It seems someone has failed to mention it to you.” Whether the arrogant prince in question heeded his word, Apollo smirked, “Whoever you have hatred for in your heart, the King of Kings? A former friend now foe as you so clearly show-cased. You’d do best to hide the hatred you feel. It is the only way to survive. Wouldn’t want any accidents, do we?” At the end of his words, Apollo couldn’t care if the man in question heeded his word or listened, but he took a step back and gave a brief glance towards the princessa. It was a fair warning, whatever happened next to the Jarl, it was his head. But, at the thought of a scandal, Apollo couldn't help but imagine it. Wouldn't it be intriguing if the princess had seen such display of action? Apollo could only wish and hope, something to get rid of the boredom of this. . . formality.

He had no reason to stay any longer and the mere thought of speaking about attire bored him no less. Despite the cold man's exterior, he was honest if not prideful. Apollo agreed with the Jarl's words. Imperium Renata was a place filled with traitors and scums. It was a miracle no one was murdered thus far, especially the King of Kings that allowed this place to be filled with people who want. . . redemption.

But, regardless of Apollo's agreement in views of Imperium Renata and the changes of King of Kings, Apollo figured this. . Jarl would play well in the grand scheme of things. Without a word, Apollo left the company and walked towards The Dragon of Jiang. Quite bold and expressive, Apollo eyed the male's attire - an opponent worthy of praise and wonder. Making his way to the pair, Apollo rose a slight brow, not bothering with more formalities, though a part of him had felt slightly intimidated, wondering what answer he would receive from the both of them. It wasn't everyday Apollo had his interest piqued, like a child with new toys. Taking two glasses in his hands as a servant passed by with a tray of them. Apollo kept a considerable amount of distance but still remained close enough to be near and hear their words.

Extending his hand, Apollo handed a drink towards the foreign candidate, king or prince, whatever will it was. He had been curious of the mystique of the Eastern parts of the world as they had been secluded, isolationist, if you will. What made this candidate worthy of being King of Kings? Battle strategy or politics? So many questions so few answers. "A drink. To commemorate and celebrate your arrival." He began looking over towards the female that stood next to the Emporer. "From the way the both of you are dressed, some would say you are more equip for a battle than a ball." Apollo paused for a moment in thought. "Care to take a wager?"

tags: aurnia , Archon , Yarrow

 

[Athens]

♡

Olivier Paeng​

Location: Masquerade Ball
Scenario: Celebrating like a king (?)
With: Daeina
Mentions: Apollo
Tags: deer

"A ship is always safe at shore, but that is not what it's built for."​

The music of the masquerade thrummed in Olivier's veins like it was his lifeblood as he hummed and swayed his way through the partygoers. Save for his sanctuary in his apothecary, Olivier felt most at home amongst the people dancing, celebrating, and thriving. At this moment, Olivier was more than thriving with the spirits that were coursing their way into his bloodstream.

"Pardon me, love," Olivier grunted easing his way past a young woman with a flush that mirrored his with a fierceness that made him wonder with a bitter, self-aware kind of humor if they were long lost bosom twins of the pint. This made him pause, giving the young woman a mischievous smile. "Don't let anyone know," he murmured leaning into her presence. "but I think we might be more than a little tipsy." The two chortled along together at this revelation.

"Well," The woman began, swaying on her feet like she were a nymph that were to be swept away by the invisible wind at any moment. "I reckon that so as long as we don't get up to too much mayhem that they just might give us a pass. The civilians are always a little too eager to celebrate when it comes to anything involving the king of kings, no?"

The two wasted no time coming in developing an unspoken understanding between each other. Together, they chuckled, bantered, danced, and made far too many inappropriate comments to passing nobility just to watch the outrage on their face as they tromped by. If Olivier were to be recognized and his comments were to get back to his... superior he would be in it for. He couldn't find it in him to care, though, he'd had a rough week, his mates had stopped contacting him, and he was sick of fucking land legs. All this, plus other stressors that he'd rather not put his inebriated head in a tizzy over meant that he needed (more than a few) stiff ones if he were to be congenial at a masquerade for a lot he couldn't give two shits less for if he tried. If not for the bright guile to his visage and thickness of his accent from a neglected native tongue, he could have passed himself off to those who knew him as Olivier, imperium apothecary, occasional assistant to the doctor, feeling a tad more sociable than usual. If not for his uncontrollable, physical giveaways.

After a while, his escapades with the young lady, whom he learned was named Gale, grew stale and he decided now was the time to depart and leave their meeting on a good. "We'll, dear Gale this seems to be fate's call for us to part ways," he mused watching with interest at a dancer across the way. "I assumed as much. Not the type to stay in one place for long, eh?" She responded with a smirk. "From the tales you told, it makes one wonder why now you've planted roots when it's clearly not what you want."

Olivier didn't giver her answer, waving away the intrusive question. "Maybe I'll see you around..." He was already making his way through the sea of people when her hand caught his shoulder stopping him.

"Stay safe brother."

Olivier tore his gaze away from hers and weaved his was over to the beautiful dancer. From the corner of his eye he noticed a face that he heard word of on and off inside the imperium and although he chuckled, he made notion to stop and talk to the man, only making a small comment to himself as he passed. "Prince Apollo... It's quite a many days since his face graced the inside of these walls."

He reached the circle where the belly dancer who had peaked his interest danced with what he presumed were her sisters. The air around her reminded him of a night out in a seaport when he was still fresh faced to the world of being a pirate. He was cocky over his gains, he was young and wanted to have body to keep him warm before he was due to depart -just like his seniors. He got robbed blind of all his shares after one two many rounds.

It was thrilling.

He wouldn't mind dancing with the woman. Instincts be damned, if she wanted to take advantage of his inebriated state, he wouldnt care less. Worldly possession had lost their gleam anyways... Now, if only she would catch his eye.

codedbycrucialstar​

 

[aurnia]

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outfit . mask . Yarrow . deer beebim

Anastasia nodded in understanding as the Prince explained his skin, sure she had heard of that tradition before somewhere, most likely from one of her novels at home. As the other man addressed her, Ana raised an invisible eyebrow - he had addressed her with little to none of the respect even she was used to, as a noble who did not always require it of her company. Electing to ignore that for now, she straightened her posture slightly and turned to more face them both. The Prince Eirik first spoke on his opinion of the night- in a way, though more commented on the King of Kings title and Imperium Renata itself. As Eirik spoke of uprisings and personal betrayal, Ana noticed his hand slide to where she could only assume was some kind of concealed weapon. She knew that they were not to carry weapons of their own as a rule of the ceremony but, with what stories she'd heard about the Ice Prince, she had been correct in imagining that would be an ill-followed rule for him, as well as likely some of the other contestants.

"While I can see the logic in wanting a different system than the king of kings, I myself cannot agree with some of these rebellions' want for no system of overarching governance at all. And, on the note of the Imperium Renata, I would not so readily assume the same of all those here that you say of this... foe of yours. Some come here for Asylum from suffering and the goal to live honest lives, of which can be granted."

The doors from which all of the contestants had arrived burst open in a moment, catching everyone's attention in the way of startling them, including the Printsessa. In another moment, however, the man who had arrived was gone into the crowd again, leaving only the harried-seeming doorman in his wake- and a dagger in the hand of Anastasia's current company. A few too-quiet words for her to hear were said from the other man to the Ice Prince before he made a rather quick departure, with a look of almost venomous hope cast in her direction. The Printsessa wondered what on earth had gone through his mind to create a look of such.

"High-Jarl, I do suggest you sheath your dagger before anyone of a harried mind sees. A scandal in the castle this soon would be unhelping in the reputation of those within it," She said lowly, her eyes not leaving his and a certain tenseness in her spine that would be unreadable to any outside eye. Her tone rose again so that those around her would not need to strain to hear her, but she did not attempt to attract attention,"It was a pleasure speaking with you, I do hope we see as much each other again."

Anastasia stepped away with a polite nod of her head and slight bow, before heading off further into the ballroom. Scanning the crowd for a familiar face or head of hair, she finally spotted the Princess Wilhelmina. Weaving her way through the guests about her, she noticed that there were many at varying degrees of inebriation, with most- frankly- being far past what might be considered "tipsy". When she finally reached a clear space where she could let her arms hang by her sides without worrying of them, she found the nearest tray of drinks and grabbed two delicately. Aware of some eyes on her for being so brash as a lady to carry her own drink as well as one for another, she was sure, she smiled a bit. It was always an interesting thought to have of how much power women held in her country compared to others, as she did not feel strange not accompanied by a man as she arrived where Wilhelmina stood.

"Hello again, I hope that you are enjoying yourself some?" She said, offering one of the drinks she carried in its delicate flute to Wilhelmina," Though I know that parties of this size are not your favorite of occasions."

It had been a bit hectic of a night so far for Anastasia and it had only started, so for the moment she decided she'd bring herself some peace with the company of a trusted friend.

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⠀♡coded by uxie♡

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[deer]

Her performance was ending soon as the bangles of her jewelry clinked with each graceful movements she made. The shimmery shine of her attire seemed to glisten underneath the dimmed light, making way as it illuminated each steps she and her sisters went to and fro. Her smile never seemed to fade as her eyes caught a glimpse of an unknown male's. She was curious as he gazed directly at her. A small smirk made way towards her lips, almost as if she was signaling him to come closer to her. It was time for the finale: sword dancing. Daeina was mesmerized with her short sword, following the display to a tee. Her hold on the propped sword ( or was it ) was gentle yet firm as she moved with the sword against her frame. Swirling in circular motions as she spun the sword, Daeina caught the flying sword with her left hand before swaying the sword around in a dance. It wasn't until the sound of claps and the ending of the music did Daeina realise where she had been.

As the Morissettes' performance came to an end, the crowd started closing in as the stage began to disappear. The Morrisettes were welcome to indulge in the festivities of the ball, however, some of them were too tired to join. But, Daeina was different. She wanted to experience the "high" life of society and why social statuses mattered and to see if the gossip on the streets were true. Daeina wondered if having such statuses was all it was cut out to be despite her many performances at different palaces across the world. What made this specific ball special? Was it because all of the leaders were in one area? Was that safe? But, who was she to care? Shaking her head as she moved through the crowd, Daeina disregarded such a notion and focused on dilly-dallying around the place as she moved slowly to the music, still enamored by the low sounds of the classical music.

Regardless, as her eyes scanned the area, she looked for that one male that caught her attention during the dance. It wasn't until Royal Messenger's voice echoed through the ballroom did Daeina pause in her spot for a moment as she looked up. The announcement of a late member of the Selection had arrived - an Emperor of sorts, however, by judging by his looks, Daeina couldn't help but wonder if he was a warrior instead. Nevertheless, her eyes went towards King Caesar wondering what his reaction would be. Low gossips seemed to spread across the ballroom and Daeina couldn't help but feel amused by the display. Like clockwork.

Nevertheless, as she moved gracefully through the crowd despite some hardened and judgmental stares thrown her way, Daeina found the person she was looking for. Slowly approaching the male as her hips moved with each step she took. Daeina sauntered over towards the seemingly intoxicated handsome male, smiling to herself as if she was holding in a secret.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" She purred. The young woman stood a mere inch away from him as she extended her hand whimsically towards him, wanting to close the distance between them. "Do you like what you see?" Daeina tilted her head to the side, reaching up gently to caress his cheeks before her hand landed softly on his arm, the bangles on her wrist chiming. "What do you say for a little fun?" She finished, giving a small cheshire grin.

location: ballroom dance floor | interaction: Olivier Paeng | mentions: Emporer Sun Lei | tag: Athens , Archon