Realistic or Modern &nbsp; 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚎𝚍 ⋆★

nymphadora. ,

ShadyAce ,

callisto [/div] [/div]

[div class="tabContents tabContents07 show"]

the

prince

of

atrya

[div class="tab tab1"]read more

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"Vaah, yeh sab aapke liye hai," said Pranjali Desai as she walked arm in arm with her first born son.

"No, ma, it's not all for me. There are seven other people involved, remember?" Rey reminded his mother, as his eyes looked through the elaborate mask he had on, to take in his surroundings.

None of the Desai's were strangers to extravagance. They came from Atrya, the land that was easily considered the most beautiful among all the other places, and Rey's father would have nothing less than the best, no matter what it was. Needless to say, the Scarsci family impressed the current king of Atrya. He was pleased with the food, the people, and the decorations. After all, this was the day his son was getting engaged. He could think of no other reason, besides the actual wedding, to pull out all the stops.

Rey, on the other hand, thought differently. Of course, the place was beautiful, and he was definitely eager to try out the food, maybe have a dance or two, but being here was also just a constant reminder of how his life wasn't really his life. In any case, he continued to try and be optimistic. Change, he reminded himself in his head. This can help bring out change. You can't do that if you're disowned by the family.

And they'd come close to that many times.

"Reyansh." Rey stopped walking to face his father, who had been walking beside him and his mother. The man held a hand out to his wife, and Pranjali took it, letting go of Rey at the same time. "You should get used to talking about country affairs with others. Why don't you try mingling a little? Your mother and I have a few people to speak to as well." His stern gaze made it clear that Rey was to not get up to any funny business. Any other banquet and Rey might have ignored everything his father told him, but he knew that messing up today could result in some severe consequences.

So, with a simple nod, and a smile, he watched his parents move further into the crowd, and only then did his smile fall. "Killjoy," he muttered under his breath before lifting a hand to smooth his hair back. Normally, he would have left it open, letting the dark locks reach his shoulder, but his mother had insisted that he looked more polished with his hair tied back. He had to compromise, since he refused to shave his small beard and moustache, so tying his hair was the least he could do, to make his mother happy. She, he would do anything for. His father was another story.

Aadiyah quickly came up beside him, looking rather uncomfortable in the bright pink gagra choli she wore. "So, in a while, you're going to be married to one of these prissy people?"

The youngest of the Desais, Aryan, let out an audible gasp. "Aadiyah," he hissed. "Keep your voice down. You can't afford to be making such remarks, as an immediate blood relative of Rey's. Today is one of the most important days in history, and-"

"Yaar, chup kar," Aadiyah silenced him. "I'm just trying to lighten the mood. This is probably boring enough with you going on about how this is all his duty," Aadiyah told Aryan with an eye roll. Aryan merely huffed and crossed his arms. Yes, he truly fit the role that Rey was in better, but there wasn't really anything that could be done about it now.

"Maybe you'll get someone nice. You met them all already, right? So you know what most of them are like," Aadiyah said, trying to be optimistic about the whole thing as well.

Rey nodded. "They all definitely seemed nice," he explained. "I just never believed that 'nice' would be the only requisite for getting married to a person. Technically, it's still hardly a requisite..."

Rey quieted down when a man — the king of Alfaria — stood atop the stairs and looked down at his guests, before beginning to talk about the masked ball. Rey wasn't too keen on listening but he had to do something and if he stuck to Aadiyah for any longer, he was sure he would end up getting into trouble with her, and that was what he was trying to avoid. His solution was to usher her to the table full of food, sending Aryan along with her, because he also didn't want to be surrounded by his family when the pairings were announced. He couldn't explain it. He just felt like it would make the whole thing harder to deal with.

Now alone, Rey put his hands into his pockets and walked around while the speech continued, and he eventually opted to stand closer to the front, but to the side of the room, so he could lean against the wall. It was a good vantage point. There was no point trying to look for familiar faces, because they were all masked, but he tried to occupy his time with a little guessing game anyway. Maybe if he actually managed to recognise someone he could walk over. Or maybe he wouldn't For once, Rey just felt confused and unsure, because he was so used to acting without thinking, but today of all days, he had to go against his nature.

Well, this should be fun.

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callisto · Sep 26, 2019

location - the second-best palace in all the kingdoms

tags -

thirteen

outfit - xx

Elvire Dauphin

The ball truly was a sight to behold. People, voices, foods, tensions, clothing - a decadent assortment of all of the kingdom's best and richest filled the Scarsci Palace ballroom. Elvire, dressed in a champagne evening gown, surveyed the room, her eyes coolly dancing from outfit to outfit; partygoer to partygoer. Something about the anonymity of it all frightened her. Masks? Really? We're doing this? Her hands wrung absentmindedly at her skirt. Elvire was not unfamiliar with being surrounded. Rather, it was the feeling of invisibility - despite the eyes that admired the Osmurgian fashion she adorned - that frightened her. The whole marriage aspect of the fete just seemed like a chore in comparison.

"Elvire." She snapped to attention. "Arretez de gigoter."

Her mother's voice was not one of motherly comfort. Though it prickled pleasantly at Elvire's eardrums, the French she spoke was laced with a guttural Scandinavian lilt. It reflected even worse on the old queen's English, leading her to speak to her daughter in the one other language that the whole family understood. Which, in this case, was passive-aggressive French. The best kind of French.

"Oui, maman." Elvire answered softly, her voice disappearing with the fervor of the room. Stop fidgeting. It's unbecoming. The words hummed in her ears. God forbid people recognize their family and think, what's this? The crown princess of Osmurg has fine motor skills?

"Papa! Je would like to äta äta äta !" An excited, tiny voice rang out from the folds of her father's long, embroidered dress-coat. King Bastien, a solemn man who smelt of ocean air and hair pomade, immediately broke out into a bashful grin.

"You may eat..." His tone was gruff, commanding, "but only after you escape my evil clutches!" The high voice inside his coat erupted into giggles as the old King held the opening shut; thin arms flailing against the inside of the expensive fabric. Suddenly, the young princess was released, spiraling out of the king's coat like a gust of wind and pure energy. A ball of heavy breaths and high-pitched giggles, Princess Mia of Osmurg resembled a smaller, messier version of her older sister - the beauty and elegance of a Dauphin royal without the innate pessimism. A mere seven years old, she hadn't yet learned the intricacies of speaking in one language at a time. Her words jumped from French, to English, to Swedish; with little concern for the grammatical intricacies of any one language. It was a pain in the ass to translate, but Mia was nothing if not a pain in the ass.

Elvire glanced at her Mother, noting the stark indifference in her sharp features. Her father, in many ways, was exempt from her innate criticism. It was his country. No matter how jovial he would become around his darling children, everyone else knew that they just lived in it. Everyone except her brother, of course, who could find amusement and comfort in anything. Even the dumpster that Elvire assumed he had crawled out of.

"Hey, look." Speak of the devil. "That's you." Her brother's voice whispered into Elvire's left ear, his finger pointing in the opposite direction. Surprise, surprise, as she turned to him, she realized he was pointing at the trash that a servant swiftly carried from the room. A snicker accompanied his joke, hands absentmindedly adjusting the mask that was too large for his pubescent face. Elvire grimaced, jabbing him with her elbow in defiance. He was a pest, but also one of her best friends. Unfortunately. Speaking of best friends...

"Dad always did say that you took after me." Elvire's mouth spoke with little acknowledgment of what it was saying - her eyes instead focusing intently on the crowd that traversed around her. The indignant whining of her younger brother faded out like television static. Where the fuck are you, Stella? If she knew her friend at all, Elvire would assume that Stella was in some fabulous gown, blue as the night sky. Thank god she wasn't, like, in a ballroom filled with people trying to show off their fabulous gowns, or anything. That would've just made the whole process more difficult!

"I'm going." Elvire's expression was steadfast - an attempt to appear mature when surrounded by the infantilizing force that was her family. Nevertheless, she gave a small, demure curtsy to her mother as she turned, before briskly making her leave. The Queen didn't have the chance to respond before the other members took it as their opportunity to run, the young Mia, in particular, dragging their father to the finger foods. Elvire ducked between roaming bodies, her train of her cloak floating upon the palace's pristine floor. A tanned, dark-haired young princess was all she hoped to find. The only thing she needed to make the waiting game a little less painful.

An indigo and dark blue dress. A mask that looked perfectly like Elvire's own, only in elegant bronze. Bingo.

Elvire pulled up next to her, directing her words so only the Zesnian beauty could hear.

"Where's a glass of vodka when you need it?"

nymphadora. · Sep 26, 2019

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[div class=block style="background-color: #728392;"]with

his family.
[div class=block style="background-color: #728392;"]tags

christy ,

ShadyAce ,

callisto .
[div class=block style="background-color: #728392;"]location

ball at the scarsci's palace.
[div class=block style="background-color: #728392;"]outfit

little prince.

[/div][/div]

[div class=title1]leo zimmermann.

To be truthfully honest, Leo felt like a fish out of water. The grandness of the Scarsci home wasn't unfamiliar to him, but every time he stepped through the doors with his parents and little brothers trotting behind him, the prince was still overwhelmed by the sight of the palace's foyer. His suit felt tighter than before, and suddenly it felt like all eyes were on him; Leo already felt like he wanted to go home. Like his parents told him before they entered through the doors; stay graceful, stay composed, and everything will be fine. His brothers, however, seemed to be the exception.

"Hey, hey, look; I'm Leo before he had braces."

A rupture of laughter startled Leo on his left. The middle child -- and leader of the three -- Charles stood with a boyish grin, shoving two small pieces of carrot in front of his teeth. Leo rolled his eyes at the sight of his three younger brothers finding carrots funny. He wasn't sure what was worse; the ball or his little brothers. Leo gave his little brother a sharp shove as the three continued to snicker, "Would you three stop being little shits for once?" The prince groaned, sending a dark glare to each sibling. At the sound of the four bickering, Leo's father sighed and caught his sons' attention. Leo's father was a kind-hearted man for the most part, but when he needed to be powerful, he could with a glance. "Oi, no fucking swearing while we're here, right? Let's make a good impression, please."

The four glanced at each other with raised eyebrows, pausing out of quiet confusion before nodding, muttering soft apologies with hung heads. Their mother interrupted, giving a warm smile and placing a gentle hand on her husband's chest. "Go have fun, Blåtira. We aren't going anywhere."

Leo mustered an awkward smile towards his mother, brushing a rebellious strand out of the way of his mask. His feet felt heavy like blocks of concrete, but before his eyes could meet his parents' once more, Leo watched as the rest of his family wander in the opposite direction; the sound of his brothers' bickering echoed behind them. It'll be fine, Leo reassured himself, his posture straightening as his fingers toyed with the hem of his jacket's sleeves, totally fine. His eye caught the sight of his reflection, almost shocking him. No longer did his long coat hang over his lanky frame, or his hands held a stack of dusty books. Instead, a mask clung to his face like an unusual second skin, and a tailored suit replaced his comfortable coat. It took a moment for Leo to even recognise himself.

A deep breath in, Leo wandered through the sea of people alone. Faces and masks blurred together as he struggled to figure out who was who; in between the expensive outfits and the servants dodging gracefully, Leo was beginning to feel dizzy just from trying to reach a corner of the room. His feet stumbled over one another as Leo found a little safe haven near enough to hear the king's speech but far enough to find a place to breathe. The prince's shoulders slowly relaxed as he leaned against the wall, his fingers sliding into his pockets as he stood by himself. In the nicest way possible, Leo wished he had a book in his hand at that moment.

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constellation · Sep 27, 2019

[class=bg]transition: 0.5s; margin: auto; height: 300px; width: 450px; box-shadow: 0 0 20px black; background-image: url('https://i.imgur.com/DV22Xy7.png'); border: 1px solid black;[/class] [class=charname]font-weight: 600; position: absolute; margin-left: 25px; margin-top: 220px; height: 55px; width: 400px; color: white; font-size: 30px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-transform: uppercase; text-align: center; font-style: italic; text-shadow: 1px 1px #90140d;[/class] [class=container]position: relative; height: 250px; width: 400px; background-color: #90140d; top: 25px; left: 25px;[/class] [class=leftside]float: left; position: relative; left: 10px; top: 10px; height: 230px; width: 150px;[/class] [class=img]height: 110px; width: 150px; background-image: url('https://i.imgur.com/9gv0CXk.png');[/class] [class=info]margin-top: 10px; height: 110px; width: 150px; background-color: white;[/class] [class=text]float: right; margin-top: 10px; margin-right: 10px; height: 230px; width: 220px; background-color: white;[/class] [class=insideinfo]color: black; position: relative; height: 100px; width: 135px; top: 5px; left: 5px; overflow-y: auto; white-space: pre-line; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.2; padding-right: 5px;[/class] [class=insidetext]color: black; position: relative; height: 220px; width: 205px; top: 5px; left: 5px; overflow-y: auto; white-space: pre-line; font-size: 11px; text-align: justify; line-height: 1.2; padding-right: 5px;[/class] [script class=bg on=mouseenter] fadeOut 1000 charname fadeIn 1000 container [/script] [script class=bg on=mouseleave] fadeOut 1000 container fadeIn 1000 charname [/script]

[div class=bg][div class=charname]princess Anastasia

[div class=container style="display: none;"][div class=leftside][div class=img][/div] [div class=info][div class=insideinfo]mood ; a little upset and on edge. location ; the masked ball at the scarsci's. outfit ; [ x ] tags ; [ mentioned all characters -

callisto ][/div][/div][/div] [div class=text][div class=insidetext]The room was silent. The kings and queens sat patiently, though at the edge of their seat, waiting to hear the pairings that would potentially change the future. The civilians stood eagerly, whereas the young royals... well, they were feeling mixed emotions. As King Michael began to speak again, his voice still firm, he began to open the small golden envelope that he held tightly in his hands. After all, the small piece of paper in his hands was the answer to the future. "Now... for the announcement you have ALL been waiting for." His eyes scanned the writing for just a few seconds. the tension rising, and with one small breath, he glanced back up at the crowd.

"Prince Aditya Reyansh Bodhi Desai of Atrya has been paired up with Princess Anastasia Scarsi of Alfaria. Prince Im, Jung-Min of Wheso has been paired up with Princess Elvire Marguerite Dauphin of Osmurg. Prince Aurelius Alexander de la Cavallería of Beflaurus has been paired up with Princess Genevieve Karla Adinah Odette Reichmuth of Graile. And last but not least, Prince Leonardo Rowan Benjamin Zimmermann of Sleynia has been paired up with Princess Stella Amara Aditya of Zesna."

He brought his eyes to the crowd and slipped the little paper back into the envelope, forcing a smile onto his face. "Now, I ask that all guests clear the dance floor so that each pair may have their first dance of the night with their chosen partner." Anastasia’s father gave one slight nod and stepped down. The silence, barely lasted in the room a moment before each noble who had attended began to whisper as they made space and cleared the room for the royal children. Anastasia blinked once, then again. She blanked out the moment she heard her name, along with her pair. Reyansh Desai. The name was familiar, but two years had been so long ago that she felt a little stumped trying to remember any interaction they had and she hated herself just the slightest for not paying full attention to the princes at the banquets. But surely twelve hours wasn’t long enough for her to get to know all seven of them. All she could recall was that the princes were fairly handsome. Though personality wise, Anastasia had barely spoken to all of them long enough to get to know them all. And then for a minute, she remembered Jung-Oh. How he'd let her cry on his shoulder when she thought of her mother and then proceed to comfort her. Before the news of his death, Anastasia looked forward to seeing him again and hoped deep down that she would be paired up with him. Just the mere thought made her heart sink. "Princess Anastasia?" The girl frowned slightly as she felt herself being shaken by her maid, Bonnie. The woman looked at her with a look of worry, a frown plastered onto her face. "You need to meet your partner for the dance." She spoke again, gesturing her towards the middle of the empty room where Anastasia’s dull eyes followed. With a small inhale, the princess nodded her head. "Of course." With one last smile to her maid, she made her move. The only sound that filled her ears were her sparkling heels. The annoying tapping sound of them hitting against the shiny, marble floor. All eyes set on her as she was the first of the eight to step out. Her brown eyes wandered around, searching. Searching for her future husband, Reyansh. Husband. How surreal and crazy it felt to even think of being engaged at eighteen to a man she barely knew on a personal level, let along being married to him. As her eyes circled the room, her feet did too, dress following behind the young princess. She held her breath for a moment, and her eyes landed on her father once. Clueless, she couldn't make out his expression as he stared at his eldest ready to meet her betrothed. Was he as nervous as she was? Soon, he returned back to his seat with the other kings and queens that appeared just as tense as he was. There was a change in the music, going from rather up-beat and happy to a slow and romantic melody.

I (I) want to fly (fly) into this beautiful life I think it'd be nice with you I want to fly (fly) into this beautiful life I think it'd be nice with you with you, with you, with you

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thirteen · Sep 27, 2019

stella amaya aditya

princess of zesna !

currently with: her BEST FRIEEEND!

mood: oh shit looks like i'm getting married

mood two: anxiety anxiety anxiety anxiety

outfit:
- the actual dress
- a niki gif (w/dress)
- another niki gif : ")

info

location: the masked ball - damn, she really be meeting her baby daddy
tags:

christy
interactions: elvire
mentions: leo
-
people:
her father: here!
her sister: here!

response

"Do you think you'll fall in love?" Aria's voice didn't contain any of the earlier teasing tone, and a quick glance down at the earnest dark eyes that looked up at her confirmed Stella's suspicions. Her little sister shied away from music and dance, the flashier arts, tending to value writing--and it was no secret that the younger princess fully enjoyed romance novels. Stella wondered if she should lie, tell her that she and her husband would fall in love soon, that they'd be happy together, but a second glance at those eyes rendered her incapable of lying. "I'm not quite sure." Stella said, her voice airy and gentle, as though it was no big deal. Her sister seemed rather satisfied with that answer. "I think you'll find love." Aria said confidently, and that admission made her older sister smile and smoother a hand over the younger girl's tresses.

Her thoughts occupied, Stella didn't realize that her shoulders were rising as she thought about her impending engagement. That being said, it was quite involuntary, but Stella relaxed a considerable amount when the teasing whisper of her best friend reached her ears. The petite girl glanced upwards slightly, a smile curling on her lips as she took in the blonde next to her, decked out in her finest. "Ow," Stella pouted, pretending to wince. "Too--blinding--can't--see--bigass--chandelier--" She said, dramatically implying that Elvire's dress was quite radiant. She appreciated her friend's dress choices, though, they were always top notch and suited her. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't jealous from time to time. "First of all, you need ot let me raid your closet. How you manage to turn up looking so put together and amazing is beyond me. Secondly, and far more important, where is the bar?" Stella asked, the tell-tale signs of her relaxed state beginning to appear as she leaned up on tiptoe to peek around and see where the alcohol was. "I think I want to order a lobotomy."

It wasn't surprising to see the way Stella relaxed around her dearest companion--their childhood friendhship had been one of endurance, and eventually, one of comfort. She turned back to her best friend, amusement written all over her delicate features. "So, dare I ask why you're craving a bottle of bad decisions? Is it your amma? Or the fact that you're essentially getting engaged tonight? Or are you just interested in some wild, heathen-like fun?" Stella asked. Someone in front of her turned and looked at her pointedly, and she gulped, realizing that King Scarsci held the golden envelope in his hands.

At the sight of the golden stationary, Stella's heartrate accelerated. Despite joking around about her impending marriage, she was actually quite nervous about the whole ordeal--who wouldn't be? She wondered if her future husband would put up with her antics--or would she simply be a piece on his arm, meaning nothing more than his countless affairs? She didn't realize how nervous she'd become until she heard her breathing coming out in short, stuttered gasps. Stella reached over and slipped her hand into her best friend's, hoping that the other didn't mind that she needed some support at the moment.

"I'm scared, Elvire." She whispered, the dark tresses neatly covering her lips from any outsider's view. "I think I'm really going to order a lobotomy." Stella managed to slip in before falling silent, perking up as the king slipped the piece of paper from within its confines and glanced down at the matches. Stella squeezed the woman's hand tightly as the names were read. Anatalia and Reyansh. Elvire's name was read, paired up with Jung-Min of Wheso. That name gave her pause: Jung-Oh's passing was to be lamented: Stella had enjoyed the time spent with him. The dark-haired girl glanced at her friend's face, looking for any emotion at being paired up with the Wheso brother.

Aurelius and Genevieve.

Where was--?

Oh!

Leonardo.

Her soon-to-be husband was Leonardo.

Leonardo, the man whose hand she had grabbed and scrawled a few lyrics on during one of the banquets, was the man she was going to marry. Lord, he probably thought of her as an absolute uncultured idiot, not having enough grace to wait until parchment or something that was appropriate to write on was available. Stella would have smacked her forehead in disgust for her previous self's actions, but she felt quite exposed--and she was being called to dance.

Stella slowly let go of her stranglehold on Elvire's hand, the skirts of her dress swishing as she elegantly floated over to the spot she was required to be in. She was eternally grateful for the way her skirts hid anything from the waist down: her knees felt quite weak, and at any moment, Stella feared that they might give out.

Did he remember her?

He wouldn't remember her, right? It was a while ago: even the details and interactions seemed fuzzy to her, so how would she expect him to remember her? Her inner constructivist did nothing to alleviate the nervousness she felt as she stepped out on the floor and gazed out, eyes expectant.

Cause I can be sweet, or poised, or a little too feisty to function !

code by @pasta

ShadyAce · Sep 28, 2019

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[div class=tag]outfit[/div] dress + mask

[div class=tag]interactions[/div] n/a

[div class=tag]tags[/div]

christy ,

nymphadora. ,

callisto

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[div class=name]princess of[/div] [div class=title]Graile[/div] [/div] [div class=imageContainer] [div class=imageBorder][div class=image style="background-image: url('https://66.media.tumblr.com/90d89620a4d22503e6a8258abd8e0fc8/tumblr_inline_pt3bi2ZGeS1u13r5i_540.gif');"][/div][/div] [div class=imageBorder style="top: 45px;"][div class=image style="background-image: url('https://66.media.tumblr.com/9f151ed5b6fc7c7081a2db9204cd2353/tumblr_inline_pt3bifU6eQ1u13r5i_540.gif');"][/div][/div] [div class=imageBorder][div class=image style="background-image: url('https://66.media.tumblr.com/eef4bbce4355a922532680a21ade7b6c/tumblr_inline_pt3bi1LbVt1u13r5i_540.gif');"][/div][/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [div class=bottom] [div class=imgLeft][/div] [div class=textRight] [div class=scroll]

Unsurprisingly, the Scarsci palace exuded opulence. Everywhere the eye wandered, there was something to be appreciated, though Genevieve's hazel eyes were more focused on the people. Extravagant dresses, overflowing glasses of champagne, hollow yet polite smiles and masks. The bejewelled masks glittered under the light of the ballroom, and it was disorientating, let alone frightening. The eyes staring somehow felt more intimidating when shielded by anonymity.

Genevieve found her fingers wandering to her wrists, wringing them to establish some sense of comfort. Reality hadn't quite settled in—yet her inevitable future did not wait patiently. Another pair of hands reached over from behind, grasping Genevieve's shaking hands. Karla smiled, though Gen couldn't help but see how sunken in her eyes were, and the weakness in the grin. She had to look away. Looking at her mother in a sickly state left a pang in her heart, the undeniable feeling of fear and pity.

Unfortunately Genevieve had never quite been the perfect princess. She struggled to communicate politely with others, having an inclination to dislike small talk—though the reality of royal politics was endless small talk. Instead she clung to the edges of the room, a slight grin tugging at the corners of her lips at the sight of the siblings of the other royals. They were young and full of life and free, and the one person she wanted to see the most in that moment was the one person who had stolen her freedom for himself.

The Reichmuth family was still recovering from the disgrace of their firstborn son, and the pressure to maintain their image fell almost solely on Genevieve's shoulders. Especially now. At the thought, she visibly corrected her stance, tilting her head up—an indication of pride and poise. Appearances mattered, though Genevieve had never usually given her appearance a second thought. This time however, her parents certainly had. She was dressed in a teal dress with a structured top and defined neckline, with a pleated skirt that rested on top of a bed of teal tulle. It wasn't her first preference, but her mother and father had vetoed all of the others, arguing they weren't 'fitting for a ball like this'.

Genevieve felt like she was underwater. It was hard to breathe, and the sounds around her were dampened, until the booming words of the Alfarian king snapped her to attention. The announcement. Her breaths were slow and intentional, as the sounds of the room began return; though except for the music and lingering murmurs that were undoubtedly gossip, it was silent. All eyes drawn to the envelope in the hands of Anastasia's father. Gen had hoped to talk to Ana, one of the few people she'd befriended at the banquets, but she was too occupied with her own thoughts.

Anastasia and Aditya—Rey, she recalled. Jung-min and Elvire. At the mention of Jung-min's name, there was an unmistakable mourning silence for the fallen prince, Jung-oh. Genevieve hadn't had the chance to meet him. Prince Aurelius. She remembered the name, and knew he liked to be called Alex. He'd been the first to reach out and help her adjust, though it was only small acts of kindness. She didn't know anything much else about him. A bit depressing, considering the banquets were held at his home country. The banquets allowed them a mere twelve hours to become acquainted with seven people, and Genevieve didn't even have that. Her brother had abdicated a little after halfway through the banquets, and she replaced him. Less than twelve hours to come to know her future husband.

With an encouraging smile from her mother, and a stern gaze from her father—which was his preferred method of encouragement, she'd come to know—Genevieve stepped into the centre of the room as people separated to the edges. Even though she held her breath apprehensively, Genevieve felt an unexpected sense of calm wash over. She knew this wouldn't work out perfectly; they wouldn't have a fairytale romance. In fact, the chances of this working politically were ridiculously slim; but it didn't need to be perfect.

Step one? Don't trip. And most certainly, Gen assured herself, she would not fall. Life would be too difficult if she did.

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christy · Sep 29, 2019

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[div class=home]

[div class=tag3]mood

"so... it's decided then. okay. cool cool cool cool cool."
[div class=tag3]location

the masked ball.
[div class=tag3]outfit

click.
[div class=tag3]mentions

stella.
[div class=tag3]interactions[/div] ana.
[div class=tag3]tags[/div]

thirteen [/div] [/div]

[div class="tabContents tabContents07 show"]

the

prince

of

atrya

[div class="tab tab1"]read more

[/div] [div class="tabContents tabContents01"]

Rey remained where he was as the man King of Alfaria announced who would be paired together. Part of him didn't mind whoever he would end up with. Although one small voice in his head was hoping that it wouldn't be Stella. Out of all of them, she'd been the one to stick in his mind the longest, mainly because of what went down. He would be absolutely mortified to learn that he had to be married to her after he turned her down all that time ago, since he was seeing someone else at the time.

And while Rey wouldn't call himself lucky since he was still getting engaged against his will, it was slightly comforting to know that he wasn't paired with the one person he would be embarrassed to dance with right now.

"Prince Aditya Reyansh Bodhi Desai of Atrya has been paired up with Princess Anastasia Scarsci of Alfaria."

Anastasia Scarsci. He remembered her. He remembered all of them, in fact, though he didn't recall spending much time around Ana. Only enough to be able to refer to her as Ana instead of her full name. She was nice, as far as he remembered. Diplomatic, or so she had seemed to be. But besides a little chatter here and there, they hadn't interacted much. Rey couldn't tell if that was good or bad for their engagement, but he tried to look at the bright side. Getting to know a person was something he enjoyed, so he could look forward to that with Ana.

Provided she was willing to open up to him, that is. She didn't know her thoughts about this whole thing, and for all he knew, she might just be unwilling to participate in any kind of conversation behind closed doors.

Ridding himself of those negative thoughts, Rey was jerked back to reality when music began to play, and he realised he was supposed to step forward for the first dance. Oh God, this isn't going to end well.

Back home, people knew that Rey was a terrible dancer. He never bothered to learn either, often skipping out on his lessons to go to the markets with his sister. Now he wished he had stuck around for at least one class.

Nevertheless, he did know something, so he stepped forward once he saw Ana in the centre of the room. Everyone else had moved aside to give the four young pairs space to dance and while many people would have been a little shy to come up and dance while everyone was watching, Rey didn't mind the attention. Even if he was sure he was going to make a fool of himself. He'd just take shit from his father later on for it. That wouldn't be anything new.

he politely held his hand out to Ana in invitation, as he knew was the custom, and when she accepted it, he placed his other hand on her waist, keeping a respectful distance between them. "It's good to see you again, Ana," he spoke up, because he could never really last very long in silence. He needed to speak. "You look stunning, by the way." Everyone did, which was something he was amazed by, in the royal community. There was never an opportunity to look like anything less than the best.

"I've never actually done this before," Rey muttered, before realising that could mean a lot of things — like marriage. "Dance, I mean," he clarified after a moment with a bit of a nervous chuckle. His gaze wandered, wondering who was watching and who wasn't, before his eyes landed back on her again. "I'm trying real hard not to step on your toes."

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weldherwings · Sep 30, 2019

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[/div][/div][div class=charaname]IM JUNGMIN[/div][div class=text]mood: am i allowed to dance like this?
location: this mother friggen stupid ass friggen masked ball
or some shit idk my parents kidnapped me
outfit: click me! + black gloves + mask
tag:

christy

callisto

[/div][/div][div class=005][div class=006][div class=007][div class=text]
Jung-Min gazed around to see the eager faces of those around him. However, his father obviously thought his son was trying to find the closest exit as he reached over and placed a firm hand upon the back of Jung-Min’s neck. Now, some people would just see this as a father and mother lovingly placing their supportive hands upon their son as they waited for the grand announcement. But to Jung-Min, he felt trapped. His mother’s claw-like grasp around his arm and his father’s controlling grasp on the back of his neck. It was like he was fifteen again. And it freaked him out. That he didn’t have any power in this situation at all. And it wasn’t like he could retaliate because… well… prison. He really didn’t want that either. Releasing a shaky exhale, Jung-Min turned his gaze back up to the King who spoke with authority in front of everyone.

“Prince Im Jung-Min of Wheso has been paired up with Princess Elvire Marquerite Dauphin or Osmurg.”

There were three things that ran through his head at that very moment. The first was – well, shit, how the hell was he supposed to pronounce that name? How the hell did she go about her teen years without getting teased for a name like that also? The second was – well, shit, she’s from Osmurg. He had a couple of guys in Osmurg that he did business with. I mean, it wasn’t legal business but they traded goods and services for a fair amount of money. He had never been there personally, fearing that if he tried to leave the country that someone would spot him and he’d be back in the grounds of that damn palace. And third was – well, shit, I’m… I’m going to get married?

As the rest of the names were being read out, it was all just white noise to Jung-Min. Instead, he sat there and thought to himself. So… This was life now. He had the choice of going ahead and getting married or go to jail. Just like that, he was stuck because of this damn royalty that he was birthed into. Anxiety slowly began to creep in his chest as he began to think of the multiple different ways he could try and get himself out of this situation. No matter, the outcome was always the same; there was no way out. I mean, unless he totally jumped the ship and ran off to some completely different continent altogether. But that would mean having to spend a lot of money for fake passports and ID’s. Though, it was very tempting.

His attention was brought back to the old man speaking when he the mention of dance floor. Wait. No. That anxiety that was slithering it’s way into his stomach was beginning to gradually grow. He didn’t have to…? And then it was confirmed. Yes. Dance. He didn’t dance. There was no way in hell that he was going to dance. It had been years since he had any proper ballroom training. In a state of panic, Jung-Min looked at his father. “Appa, I can’t.” he said to him in Korean. The King just gave him a firm, emotionless expression before gazing at his wife. Jung-Min then looked at his mother who was staring between her son and husband. “Umma. It’s been years. Please, don’t make me.” The son pleaded with his mother.

The pleads fell on deaf ears, however, as the King and Queen practically had to drag the Prince towards the cleared dance floor. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, Jung-Min screamed in his brain as his parents forced him to approach the dance floor. Finally, they released their grasps on him – only to nudge him towards, causing him to stumble slightly. “Yeah, real fucking smooth” he muttered to himself as he straightened himself up, patting down his suit. His parents were an absolute joke. And now he had no idea who this chick that he was getting pawned off to even was or what she looked like. His dark eyes glanced up to see the other Princes and Princesses which were beginning to approach the dance floor.

But then his eyes lazily landed on one of the Princesses. Dark brown eyes that matched her chocolate coloured hair, light, ivory skin and thin, toned and gentle curved body. Fuck, I hope that’s my Princess, Jung-Min thought to himself as he couldn’t help but stare in slight awe of the female before him. In fact, he was about to take a step forward so he could walk over to her and ask her face to face if she was going to be the Princess that he was marrying because, well, he wouldn’t be that mad if she was. She was freaking hot in his eyes. That was… until a young Prince made his way over to her and took hold of her hand, beginning to prepare for their dance.

Well, shit, he thought to himself. Jung-Min began to gaze around himself once more. “Where’s my fucking Princess?” he grumbled to himself under his breath. If he was going to be stuck with someone for the rest of his life to avoid prison, then she better be a fucking looker.

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callisto · Oct 2, 2019

location - hell on earth

tags -

thirteen

weldherwings

outfit - xx

Elvire Dauphin

Elvire smirked playfully at the princess beside her, gloved hands automatically traveling to her own fitted hips: as if she were a dress mannequin, on display for all to see. Stella always knew the way to make her feel special, even if the complements she used were fairly standard. There was just something genuine about her words that surpassed the faux admiration of others. Even better: she spoke her mind. That honesty was something Elvire valued greatly in a friend.

"Well, aren't you a flatterer. Too bad I can't marry you instead of one of these..." Her eyes swiftly took in the large group. "Fine... young men."

She snapped back to Stella's face as she spoke, a laugh nearly bursting forth from her pink lips when she heard the words - heathen-like fun. Was choking on air a real thing? It must have been, as Elvire was forced to relax her throat as to not devolve into a coughing fit. She mitigated the damage with pursed lips that held back a grin.

"Oh, definitely the last option. I can't wait to get it on with some hot virgin." Though the royal families had never explicitly stated to not have sex, it kind of came with the 'being royal' package. After all, if they were destined to marry some guy from another kingdom, and you weren't allowed to be alone with that guy until you were married... well, connect the dots. No sexy time. Elvire was certain that someone had to have broken that rule - but it sure as hell wasn't herself. She couldn't imagine having premarital sex after her father had forebodingly told her "a rose that has been plucked many times becomes only a stem of thorns". First of all, what does that even mean? Second of all, thanks, dad, for the enlightening birds and the bees chat.

Her words were no more than a whisper, falling into silence as King Scarsci commanded attention with merely his presence.

Stella's hand slipped into her own. Elvire tightened her grip with reassurance. Don't be scared. But the sound refused to come out.

Mind you: Elvire was by no means scared. The slightest tinge of nerves prickled at her throat, but they were harshly suppressed before the anxiety could bloom across her petite form. Though she had been outwardly upset towards Stella mere seconds before, that disgruntlement was largely a reflection of their playfully-sarcastic relationship. It was fun to complain - and complain they shall - but Elvire had no reason to worry about this whole event. She knew exactly who she would be married to. Why else would the princess have spent two years letting him pine after her like a lost puppy if she thought otherwise?

“Prince Im Jung-Min of Wheso has been paired up with Princess Elvire Marguerite Dauphin or Osmurg.”

Haha, excuse me?

For the briefest of moments, Elvire's smile - the kind she wore for all the important public events - dropped. Her eyes widened with shock, shock becoming confusion and anger and exhaustion and oh god you've got to be fucking kidding me all at the same time. The smile was quickly fixed, of course, but her eyelids stayed ever-so-slightly wider, revealing the flurry of thoughts that ran through her head. She blessed the fact that they were wearing masks.

Jung-Min. Jung-Min. He was the one they hadn't even met at the dreadful series of meetings performed years prior. He was the one with the dead brother, who also happened to be one of the only princes she could stand. He was the second-in-line to the throne. He was a political joke.

And now he was stumbling ungracefully onto the dance floor.

Elvire couldn't help but laugh to herself; a small, spiteful snicker that swam among her deep exhale. She didn't notice how Stella's hand slipped from her grasp. She didn't think about how Alex must be feeling. She didn't dare look back at her parents. All she could do was perform.

Quickly, but gracefully, Elvire found herself moving through the pulsating crowd towards the open clearing. With herself and the other royals at the center of attention, she smiled. A beautiful, excited, beaming, dreamy kind of smile that a happy bride might wear. Maybe she could donate it after the whole farce was over. Does Goodwill take broken dreams?

She approached Jung-Min timidly, outstretching her hand for his own to take. With her extensive experience in ballroom dancing, Elvire wasn't concerned at all for herself. He, a perturbed-looking young man who had just been ogling the wrong princess, concerned her entirely. She tilted her head to better look at him, golden tresses dancing across her shoulders.

Don't you dare fuck this up for me.

nymphadora. · Oct 11, 2019

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[div class=block style="background-color: #728392;"]with

stella.
[div class=block style="background-color: #728392;"]tags

christy ,

ShadyAce ,