Fantasy The Other Side - Accepting Characters!

[tityanya]

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𝖁𝖊𝖗𝖔𝖓𝖎𝖈𝖆 𝕽𝖔𝖘𝖓𝖔𝖎𝖗𝖊​

I am here: The Drunken Crow
With: Vyrik

"What beautiful music the children of the night make" ☽

Veronica smirked at Wren's comment about the ice already melting. It was such an innocent statement, completely unaware of the meaning Veronica had put behind it. "Excellent! I hope one day we'll get all the ice melted," Veronica responded. Breaking down walls was something Veronica enjoyed, and she had a feeling this man's walls were a mile thick. It would take effort to worm her way into his heart, and Veronica was intrigued by the challenge.

They slowed down as they reached the stairs, Wren no doubt dreading the ascension. "I'm here to help," Veronica reassured him, and the two began their slow climb up the stairs. Part of her wanted to just lift him up and carry him, but she knew it was important for him to do it himself. With how adamantly he demanded that he wrap his own wounds, she knew that independence was important to him. Taking that away from him would only shore up that wall. She was surprised when he spoke, saying that back in his home they had steps carved from the mountains. "Oh really? That must have taken a lot of time and dedication from the crafter. Where are you from?" She was intrigued by the idea of steps going up a mountainside. A dreary grey sky as steps ascended higher and higher--Veronica would love to paint that. She filed it away in her painting ideas, once she found a place that she could paint in peace.

They made it up the stairs, and into one of the tavern's simple rooms. Tiny and simple, nothing like the opulence Veronica had once been used to. But still, it was better than sleeping in a gutter. Wren's arm pulled away from her, and Veronica's side felt a little colder as his warmth left her. Veronica took her offered coat back, wrapping it back around herself. Even if he was ready for sleep, she still had a long evening ahead of her. She needed to find something to feed on. While she had been doing her best to ignore it, the subtle scent of blood from Wren was...intoxicating. If she waited too much longer, she might do something that she would regret. "You're welcome, Wren," Veronica said, her head cocking to the side as he was about to say something else...that was interrupted by the inopportune arrival of Boris. While her face didn't betray anything, inside she was seething. I hope you what? What had he been about to say? I hope you have a safe night? I hope you'll see me again? I hope you and I never cross paths again? There was an endless variety of ways his sentence could have ended!

Boris announced the various things he had brought, and Veronica faded into the background. It was time for her to depart, then. She hid a smirk behind her hand as she saw the deadly look Wren shot the barkeep as he said he should cut his hair. "If you're willing, I can teach you about the manners and dress of Mirim. I was quite the socialite before King Jero happened," Veronica told Wren, her voice hardening at the king's name. She had never thought she could hate a man as much as she hated him. Treacherous asshole. "We can even find ways to style your hair so you don't have to cut it," she added, hoping that would lure him into another meeting.

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((ooc: ))
((Dress))
((Mediate))​

 

[Pipsqueak]

Aeronwen Langston
Location: The castle
​

"Miss Langston? We've arrived."

The quiet intrusion of the driver's voice broke through Wren's concentration. Glancing up from her book, a small smile played across her delicate lips. She had been away from the castle for two weeks visiting family in Eastwind- A vacation that was insisted upon by the royal family. Despite her argument that she was needed here, if not only for her sake, they had practically pushed her out the door. Wren adored her aunt and uncle more than anything, but truthfully it felt wrong being away from her duties here.

"I appreciate your time, sir." The young maid closed her book gently and pushed it down inside her satchel before carefully stepping down into the snow covered walkway. The castle loomed over them, casting a great shadow across the entrance. Guards stood ready at the doorway and only gave a slight nod to her presence as she passed to which she returned hurriedly. Oh how excited she was to get back into her own bed! Still, though she was rushing to get back, she did not forget to pull her white silk gloves tightly onto her hands. Wren had made that mistake years ago, touching parts of the castle and being quickly thrown into visions of its past. It had been difficult to remember to keep her gloves on as she worked, always so excited to explore more of the enormous structure. As time went on and her curiosity began to fade, the routine of protecting herself from those visions became a habit. Now, as she opened the large wooden doors that led into the foyer, she was only met with the grand sight of the present. A large chandelier hung in the middle of the open room, casting shimmering light onto the waxed floors. It certainly was good to be home.

There was no sign of life inside the castle yet, so Wren simply made her way into her bedroom in the east wing. She wondered briefly how the princess and prince were getting along, desperately hoping to catch either of them soon. She did not wish to bore them with her journeys, of course, but it would be nice to catch up. As she glanced around the hallway, the quiet was the only thing to greet her. That was quite alright. She needed to change and get her things put away anyways.

Opening the second to last door in the hall, the sweet aroma of a burning candle hit her nose. Wren noticed everything else was as she left it besides the candle.

'Must have been one of the staff.' She mused before setting her satchel on the bed. Instead of immediately unpacking, however, she took a moment to lay on her wool threaded cover. A small sigh of relief escaped, thankful she wasn't cramped inside of that carriage anymore.

"A small rest," She murmured to herself, "then I'll get things ready.'

 

[tityanya]

.

.

𝐸𝓂𝑜𝓇𝓎 𝒱𝒾𝓈𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝒾

I am here:
With: Hector and Oksana​

There was nothing in the world that I ever wanted more...⇙

╔══════════════════════════╗​

Emory gave Princess Oksana a smile as she held up two fingers saying the good men she knew. After a second, she added a third, including Mr. Barlow on that list. "He would be honored to know that he's made such an exclusive list, Princess. He takes pride in a job well done, so you should let him know the next time you see him." Mr. Barlow wasn't likely to show he was pleased on the outside, but Emory knew that it would make him happy if someone told him that he was a good man. He would probably ride the high for days afterwards.

The Princess told Emory that she wasn't offended by his joke, and actually found it entertaining. That was good. He didn't want to offend one of the few men she found good, after all. She began waffling on if she would rather ride or take a carriage, however, saying that it didn't matter much to her. Emory's eyes narrowed, trying to think about what they should do. Luckily for him, Darius came in with a solid, no-nonsense answer: they would all ride. Emory hid a laugh behind his hand at Darius' verbiage. He was quite the character. Few people felt comfortable enough in front of Emory to speak in such a way. It was refreshing. He much preferred when people were their honest selves around him.

Darius strode through the stables, finding the stall that his horse no doubt was at. Emory followed, whistling at the size of the massive grey horse in front of him. Darius turned to him with a smile, saying that he hoped Emory was shitting his pants. "I sure am," he said, his voice full of amazement. "A giant horse fit for a giant man, for certain," Emory said, feeling a strange prickly sensation on the back of his neck. He turned around, and noticed two stablehands staring at him and Darius. "Could you ready Oak for me? And one of the carriage horses from Eastwind," Emory asked. The stablehands scurried off, and Emory turned his attention back towards Bear. "I bet it took an entire cow to make the leather for his saddle," he commented, rubbing his hand along the horse's neck.

╚══════════════════════════╝

((ooc: ))
((outfit))
((pictures of you))​

 

[Rosacea]

Ⲋⲧⲉ⳨ⲇⲛ Ⲃⲉⳑⳑⲥⲟⲙⲃ​

I am here: The Castle
With: Eudora

Stefan's face broke into a gigantic smile as he saw Countess Withersbury's exasperated face upon her realization that it was him who was calling her. At the very least, he would get to annoy one person today. The hawkish woman mumbled, rather audibly, about how she thought she had suffered through enough pomp and circus for the day. Well, maybe not those exact words, but Stefan knew how to read in-between the lines. "Oh, and here I thought that you couldn't get enough of the play-acting," Stefan said back to her. They both had to make-believe in this new world King Jero had created. From Stefan's perspective, the countess was a master at playing pretend. Especially at pretending she cared what anyone thought about her. One of Stefan's favorite things about the countess was how she was as stubborn as a mule, and had subtle workaround ways of making sure exactly what she thought was said. It was a fabulous exercise of the brain for him.

The countess spoke louder now, he real intended words for him. An annoyed smirk came to his face as she spoke about how political reform was needed in the academies, especially the difficulty of the entrance exams. That was definitely a slight towards him. But part of the game was not letting her know that a remark stung. The first to show weakness was the loser, after all. "The academies are especially antiquated in their institution, for certain. Always beholden to whatever the ruling class thinks is right," Stefan lamented. "No doubt if the academies let in more people of your stellar mind and caliber, we could have their much-needed reform in under a week," Stefan said, his voice dripping in fake admiration. While he didn't disagree with the fact that the universities needed reform, he had an idea that his idea of reform and the countess' were very different.

Her next words made Stefan frown, but more at himself than at her. A public engagement, hmm? There was nothing at the moment. It was too early in the morning for a party to be happening, and there was no one who wanted to be around him at the minute. But he wasn't going to admit that to the countess, he would rather die first. "Yes, but it's a matter of choosing which one. I could go to the salon you escaped from, or perhaps I could go to tea with Lady Collburn. Maybe even I'll climb on the tables in the university and start shouting about revolution. Wouldn't that be a fun way to start the week? You could even join me, Countess," Stefan offered. He knew there was no way Countess Withersbury would accept that offer. She was all about subtlety, and there was nothing subtle about screaming in a public space.​

((ooc: ))
((outfit))
((I don't Care))​

Eudora Withersbury ​

I am here: Castle
With: Stefan
((ooc: Yes, there may be a lot of sea-metaphors. Also, I apologise since its rather short!) ​

The countess gave lord Stefan a tight-lipped smile after he enthused about the great play that was life at court. His Lordship clearly wasn’t one to mince his words, accurate as they may be. Eudora had learned very early on, that to succeed in politics, your reputation was the ultimate key. No matter how wealthy or determined, one little mistake or miscalculation was enough to render anyone obsolete. King Jeros court was unstable as much as it was radical. A frenzied storm of interest and ideology constantly crashing against each other, tearing apart the old order as if it were a brittle Barquentine lost at sea.

And sometimes, Eudora felt like she was a shipwrecked sailor merely holding on to straws while the King rendered yet another one of her well-planned maneuverers impossible. Most of the aristocracy, her included, was constantly scrambling to adjust to the ever-shifting narrative the King promoted. And Eudora hated it. She hated the play. She hated the ever-changing rules. She hated never actually changing anything. She hated having to hide her ambition.

Most of all, she hated being scared.

That was why talking to Stefan was such a welcome distraction! Half of the time, he was too drunk to even bother pretending to care about his terrible behaviour. The countess scoffed at his thinly veiled remark about academic reform, acknowledging the Lord’s sarcasm only with a look of mild disapproval.

“Thank you, honest and charming as ever.” Eudoras voice carried a tinge of the same faux admiration previously used against her. “But I think you were the one who impressed the palace with his fervent show of fiery upset today, Lord Stefan.” She replied cuttingly, obviously referring to his conflict with the Guards earlier. The Queen had barely mentioned why Stefan had lashed out, but the countess guessed that it had something to do with his sister. Grief could turn into a festering wound, especially if one was emotionally unequipped to deal with it.

“Her majesty the Queen was rather…alienated by your display in front of her esteemed guest. Or so I heard?” Eudora asked, admittedly rather curious about the foreign princess. She had been surprised about the potential new courtship; the crown prince having shied away from any sort of romantic relation since Alicia’s passing. Perhaps the mysterious guest could turn out to be a game changer regarding foreign policy? It was unlikely that the courtship would succeed, but one never knew. At the very least, the foreigner may offer enticing business opportunities.

The countess paled slightly as the unthinking Lord fibbed on about his ridiculous plans for the day. The last quip had caught her off guard. By the gods, attracting any attention to her own revolutionary sentiment would be a disastrous idea. She might as well lay her head on the chopping block herself. Hoping to hide the extent of her discomfort at the joke, she smiled hollowly. “You do seem fond of loud noise and tasteless talk. Though I find revolutions to be a little too unkempt for my taste.” The last one she supported certainly ended up in the gutter. “But I sure hope you keep me updated on those brave new plans of yours” She taunted, attempting to keep her voice light and unconcerned as she continued her leisurely pace in the direction of the castles exit. By Merlin’s ring, the weather was dreadful today. As someone who had spend their youth in a suffocatingly hot climate, she would probably never get used to the extreme winter in Mirim.

She discretely attempted to catch the attention of palace staff, since it would be wise to request her carriage now. It would take at least another half an hour for the bloody thing to arrive. She didn’t really want to stick around until the hostess of the salon came looking for her. Or even worse, Lord Bellcomb thought it a good idea to drag her to one of his questionable taverns.

 

[Jaw Breakcore]

Jasper Clementine

Location: Maple Hill
Statues: Agitated

Jasper has been too afraid to step anywhere near that sheep farm since the couple's son arrived back home. It wasn't that he was partially scared of the son, he was half elf after all, he can smell that distinct tinge since his arrival. It was more so the hound he brought along with him. It sent him into a frenzy he hasn't felt in years, it made him sprint back to Garwood after all this time. His veins still pumped with so much adrenaline he even went right to the gates of Mirum. By the time he arrived, he was much more stable minded and now could actually hold a proper conversation when the guards stopped him.
"Visting my grandfather in... Maple Hill, sir." He lied.
His throat felt scratchy after two hours of talking in a high-pitched voice and checking to keep his grown hair covering his right eye to keep the questions to a minimum. He sucked in a breath between his teeth when the coachman called him 'young grasshopper'.
Only Sullivan was every allowed to call him that.
Now he was simply wandering the streets of Maple Hill, avoiding as many people as possible and glancing into the street markets near the castle gates.

 

[tityanya]

.

Ⲋⲧⲉ⳨ⲇⲛ Ⲃⲉⳑⳑⲥⲟⲙⲃ​

I am here:
With:

Stefan couldn't help but smirk at the Countess' tight lipped smile. Reputation was everything to nobles, after all. One had to play their part. Stefan was only glad that his reputation allowed him to be himself, mostly. And there was no one better to be himself around, he'd found, than the Countess Withersbury. She wasn't like the other Lords and Ladies that would give him scathing looks and blank stares. She participated in the carnage, much to Stefan's immense delight.

She scoffed at his idea of reform, he winking in response. That was a point to him in his book. He didn't have to take the insult. She "complimented" his charm and wit, and Stefan made an exaggerated bow. "I thank you for the compliment, my lady," he said, his voice dripping with the faux admiration the two were slinging at each other. His bow was frozen, however, when she brought up the earlier incident. How had she heard of it? He stood up straight, trying to keep a frown off his face. The Queen had told, hadn't she. She might not have him banned from the palace, but she would certainly besmirch him in front of other nobles. Stefan's fist clenched as the Countess said the Queen had had a "display" in front of an honored guest.

Stefan took a deep, centering breath, before his face took on a mask of arrogant disdain. "Of course she would only tell you about Princess Oksana butting in. I know you are a woman who appreciates a well trained staff, yes? One that doesn't gossip in front of other nobles? The guards I had "a display" on had been gossiping in front of me, insipid gossip against the royal family that even Her Majesty The Queen sought to punish them for. Princess Oksana had heard the yelling and came to their defense, not knowing the full picture. The royal family is precious to me, as you know. I couldn't stand having their name besmirched in front of me," Stefan explained, making himself sound like the innocent victim and not an instigator in the whole affair. He also knew better than to mention Alicia's name--she was his weakness. If he had mentioned Alicia at all towards the Countess, it would be a point for her in this verbal match. For a moment, Stefan wondered about how it would be if he and the Countess had a normal relationship--could he confide in her how horribly wounding it had been to hear those guards dismiss Alicia? Countess Withersbury had been friends with her, as well. But, alas, that wasn't a conversation to be had now. There was no point working himself up over it.

Stefan told the Countess about his false plans for the day, noting the paled face in response. Ah, I dug in deep with that one, he thought to himself, a strange mixture of being pleased at breaking the Countess' mask and regret at wounding her so. At least for him, their battles were in jest. Dogs wrestling together on the lawn, all snarls and teeth but no landed bites. The Countess managed to regain her countenance, saying that he was fond of loud and tasteless talk, and that revolutions were unkempt. "Well, going against the status quo is never neat and easy. That's why you and I have such vastly different reputations despite being very similar, my dear Countess. You keep to the shadows and disappear while I keep my talk loud and tasteless," Stefan said, the words an acquiescence to landing a blow earlier. "I'll make sure to cut you in to the plot if you change your mind later! Once we get those antiquated geriatric blind scholars out of the colleges, you'll be dying to join with me," Stefan said, his tone greatly exaggerated so anyone walking by could tell it was a joke. He didn't want to get arrested for treason, after all. That would be a bother.

Stefan noticed her subtle attempts at gaining a servant's attention, no doubt wishing to finish her escape plan. He had only caught her in the midst of it, after all. "You there," Stefan called to the servant who looked like they were desperately trying to blend into the wall. "Could you please let the stables know that Countess Withersbury needs her carriage? And that Lord Bellcomb needs his horse," Stefan asked, laying on the honeyed tone that he knew servants loved. They would do anything for you lickety-split if they felt like you treated them like a person and not an object. It was a trick he had learned from his sister, but she had been more sincere in her attempts. Probably. The servant nodded, rushing off towards the direction of the stables. "I have no desire to be in this stuffy castle for much longer, either," he said to the Countess, perhaps the first sincere words he had said to her since their meeting begun.​

((ooc: ))
((outfit))
((I don't Care))​

 

[viloxii]

Oksana

Oksana watched as Emory and Hector readied the horses. She looked down at her boots as they squished the dirt beneath her. Oksana studied Emory as he got his horse equipped. She approached, wanting to talk, but couldn't manage to. She felt as though she had already made a fool out of herself. Quickly turning around, she faced Hector with her lips pressed shut.

She tip-toed over to him and looked over her shoulder, then back at Hector. "Truthfully, I am scared to go out. But I want to, more than anything. I sound like an idiot, and I am embarrassed. Am I overthinking?" She whispered to him for guidance, quiet enough to where Emory couldn't hear. Oksana reached her hand up and ran her hands through one of the horses' manes. She kept eye contact with Hector impatiently waiting for a response

(OOC: Moving day is in 3 days, I promise my posts will get better. I am just stressed DX)

 

[Genii]

Shepherd
Location: Sheep farm
With: Shikari, Oan & Mae, Connie.
Time: Early next morning.

As quiet as Mae was attempting to be as she cooked, Shikari may have been woken by the sound of pans clattering and food frying over the stove. The scent of warm bread and melted butter filled the cosy farmhouse too.

Shepherd had dozed off slumped over the kitchen table last night, but he’d been turfed out in the early hours to help Oan feed all the animals they kept here. There were sheep, dogs, poultry, and from the sounds of it - a cow lowing somewhere.

Connie was missing from the end of Shikari’s bed, but something else now warmed the hawkling’s feet - his dry clothes, along with a large (cream) chunky-knit jumper that Mae had customised. It had slits and laces at the back to accommodate Shikari’s wings.

On Mae’s orders, the small family had left Shikari alone to rest for as long as they needed.

 

[TaperedNightjar]

Shikari ​

• Location: Shepherd's house.
• With: Shepherd, Mae, Oan, Connie.
• Wearing: [x] and a white knit jumper.
• General status: Injured but patched up.

It had not taken the Hawkling long at all to fall asleep. He had curled up under the blankets in the bed with Connie at his feet. The home was cozy and the blankets provided the warmth he had been denied for so long. The heat and exhaustion combined with the quiet breathing of the collie had lulled him to sleep in a matter of minutes. His rest was uneventful, there were no nightmares and he did not toss or turn once. Perhaps his brain was simply too exhausted. Even when Connie stirred in the morning and trotted off for work the hawk still slept.

It was mid morning when Shikari finally woke up. His eyes still felt droopy and his body felt heavy and sluggish. He groaned quietly as he pushed the blankets from his body. Even then he remained curled up on the bed for several more minutes. It took all he had to lift his sore body so that he was sitting up on the bed. Everything hurt from the swollen lacerations on his face to the bones in his feet. It took him a few moments to notice the clothing at the foot of his bed where Connie had been not long ago. Mae must have returned his clothing to him. That's when Shikari realized just how soundly he had been sleeping. On top of his clothing with a knit jumper. As he grabbed it and studied it a smile came to his face.

After getting dressed he made his way out of the bedroom and down the hall. He moved rather slowly as he fought the pain that shot up his legs the best he could. The smell of breakfast made his mouth water and his stomach grumbled at the thought of a meal. Shikari stepped into the kitchen and took in the sight of everything in the daylight. He was wearing the jumper Mae had knitted for him. It hung loose on his gangly frame but that made it extra cozy and he would grow into it a bit once he started gaining his weight back.

"Good morning," he greeted Mae in a quiet and raspy voice.

Genii

 

[Gazimon X]

Marshall Lykeios
Castle Grounds - Underground Morgue >> Gifted Wing | Seeking Langston | Weary​

There was a sterile feeling in the brightly-lit room. Even with gleaming metal and blood-streaked tools, the atmosphere did not obey the laws of time, stretching it out as taut and unbearable as the specimens that lay open the chilled icy slabs. The air was thick and cold, shackled by the unfeeling winter and the spurn of the sun’s warmth. The harsh lights cast their clinical white shine, dissecting the space from the rest of the castle’s peaceful slumber.

It was there that the doctor worked with care and precision under the electric lights, barely realizing that he had not truly escaped the grasp of time till the distant sounds of the waking castle staff started to interfere with his concentration. The dulled but sonorous sound of a metal pan hitting the stone floor somewhere. The guarded barking of a dog, soon silenced by an angry clatter.

Marshall pulled off the gloves and washed his hands and forearms in the sink, the sting of cold water barely penetrating his already numbed and almost uncooperative fingers. Then he dried meticulously with a cotton cloth before moving to the secondary work table, a smaller desk where blank papers, writing and drafting materials were laid out. The muscles in his back whimpered as he eased himself onto the stool, sore; but then which part of his body wasn’t after being ragdolled by the captain’s brutish mount? With the same feverish urgency, the doctor’s slender fingers picked up a pen and began scribing his notes from his short-term memory. Now normally he would have an assistant on hand to scribe his observations, but he had returned so early in the morning that he wasn’t sure he could trust the work of a sleep-addled doctor freshly shaken from bed. Better that he accomplish it while he was still fuelled by the tension of the ghastly attack.

The report was drafted with methodical accuracy, as he had done so many times before. Working within the same windowless room in the company of the deceased allowed him to make quick checks if he had any gaps or uncertainties in the scrolls of his memories. By dawn’s early light, the report was on the Captain’s desk. Rendered in the cold machine-like script that the doctor used in his work; as if he feared any successor to his post being unable to comprehend the documentation if it were written in any other way.

It wasn’t the only piece that the doctor had written. A terse letter addressed to Shepherd had been placed in the outgoing mailbox of the military wing, sealed with the royal military’s sigil on the wax and stamped with grade two priority.

From there, it was a short walk to the Office of Gifted Affairs, where a large board with wooden slats had been erected against a wall, a registry that tracked movements of the Gifted in the employ of royalty and their availability within the castle. The board was always updated by the guards manning the gates, who would recognize the gifted on sight, or seek clarification when necessary. After a quick scan, Dr Lykeios’ gaze lingered a moment, then he turned sharply and made for Langston’s room.

His steps were determined and busy as he strode to nearly the end of the hallway and straightened his clothes before he delivered a few knocks to her door. “Miss Langston?” He called out, calmly awaiting a reply. If she wasn’t here, he could try the next possible locations such as the mess hall, or enquire if any of the staff had seen her.

Pipsqueak

 

[Genii]

Mae (Shepherd’s Mother)
Location: Sheep farm
With: Shikari, and Shepherd, Oan & Connie (outside).
Time: mid-morning.

“Morning, Love.” Mae greeted Shikari with a warm smile as he joined her in the kitchen. She was happy to see him wearing the jumper, although it swamped the poor deer. The aproned shepherdess had pinned her blonde hair up and looked a little flushed from working by the hot stove.

“Did you sleep ok? How’re you feeling this morning?” She fussed as she skirted around the dining table, dishing up breakfast for everyone - just fried chicken eggs with sliced buttered bread.

“Take a seat, Sweetheart.” Mae instructed. She walked over to the stove and back, removing a kettle that had just started to whistle. It contained more of the willow tea she’d made for Shikari the night before. “Incase you’re still sore.” She explained as she poured some of the brew into a mug for the boy.

 

[Gazimon X]

Mirim Royal Military


Notice of Summons

This notice informs Shepherd, son of Oan and Mae, to report to the Castle Mirim, Military Wing, Admin Office 3 on :

December 16th, Monday, 4 post merīdiem

Present this summons with formal attire, subdued colours.

Attendance is mandatory, neglect of duty will be noted against the summoned individual in official records.

⬷ ☬ ⤐​

Genii

 

[tityanya]

.

Sɪᴍᴏɴ Bᴀʀʟᴏᴡ​

I am here: Servant's Quarters
With: Aeronwen​

【 Prince Emory had left the castle. Simon still couldn't entirely believe it. When he had shown up to the Prince's door with Princess Oksana and her giant guard outside, he thought he had entered an alternate dimension. Emory was...out of his room, and meeting with their guests? Simon would have to ask him later how exactly he had become acquainted with the Princess--he had done an excellent job of ignoring her presence up until that day. King Jero might have kept the truth about her presence here a secret from Emory, but he was a smart man. Simon wouldn't be surprised if he had an inkling of suspicion of what she was doing here. And he swore his loyalty to Prince Emory, not King Jero. He wouldn't lie to Emory for the man. But it was sad for her, if she genuinely liked him--Emory had taken years to realize his love for Alicia, and Simon was sure it would take years for him to get over it, as well. The Princess had an uphill battle if she was going to try and get in his heart.

Simon strode through the halls, on a mission. Emory would be gone for 2 hours, perhaps 3, minimum. That was plenty of time to start getting a deep cleaning in his room. He had relented and let the maids in for light cleanings, but Simon didn't even want to consider the amount of dust that must have pervaded the place. A clean room would do the Prince good. Clean room, clean mind. Uncluttered room, uncluttered mind. At the very least, that's how Simon thought. It's why his room was always in tip-top shape. No military superior would be able to find fault with it.

At last, he had made it to the servant's quarters in the castle. He had been informed that Miss Langston, the maid usually in charge of Prince Emory's chambers, had returned from her vacation a few hours before. She had hopefully had enough time to rest from the long journey. She was the only one Simon could trust with this task--being friends with the late Princess Alicia, she would be able to tell better than any other maid what was unnecessary clutter in Emory's room, and what was souvenirs from his late wife. While he wanted to make sure the room was spick and span for the Prince, he would be mortified if he had found out he had accidentally thrown out some unknown trinket of Alicia's that Emory had cherished. He would never be able to forgive himself if he had added to Prince Emory's anguish. This was about helping the Prince, after all!

Simon found the appropriate door, and knocked briskly. "Miss Langston? Are you in?" Simon asked, hoping he wasn't interrupting any actual rest she was getting. 】

║▌│█│║▌║││█║▌│║║█║█║▌│█║▌│║║█║​

There's a season, for the kings, to lead​

((ooc: ))
((outfit))
((King Season))​

 

[Pipsqueak]

Aeronwen Langston
Interaction(s): tityanya Gazimon X
Location: Servant's quarters
​

"No no, I've read it before..."

"Mmm... Do NOT touch that book mister whiskers..."

"Hardly, hardly... I-" Dark eyes flew open as Wren bolted upright on her bed. Glancing around the room in mild confusion, she strained to grasp at any sense of reality. What had she been dreaming about again? Something about a cat... The young maid shook her head, brushing her wildly curly hair from her eyes. She was in the palace, not at her family's. There was no cat, and she wasn't in her library. Instead, the boring sight of a simple maiden's room greeted her. What had awoken her? Clearing her throat, Wren awkwardly slipped from her bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. How long had she been out?

"Oh no." Groaning inwardly, she raced to the door, swung it open with more force than necessary only to immediately jump back in fright.

"Doctor!" a voice that was barely a squeak greeted the older man. He must have been what had woken her so suddenly. Unsure whether to feel grateful for the intrusion or anxious she wasn't sure. She'd long given up on searching for hints of Marshall's inner thoughts- his face seemed perpetually frozen with a look that held no emotion. Simon, who she had just realized was right behind him, was much easier to read. He didn't seem upset in the slightest, which reassured her only a little that perhaps she wasn't in trouble after all. Folding her hands politely, she gave each of them a sheepish smile.

"And Simon! Apologies for my... absence. What may I help you both with?"

 

[Pipsqueak]

Seamus Deckard
Interaction(s): Jaw Breakcore
Location: Streets of Maple Hill
​

The sound of lively society greeted Seamus as he meandered through the streets of Maple Hill. He rarely visited the neighborhood, as close as Maple Hill and Florien were to each other, on account of the uneasy feeling that always settled in his gut while here. Nothing was particularly wrong with the place, but more so the people. Perhaps it was simply his imagination, but he swore the residents were always looking down on him. His look didn't exactly scream high society- more like a sophisticated clown. Most mistook him for a resident of Vardi Hill, what with all the bright colors he donned while out and about on business, but truthfully it was the only way to really get people's attention, and attention was certainly needed.

"Hello hello friend! Mind if I-?"

"I sure do mind. I do not care for any sort of business you're out selling at the moment." The young lady who Seamus had practically jumped in front of scowled at him before weaving around and continuing her day.

"Great! Yes, I agree! I-I mean, I wouldn't...either. Er, if you care to learn more about the ocean and what we can do to-"

A simple wave of the woman's hand quickly shut down any amount of courage he had to continue that interaction. Pursing his lips, the young baker ruffled his hair in frustration. That familiar, awful gut feeling crept back up once more. He shouldn't have pressed his luck today. It figured Maple Hill would deny any type of REAL problems. Shoving his hands inside of his pockets, Seamus continued down the cobbled pathway, working his way through crowds, keeping a close eye on anyone that might seem even the slightest bit interested in what he had to say. Perhaps he should start giving away flyers with his pastries. Or he could simply jump in the ocean and live with the fish himself. That would certainly beat the position he was in now! Oh, but what was this?

Seamus paused momentarily, nearly causing a couple to bump into him from behind. He hardly heard their words of annoyance as he briefly watched a short figure passing by the markets alone. Certainly a sore thumb...

"'Scuse me kid! Wanna learn about the ocean and what we can do to help our environment? B-before you say no," He held out a finger, hoping the kid wasn't about to interrupt, "I have been here for about three hours now and I've had no luck so far. At least take a flyer if you plan to hit me or curse at me or... whatever else you must do."

 

[Jaw Breakcore]

Jasper Clementine
Location: Maple Hill
Interactions: Seamus Deckard


Jasper fidgets with his bright ring, taking in the steam of street food and mixed materials. His nose wrinkles as he weaves through the crowds of people, everything smelled like copper, and he wasn't about to cause a scene in the middle of the household of rumors and gossip. He swerves and makes a b-line to a food stand. Until he halts because someone catches his eye, and he watches the man in the corner of his vision look at him. Then make his way to him.
Oh bother...
He keeps his head still to not throw up his eyes. The man not only wasn't from around here he can tell just by his mannerisms and clothing, but the man had this certain step about him that told Jasper he was going to try and sell him something.
Should have brough my cloak.
He takes a step back when the man approached him, his eye darting over his figure, over the features of his face.
'Kid.' He internally grumbles and swallows as he-
He tilts his jaw up, slowly blinking his eyes.
The... ocean?
He's been asked a handful of things in his years but wanting to talk about the deep blue was never a conversational topic. Sulliven spoke of his years of being a sailor before becoming a butler, but it's been so long he can't quite grasp the details of his tales. He presses his lips, unsure if he should play pretend or shoo him away. The ex-royal scratches his jaw with his sharp fingertips before looking back at the man, then swallows and speaks in a higher voice. Cupping his hands behind his back as he rocks on his heels.

"Mother told me I can't talk with strangers. Says they're mighty mysterious."

But I'll humor him, maybe I'll learn what's happening in Swordfish point.

"But I do like big blue, so I can lend ye' an ear."

 

[TaperedNightjar]

Shikari ​

• Location: Shepherd's house.
• With: Shepherd, Mae, Oan, Connie.
• Wearing: [x] and a white knit jumper.
• General status: Injured but patched up.

"Thank you."

Shikari slid into a chair at the table and eagerly picked up the cup of tea. He did not waste any time waiting for it to cool down and tilted the cup to his lips. The tea scalded his mouth as he took a big swig, but it didn't stop him. The Hawk's eyes watered up a bit as he swallowed it and then placed the cup back on the table, although he kept his slender fingers wrapped around it. Shikari turned his attention to the windows as he tried to asses the time of day.

"I slept a long time?" He questioned Mae. It looked to be late morning but it was hard to tell due to the storm that still blew outside. "The snow is still falling. Is it going to end soon?" He questioned. It was clear from his tone of voice that he did not approve of the snow. It was too cold and too wet.

Genii

 

[Gazimon X]

Marshall Lykeios
Castle Grounds - Underground Morgue >> Gifted Wing | Langston & Simon | Weary​

The doctor would allow a brief period of silence before he raised his hand again, but before he could initiate a second series of knocks on her door, he was joined by another man. And soon enough, Ms Langston herself. There was a mild twitch on Dr Lykeios’ cheek, just along the corner of his eye — a side effect from the strain of his work which relied so much on his sight, and sometimes in the dim alleyways where fallen soldiers lay.

He looked sharply at Simon, annoyance writhing under the surface of his skin. “Can your matter be postponed?”

Marshall’s cool gaze snapped back to Aerowen and locked upon her. He did not care for Simon’s reaction as much as wanting to know how the fair maid would respond to his next words, of which he lowered the volume of his voice and with some solemnity.

“There has been a mauling and we require your service.”

His observant gaze did not leave her face just yet, using every inch of her response to try and gauge her willingness, or if she was fit to perform the task he had in mind for her. Even if she attempted to refuse, he would only allow her a few hours of rest till he was back again. Her gift was unique and undeniably useful. Even Lykeios was wary of her, for his work was often gruesome and his items carried the staggering weight of hundreds of deaths, seldom dignified.

Pipsqueak tityanya

 

[TaperedNightjar]

Vyrik​

• Location: The Drunken Crow > Streets of Florien.
• With: Veronica and Boris (NPC) > Alone.
• Wearing: A worn coat, sandy colored cloak, leather boots, brown woolen shirt and brown pants.
• General status: Injured, ill, malnourished, generally unwell.

Then mention of King Jero caused his neck to feel prickly. Vyrik was silent for a moment as he considered Veronica's offer. He ultimately decided that meeting up with her again would be useful. "I can meet you here then," he suggested. He would do anything to keep his hair long, and so he accepted. "Tomorrow perhaps... in the evening?"

After Veronica left it was just Vyrik and Boris. The Moonwing squinted up at the giant of a man. It was clear that the barkeep was wanting to help him. In fact, he was quite stubborn about it and this was pissing the Moonwing off. His eye twitched and his nosed scrunched up a bit. The two of them simply stared one-another down for what seemed like forever. It was quite the sight with Boris towering over the smaller and shorter framed 'wild man.' If someone had been watching they likely would have been anticipating one of them to make a lunge at the other and a chase to happen. Vyrik was stubborn, but Boris easily rivaled him in that category.

- - -​

"Ay, you're a right mess, Lad." Boris' booming voice was low as he worked at swabbing the freshly sutured wounds with salves. The Moonwing had lost the staring contest and had allowed the barkeep to help him. Just a little bit though. Good thing Veronica wasn't there to see it. She likely would have been annoyed. Or maybe jealous? Boris was leaning towards jealous more than anything else. Vyrik's face was flat and he appeared emotionless. Even as Boris tried to make small talk the bird was silent. It was as though Vyrik wasn't even in the room. Boris thought that perhaps the other man was disassociating somehow and trying to place himself elsewhere as some form of coping mechanism. It was something he had seen with a few folks.

"Hold still now. I'm going to wrap these wounds up to keep infection out. You'll need the bandages changed daily. I can help ya' with that if ya'd like." Boris' voice remained low and calm. He worked steadily and eventually they were finished. There was a mess of bloodied cloths, swabs, and water beside the burley man. It had been a while since he had helped someone who was bleeding this much. A few days at least. That had to be some kind of record. A few days without large amounts of blood loss. Then along comes this wild man to smush that little record. Now Boris would have to start the count all over again. The poor Otherfolks...

- - -
​

Snow fell heavily around Vyrik as he trudged through the streets of the city. He was clad in his sandy colored cloak. Beneath that was a worn out coat, shirt, and pants that Boris had managed to find for him. He had only managed to get about four hours of sleep. The Moonwing's anxiety had kept him up for some time, but exhaustion had eventually forced him to sleep. He was now out and about in search of Shikari. Vyrik hoped the Hawkling had managed to find a warm place to hole up in for the night. There was a chance the other was still out in the forest but the Moonwing doubted he would have stayed out there all night due to the elements. In addition to finding his companion he was also on the search of goods and information. It was important to become familiar with the Kingdom as quickly as possible. Under the hood of the cloak his hair was tied back. He had removed the feathers just in case someone happened to get a look at his hair. No one paid him any attention so far because his clothing helped him blend in with those who dared venture out into the snow.

A shrill neigh rang through the air as Vyrik made his way through the snow. He squinted in the direction it had come from. Brown eyes peered out from the hood of his cloak in place of the usual amber (thanks to a tonic from Boris). The man picked up his pace and hurried in the direction the sound was coming from. Upon rounding a corner near some local businesses he spotted a man in formal attire holding the reins of an unruly horse. The man was wearing the same uniform as those Vyrik had encountered in the forest the night before. It was a guard. His eyes locked hard as he watched. The chestnut horse was brilliant. It had powerful shoulders and white stockings on all four legs. A blaze ran down the front of it's face. It was certainly an impressive animal. This was the the first time he had gotten a good look at Mirim's military horses. Fine animals for those in fine clothing. Too bad this one's rider didn't know how to handle it.

The guard stood in the snow and tried to calm the animal as it reared up. A smirk came to Vyrik's face as he watched the horse spin in a circle. The momentum against the reins caused the guard to be hurled into the snow. It took everything the Moonwing had to not laugh out loud. Without thinking much of it he made his way through the snow and approached the fool who was laying face-first on the ground. He looked down at the guard for a moment and then made his way over to the horse. The animal threw it's head back and pawed at the ground, but this did not stop Vyrik. He simply grabbed the reins gently and held on tight.

"Get your hands off my horse, Peasant!" The guard shouted as he sprang to his feet. Well, looks like someone was feeling ok after their tumble.

 

[Caffeinated Joy]

.

.

Hector Darius
Location: Stables
With: Oksana & Emory
​

Hector smiled proudly at the exression of awe on Prince Emory's face, then laughed when he suggested it must have taken an entire cow hide to make his saddle. "Not quite, Prince." He rumbled, watching Emory run an almost reverent hand along Bear's neck. His horse tended to draw one of three reactions. Stop and stare without moving, stop and stare while quickly backing away (though Hector would admit he probably had something to do with that), or, do exactly what the Prince did.

He grabbed a comb and starting currying his horse, humming softly under his breath. From the corner of his eye, he saw Oksana tip toe toward him, approaching him as stealthily as an angry bull in a room full of bells. "Yes, Highness?" he asked with a smile.

He listened to her whisper, his sharp ears picking up her words clearly. He paused in his work and looked at her, meeting her gaze. "Scared to go out?" he whispered back, as best as he could. "Princess, I won't let anything happen to you. I gave my King and your father...and you...my oath. So take a breath, and try to calm down. You don't sound like an idiot, so there's no need to be embarrassed. Also, yes, you are overthinking this. We're going to eat food, not negotiate world peace." He paused, considering, as he put down the curry comb and picked up the brush, "Though i wouldn't put it past you to try." he teased.

 

[Genii]

Shepherd
Location: Sheep farm
With: Shikari, Oan & Mae, Connie.
Time: Early next morning.

“Careful Dear, it’ll be hot.” Mae warned, perhaps a little too late, as Shikari gulped down his tea.

“Yes, but don’t worry, you needed a good rest.” Mae answered the Hawkling. She thought he could use a lot more sleep actually, but she was keen to get some food into the boy first.

“The snow?” Mae repeated, following Shikari’s gaze to the window. “Oh, I dare say we won’t be shut of that for a long while yet. We’ve a few months to go until spring is here - although, I’ve known it to snow right through until April before.” She chatted.

The door to the snowy yard outside was open, to let out the smoke and excess heat from the kitchen’s Aga. It meant that Shepherd and Oan’s raised voices could be heard well before they reached the farmhouse.

“-you should have given him a bloomin’ sheep, that’s what!” Oan scolded. He stepped into the kitchen, closely followed by Shep. They were both covered in snow, but snuggly dressed in thick woollens and hooded cloaks. Connie crept in after them, looking guilty despite not being the one in trouble.

“Hush now, what’s all this about?” Mae hurried to close the door behind them. It wasn’t like Oan to raise his voice at Shepherd like he had, something was up.

“-I couldn’t, he was gonna-“ Shepherd tried to explain something, but he was cut off before he could finish.

“Look at this-“ Oan pulled a piece of paper from his cloak and handed it to his wife. A letter, and rather official looking at that. Mae gave them both concerned glances before reading it.

“It’s fine.” Shepherd said, removing his cloak as Oan did the same. “I… I’ll just go and apologise and… and everything will be fine.”

“Oh Shep…” Mae wasn’t reassured, she looked just as worried as her husband. “What did you do?”

“He refused to help one of the King’s men. Even got into a quarrel with him.” Oan said, clearly annoyed and disappointed. They’d raised Shep to be better than that - polite, humble and most importantly, careful… or so they thought.

“(Cough)… um, I also might’ve… sort of… hit him in the face… with my crook… a little bit?” Shepherd cringed, his voice pitching higher and higher with each guilty admission, as he slowly lowered himself into the seat next to Shikari.

 

[Pipsqueak]

Aeronwen Langston
Interaction(s): tityanya Gazimon X
Location: Servant's Quarters
​

Wren's grip tightened around the cloth of her dress, her body stiffening only slightly at the good doctor's inquiry.

"A mauling you say?" Requests like these didn't happen often, so Wren wasn't surprised when the guilty feeling of pride filled her first. She had momentarily forgotten about Simon's presence, only returning Marshall's intense gaze with her own. The longer she pondered, the more her pride began to morph into unease. The internal battle almost made her nauseous. Her powers were a source of great importance in certain situations, and she was not unaware, but the thought that someone had been under attack, and the only way to discover truths about such awful affairs, also lie with her.

Sobering up from the sudden pull from slumber, she finally nodded.

"Yes, of course I'll help. Might you tell me more on the way?" She spoke quietly, turning to close the door as she stepped out. Glancing at Simon, Wren offered an apologetic bow.

"Forgive me Simon. If you still require assistance after this, I will gladly lend it. Do seek me out later!"

 

[Pipsqueak]

Seamus Deckard
Interaction(s): Jaw Breakcore
Location: Maple Hill streets
​

Seamus wrenched his eyes shut, holding out a flyer with a shaky grasp. He waited for the inevitable pain that came with a wildly swung fist, almost missing the agreeable tone in which the kid spoke.

"You... Huh?" He felt the paper disappear from his hand, and his body relaxed.

"Oh wonderful! Really, you won't regret it! Well... you might, but I'll make it worth your while." Slinging an arm around the shorter boy, Seamus began speaking excitedly.

"Ya see kid, the ocean is incredibly important for the stability of our nation! Fish are a really important meal here as you might've guessed, but I'm actually not here to talk about fishing! Instead, we need to prevent overfishing from happening! Not only that, but do you realize how much junk is thrown out into the ocean daily? Those poor fish..." Seamus trailed off, clicking his tongue in disappointment.

"I'm tryin' to get people to sign this petition. We should have a specific place in order to reuse things we don't need, and perhaps get more officers out on the ocean to scout out those who fish without knowin' exactly what harm they're causing, you know?" As he spoke, he pointed to his list of admittedly embarrassing amounts of signatures.

"Here in Maple Hill, over in some of the rougher areas and especially in Swordfish Point, it's just too hard to get signatures, but the more I get the more I can convince others to follow along!" He ended his speech with a satisfied smile, flicking the page with the back of his hand.

"So whaddya think kid? I mean, you don't have to sign if you don't want to but think of your interest in the ocean! There won't be nothin' to be interested about if we don't save what's in it. Any questions... concerns perhaps?"

​

 

[Rosacea]

Ⲋⲧⲉ⳨ⲇⲛ Ⲃⲉⳑⳑⲥⲟⲙⲃ​

I am here:
With:

Stefan couldn't help but smirk at the Countess' tight lipped smile. Reputation was everything to nobles, after all. One had to play their part. Stefan was only glad that his reputation allowed him to be himself, mostly. And there was no one better to be himself around, he'd found, than the Countess Withersbury. She wasn't like the other Lords and Ladies that would give him scathing looks and blank stares. She participated in the carnage, much to Stefan's immense delight.

She scoffed at his idea of reform, he winking in response. That was a point to him in his book. He didn't have to take the insult. She "complimented" his charm and wit, and Stefan made an exaggerated bow. "I thank you for the compliment, my lady," he said, his voice dripping with the faux admiration the two were slinging at each other. His bow was frozen, however, when she brought up the earlier incident. How had she heard of it? He stood up straight, trying to keep a frown off his face. The Queen had told, hadn't she. She might not have him banned from the palace, but she would certainly besmirch him in front of other nobles. Stefan's fist clenched as the Countess said the Queen had had a "display" in front of an honored guest.

Stefan took a deep, centering breath, before his face took on a mask of arrogant disdain. "Of course she would only tell you about Princess Oksana butting in. I know you are a woman who appreciates a well trained staff, yes? One that doesn't gossip in front of other nobles? The guards I had "a display" on had been gossiping in front of me, insipid gossip against the royal family that even Her Majesty The Queen sought to punish them for. Princess Oksana had heard the yelling and came to their defense, not knowing the full picture. The royal family is precious to me, as you know. I couldn't stand having their name besmirched in front of me," Stefan explained, making himself sound like the innocent victim and not an instigator in the whole affair. He also knew better than to mention Alicia's name--she was his weakness. If he had mentioned Alicia at all towards the Countess, it would be a point for her in this verbal match. For a moment, Stefan wondered about how it would be if he and the Countess had a normal relationship--could he confide in her how horribly wounding it had been to hear those guards dismiss Alicia? Countess Withersbury had been friends with her, as well. But, alas, that wasn't a conversation to be had now. There was no point working himself up over it.

Stefan told the Countess about his false plans for the day, noting the paled face in response. Ah, I dug in deep with that one, he thought to himself, a strange mixture of being pleased at breaking the Countess' mask and regret at wounding her so. At least for him, their battles were in jest. Dogs wrestling together on the lawn, all snarls and teeth but no landed bites. The Countess managed to regain her countenance, saying that he was fond of loud and tasteless talk, and that revolutions were unkempt. "Well, going against the status quo is never neat and easy. That's why you and I have such vastly different reputations despite being very similar, my dear Countess. You keep to the shadows and disappear while I keep my talk loud and tasteless," Stefan said, the words an acquiescence to landing a blow earlier. "I'll make sure to cut you in to the plot if you change your mind later! Once we get those antiquated geriatric blind scholars out of the colleges, you'll be dying to join with me," Stefan said, his tone greatly exaggerated so anyone walking by could tell it was a joke. He didn't want to get arrested for treason, after all. That would be a bother.

Stefan noticed her subtle attempts at gaining a servant's attention, no doubt wishing to finish her escape plan. He had only caught her in the midst of it, after all. "You there," Stefan called to the servant who looked like they were desperately trying to blend into the wall. "Could you please let the stables know that Countess Withersbury needs her carriage? And that Lord Bellcomb needs his horse," Stefan asked, laying on the honeyed tone that he knew servants loved. They would do anything for you lickety-split if they felt like you treated them like a person and not an object. It was a trick he had learned from his sister, but she had been more sincere in her attempts. Probably. The servant nodded, rushing off towards the direction of the stables. "I have no desire to be in this stuffy castle for much longer, either," he said to the Countess, perhaps the first sincere words he had said to her since their meeting begun.​

((ooc: ))
((outfit))
((I don't Care))​

Eudora Withersbury​

The countess watched with childlike amusement as Stefan tensed considerably, almost stopping dead in his tracks for a moment. Point for her. Finally.

His poker face was almost as bad as Lavenders, she mused, studying him while he considered how to spin his earlier embarrassment into a victory. Luckily, Lord Bellcomb was a scholar. Smooth and never without an excuse. Her opponent readily launched into a spirited defence against the Queens back-handed accusation.

Of course, everything was entirely someone else’s fault. Eudora couldn’t hide a smile. “What noble doesn’t appreciate such a thing?” she mused light heartedly at Lord Bellcombs rhetoric inquiry, trying to guess where his monologue was going.

Ah Gossip. Now the whole story made more sense. Eudora had a vague idea about what, or rather who, the guards had been gossiping about. Stefan was allergic to anything remotely misunderstandable concerning his sister, as he had made clear on numerous occasions. Publicly. In a rather violent manner. No wonder the Queen had been so annoyed. The Lord must have been at his most neurotic self, in front of an important foreign dignitary no less!

On the other hand, she did have an aversion to gossiping servants. No matter if Stefan had acted like a fool, it certainly wasn’t a guard’s place to comment on anything besides the beauty of the snow burdened landscape. But for some mystical reason, servants were sadly prone to unwanted behaviour. Be it gossip, improper feelings of friendship or even unsolicited advice. The countess had been forced to fire her fair share of staff because of such annoying quirks. She vividly remembered an especially upsetting incident a few years ago.

Eudora had just lost her ladies maid to marriage, another drawback the middle class seemed prone to, and decided to fill the position with a promising scullery girl from downstairs. In hindsight, that probably had been a mistake in itself.

Penny had stood in her drawing room, seeming painfully out of place in her greyish working attire and bawdy Mud Bay demeanour. Eudora almost sent her back downstairs immediately after the girl gave her a nervous grin and attempted to shake her hand with a mumbled “your grace”.

But the protégé had come warmly recommended by her housekeeper and competent staff was so burdensome to find. Therefore, Eudora had indulged the girl, handing her a new uniform together with a hefty pay raise. The first few months went by without issue. Penny had talent for fixing fading fabric and a good work ethic. The countess thought she adjusted well to the change of scenery, picking up social cues at a reasonable pace. Perhaps she was a little chatty. Still, that would fade with time and surprisingly, Eudora found herself growing less impatient with the girls blubber about her friends and newest love affair. The countess didn’t find anything better to do but listen while her hair was painstakingly forced into an elaborate evening updo. Also, perhaps it was a somewhat fun distraction from the constant stress of trying to keep the trading business afloat. And what if she found herself fighting a laugh at the second butlers attempt to woo Penny with his silver polishing skills? It was important to keep an eye over one’s household!

So, when Penny hadn’t done the expected thing of disappearing after she found the countess downing two bottles of whiskey with shaking hands, Eudora hadn’t reprimanded her as she should have.

She had told herself that Penny knew not to intrude on Private business, knew to forget half-drunken admissions of marital unhappiness. Just like the Butler knew to carry his lordship to his room on Thursday nights, ignoring the stench of cheap sherry.
Just like the maids knew to muffle the sounds of conflict between Mother and child, stepping over the shattered porcelain in the drawing room. Just like the coachman knew not to ask her ladyship about her youngest daughter.

Because knowing not to was the upstairs, and that was what Eudora paid them for.

So, when Penny had refused to forget, when she barged into her Husbands smoking room and threw all those venomous truths at him, the countess felt betrayed.

How could someone she had trusted; someone she had thought competent betray her so? How dare someone who had found her in a compromising position decide to break the one universal rule of domestic service? While working, a servant was not a friend. A friend had rights; a friend was equal. A friend had opinions. Eudora would have never allowed a friend to see half of the things her servants did. It was painfully clear that Penny had misjudged their relationship. Obviously, she had been forced to correct said misjudgement.

A scullery maid became a scullery maid once more. No matter the twinge of upset she had felt when Penny resigned three weeks later.

So one could say that she was sympathetic to Stefan’s outburst. Nipping improper behaviour in the bud was important.

"Oh, that recitifies it then! The Queen must have mistaken your noble Sentiment for the usual short-sighted impertinence" Eudora answered maliciously, her face laced with disbelief. She was already growing quite fond of that foreign princess who must have told him off. There wasn't much known about Princess Oksana. If one wanted to trust the society papers (which she usually didn't) the royal was beautiful, impulsive and arrogant. Perhaps useful as well? Only time would tell.

Annoyed at the fact that his comment had shaken her so, her reply to his musings was rather stiff. "Sometimes it is an advantage to know when one should dissapear. You ought to try it." The comment was clearly aimed at his continued attendance in the palace, even after his conflict with the crown prince had reached noble cicles. His ridicolous admission of planned treatchery managed to break the countess icy facade before it solidified. Her eyes twinkled with surpressed amusement as Eudora pretended to gasp with shock "I hope I do not have to call the guards, Lord Bellcomb. After your behaviour towars them, I wouldn't want you to be at their mercy."

They had almost reached the castles exit and she thanked him as he managed to force a servant into grumbled compliance. "They always seem to dissapear when one needs them" Eudora complained, unaware of her infamous reputation among the castles servants. Perhaps she had corrected them once or twice, but that didn't mean they had any right to flee as soon as she even looked in their direction!

"Understandable" She murmured at his admission of stuffyness. "The new carpets they bought are a violent assault on ones eyes. I really wonder what the Queen was thinking" The countess added, staring down the light purple carpets as if they had personally offended her. " We commoners can only pray to understand"

((Ooc: I apologise for this, not one of my best works. I hope the maid story isn't too jarring, I needed to work it into the story somehow.Also not proof-read since my reader-friend is ill.)​

 

[viloxii]

OKSANA
With: Emory & Hector
Where: Stables

Oksana nodded at Hector's words and took a deep breath of relief. "You are correct." She responded with a smirk. Oksana was made uncomfortable with how she always doubted her safety. Hector had not ONCE given her a reason to do so. But her purpose in Mirim was a shady one. Oksana was never one to do the wrong thing. The second her father proposed the idea of her coming to conduct study of the King and Prince, her stomach had turned. She was a kind person. A good person. But the idea that she could gain her fathers respect once more was so important, that she accepted this mission. On the road, she wanted to back out. She half hoped that she could have ran away and never looked back. Cutting out the need for her father's approval and him being proud of her all together. But she could never do that to Hector. Her father would certainly be displeased with him for it.

Oksana looked behind Hector's horse to see a dapple-grey horse with white spots that looked like snow. It wasn't very common for a royal stable to contain a horse with more than two colors but it's mane was as black as pitch. Oksana thought it to be the most beautiful and impressive horse she had ever seen. Although it looked so inadequate next to Hector's mammoth of horse.

Oksana walked around Hector's horse safely and made her way over to the mare. She placed her hand on the mare's cheek and smiled. "Hello." She said kindly, as a way to show some respect. Oksana loved animals and thought of them as humans at times. The horse was already geared up and ready to go, which was strange. There was no one around to claim her. Oksana turned to Emory. "Is it okay if I take her? I wonder why she still has all this equipment on her?"

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