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 Posted: Tue Mar 13, 2012 9:35 pm
Location: Rooms to the Forest ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When Evony finally slipped into waking, she found her favored blue skies already bruised by the coming night. The princess took this move to consciousness with a more languid pace than usual, her eyelids unnaturally heavy, the sheets beneath her body made from an unnatural material. After a time, she found the memories which her sleep had mottled; of dismissing herself from the gardens, the trek to her chambers which she’d not managed to complete. Somewhere along the way, Evony’s legs had gone limp beneath her, and she could move no further. A passing servant had delivered the girl to an unused room; had cleaned her off as best she could, and seen the child to sleep.
In the darkness, this room looked much the same as any other…but the feel of the bedding felt different from what she was used to, its material stiff from misuse and grown damp with sweat from her fitful slumber. Evony pulled herself to a sitting position, wiping the sleep from her eyes, staring about. If the servant woman had lingered, it hadn’t been for long; mayhap she’d gone to find Liam or her brothers, or Envian servants to attend to her needs. Regardless, no one had come to her yet, and the sense of loneliness and unfamiliarity here was stifling.
’How long have I slept here?’ It was hard to say; for how groggy she felt, it could have been days, ’Though I’m sure that can’t possibly be the case.
Evony moved from the bed, drifting absently to the hallways beyond the chambers. She could only imagine how she must look to those she might pass; disheveled hair and garb, brow glowing with sweat. The halls she moved through were blessedly empty though, and the castle led her easily to her own rooms. Another blessing, to be sure.
No one lingered here, either, but Evony didn’t linger on the fact for very long. Her rooms held clean clothing, brushes for her hair, perhaps even a tepid bath which would have been drawn for her hours ago; with that in mind, all other matters seemed of little import.
She cleaned herself as best she could, sinking into the chilled waters which, in her present state, didn’t bother her as they might have. She ran a brush through her hair until it shone with a golden splendor, and wriggled into a simple gown; dyed black, to display her mourning. Standing before her mirrors, she felt that she looked…somehow older than she had before; as if the day had aged her forward, though surely that wasn’t possible. Evony’s lips didn’t tilt upward in their usual fashion; the natural smile she’d always carried had somehow gone, to be replaced by a gaunter expression…albeit one no less beautiful.
’Perhaps it shall stay that way forever; indeed, I may never smile again.’ But the thought felt absurdly childish even to her, and she set it aside with haste. What would everyone be doing now, she wondered. Attending dinner, if it wasn’t too late even for that, and no doubt discussing the events of the day. Topics which she didn’t care to think about…so she pushed that thought away, too. The Dining Hall would give her no peace, and after lingering in her rooms for a time, she realized that hiding in within them wouldn’t do her much good either. So Evony set a slow pace for the gardens outside the castle, thinking that the plants might offer her some distraction from her thoughts.
Though when she’d finished winding her way through the many corridors, and then down the pathways of the worlds outside, Evony found the whispers of her lovelies too quiet for her liking. With her thoughts as muddled as they were, it seemed even their sweet words couldn’t touch her.
Not for the first time that night, the princess felt entirely alone.
A breeze chased through the flowers around her feet, and Evony pulled absently at her cloak to stave off a shiver. The rustling from the trees beyond the garden caught her notice, the sound of their leaves calling to her more loudly than anything else in the area. The forest stood tall, and dark, and ancient before her…its dark interior whispering promises she scantly understood, the songs therein more archaic than anything she’d ever heard. ’It’s dangerous in there; people lose their way and never return. They say that’s where the Lady Asuna met her end. She chanced the paths at night, and the forest took her life as payment…’
So why couldn’t she stop moving ever closer to the trees? Why didn’t fear envelope her veins, and chill her blood to stagnancy? Evony couldn’t say; the forest lay ahead, and it was whispering. She couldn’t understand the words, but they were louder and sweeter than anything she’d heard all night…she moved into the trees, along the path, and for the first time since leaving Altonair that afternoon, she didn’t feel alone.
Great oaks and junipers shot up from the ground in sporadic fashions, their trunks massive, limps twisted in grotesque shapes overhead, forcing away the moonlight and creating odd shapes in the shadows at her feet. Evony walked slowly, staring ahead, strangely unafraid. When at last her little form came to a stopping point, she’d wandered far from any visible path, to a place where the trees parted to make room for a small, clear pool. Here the moon shone plainly, reflecting off the still waters, making the light sufficient enough for Evony to see. She stopped here, and sank to her knees.
”I have shamed my family, my name…” She whispered, clasping her hands beneath her chin in prayer, although to what gods she spoke to, she couldn’t say; she prayed anyway. Perhaps the forest would hear her, ”I beseech you; give me the strength to right my wrongs…bless me with the courage to overcome these trials. I have looked upon the face of death, and doubtless I will do so again,” ’And again, and again…’, ”Show me how to be stalwart, and uncaring, and ruthless…I would rather be thus than cursed with this cowardice. If it would save me the pain of losing those I love, make me love no one. If this pain is the cost of feeling so much, make me feel nothing…” Was that what it took to be courageous? Altonair, Lincoln, Nathaniel, Liam—they had courage. Did they simply feel no pain at all? Surely not, but then how? How did they survive? How did would they overcome a sadness like this? ”Or if that’s not how one becomes courageous, then I pray you, show me how. Please…”
…The forest answered only with another breeze, moving leaves and branches alike, as if in song.
((OOC: she's kind of off on her own right now. Feel free to happen upon her if you want. also her format is under consturction))
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Posted: Wed Mar 14, 2012 3:04 pm
 Pic by vishstudio; click for larger shot
Location/Situation and Form: In the kitchen with Micah and DanteAll things truly wicked start from an innocence.
~Ernest HemingwaySokar didn’t know that he should have stood when approached by Micah and Dante, and let them sit before sitting again, as it was too convoluted of a human custom, but he did lower his head in acknowledgement when the man’s introductions were made. “Yes, bad woman-thing did this.” He glanced away from the man’s eyes as he was looked over, not understanding the reason for it. He was used to being sized up and doing the same to others in case a fight was necessary without warning, but did not realize Dante had done so for other reasons. “I no know wine. Liquor foul.” He commented to Micah, having had an unpleasant experience earlier with the biting liquid. Though because she had asked, he got up and went to a cupboard where there was a bottle, and returned with two mugs, for lack of understanding he needed to bring glasses.
As the food was started in on by the others, Sokar joined them as well, though he kept his shoulders hunched as he held his hands up to his face. He wasn’t voracious, but he did have a certain element of lacking any and all manners when it came to eating. He paused as the man directed a question at him, and was unable to hold back his opinion as any sensible human servant would. “Some? Is all useless. Only thumbs, but I having thumbs when werehuman.” He looked puzzled at being considered good-looking, not because Dante was a male (only because he assumed it was an innocent observation), but rather because he felt the opposite. He understood he was large, but that was a reflection of his natural wolf form. He did however feel embarrassed to be furless, tailless, and of such an awkward shape that towered instead of was close to the ground. “You say, is true?” There was no way to clearly ask if Dante was just making fun of him, or using sarcasm (something he understood that existed, but not at all how it worked).
Though they were speaking, he took the pause to eat more of the meat and bread, making soft grunts as he tried to chew through it, but not as effectively as he formerly could. He glanced at the female, wondering about how she seemed to make a joke about Dante. “Pups are pups, yearlings are yearlings. Is still wrong, she has done.”
We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell.
~Plutarch (46 AD - 120 AD)
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Posted: Sun Mar 18, 2012 9:46 am
 Where: Kitchen
With: Sokar and Dante
She was nervous to say the least. If it were for years of being placed in awkward situations she was she that she would be shaking like a leaf. She wasn’t sure what her brother through of her and she wasn’t about to ask him in mixed company. Though she doubted Sokar would mind much. But what she had to touch on were private family matters and not ones that were meant to be on display nor one that should be spoken through a mental link. No when the time was right she wanted to talk to her brother, alone and aloud.
Yet as her brother spoke to the gardener things seemed to sink in. Sokar was under a spell as well. She knew that the name had sounded familiar but she hadn’t realized that the two were one in the same. A faint ting touched her cheek as she bowed her head glancing down at her hands that were clasped in front of her gown. She felt slightly foolish for not realizing it from the start but it did explain why the tall, broad shouldered male did not have proper garbs on. He wasn’t aware of what was proper in the world of men and it simply was not her place to tell him other wise. Though perhaps the Lustian princess could help in that regard. She listened quietly as her brother spoke to Sokar about his own encounter with the witch. Her brows lifted as she looked up at Dante, curiosity flickered in the depths of her silver pools. But her brother seemed to either not seen it or was avoiding looking at her entirely.
She had a feeling it was the latter.
She wanted to ask what their father had done now. But the words never made it passed her lips. She wasn’t a fan of her father and never had been. He’d robbed her of her child hood and creating a bond with her siblings and she would never forgive him for that. Plus with the manor that he treated each of them other than his golden child Cat…speaking of which she had yet to see her other sister that was closest to her in age. It worried her slightly but the castle was a large place and filled with trickery. It was no real surprise that she hadn’t seen her all of her siblings.
Dante continued on and she merely turned her attentions back toward the table. Reaching forward and grabbing what ever appealed to her, which in that moment were some pieces of fruit, and began to eat. Micah listened to the hardships of a child as her brother of now being about to see of various things. The corners of her mouth raising slightly; he was indeed tall now. While she herself had always been very petite. Her fingers lightly tucked a stray stand of pale gold behind her ear before looking up to Sokar who answered her question about wine. She giggled softly. “Wine’s not foul if it’s the right kind it can be quiet sweet.” She murmured as she watched him get up and get a bottle before bringing it back along with two mugs. Not what she normally would have drank from but it was fine she wouldn’t make a fuss over something so small.
Taking the bottle that he set down before her and slid the two mugs closer to herself. She opened and poured some in each cup. Just enough to wet the pallet. Her gaze fell on the tiny ring that decorated her finger and she bit her lip as pain rushed through her chest. Feeling as if a thousand tiny blades were piercing her heart. She set the bottle down and tore her gaze away from the engagement wring before setting her hands down in her lap and twisting it off of her finger. She need not think of the night or her indiscretions. Not now at least. She sighed and clutched the ring in the center of her palm as her other hand returned to the table and lifted the mug. Taking a small sip she nearly chocked as her brother commented on Sokar’s appearance.
“Excuse me.” She coughed her fingers covering her lips. She’d forgotten how direct her kin was. The princess coughed a few more times before clearing her throat. Before once again lifting the mug and taking another sip. Hoping it would get rid of the tickle in her throat. “I’m sorry.” She whispered as she looked up toward the gardener and then to her brother. It wasn’t as if she had been thinking the very same thing, but to hear it aloud was another matter. Let alone from her brother who, despite her efforts still had a hard time wrapping her mind around the fact that he was not a little boy anymore but a man. She took another sip of the sweet liquid for good measure before setting the cup back down.
She wasn’t entirely sure which made her cough or rather chock what her brother said or the completely innocent reaction of Sokar. She gave him a smile. “You are rather handsome as a man. But I’m sure that you miss being what you were before.” She murmured, her melody soft and soothing. Making sure not to upset him, or trying her best. Micah could only imagine how sore of a subject it was for him. Being one thing of a completely different species and then turned into something new. Adjusting must have been difficult for him and for her brother. But Dante seemed to be taking what happened to him much better than how Sokar seemed to be.
Micah’s silver orbs met Sokar a frown touching her lips as she looked down. “I know it’s wrong and I feel terrible for what she’s done to both of you. But there’s no point in dwelling on it for now. Nothing can be done until the witch is found.” She replied as her head lifted. She cleared her throat and poured herself a little more and glanced up at Dante. She bit the inside of her cheek. She needed to mend things with him and she had no clue when it was that she would be near him again and even though Sokar was in their midst if they had a private, conversation he wouldn’t be the wiser. Especially with how it seemed that he was giving her a somewhat chilled shoulder.
- Dante… I know your opinion of me is not in the highest regards but I wish that you would give me a chance. I know that you are closest with Lorelei but I ask….that you not pass judgment on me based upon what our sister has said to you. Yes…I have done many things I’m not proud of. Things that I’ve done with little thought of how others would feel around me and I can't change it. But... - She paused for a moment her mind racing to find the right words as her fingers encircled the mug once more and she cleared her throat.
“Sokar what’s one good thing that you can think of about being a human?” She asked as she stared down into the crimson liquid before lifting her gaze and meeting his. -Please Dante. - Were the only two words that seemed to leave her mind as she tried her best to behave normally.
ooc//
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Posted: Sun Mar 18, 2012 7:51 pm
Location: Nathaniel's Room-- Flip, flop, flippity flop~
In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
who, squatting upon the ground,
Held his heart in his hands,
And ate of it.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ The Envian heir didn’t bother with turning to face Lucas again; in truth, the man wasn’t worthy of such respect. Nor did he offer much response to the onslaught of meaningless prattle he so insistently spewed, choosing instead to marvel silently at how practiced Lucas was at deluding himself. In all of the prince’s days, he’d never once met a man so blatantly capricious. Were this the right realm and time for it, he might have japed that he flip-flopped more than Mitt Romney. A smile touched his lips, and he thought wryly, ’I must be careful indeed to keep my –many- emotions in check, as the foolish prince doth state…’He did glance askance at the siren, however, more in the mood to show her some form of respect (however feigned) than Lucas, ”You’re kind to offer thanks, M’lady, but it isn’t needed; I bear as much responsibility in this as you, if not more.” That, at least, held some truth to it; albeit not in the way Lucas pictured it. Nathaniel fought to keep a brow from rising when she tasted his mind again with her words, his mental voice a deal less warmer than his true one had been, ~So he is, Lorelei—and an dim-witted one, no less. The combination is dangerous; mayhap you’ll have more to fear from him than you do me, if you don’t tread carefully about him.~ The statement wasn’t so much a warning as it was, to him, a mere fact, and she’d not be foolish enough to mistake it for a true show of concern. Lucas had lingered long enough that even the fairest of royalty would take offense, and so Nathaniel bade him little more than a shrug when he went on, ”Yes, Prince Lucas, I’m sure you see right through me; do be off, then, since it has so obviously been your want to go for all this time.” His tone stated plainly that he didn’t believe a word of it; The Wrathian prince might be dull enough to fool himself, but most weren’t so daft as to forget his earlier words and actions. The groan of the doorway to Nathaniel’s rooms sounded Liam’s entrance, and the prince needn’t have heard the knight speak to know that he ached to fight the dullard prince adjacent them. The heir hid a smirk beneath the length of his index finger, letting it rise to rest idly against the side of his face. Would that he could let the knight have his way and cut the other man down; it’d appease him, and anyway, Lucas’ blood was hardly worthy enough to coat his own hands. Lucas spoke again; more asinine prattle, as if he were in want to prolong his stay. ”I would bade my knight to speak respectfully to my royal allies, but not those who would threaten me. Whether you are one or the other, Lucas, is for you alone to decide. But as it stands, one can hardly blame Liam for speaking out of turn towards the man who would so brazenly threaten his prince. But I thank you for your condolences all the same, and shall take your advice into consideration.” Absently, the heir took a quill in hand, dipping it lightly in ink, and set to writing something in a slow, graceful scrawl upon his parchment-- never bothering to look at Lorelei or Lucas again, ”I wish the both of you a pleasant night’s rest, and hope vehemently that this scene shall be forgotten by the morrow.”Nathaniel waited for them to depart; for the doors to latch shut behind them, before abandoning his quill and parchment and turning to meet eyes with Liam, ”I can’t be sure that I’ve ever met a man more foolish than the one who just excused himself from my chambers. But he is gone, regardless,” The prince offered his friend a light-hearted shrug, the temperament never quite reaching his eyes, ”You served me well, though; it would have been troublesome if he’d attacked me. And I do hope this was a bit more exciting than caring for Evony must be.” Liam deserved the brief reprieve, though it was a shame he’d not be able to test his sword on Lucas Masterson just yet. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ I said, "Is it good, friend?"
"It is bitter -- bitter,"he answered;
"But I like it
Because it is bitter,
And because it is my heart."
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Posted: Mon Mar 19, 2012 1:43 pm
▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄ ▄▄▄▄▄ ▄▄ Princess of Humility || In the garden || Wearing This Dress || Weapon ▄▄ ▄▄▄▄▄ ▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄ Though Naedira had told Altonair that she was much improved, hearing her speak so softly... Something still troubled her mind. Madelyne was glad at least to have made her laugh when she joked with the prince. She held Naedira's hands when her sister reached for her with a gentle grip and responded to Naedira's tightening grip with a smile. She knew her sister was asking for forgiveness. It was not necessary though. Even royalty get emotional; they were only human... Well, partially... There was no forgetting the fey blood in their veins.
Madelyne had not noticed Naedira's shock when the man fell before them. She was only focused on any possible injury he may have gotten... As she knelt beside him, she realized that he seemed a bit dazed, as if the fall confused him. Did he hit his head? She wondered, noticing the scratches. If it had been one of her family members, she'd immediately check for wounds and heal them. Since this man was not of her family, Madelyne didn't really know how he'd respond to that. It would be better to wait for his approval before healing him.
When Naedira approached them, she touched his shoulder, which caused the man to suck in his breath. Madelyne was surprised how much this made the man look like a frightened animal. He was quite large, but appeared to be very sensitive.
Naedira introduced the three to him, and he immediately looked to Altonair. He seemed relieved. Do they know each other, or is it that their kingdoms are allied? She wondered... It was then that the man introduced himself. His voice didn't sound very confident, though he seemed to try to appear so. Madelyne also heard a distinct accent, one she had never heard before. A prince of Wrath? She thought. Interesting... Had I known he was from that kingdom, I would not have expected him to be so timid... It's a surprising trait from a Wrathian prince, but perhaps I should not anticipate certain traits from people...
Stefan Masterson told them that he was unhurt, but Madelyne was sure that he was just trying to be tough. "Are you sure you are well, my lord?" She asked him. As Altonair helped the man up, Madelyne's eyes couldn't help but widen at his size. She thought him large before, but now she could see he was even bigger than she had thought. She too stood up after he had risen, yet her head was a full foot shorter than his; she was amazed at his height and bulk, to say the least. More surprising was the sight of battle axes on his person. Madelyne instinctively wanted to step back, to be a safer distance from the weapons. Somehow she hadn't noticed them before... Perhaps Stefan was true to the name of his kingdom. Though intimidated by the weapons, Madelyne didn't dare show her slight fear of this prince, even if he did seem quite intimidated himself.
When Prince Stefan had explained that he had been drawn to their voices when he had hit his head, Madelyne noticed he seemed to be pouting. Maybe it was judgmental of her, but she immediately realized this prince was more childish than fearful. He may be strong and threatening with those axes, but Madelyne envisioned he would run away at any moment like a deer caught by a hunter if he only took the chance.
"Don't worry," Madelyne assured him, smiling, "we didn't assume you were a spy. Even if you were, you'd hardly have anything interesting to listen in on, besides our exchanging pleasantries." After a moment, she asked, "Perhaps you'd like to join us for awhile? It would ease my mind knowing you were with others, instead of roaming by yourself, after such a fall. Besides, a beautiful night like this is always better with friends." It might have been too soon to use that word, but Madelyne wanted him to feel comfortable and welcome. He seemed harmless enough. Though, if she was right about him, she wouldn't mind or feel offended if he declined her offer.
{o.c.c. Back~ }
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Posted: Mon Mar 19, 2012 2:06 pm
♕ΊȚ ωɑʂ Ҭɧҽ ωɪϲқҽɖ ɑɳɖ ωɪɭɖ ωɪɳɖ♛ ♔Ƀɭҽῳ ɖȯῳɳ Ҭɧҽ ɖȯȯʀʂ ϯȯ ζҽϯ ɱҽ ɪɳ♚
♘șɧɑϯϯҽʀҽɖ ωɪɳɖȯῳʂ ɑɳɖ Ҭɧҽ șȯʮɳɖ Ȱғ ɖʀʮɱʂ♞ ♗Ρҽȯϼɭҽ Ҫȯʮɭɖ ɳȯϯ Ƀҽɭɪҽѵҽ ωɧɑϯ Ί Ӊɑɖ Ƀҽϲȯɱҽ♝ ☽ ȡαηȶе ʛαѵῖηΐ ☾ Ӄῖηɠɖȏɱ: Ƚʋȿȶ Ɍɑɳƙ: ρɽῖηҫε Ƚȏҫɑҭῖӧη: Kitchen ▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀ 
Dante raised a brow at his sister's companion, Sokar as he spoke. He sure could use a few lessons on proper sentence structure. Shame, it sure did take away from his good looks. He simply brandished his sister a smirk as she asked for wine, was his company that horrid?
Dante's mouth quirked up into a smile at his sister's reaction to his comment, and he started to laugh and suddenly stopped. Wide eyed and looking at himself. His laughter sounded so... foreign, as if it were not his own but some other person's... some other man. It was so strange having a deeper voice, and his laughter seemed to rumble compared to his old one. Sure, it was still him but it was just strange. He let out a gentle sigh before smiling at the gardener, but before he could comment his sister had regained her composure. "I cannot speak for your previous form, as I have not seen it, but you are quiet the looker." He gave the man a little wink before smiling at his sister, hoping for a similar reaction.
He nodded at her comments and smiled, "Personally I do not hate the woman for doing what she did. I mean, all experiences can be made interesting." He simply shrugged, he was not one to be put down but such trivial things. He had been through much worse and survived, what was there to fear from a little black magick?
He blinked and gave his sister a curious look as her voice spoke in his head, but listened regardless. He raised a silent brow and closed his eyes as he replied. If I had a problem with you, I would not be here. I am not one to abide to the 'keep your friends close, your enemies closer' rule. If I had a problem with you, if I had hated you, you would either be dead or left for it. He shrugged. He may only be thirteen, but he had learned quickly, and while he could be loving he could very easily be a cold-hearted b*****d. He opened his eyes and shook his head,
The past is in the past, where it belongs. One cannot hate you forever for something you did when you were younger, one may hold a grudge and you may have to work around that obstacle, but I am not one to hold such petty disputes. I would never let another's thoughts poison my own, Lorilie had her own mind and me mine. We are blood, and we must stick together, in this time and place we must stick together. He looked towards the gardener, awaiting his answer to his sister's question. We are not enemies here, irregardless of the past.
▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀
♕Ɍҽѵȯɭʮϯɪȯɳɑʀɪҽʂ ωɑɪϯ♛ ♔Ӻȯʀ Ӎӌ Ӊҽɑɖ Ȱɳ Ȁ șɪɭѵҽʀ Ρɭɑϯҽ♚
♘Ɉʮʂϯ Ȁ Ρʮϼϼҽϯ Ȱɳ Ȁ ζȯɳҽɭӌ șϯʀɪɳɠ♞ ♗Ȱɧ ωɧȯ ωȯʮɭɖ Ȩѵҽʀ ωɑɳϯ Ҭȯ Ƀҽ Ӄɪɳɠ?♝
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Posted: Tue Mar 20, 2012 4:00 pm
 A lady with a violin,
Playing to the seas
Hearken to the sound of calling
I tied myself to the wheel
The winds talk to my sails, not me
Come to me....Come to me... Somewhere _____________________________________________________ there my fate revealed...
I hear but how will I see? Kingdom Lust Rank: Youngest Princess Location: Nathaniel's Chambers, and then with Haven The princess simply put, could be marked a fool, forced between listening to Lucas and Nathaniel go rounds. Her pallid skin displayed well how stressed their conversation was making her; with every mention of Haven her heart slowed in its pace. No doubt this would hurt him, were he to find out.
And the intensity of the Wrathian prince's stare made her suffering no less a hardship to her conscience, for she knew what she was putting him through, subjecting him to with their every exchange. She held her breath with every retort that Lucas came off with – no doubt expecting the Envian heir to let loose his temper. Lucas had no idea not to stoke the fire in this man, and were she to inform him, it would be both of them that wound up still with death.
Rather than handle the spar himself, Nathaniel had called upon Liam – of that she had little doubt, knowing well that the warrior of Envy would bend to his Majesty's whims. Cunning as he was cold, the siren shivered involuntarily. The man was outwardly ruthless, and she wasn't sure if that made him a far more dangerous adversary than the man he served or not. Careful to keep her eye contact minimal to the man, she couldn't help but feel as though there was something incredibly feral about his presence... as though he were searching for a reason to subject those in the room to violence.
The princess fought the urge to roll the amber colored eyes upward in Nathaniel's statement that Lucas was perhaps, more dangerous than himself. For the first time since Alexander's death, ire erupted within her chest – the stress of the situation forbidding her to appear weak. ~As well worded as that was, I shan't be foolish enough to think you find yourself worried over my person.~ As a matter of fact, he'd have less to worry about were she to perish at the hands of another. For it was only she who knew his secret. But she remained unmoved, not desiring to alert the other prince that she was having a far more personal conversation with Nathaniel where he couldn't interrupt. ~Besides,~ Purred the siren this time, her tone almost a visible smirk, ~He's besotted... and a siren's prey bends to what she wants.~ With Lorelei so distracted by all that was taking place, she found it more than difficult to keep the seductress in check. Nigh impossible even.
Her knees nearly crippled beneath her with the soft pad of Lucas' thumb caressing the satin flesh of her wrist, but with a sharp intake of breath, she cooled the coals to her lust out of sheer necessity. With the fire of her sin so recently stirred, the task was cumbersome enough that her pulse became uneven, erratic. Touch, the most important sense to one of Lust, could easily be marked as the siren's weakness. Any more, and she could have become as soft as water soaked clay, malleable to his requests.“Lucas...” His name was saccharine off her tongue, as though he were a sweet dish to savor. But she wanted him to stop before either removed their blades from their sheaths.
Once again a set of shudders overcame her, wishing against everything that the man would have better sense to let the Woods and their entourage go. To speak to Liam in such a condescending manner – the princess felt no need to test the man's patience. ~You're giving them everything they want.~ She warned, even still not able to hide what her siren wanted of him through the telepathic link.
The temptress spoke again, offering what excuses she could to diffuse the situation, but only flinched when Lucas made his retorts. “I am sure that both milord Wood and I are appreciative of your interrupting what would have been a very large mistake. It would be folly to assume otherwise.” Her tone now was crisp, though the melody of her siren had yet to wear off. “I bid you both a good evening.” She said to the Envian pair, following the Masterson prince through the halls.
Her nostrils flared with anger when he gave a speech, promising to let her go. “Just as you stave off the Wrath.” She retorted coolly, knowing well just from what she'd witnessed that he wasn't in full control. ”But it matters not what your intentions are, why you've chosen to fixate your ill-begotten emotions upon my person.” It was harsh, but he needed the push, needed to want to stay away. She closed her eyes for a moment before continuing, bidding the silver to stay where it was, and to not run down her cheeks. ”What matters now, is that I don't have a choice, for I am promised to Haven Greene. How I came to be in Nathaniel's chambers is far to complicated to explain, but I can assure you that he was the last man I thought my siren would call to.”
And she the last woman he would be passionate over.
“I bid you good day, and that you find what you're looking for in another very soon, so that you can forget about me, and the songs my siren promises to you.” With that, she turned on her heel fast enough that her flame-hued tresses flew about her head in a circle, and she stomped off around the corner.
But before she could get too far, guilt set in... and she remembered well the words that Haven had stated. She needed to find him.
* * *
The chambers to which Haven had locked himself away were dark, curtains drawn over the windows, and there were no candles aflame to aid her eyes from straining in the shadows. “Mi'lord?” With all the fury having evaporated, all that was left was her heavy conscience. She had every need to apologize to him, to promise him she'd strive to be what he expected of his queen, but she'd need time to grow, time to adjust to those dogmas. And after he'd crushed his lips to her own, the princess had thought of little else through the course of the day – everything brought her back to him.
He'd made hardly a sound when he rose from his chair near the hearth – the embers long since they'd last given any heat, the coals beneath the kindles gray and ashen, already put to use. The carpeted floor did well to mute his stumbling, so well that she'd not heard any alarm that he was approaching her. His hand fell to her shoulder, ever gentle as he'd always been, but it still garnered a shocked inhale, her resin colored eyes widening as she turned to face her fiance. “Your Majesty I-” Lorelei began, frantic with the apologies she needed to give him at the tip of her tongue.
A long index finger pressed against her lips, bidding her to hush, else she kill the moment. “You're so breathtaking.” Haven uttered, ale still stale on his breath. Obviously, he'd spent the day indulging in drinking his share of tankards, and had yet to fully recover. “My love, your very appearance pains me to look at, to know that one day you'll be mine, and that you will never submit.” His hand held a delicate curl, satin against his fingers. “A mare so beautiful... but never to be tamed.”
Lorelei bit down on her trembling lip, fearful to step back and awaken his rage. “You flatter me, far beyond what I deserve.” She whispered, a soft aria accompanying the words into the air. “But I've come to give the answer you have asked of me.” Whether she was pleased with the situation or not, Lorelei would do as she was told, and the god had bade the pair to be married. “I will be your wife, in every way, I will uphold the promises of our marital vows, if only you give me time.”
“You ask a lot of me, of a woman who was never prepared to even enter the courts, and entertain men at a gala. As your queen, it is expected that I provide heirs, but heirs from my womb come at a cost, mi'lord. They'll be half siren, and I'll flourish into the full capacity of a temptress upon the deed of consummation.”
There wasn't any other way – Veritas had damned not only her, but the kingdom of Fortitude as well. For with her as the queen, the court would ever be in turmoil, ever face the songs her voice provided. And no man she'd spoken to on the matter had given her any notion of just how dangerous it was. Rather, they said they'd work through it, that she fretted overly much.
Haven sighed, bringing a hand to cup her cheek as he peered down at her, eyes well adjusted to the darkness where hers hadn't. “Lorelei, my love... you are already all I could want in a companion. I care not to wait to make you mine in full, if it's time you need... it is time you shall get. But there are many here who have a wandering eye where you are concerned. Tell me, that you'll marry me now, so that they cannot touch you, and usurp what rightfully has been pledged to me.” His lips brushed the place just below her ear, trailed down her jaw line with small kisses that teased her, caused her head to lull back in want.
“I'd walk through Hell on Sunday, if it'd keep you close to me.” He promised, making her wonder just how long he'd been caught in her web. “You haunt my mind, my flesh, and worse still, my heart.”
“Haven,” The siren whispered, senses alive with all that he promised her, with every kiss. “We can't do this now. Not until you find a spell, to stop the chaos I will cause.”
But it was much too late, much, much too late. If he couldn't take her as a whole, he'd at least have her legally bound. “Come to the chapel with me, come marry me this night, and we'll worry about your siren on the morrow.”
It was a double edged sword, her sin, and she trembled as she found herself submitting to his request, absurd as it was, her feet falling into the same pace as he kept. “It'll make me happy, make me trust that no one else will take you from me.” He promised, still obviously drunk. But at seventeen, with so many emotions catapulting through her, Lorelei believed every word. Why would she not, when he'd been nothing but kind, had aided her whenever she had the need?
[[Oddly Oafish Commentary: Waiting on one kill post in particular to be posted before moving forward. Thanks for being patient guys! They have to be done in order to make sense. : )
Btw. Omg, Lorelei had a backbone at the beginning. >.< ]] The siren sang so sweet and watched the sailors go down, anyone would drown
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Posted: Sun Mar 25, 2012 8:26 pm
Location:With Kirkis in a random hallway, then in her room.
Pain: in her...knees
Waiting for his response she mustered what little strength she had left (in her muscles down below) and responded with a, “Yes yes that’s what I mean!” She hadn’t the mental capacity at the moment to be polite, or even notice that he had moved closer to her. Her body was beyond the dance of relief, and her senses would soon follow.
As she staggered behind him she began to chew her lip, biting in deep as they climbed the stairs, and made their way to a room. When the gentleman began to lift his arm to point she had already started off in a hurried shuffle, dress all but up to her waist. Seeing her destination and its design, she questioned every reason she ever had about missing this place. But it was better than some instances she cared not to remember. After finishing her business and the like, she made her way back to where her escort-er was, smiling a heavenly smile of serenity (or what was supposed to be one).
“I thank you kind sir, as does my...body.” Not knowing what to do next she just stood there staring at him for a few seconds until his words caught up in her mind. “OH”, her voice rang out with a surprised tone, “My mother sent these? But how did she know where I would end up? Wow, she really is wonderful, and psychic.” Her faced dropped as her words suddenly made sense to her. Did that mean that her mother knew she didn’t speak to anyone, not once. Let alone make any friends.
What if there were deadly creatures in those trunks waiting to bite her face off for disobeying? Backing away very slowly from them she faced the...handsome and very kind man. “I, I hate to be a bother, which I usually come off as being or so people have told me countless times but I’m really okay with that because they're still nice to me on occasion, but can you please check those for me?” Her eyes shifted towards the potential torture devices then back to her hero. “Before you di...my name is Lilith, what’s yours?”
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Posted: Sun Mar 25, 2012 11:22 pm
 Corrine Brooke Masterson Kingdom: Wrath ✩ Rank: Arch Duchess ✩ Location: Outside MIshka's Room || Hallways ✩ Hallway Surprise  Emerald eyes settled on Kirios before she asked her cousin's "permission" to go ahead to the dining hall with the General. It would, no doubt, be a strange request given their relationship, but she trusted him to pick up the meaning beneath the words. A grin spread across her features with a small incline of her head when he granted her permission, especially given the fact that they would be at Mishka's mercy in terms of the time it took to dress herself. Corrine might have just attended in her nightgown, but then again, she was not the Princess of Wrath. Before she could turn to leave, however, she heard Lincoln address Kirios, turning to give him another knowing look as he called her an Angel. His grin said it all - he knew exactly what she'd been thinking, and yet he still chose to let her pursue her wiles as opposed to smothering them, as her father would have insisted she do. Thank the gods, he'd already started his journey back to Wrath after thoroughly ruining her life on one visit.
"Make haste, dear Cousin, for we have much to celebrate," she responded coyly to Lincoln's dismissal, Corrine giving a polite curtsy before slipping her arm through Kirios' and allowing him to lead her from Mishka's door. They passed in silence for the first turn or two, until they were out of range from prying eyes, aside from stolen glances at each other. It would drive her father crazy, if she were released from her obligations to be the future Queen of Justice on the same day she took interest in someone he would view as below her station. As if she needed a reason aside from his looks to allow his hand to brush her own, drawing her closer to him as they meandered through passageways.
It was now a game - hushed, nearly whispered words, lingering touches and glances bordering on the obscene. The mere fact that they'd passed through the hallways where the two would likely not be found would be scandalous enough, but as his arm slid about her corseted waist, Corrine felt her cheeks flush. It was a…strange feeling, for the hardened Arch Duchess blushing and tugging half-heartedly against his grasp.
"And what, pray tell, would we do if someone were to come along? At my age, I must appear virtuous at all times, if I am to attract a suitable man." Her words were clearly mocking, hands resting against the cool metal of his armor as leverage to prevent his lips from coming too close to her own. He said something about being a comfort to her in her time of need, though the exact words were lost on her as she felt his hand brush across her cheek to close around the nape of her neck.
Slightly parted lips met his, her body tensing for a moment as if she were going to hit him before she relaxed. Leaning into his embrace, she felt her hands contact stone behind her, pinning him against the wall as her lips danced against his. He started to say something when she took a moment to regain her breath, the Arch Duchess chuckling as she pressed her lips to his once more, their weight shifting as he spun them around to press her back against the stone wall.
"We should-" she started, only to have her words silenced by a fresh wave of kisses. The sound of an echoed noise somewhere within the halls suddenly drew her to her senses, however, her strength used to release herself from his grip. The corset binding her waist only accentuated the rise and fall of her chest with each accelerated breath, eyes glistening as she attempted to place a step's distance between them in case of passers by.
"My cousins will be wondering where we've disappeared to, Sir Kirios. Perhaps we can continue this conversation later," she spoke with a grin, lips flush with color from the soft bite he'd landed just before their split. Her hands brushed back through her hair to make sure it didn't look as disheveled as she certainly felt at the moment, coaxing him back into the hallways with a gentle pull at his armor. Smiling as she felt his hand slip around her waist once more, Corrine was quick yo spin out of his grasp with a sideways glance, instead slipping her arm around the crook of his elbow and hoping that the pink in her cheeks would subside before they reached the Dining Hall. ((Oodles Of Carrots: Sorry for the wait - Kirios autoed with permission. )
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Posted: Mon Mar 26, 2012 10:14 am
Rank: Youngest Princess
Kingdom: Wrath
Location: Alone//Jasper
Wearing: Chemise and robe █║▌│█│║▌║││█║▌│║║█║█║▌│█║▌│║║█║ Several minutes had passed and she was certain that her cousin and the General had left the space in front of her chambers long ago. She was trying her best to give them enough time to enjoy one another's company. While she painted her face with soft shadows and splashed sweet oils on her neck that were scented of vanilla. She'd even changed her chemise three times now. But finally she was ready to start the tedious process of getting dressed with no chamber maids.
The princess stood in merely a chemise that hung down to her mid thigh as she battled with the ties of her petticoat. The proper undergarments for a woman of her standards. This would have been so much easier had she had her hand maidens with her. However it was not impossible. She sighed and was nearly ready to slip her feet into it when she heard a light wrapping on her window. The princes turned about, chestnut locks flying out away from her face as her gaze locked upon the window; there standing outlined by the setting sun was Jasper. The princess bit her lower lip and dropped the garment that she held in her hand and hastily gathered her robe. Scrambling to slip into it and wrap it snuggly about herself, tying the sash in a make shift knott as she went to the window.
Fingers clasped the cool metal handles as she turned them and pulled . The large window opened with a creak as she looked up at the tall male. Her heart pounding and mind racing why he’d come to her in this fashion. “Jasper what are you doing?! My brother is right outside he’ll have your head.” She whispered, nearly hissing at him as he stepped into the room. Mishka backed away from him and wrapped her arms around herself. Watching him with pale jewels. He looked weary. With dark circles beneath his eyes and far too pale. It made her wonder and worry. Never had she seen him in such a state. Not even when his wraith was at it’s worst. It was as if the man she loved had disappeared and only this disheveled one stood in his place.
“I need to talk to you Mishka.” He uttered, his tone sounding of desperation. The princess’s brows knitted together.
“And it couldn’t wait till I was properly dressed?” She asked watching as he shook his head and stepped forward, closing the distance between them his hands gripping her shoulders as if he was afraid to let go of her. His touch had never been so…rough with her in her entire time knowing him. Not in four years together had he ever made her uncomfortable. Yet now as he held her that was all she was feeling.
“No. I could not. You’re always with your brothers. This is important and you need to listen to me.” His words came out harsh, and even more desperate. Even as he mentioned her siblings, the word sounded bitter, resentment. His fingers dug more into her skin and she couldn’t help but wince at the pressure. The princess was caught between annoyance and worry. For Jasper had never mentioned anyone in her family with such bitterness. He knew how much they meant to her and to mention her siblings with such an ill tone. Her stomach twisted into knots while her heart wiggled it’s way into her throat.
“Jasper you’re hurting me.” She protested but he seemed to not pay mind to what she said and continued to speak. Mishka struggled against his vice grip, trying her best to wiggle free but there was no yield in his grip. If anything it tightened more.
“Listen to me! Do you love me?” He asked watching her with those piercing, ruthless eyes. She stilled her pools flickered, searching his face. His eyes were boring holes into her as he waited for a response, his mouth set in stone as it rested in a thin, flat line. It sent a shiver down the princess’s spine and for the first time she felt afraid of Jasper. Afraid of what he may do to her. Yes she could scream for Lincoln and she knew he’d be there in an instant. But what then? What would he do to her beloved? Or better yet what would he do to her eldest brother? The questions taunted her and gave her various scenarios, none of which ended in her favor. So she did not scream, did not call to her kin. But answered his question.
“Y-yes I love you. Why do you ask such a question?” She asked as his grip tightened and his mouth curled into a twisted, haunting smile that only made her shudder. He looked like a mad man, possessed. “Jasper what is wrong?!” She demand.
“Nothing. It’s perfect. I told them. I told them you loved me..” He chuckled as his eyes lightened, relief and triumph dancing in their dark depts. It only left her with more questions.
“Told who?” She asked before she could stop herself but he continued on as if he hadn’t heard her.
“All you need do now is renounce your title and family and we.. Yes.. We can be together. Forever. We’ll be free. Finally free can you picture it. Us. Together. Forever?” He uttered and with no warning he leaned down and crushed his mouth to hers. His kiss was rough, feverish demanding she comply. Mishka struggled, squirmed trying to break the kiss but he was relentless. Finally she broke it and turned her head away from him. Veiling her face with her chestnut locks as she caught her breath. Her lips tingled, flush from the force of his kiss. Slowly she looked back up at him. “ You love me and this is how we can be together. It’s the only way.” He stated, his eyes wild and ferial looking.
“I can’t. You know; I can’t I love my family.” She protested her, trying her best to keep her voice low but it rose in pitch with her worry as it turned to fear. This was madness. How did he expect her to give up her family?
Jasper began to shake her and her petite form moved like a rag dall. His eyes darkening with a fury that she‘d never seen in him before. “NO! You will give them up for me. For our love. They’ll only try and get in our way. I won’t let them. I wont loose you.”
“Jasper! Stop! You‘re hurting me.” She struggled against him trying to stop the world from spinning and finally she struck at his chest and fell from his grip. Staggering back as she tried to steady herself. Her fingers gripped the vanity chair as she looked up at him. Yet as her words sank in, his pools narrowed and burned with anger as he reached down and took the dagger from his belt, unsheathing it and stepped forward. “Jasper what are you doing?” She asked swallowing hard as she took another step away from him her bottom hitting off of the vanity. She was cornered.
“Isn’t it clear? If I can not have you then I will not allow another soul to have you. It‘s better than what they‘ll do to you. ” He muttered the last few words and she barely caught him before he laughed, a dark cynical laugh that sent chills through her spine. “We will be together Mishka.” He nodded and stalked her . No longer was he her beloved Jasper that she’d met in the courtyard at home. But something. Vile. Dangerous and mad. Her Jasper would never lay a finger on her. Yet now, here he stood raising a dagger to not only harm her but kill her. “If not in this world than the next.” He snarled as the dagger came down straight for her heart.
A panic cry left the princess lips as she watched it. The glint of steal falling quickly. Her pools flickered toward his face that was twisted with darkness and madness that she’d never seen. Her beloved Jasper…why? She did not stand a chance against him, but she wasn’t willing to die, with a rush of adrenaline she caught his arm. Trying her best to keep the blade from plunging into her. The need to survive over running all of her senses. Her heart racing and thundering in her ears as she struggled against him , against his blade. She twisted his arm. The blade now hidden between them and before either of them knew what had happened they were leaned against each other. Panting. The princess’s eyes clamped tightly shut as she tried to catch her breath. Listening to each of his ragged breaths. Slowly her lids opened, pale hues looking into the dark orbs of her knight, her lover to see stark pain and anguish.
“Mishka…why?” He croaked and she looked down. Gasping as he staggered back. The dagger protruding from his chest.
“JASPER!” She cried out as he fell back onto her bed and she scrambled up to his side her eyes burning with hot tears as she leaned over him. The flood gates had been lifted and there were no stopping her tears from falling. Her fingers trembled as she pulled him into her lap; a groan left his lips. Her mind raced trying to figure out what to do. She had to save him. Had to! “I’m sorry Jasper.” She whimpered through her sobs cradling him to her as she stroked his face with crimson stained fingers.
“P-pull it out.” He croaked as each breath became harder than the next. She shook her head as she rocked him. “Please Mish.” He begged and it only made her cry harder.
“I-I’ll h-hurt you.” Her lip quivered as his hand rose and touched her cheek caressing her sun kissed skin.
“Please.” He whispered as he groaned when she shifted her hand moving to the hilt and with a quick tug she removed the blade. So much blood. It coated his chest but she cared not that it would stain her clothing or her bed spread. Listening to the hiss of pain that left his lips and she pressed her palm to the wound. Trying her best to stop the bleeding but her efforts were futile.
“Why Jasper…Why!?” She begged as she rocked him. Hardly able to see his face through the fall of her tears.
“B…because….I…..love……….you.” He whispered his dark pools never wavering from her face.
“I love you too Jasper.” She murmured with a sniffle as she continued to press the flat of her palm to the wound, but she could still feel more warm blood seeping passed her fingers.
“Mishka d-don’t cry.” He whispered, teeth chatter as he swallowed hard. Pressing his eyes tightly shut before opening them. “Listen. To. Me. Mish.” He uttered as his thumb continued to brush against her cheek. “I…I don’t have muc…much longer.”
“Don’t be foolish. My b-brother’s coming (she hoped) we’ll save you.” But she watched as he shook his head. He knew he was dying.
“I have. I have to war…warn you. Be…be careful. They’ll.. They are… going….to.” His breathing was becoming more shallow. Each breath harder than the last she knew. As she watched his chest fight to rise. “Kil…” Yet her beloved’s last breath was wasted on those three letters and before he could warn her of the danger she was in. He was gone from this world. His hand fell to his chest and his lids fell to his cheeks and body became limp.
“Jasper? Jasper!?” She screamed down at him. As she shook him. “Don’t leave me! Don’t!” She pleaded with his corps. But it was too late. Sobbing violently she curled her body over him, providing a shelter for him in the warmth of her body and she rocked him. Crying the hardest she’d never cried, gasping for breath and shaking.
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Posted: Mon Mar 26, 2012 6:24 pm
The shuffling footsteps passed the pew where he remained, and as they did so, stirred the air – a sweet scent that permeated his nostrils – led him to consider Haven and his current predicament, betrothed t the likes of an illegitimate princess from the sinful realms. Undignified, he snorted in contempt. The wench! How she had managed to enchant his son – a mage of Fortitude's highest caliber, how she'd twisted his conscience into believing himself to be in love with the git... Reginald was not certain. But he knew without a trace of doubt that she'd be the downfall of his great kingdom if left unleashed.
A harlot had no place entertaining any circle of their courts outside of being there for hire to warm a guest's bed... much less did the siren deserve to be seated at the right of a king! To place her in any position of high standing soured on his stomach like milk left too long in the sun.
Twas this very predicament that had led the angelic man to the sanctuary so late in the night. In order to keep his children safe, they were to adhere to the decrees made by their host, a god of his own plane. But surely this fiasco with the Gavini lass was a mistake. If not, then there must be a reason for all of the upset... and the one that would come if this betrothal ever saw itself to marital vows. Certainly, the great Veritas had not arbitrarily chosen a mate for his son. No god could be so cruel as to ruin his standing with his people, and take it so lightly.
Whispers tittered through the chapel, but he found himself unbridled by the secretive chatter. Likely the sweet scent he'd caught had been that of a woman, her motives for coming this late hour so as to discretely repent from her sins. Presently, the king's orisons to the gods ranked far higher than any desire to appease the slight curiosity in the woman's identity. It was not until a haunting voice, nay, an enchanting melody ebbed so freely throughout the church, the soft inflections teasing his senses, that Reginald's eyelids lifted, only enough to glance in the general direction of the noise.
She was here.
Peering through darkness, the flickering candlelight illuminating only select parts of the abbey, the man caught sight of what he could rightly consider his enemy, her hands were entwined with his eldest son's, her head affectionately leaning onto the square part of his shoulder, as though she had right to do so.
No.
His jaw clenched in an immediate ire; surely Haven wouldn't be... They couldn't possibly hope to... But what other reason would the pair have to be standing in front of a priest? Before he could form any other idea, Haven's speech confirmed his fears; his son had brazenly announced that he'd accept the siren Lorelei Gavini as his wife, his future queen, his partner for as long as they both lived. “For all eternity.” He reiterated, his eyes trained on the temptress at his side.
With no hesitation, not at all listening for the meek woman's echo of the sentiments just previously stated, the king of Fortitude jumped from his kneeling position, strode to the front of the abbey, his footsteps long and sure as his fury that Have would be so bold to defy the wishes of his sire. But it was much too late. The magical binding that was customary with Fortitude's rituals encompassed the newly wed couple, delicate golden threads circling them – the light the sealing emitted bright enough to banish any shadows that lurked within the church's corners for a few moments before it faded into a soft glow and then gradually into nothing.
The ephemeral light dimmed as the heir stepped away from his wife, the expression that he donned far more than smug when he faced his father. “She's mine.” He declared rebelliously, fingertips gently snaking about Lorelei's wrist in a mix of staunch affection and possession. “Not you, nor mother, nor any other man who has looked upon Lorelei as a treasure to be coveted shall be able to rip her from me now.” She was his to love. His to cherish. His to give seed to. Nd not even his cumbersome family could deprive him of that small note of bliss.
“My boy.” The king trailed off, shaking his head in dismay. How could Haven be so selfish to ruin his kingdom with such enthusiasm? Had he not thought of the effects such a marriage would have on the general public opinion? Of how it might affect the courts?
“My son. He repeated, words failing to leave his tongue. What was there that could be said, that hadn't been expressed already? Haven was a failure. A disgrace to the Greene family name. And marrying a whore only reiterated that fact. Not only had he failed many times over in tests of courage... he'd always been too distant, deemed untrustworthy by his mother... and their obvious personality conflicts had not made an easy passage of their relationship.
His eyes fell to Lorelei, his now daughter-in-law. His legal, but begrudging kin. “You.” Reginald accused, his vocal chords vibrating gruffly, eyes narrowing to a glower. “You bewitched him!” Without a thought, his hands reached to seize her – the plan scarcely made beyond strangling the last of her melodies when Haven's magic pushed him away too abruptly.
“Father, my wife has seen enough of the back of a man's hand without your aid. She is not, nor ever will be yours to punish.” Haven said listlessly, the edges of his own anger bridling his words. Amethyst eyes blazed with his sincerity of the declaration.
The sudden use of magic pulled back the heir from any lasting effects of his ale, anger replacing the alcohol's bubbling in his veins. “You'll not lay a hand on her.” From this point on, Lorelei Gavini-Greene was untouchable. His.
Furiously, Reginald's mouth opened, shut and opened again akin to a door hung on well oiled hinges as he struggled to make a retort, but quickly found that there was none to be made. Haven Greene lacked naught for fortitude when it came to standing up to protect what he deemed worthy. But the judgment that the heir oft gave was usually found to be less than par. He had never been what the king had expected, or even wanted, and that much was only proven by this display. James would have no doubt made a better heir.
”You'll pay dearly for this.” The king promised in a scolding tone, his beady eyes fulgent with his vexation. “Should you consider the options we have for cumbersome kin...” They could always lock her away – far from the public eye, stating easily that the holy fire (Ergotism) had touched upon her sanity, deem her an unfit queen, and subsequently a burdensome wife. No one would fault him for petitioning for a divorce, and finding a more acceptable queen.
Lorelei trembled at the thought, her knees threatened to buckle beneath her, force her to cow before the two men deciding on her fate as though she were lame, and unable to fathom the severity of their conversation. She needn't hear Reginald's suggestions to know what they were, the scenarios he'd devise would definitely be far more prudent for the kingdom – no doubt the best option for a hard-pressed king who'd had a wife of insufficient quality dumped into his lap. To send her to a convent or a manor considerably far away from the influential cities of Fortitude... it was not at all unlike her own sire's plan to quietly dispose of her. Why it mattered now, just why the trepidations of fear clenched at her insides with its icy hands and chilled the marrow of her bones, the siren couldn't rightly place. It had always been this way. Always, she'd expected to be tucked away.
Perhaps her panic was more founded in that she'd be hidden in a place completely foreign to her, with now comforts of her own culture. As she opened her mouth to speak, bidding her tongue to wag in her soft protests, Haven's voice cut through the hair, the tone much more brusque and rigid than any one time she could remember.
“I am more than aware of your opinions regarding Lorelei,” He started, fingers wrapping just a little more snugly about her wrist. “However, not only is she here, listening to your insufferable chiding, she's often too gentle to allow herself some sort of pride.” She was of a sweet nature – enough to hold her tongue. ”I do not share her mannerisms in that respect.” The siren stepped just a little bit closer to her husband, her initial anxiety diminishing as he bravely confronted his sire. “Veritas set to this match, and as we promised upon the request to stay here, I honored the commitment. Granted, I have done so much more joyously than most.” But being in love with one's wife was hardly a crime. Adoring her, when he had just made a contract to be faithful to her should have been encouraged.
And how could he not, when he'd always expected his wife would be promised to him, rather than through a courting relationship? What maiden would other wise be able to see beyond the aged shell of his body, and want to marry him? Lorelei had proclaimed time and again that she was the beast, and not he. That he was kinder than the likes of her deserved. Never once had she noisily complained that he appeared to be so ancient, never once had she even commented negatively of him.
In his eyes, she was without flaw. To even be able to call her his own was a measure of pride, and his father would likely never understand, but the heir felt it necessary to say anyway. “Look beyond what she is, and see the gentler spirit that she harnesses. My wife has the finesse of a swan and a heart comprised of the most precious of metals.” Truly, the good traits he saw in the young woman were innumerable.
But before any party could make a response, before either could copulate any sort of thought to even begin to translate it into words, Navarum the priest who had remained soundless through the entire quarrel, gasped in correlation to a swish of a sword. His knees hit the ground before the wielder of the blade withdrew the weapon from his innards. Quickly, and without any more words, the tattooed man's eyes glazed over with death, and his body fell forward into a hapless pile on the floor.
The assassin made a gesture of sympathy to the man, before turning to others, his expression hardening in an instant. ”That I had to consider a man of the church collateral damage contests to how desperately committed I am to this cause. Someone ought to give Jasper of Wrath my regards.” He declared, displeased that Navarum had been watching closely enough to have seen his identity.
No doubt he would have reported it, and Henreich needed no tales sullying his name before he usurped the throne.
The king took flight, his wings lifting him to heights that he'd be safe from any ground affront. “The plane has been breached!” The assassins that they'd traveled so far to get away from had crossed the realms' gates. Reginald reached behind his head for his sword, but found the scabbard to be empty; no doubt he'd left in in his chambers with Elizabeth, believing that no attacks would take place in an abbey. No one would dare sully the sacred ground.
The soft hum of a magical barrier created a dome over Haven and Lorelei – the quick handiwork of the heir. However reflexive it'd been, the effort went without a lasting reward, for the shield sputtered, granting the assassin entry, and Haven's hand immediately fell to the sheath at his side. Unfortunately, he could not rely on spell casting this time.
“Lorelei, my love.” He started breathlessly, amethyst eyes rounding on the siren. “Run and don't look back.” Though the lines of his face did not lucidly display his fretting – easily he knew that he'd be bested quickly by this intruder; his tone was the only true indication. “Follow my father out, alert everyone that our walls have been compromised.” He pushed her with enough force to insist that the quavering girl abandon the sanctuary.
She shook her head, glossy lips quivering with her answer. “Haven, I-I cannot.” To flee whilst her husband attempt to slay his assassin was the truest form of cowardice. Her legs felt as though they'd been sculpted of jelly, making it increasingly difficult to even stand, and though her brain told her it was most prudent to do as the heir had ordered, her limbs didn't seem of mind to cooperate.
But he ushered her once more as he narrowly dodge Henreich's blade, nearly shrieking for her to leave. “Go!” It'd be worse if she remained – the fight would be much shorter lived in his valiant efforts to protect her. And they'd both perish.
The princess retreated, fierly locks flying behind her in her haste. If he could hold on just long enough, for someone to rush to his aid... Silver tears spilled out of her amber orbs, staining her face and blurring her vision enough that she lost her footing and stumbled. ~Hold on. Please.~ She whispered to him, only hoping there would be enough time. Her long skirts tripped her as she flew along the trees that bordered the forest, and her ankle twisted nastily enough that she couldn't hope to stand. Instantly, a bruise swelled and discolored the injury, and the siren sucked in a lungful of air in a searing pain.
Desperate to find her husband help in this late hour, Lorelei called out to all those she'd communicated with since her arrival. Attempted to make a full broadcast to every soul in the castle. ~They've found us. The abbey...~ The statement was all she could manage to postulate, or attempt to wrap her head around. Even in this realm, no one was safe.
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Posted: Mon Mar 26, 2012 6:40 pm
An End... By all the clenching, Reginald's teeth should have been ground flat. Airborne, the king of Fortitude was forced to bear witness to his son defending his right to live. It was wrong, un-thought of that these monsters would find the God's plane. Unheard of that his son's Craft would fail.
The swordplay betwixt the two resembled more of a dance than a struggle – though neither side came without effort. Beads of sweat dotted Haven's forehead; too long had it been since he practiced with his lance, and it left him in want of a towel to dab the clamminess from his flesh. Metal clanged against metal, grinding as the blades crossed, and both breathed raggedly for the duration of the fight.
Haven nicked the man's hand, stepping forward with his parry, charging. He didn't have any sort of want to die this night, but as the fencing grew in length, what was meant to be an hour of exuberance and celebration of marriage transformed to one of desperation, and he acknowledged that without some miracle, he'd be defeated. He, simply put, could not hope to get a leg up against the assassin, couldn't hope realistically, to outlast the man's endurance.
And, when his sword missed blocking the blade of his assailant, the heir grabbed at the protuberance in his gut, the silver already soiled with an easy flow of his blood. It was over.
Without a word, Henriech allowed a smirk to touch his lips – his duty here nearly complete. He looked to the arched ceilings, a mirthless chortle escaping his lips. “I may not have brought with me any arrows,” He started, feet carrying him over to the wall of candles alight with many a prayer. “But there is more than one way, I've found... to bring a king to his knees. ”
Hastily, he dumped the flames onto the wooden benches, which were quick to catch fire and crowd the church's air with a billowing smog. Leaving the two Greenes for dead, he sauntered out of the church, putting a wooden barrier against the entry, and started scanning for a place to lay in wait. John Greene was next in line, and he'd not fail in his task to purge the living of any Greenes that could lay claim to the throne.
Haven's breath came in an uneven rhythm, sputtering as the smoke filled his lungs, setting them to burn from the inside out. He heard his siren's voice fill the crevices of his head, bidding him to hold on, but it was a fruitless hope that she chose to believe in. The dying heir grimaced, drawing in another breath. There was still much to be discussed, even if his time was running short. ~My love, my family is to care for you, make you comfortable.~ Whether or not it would happen was entirely another story. But if they were just, they'd do as the customs bade.
Alarmed, (not to mention unduly surprised that the mage had held out for so long), Reginald landed softly beside him, to see if there was anything that could be done to save the diminishing man. The wounds were mortal, too much of his blood had already been lost.
“Father.” He said weakly, his hands at the sight of his injuries. “Lorelei would go to Sam --” The next in line for our throne. “She's to be queen by laws of inheritance.” While Haven could not guarantee that his father would abide by the customs, it needed to be voiced. She needed to be cared for as their kin.
Reginald's mouth tightened into a firm line, wrinkles on either side doing well to indicate his displeasure. No doubt his son would be so stubborn to remember the customs of their country as he lay dying – and have the nerve to remind his father of the duty to care for their women. Legally, the siren whore was bound to the Greene's. But not Sam's... she would go to the eldest surviving son - James. There was naught to be said between them, always they'd been in discord, and it seemed that it would end with little changed.
The king stood, sucking a burning breath before wheezing, his hand coming up immediately to shield his mouth. Using but his memory of the layout of the sanctuary, he made his way to the door, not bothering to try and drag the soon-to-be dead heir along. The flames would cremate him.
They were locked; Reginald's fist slammed against the door in hopes of breaking through the barrier, but to no avail. Panic set in, eyes teared up with the ever rising temperature. His hands were bloody as they flailed against the oak as he cursed to himself – he should have expected this.
For once, he hoped haven's beloved whore would prove to be of use – that she'd bring back aid to open the twin doors before he suffocated or perished in the flames. He laid down, breathing in what unpolluted air he could, but soon passed out against the wood, praying the last of this abbey's prayer as unconsciousness clouded his thoughts.
If he survived this because of her... Lorelei would...
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Posted: Tue Mar 27, 2012 3:20 am
  XXXXXXXClouds will rage on...Storms will race in.
XXXXXXXBut you will be safe...in my arms.
XXXXXXXRain will pour down...Waves crash around.
XXXXXXXBut you will be safe...In my arms.
XXXXXXXStorybooks...Full of fairytales..
XXXXXXXOf Kings and Queens...
XXXXXXX...And the bluest skies...
XXXXXXXMy heart is torn...
XXXXXXXJust in knowing...
XXXXXXXYou'll someday see; Truth from lies.
XXXXXXXCastles may crumble...
XXXXXXXDreams; May not come true.
XXXXXXXYou are never all alone.
XXXXXXXBecause I will always...
XXXXXXXAlways love you.Kingdom of: Humility, First Princess
Location: Gardens
Quote: "To be humble to superiors is duty, to equals courtesy, to inferiors nobleness..." Naedira’s eyes had lingered on Altonair as her hand wrapped delicately around her younger sisters…Her gaze lasted perhaps a moment longer than could be considered completely proper, before a man fell through the shrubbery at their feet. It didn’t take long for her to notice that the presence of herself and her sister seemed to make their new friend uncomfortable. She released his shoulder almost as quickly as she’d touched it, feeling confusion well within her…Perhaps this man was like her? Unused to being touched by anyone, except family…Or perhaps he was afraid she was a witch, and might curse him?
Fearing that it may have been the veil of mourning that she wore, she said a soft prayer of apology to the souls that had departed, and respectfully pulled the silken cloth free. It slipped down her back and she tightened it in the crooks of her arms, using it as a long sash. The material was soft, and glittered like the night sky on a cloudless night…
Normally mourning cloth was plain, without fine thread and jewel fragments… But her sentence to this realm had been made in haste. She’d been packed and sent on her way with only the best by her hand maidens, and only things of that likeness had been sent after she’d arrived. No one had thought to prepare her for a proper mourning period, or a funeral.
A soft, understanding smile bloomed unbidden across her lovely features when she realized the man was a little embarrassed, though it didn’t touch her eyes. It was clear that the half-fey woman was saddened for some reason…But for the sake of those around her, had placed those things aside. It was the life of a dutiful princess…The people, came first. Her family name came first. “I’ve not seen you here before tonight Lord Masterson…”
“Not to say that I know the coming’s and going’s of everyone…But unless I am incorrect, welcome to the castle…”, Naedira went on graciously as Altonair helped the large man to his feet. My, but Stefan, even flushed, was an imposing figure…Though unafraid, she felt distinctly dwarfed by his size. How could someone so seemingly physically powerful seem so…What was the word…reticent? “You weren’t interrupting anything but pleasantries my Lord…”
The dark haired princess of Humility chastised herself inwardly for thinking upon such frivolous things…It wasn’t polite to speculate such things.
Naedira’s countenance remained gentle as she stepped back towards Altonair, allowing her dearest sister the pleasure of making Stefan Masterson feel at home. That he was uninjured made her sigh in relief…Her magic was still weak, her strength dwindling…She sorely needed rest. But everytime she closed her eyes, she saw the swinging pendulum…
The Shield Maiden of Humility felt…Saddened, that this man seemed so suspicious and uncomfortable around them…Was there some kind of tension between Humility and Wrath that she was unaware of? She wanted to say no… But before tonight, she would have never thought that Dorian and Lucien would have been slain before her very eyes.
She never would have thought an assassin would have decided to live in her shadow—Nor would she ever have imagined being accused of some kind of mental harlotry.
The mere notion made her sick to her stomach.
She swayed gracefully towards her Prince, arm slipping softly through his. The contact grounded her, Altonair’s newly familiar presence relaxing. She should be tense, considering what she needed to say to him…But she had faith that everything would turn out as it should. Honesty was imperative… She’d not start a new life with someone, based on lies of any kind. Simply omitting the truth, in her opinion, was just as awful.
She enjoyed his jokes…His attempts at humor, to lighten the mood when she was so clearly a wet blanket…She tilted her head and leaned her cheek against his upper arm for a moment, speaking quietly. ”Thank you for keeping my sister company. I'm sorry that I've been...Overly, emotional.”
Madelyne was infinitely precious to her. It eased her mind to know that the littlest Riley hadn’t been left alone after such a gruesome execution.
She smelled it first…The scent of burning wood. Turning her head, taking in the sight of leaping flame, she felt something within her bosom seize when she realized where it came from…Weather it was her heart that had stopped beating, or that her lungs refused to draw breath…She stared in silence as her free hand came to cover her mouth, stifling a pained sound…
It was the temple. Or the abbey…It held many names…But to Humilitian’s, it was a temple. The place that she’d just left…Not long ago.
“By the stars...”
It was on fire.
The very symbol of her faith was -burning-.
So broken by the evenings events, so fragile, she couldn’t help but turn back into the Prince of Envy—Hiding her face against him. She heard shouts in the distance…No doubt, others were alerted…It was brightening quickly. She prayed, that no one was trapped inside…Even if they were…What use would she be? Her powers were exhausted…She had nothing left to give. Not after trying to heal Lucien, over and over. She didn’t want Altonair to see her cry…Again. She didn’t want her sister, and Stefan Masterson, to see her fall apart. But if she let go of Altonair’s arm…She didn’t think that her legs would support her.
Between performing black magic, watching two of her best friends die, being threatened by an assassin, and now watching the abbey burn?
Naedira, for all of her strengths…Simply couldn’t take it anymore. She couldn't watch the only sanctuary she had burn...Couldn't.
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Posted: Tue Mar 27, 2012 8:24 pm
All I want is something realSomething I touch and can feel  Cat .
╔════════════════════════════════════════════════════╗ How long she had been wandering around this forsaken land, Cat did not know but it had been far too long. She was getting really tired of stumbling around all alone without any sort of human contact. Sure, bunnies and squirrels were cute but they weren't much for conversation. She kicked a small rock in irritation . At least now she was outside. Inside, with no possible way to tell the time, or mark the passage of it, she was sure she had been about to go crazy.
"I wonder," she said out loud, just to hear something besides the call of birds and the wind in the trees. "If this is one of that crotchety old bastards little games. He seems to enjoy suffering on an unholy level after all." she stopped, considering the irony of calling a god unholy, her train of thought completely derailed as she turned the thought over and over.
She stopped and leaned against a tree to rest for a bit. She looked down and grimaced at the state of her clothes. Not that she minded being dirty but she preferred to be the one deciding to be so rather than being forced into it by a wholly unfair inability to retrieve clean clothes. Her outfit was a matching loose shirt and trousers of a soft, billowy midnight blue fabric with a pair of soft black boots.
She tilted her head as she considered her ensemble, her thoughts rambling down another path. At least her outfit was comfortable for walking in, she couldn't imagine how much worse this little adventure would have been if she'd been in one of those cursed court outfits. Layers of silk and lace and other nonsense and those useless shoes...
Cat's head jerked up as her sisters mental call for help crashed into her head. "Lorelei?" she breathed, her breath catching at the terror in younger sister's 'voice'. She pushed off the tree and took off at a run. The mental call had given her a vague direction to go on and she figured the abbey was big enough that she could find it even out here. From the strength of her sister's call, she couldn't be that far away.
Her assumption was soon affirmed, in an awful manner as she spotted the abbey ahead of her and soon after, smoke billowing out of it. "Ah s**t," she muttered darkly. "I didn't do it, I swear I didn't." she continued as her steps slowed involuntarily.
Then stopped as she spotted a familiar figure on the ground. "Lorelei!" she dropped to her knees, reaching out to her distressed sibling and touching her shoulder, not wanting to get attacked by accident. "Lorelei, what's happening?"
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I'll hold it close and never let it go
OOC: I'm sorry I appear to be having a coding malfunction. I will fix this as soon as I figure out how.
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